“Woman, Chad. I’m eighteen. I’ve grown into a pretty woman.”
She walked closer, her breath coming in short puffs. A silky green sundress sheathed her nubile body. Warm mahogany tresses fell over faintly freckled shoulders. Kissable shoulders… Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Girl, he corrected his thoughts. Catie was a girl. He willed his heart to slow before he spoke.
“Eighteen ain’t a woman in my book, little bit.”
“Why do you call me that?” she asked coyly.
“You know why. When you were four and I was fifteen, working at your house with Angie on a school project. You kept bugging us, and Angie bribed you with cookies just to leave us alone for a little bit.” He chuckled. “Course you always came back for more.”
“Well”—Catie edged closer to him—“cookies have always been my downfall. Good thing I’m not prone to weight gain.” She backed away for a moment and stuck out her chest, the soft clingy satin making her pert nipples apparent through the fabric.
Chad’s groin tightened. For a moment, he imagined biting one of those hard little nubs right through the green satin.
“What do you think? Do I need to lose any weight?”
Chad gulped, silently he hoped. “I have no opinion on the matter.”
What a crock. He had an opinion on the matter. Not one change needed to be made to that perfect young body. Had her legs always been that long? Damned if they didn’t go on forever. The gift that keeps on giving…
Catie leaned over the redwood railing. “Angie and Cal Tucker used to make out here in high school. I’d sneak over and spy on them.”
“What were you? Five or six then?”
“About five. I always thought, someday, I’d make out with the man of my dreams here too.”
“Cal Tucker was hardly the man of Angie’s dreams, little bit.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“She was never the woman of his dreams, that’s for sure. He was after anything in a skirt back in high school.”
She batted her eyes. Big brown doe eyes. His breath caught.
“You’re one to talk.”
He couldn’t help a chuckle. “Never claimed to be a saint, little bit.”
She sauntered toward him, her narrow hips swaying just enough to drive him crazy.
“Tell me, Chad.” She licked her ruby lips. “Do I look eighteen to you? Do I look like a woman? Or do you still see a little girl?”
Chad closed his eyes. “Why are you doing this, Catie?”
A whisper of skin grazed his chin. Her fingertips.
“Open your eyes, Chad McCray. Open them and look at me.”
He obeyed and gripped her wrist, removing her hand from his face. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“That’s a start.”
Catie placed her hand in his forearm. His pulse raced at her delicate caress.
“Seems you know what I’m after.”
“Yeah. I know what you’re after,” he said, “and you’re not gonna get it.”
“Don’t you think I’m pretty?” Catie curled her lips into a pout and entwined her arms around Chad’s neck.