P.S. You’re Intolerable (The Harder They Fall)

CATHERINE HAD STUNNED ME from the first time I saw her, but for a long time, I hadn’t allowed myself to look at her. It was the only way I’d been able to work with her every day. Blocking out the vast majority of her exterior was how I’d managed to keep her for so long.

But the woman before me had rendered me incapable of looking at anything but her.

It wasn’t the dress, though the way it draped over her generous heart-shaped ass and round hips was nothing short of fine art. It wasn’t the tattoos, which were more extensive and colorful than I’d expected from the few glimpses I’d caught over the last year, stretching over her shoulders and across her upper back. It wasn’t even the way her chest rose dramatically as she inhaled a deep breath, forcing her breasts to press against the thin fabric.

All of that was hot, sexy, gorgeous, but she’d always been those things, and I’d been able to blind myself to it. Until now.

She had decimated my resolve with a thousand cuts. The curly wisps of hair around her face were the most persistent slices against my walls. Then there was the press of her lips, the light that always danced behind her eyes when she internally cussed me out. How she handled difficult men, including me. Her ability to be soft and strong all at once. The postscripts. Goddamn postscripts.

Her tenderness and devotion to Josephine had done me in completely.

Catherine’s bright eyes skimmed over her reflection as her hands trailed along her curves. She wasn’t frowning, and there was nothing critical in how she studied herself.

Dipping my head, I brought my mouth beside her ear. “What do you see?”

She turned slightly, and my lips grazed her skin. She gasped. “Elliot, I—”

“Look at the mirror and tell me what you see.”

I let my hand slip from her jaw and return to her shoulder. I was treading a fine line here. If I wasn’t careful, I would go further than either of us were prepared for.

She sucked in a breath, her breasts testing the delicate fabric once more. “I don’t hate this.”

I raised a brow. “If that’s all you’ve got, I’m not sure you’re really looking. Try again.”

“You’re not allowed to be my boss outside of the office, Elliot.”

I huffed, scattering a few of her fine, flyaway hairs. “Says who?”

Her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth as she scrutinized her reflection. “I don’t look like a mom.”

“You do.”

Tension immediately drew up her shoulders. “What? Why—?”

“You are a mom, but that’s not all you are.” I tapped her collarbone, drawing her attention to me rather than her thoughts, which were so obviously spiraling I could almost hear them. “Look at yourself, Catherine. Really look.”

She did, but it took some time for the tightness in her muscles to ease. Little by little, her shoulders relaxed as she sucked in long, deep breaths.

“I recognize a part of me I thought was gone for good,” she murmured. “How can I be this and Joey’s mom?”

“You just are. This is you as much as being a mother is. You’re getting this dress.”

“The work clothes, maybe, but I don’t need a dress like this. I have nowhere to wear it.”

“You’ll wear it to the grand opening of the Rockford building. And the work clothes aren’t a maybe; they’re a yes.” I slid my palms down to her wrists and squeezed. “Go change. I’ll be waiting out here with Josephine.”

When I let her go, she spun around, our chests grazing. Her brown eyes were rich soil, full of life and questions. “Are we friends now?”

I laughed at her bluntness, not her question. I didn’t know what we were, but I couldn’t say we were friends. “We’re more than that.”

She nodded, blinking rapidly in confusion. “How did that happen?”

My mouth hitched, and the fist in my chest sprung open, scratching at my inner walls. I didn’t have an answer to that either, even though I’d been asking myself that very same thing.

“Go get dressed.”

Her nose crinkled, but she listened. Walking away with a sassy sway to her full hips that would have brought a lesser man to his knees, she let me hear her mutter, “So bossy.”

At least she wasn’t calling me intolerable.

Josephine passed out as soon as we put her in the car and started driving, so we stopped at a food truck for lunch and ate tacos in my car, with the windows cracked. The cool, crisp winter air filtered in.

“I bet you’ve never eaten tacos in this car,” Catherine teased.

“Absolutely not. I’ve never considered it.” I took a big bite of my taco, chicken, cilantro, and avocado bursting and mingling on my tongue. “I’m questioning a lot of my choices right now.”

She snorted behind her napkin. “It’s okay to be human and messy sometimes.”

“I don’t mind mess.”

“Oh, so it’s the human bit that bugs you?”

“I have a strong need for order. It keeps me sane.” I popped the rest of my taco in my mouth and let my head fall back on the seat.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as it doesn’t take over your life.”

