Page 89 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

Her curly hair shone golden in the sun as it escaped the ponytail she’d tried to force it into. The formfitting white tank top and denim shorts she wore left enough of her skin visible to distract a monk. He sighed.

He wasn’t surprised she’d asked him again about his personal life, only that it had taken her so long. She was, he noted, curious by nature. Like her brother, she was a meddler, a well-intentioned do-gooder who wanted happiness for those around her.

If he searched the whole world over, Jared knew he’d never find anyone more his polar opposite. He didn’t share his feelings, secrets, fears, or sorrows with anyone. He’d learned early on that to care was to be hurt. People could be ripped out of your life in a heartbeat. It just wasn’t wise to care too much, because you never knew when someone would be taken away. Jared wasn’t interested in that kind of pain.

Cat probably wouldn’t be happy until a man bared his soul to her. Jared would never be able to do that. Sometimes it was best to know when to beat a hasty retreat. He’d deliver her to her job in Arizona, but that was it. He wasn’t going to talk to her, touch her or care for her. And he was definitely going to stop picturing her as she’d looked this morning, with her sodden hair pushed back from her face, her soaked cotton nightgown clinging to curves she’d tried to hide with her arms, and stray droplets of water running down her skin like so many fingers. Yeah, he was definitely going to stop picturing her like that.

With the desperate resolve of a man trying to hold back the tide with his hands, Jared strode toward the waiting van. He replaced the cooler behind the passenger’s seat and turned to find Cat standing beside him, studying him.

Her eyes were a pensive blue, but flecks of green were still visible. He didn’t like the gleam in her gaze. It boded ill for his peace of mind and his privacy. She grinned at him, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. She held out her hand, and he stiffened.

“What?” he asked.

She wiggled her fingers. “May I have the keys, please.”

“What for?”

“It’s my turn to drive,” she answered, following him around to the driver’s side.

“I don’t think so.” He chuckled.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t think so’?” she mimicked, her voice low and short with temper.

“I’m fine. I can drive the rest of the way,” he explained, motioning her toward the other side of the van. Lucy watched them through the window with her head cocked to one side as if listening.

“You can’t drive all day,” she protested. “You’ll be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

“Well, I’m not. I want to drive,” she argued.

“Too bad. I’m doing the driving on this trip,” he answered, his own temper igniting at her stubbornness.

“It’s my van.” She glared at him. “If you weren’t here, I’d be driving anyway.”

“But I am here,” he said and opened the driver’s door. As he went to climb into the seat, she dashed behind him and wedged herself between him and the back rest.

“I’m driving!” she called out in victory.

“Catherine!” Jared unconsciously used her full name to reprimand her. “You’re making a spectacle of us.”

“Then let me drive,” she retorted.

“If I lean back, I’m going to crush you,” he threatened.

“Give it your best shot,” she dared him, as if she knew he wouldn’t.

“You’re behaving like a child.” Jared looked to his left and saw her butt wriggling just beneath his elbow. He quickly glanced away.

“And you’re being a misogynist,” she snapped, but laughed when Lucy reached around the seat to lick her face.

“I am not. I’m just being practical.”

“Practical?” She peeked at him from beneath his right arm.

“Your brother warned me about your driving,” he answered. Jared hadn’t wanted to throw his friend under the bus, but she was giving him no choice.

“Cam’s just sore because I’m a better driver than he is.” She puffed out her lower lip to blow a wayward curl out of her eyes.