My need for order had most definitely taken over my life. There was no question I avoided situations and people who had the potential to be chaotic. Luca was as far as I veered off the path, and his chaos was predictable, except for his sudden marriage—that had thrown me for a loop. Fortunately for all of us, I’d recovered.

Some might have seen my choice to bring Catherine and Josephine into my home as another veer off my perfectly controlled path, but I didn’t. It had been a spontaneous decision, yes, but it hadn’t been without foresight. Catherine wasn’t an unknown entity. Her life might have been in chaos, but she wasn’t. Her presence was relaxing and calm, soothing and bright. She wasn’t a ray of sunshine, more like a cool breeze on a scorching day. That had been true about her from the moment I’d spotted her.

“There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

She wiped her mouth, her brows raised. “Ask it.”

“Is Little Women your favorite book?”

Shifting so one leg was bent under the other, she faced me, elbow on the console, chin on her fist, settling in to talk about books. “Jo March is my favorite character. The book is up there too.”

“So you named your daughter after her.”

“Yeah.” She wadded her trash up and stuffed it in the paper bag sitting on the console between us. “The first time I read the book, I identified myself as an Amy, but I really wished I was a Jo, so I promised myself if I ever had a daughter, I’d name her that to give her a head start.”

I scratched my head. “It’s been a long time since I read Little Women. Wasn’t Amy a spoiled, coddled brat? I find it hard to believe you saw yourself in her.”

“Well, you didn’t know younger me. I was a selfish, melodramatic wild child. My parents had indulged me until I’d pushed them too far. They sent me to Mexico instead of France, like Amy.”

“What? They sent you away? No wonder you don’t speak to them.”

“I was a mess, and they didn’t know how to deal with me. I met this guy when I was sixteen. An angry, deviant punk who’d encouraged that side of me. We had a lot of fun being mad at the world together.” Her laugh was unmistakably bitter. “This is where I should confess something to you that might change your opinion of me.”

I had a guess what her confession might’ve been. “Is this about your arrest?”

Her eyes bugged. “You know?”

“Only what your background check told me. I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Of course, the background check,” she whispered to herself. “The guy, the bad boyfriend, sort of radicalized me. I was an easy target, already feeling like I was a square peg in a round hole, and he fed off it. We got involved with this group who’d probably started with good intentions but had run amuck somewhere. They were antidevelopment, and my father—”

“Is Samson Warner. One of the biggest property developers on the East Coast.”

“You really were thorough.” She blew out a heavy breath. “Then you know my father isn’t as scrupulous as you.”

Samson Warner had made a name for himself by going into poor neighborhoods, buying homes out from under people who might have lived there for generations, and razing them to the ground. Then, he replaced the homes with gleaming towers only the wealthiest could afford. His business model wasn’t anything I’d choose to emulate, and I could see why a teenage Catherine would have bucked against him with all her might.

“I do know that. Is that why you broke into his building?” I asked.

“I’m not going to claim to be some noble freedom fighter. I was involved with this group hell-bent on destruction. It so happened they found out who my father was and decided he’d be their next target. I went along with it because I’d been too caught up to think for myself.” She pushed out another laugh. “Police showed up within minutes. I’d barely spray painted ‘eat the rich’ before I was handcuffed.”

“Little rebel. I’m surprised you wanted to work for me, given what I do.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I think you know, after all this time, I admire the way you conduct your business. But since you found out about my criminal past before you hired me, I’m surprised you wanted me to work for you.”

“It’s the age-old adage: keep your enemies close,” I drawled, which made her laugh. I joined her amusement. Catherine was the furthest thing from my enemy.

I probably should have been more concerned by this story, but I found it endearing. Young and wild Catherine, with her spray paint and convictions. Fuck the guy who had let her get arrested, though. I’d checked on him too. He was living on a muddy commune in Oregon, sharing a woman with two other men.

“My parents didn’t find what I’d done amusing. They had me on a plane within forty-eight hours of my release from jail.”

“They were worried about their reputations?” I ventured, my gut full of burning lava. I’d seen this girl’s mug shot. Eighteen and crying, scared and alone. She’d done wrong. Deserved to be punished. But if I were her father, there would have been no chance in hell I’d have sent her away. One look at her face, and I would have broken.

“Mmhmm. Looking back, I think they were probably worried about me too. I was spiraling. Turns out, kicking me out of the family was the best thing they could have done for me. I might still have a little Amy in me, but I worked the spoiled out of myself through manual labor and getting to know more of the world than the gilded cage I’d grown up in had allowed me to see.”

I’d spent a lot of time steeped in fury, but there weren’t many times I could remember that had touched the depth of my sudden rage toward people I’d never met.

And Catherine sounded completely okay with all of it.

“Why aren’t you mad?”

Another bitter laugh. “Oh, I was. But it’s been years, and while I’m definitely working through abandonment issues, I know they did me a favor in the end. If I’d stayed, I would have ended up with a deadbeat, addict husband or a clone of my mother. The very idea of either makes me want to rip my skin off.”

“Don’t do that.” I clamped my fingers around her wrist. “I like your skin.”

Her head turned sharply in my direction, cheeks glowing so brightly they seemed backlit. This woman might have been an expert at hiding her emotions, but her blushes always gave her away.

“I never thought you would appreciate tattoos,” she said.

“I never thought I would either,” I admitted, ending the topic of her parents for both our sakes. “I think I would appreciate pretty much anything on you.”

“Elliot…” She gasped my name, and it struck me to my core. I really fucking needed to hear her do that again.

Josephine let out a soft cry, deciding it was the exact right time to remind us she was in the car with us.

“Uh-oh.” Catherine laughed, her fingers grazing her lips. “We’d better get home before she gets too revved up.”

“Do you want to feed her before we go?” Josephine rarely cried, so when she did, I would have done anything to stop it. She was just so tiny and helpless, ten or twelve pounds at most. It drove me mad to know she wanted something and I wasn’t able to give it to her immediately.

“No, she’ll be fine for ten minutes. Let’s go home.”

I hesitated, and Jo whimpered again. Every second I sat here kept her from being fed and comforted, so I put the car in gear and drove as fast as I dared while keeping my two passengers safe. Catherine talked to Jo the whole way and periodically patted my arm, soothing us both at once. It worked better on the baby.

By the time I pulled into the garage, Jo’s whimpers had turned into baby bird cries. I was wound so tight it was all I could do to throw myself out of the car, unbuckle her from her seat, and hold her against my chest.

We both calmed the instant I had her in my arms.

Catherine circled the car, grinning at me. “Are you stealing my baby, Elliot?”

I swayed with her the way she liked, palming the back of her head. “I really don’t like when she cries.”

Catherine leaned into me, looking at her daughter. She trailed a finger down her round little cheek and sighed. “I don’t either, but look at her. She’s just fine.”

“You should feed her. Now.”

Her eyes flared. “Yes, I was planning on it. You might have to give her back to me first.”

I did give her back, but it was harder than I ever would have predicted.

“Elliot!”

I looked up from my laptop, not surprised to see Catherine storming into the living room after putting Josephine to bed. She’d been out for a walk with her when the delivery had arrived and obviously hadn’t looked in her closet until now. I guess she’d discovered what I’d done, though she really shouldn’t have been surprised.

She stopped in front of where I was sitting on the couch, her hands flying to her hips. She might have been angry, but I was sidetracked by her thighs, bare in her little shorts and at my eye level.

Catherine’s thighs were milky pale and thick, coming together in a tight press. No light—or man, for that matter—could have escaped from between them. A tattoo that looked like embroidered orange and pink flowers adorned one, and a blooming cactus climbed up the other.

Without thought, which was extremely unlike me, I reached out to touch the cactus. Goose bumps sprouted on her skin along the path of my dragging fingertips. She was as soft as she looked, like smooth cream.

“I like this,” I murmured.

“Thank you.” She exhaled a jagged breath when I moved to the other leg, trailing my fingers along the flowers that looked like they were made of thread, a brilliant illusion created from ink. “They were done by an artist in Mexico.”

“They’re incredibly talented.”

“She is—wait a second.” She stomped her foot, sending a hypnotizing ripple up her leg. “I’m mad at you.”

I finally looked up at her face, not surprised to see her cheeks were flushed. It was difficult to feign being contrite with an erection, so I didn’t try.

“I can’t think of a reason you could be mad at me. Didn’t we have a nice day together?”

Her hands balled tight at her sides. I almost laughed at how pissed she was, but I didn’t think she’d take too kindly to that. Besides, deep down, I was pleased she wasn’t holding back anymore. I’d take her anger over her controlled politeness every day of the week.

“Don’t try to confuse me.” She tossed her arms out. “My closet is full, Elliot. Why is it full?”

“I shouldn’t think that’s too difficult to understand. I told you the clothes you tried on were a yes. I don’t know why you’d think I meant the one shirt you bought for yourself. I meant all of it.”

“You can’t just buy me an entire wardrobe,” she protested.

With a sigh, I set aside my computer and stood so we were toe to toe. I pressed my knuckle beneath her chin, tilting her face back.

“I think you’ll find I can, and I did. I know you liked what you tried on, so what’s the problem?”

“It’s too much, Elliot. I saw the price tags. It’s way, way too much.”

“Hmm. I disagree. You’re my assistant and required to dress professionally. Since I’m your boss, it’s my prerogative to supply you with what you need to do your job effectively. I decided you needed all the clothing you tried on today—”

“And then some. There were definitely pieces I’ve never seen before.”

“And then some.” I took the stubborn pad of her chin between my fingers. “Did you like everything?”

She filled her cheeks with air, then slowly released it, eyes narrowed on me. “You know I did. Nan has impeccable taste.”

“She does, which is why she shops for me as well.”

“It’s too much,” she whispered.

“No, it’s not.” I gave her chin a little shake. “I have all this and want to give you a drop of it. Let me, Catherine. There are no strings or expectations.”

“I don’t know how to accept this.”

“All you have to do is say thank you and wear that green sweater on Monday.”

That finally got a smile out of her. “The green sweater was my favorite.”

I grinned back. “I could tell. You lit up as soon as you stepped out of the dressing room wearing it. But you looked incredible in all of it. I look forward to looking at you in your new clothes every day.”

She curled her fingers around my wrist and jerked herself free of my hold. Then she hugged my arm against her chest, nestling it between her heavy breasts. Unconsciously, I took a step closer.

“Thank you, Elliot, for everything. You’ve been so generous to me and Joey, and I just—” Blinking, she turned her head to the side for a moment before facing me again. “I don’t think many people would go out of their way for others the way you have for me.”

She brought my knuckles up to her mouth and pressed a light kiss there, taking me off guard. When she cupped the back of my neck and tugged me down to her waiting mouth, I wasn’t ready. Her lips slid against mine in a warm, firm kiss my brain was too fucking stupefied to respond to.

Catherine kissed me, and all I did was stand there.

Just stood there.

Unmoving.

Unresponsive.

Un-fucking-able to think.

Her lips fell away from mine, and she was a foot away, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with horror.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. That was—won’t happen again. I’m so, so sorry.”

The moment she turned to run, my brain came back online. She was leaving, thinking she had something to be sorry about. That wasn’t even close to the case.

Arm snapping out, I captured her by the nape, spinning her into my chest. We collided with a huff of her breath, her breasts pillowing against my upper abdomen. Not giving her another second to berate herself for reading me, the situation, my feelings wrong, I dipped down and covered her mouth with mine.

My fingers dug into the back of her hair, and hers fisted the sides of my T-shirt. It was all I could do not to crush her against me and drink from her lips now that I had her in this position, but I restrained myself, kissing her slowly, urging her mouth to move with mine with the sweep of my tongue along her upper lip.

I tasted her sweetness, sucking it into my bloodstream. Tangled my fingers in her thick, wild locks. Clamped my arm around her waist, holding her as close as I could in this position.

Catherine kissed me back with timid caresses at first, but soon, she became more sure, snuggling closer, sucking deeper, sighing her breath into my lungs.

Then, she was the first to pull away when I was nowhere near done. I’d had a sample, and now I wanted the entire feast.

She flattened her palms on my stomach and pushed back. “I should really go to bed.”

I had to force myself to release her hair when I wasn’t even close to ready to let her go. Dragging my fingertips down her bare arms, I stopped at her hands, squeezing them in mine.

“Good night, Catherine.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, and every part of me wanted to toss her on the couch and suck that plump lip between mine.

“Good night, Elliot.”

She walked away, and I groaned when I was alone again.

No matter how much I wanted it—I had, that wasn’t ever a question—I’d been avoiding this. Catherine had no idea what she’d awakened when she’d touched her lips to mine. She’d stoked the fire of my desire I’d kept carefully cold for a long time.

There was no going back.

My stomach was filled with flames, and I was burning for her.