Catherine stared at him, her heart pounding. "Isn't--isn't wearing the wrong insignia against regulations?"
"I don't know," he said earnestly. "I thought you were in charge of all that."
He stood there looking down at her, and she said in a small voice, "Don't do this to me. I want you to leave me alone. I belong to Bill."
"Where's your wedding ring?"
Catherine brushed past him and started toward the street door. When she reached it, he was there ahead of her, holding it open for her.
Outside he took her arm. She felt a shock go through her whole body. There was an electricity that came from him that burned her. "Cathy--" he began.
"For God's sake," she said desperately. "What do you want from me?"
"Everything," he said quietly. "I want you."
"Well, you can't have me," she wailed. "Go torture somebody else." She turned to walk away, and he pulled her back.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," Catherine said, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know what I'm saying. I--I have a hangover. I want to die."
He grinned sympathetically. "I have a marvelous cure for hangovers." He guided her into the garage of the building.
"Where are we going?" she asked in a panic.
"We're getting my car."
Catherine looked up at him, searching his face for a sign of triumph, but all she saw was his strong, incredibly handsome face filled with warmth and compassion.
The attendant brought up a tan sports convertible with the top down. Larry helped Catherine into the car and slid in behind the wheel. She sat there looking straight ahead, knowing that she was throwing her whole life away and totally unable to stop herself. It was as though all this were happening to someone else. She wanted to tell the silly, lost girl in the car to flee.
"Your place or mine?" Larry asked gently.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said hopelessly.
"We'll go to my place."
So he was not totally insensitive. Or else he was afraid to compete with the shadow of William Fraser.
She watched him as he deftly tooled the car through the early evening traffic. No, he was not afraid of anything. That was part of his goddamn attraction.
She tried to tell herself that she was free to say no to him, free to walk away. How could she love William Fraser and feel this way about Larry?
"If it helps any," Larry said quietly, "I'm as nervous as you are."
Catherine looked over at him. "Thanks," she said. He was lying, of course. He probably said that to all his victims as he took them up to his bed to seduce them. But at least he wasn't gloating about it. What bothered her most was that she was betraying Bill Fraser. He was too dear a man to hurt, and this was going to hurt him very much. Catherine knew that and knew that what she was doing was wrong and senseless, but it was as though she had no will of her own anymore.
They had reached a pleasant residential area with large, shady trees lining the street. Larry pulled the car up in front of an apartment building. "We're home," he said quietly.
Catherine knew that this was her final chance to say no, to tell him to keep away from her. She watched silently as Larry came around and opened the door. She got out of the car and walked into his apartment building.
Larry's apartment had been decorated for a man. It had strong solid colors, and masculine-lo
oking furniture.
As they walked in, Larry took off Catherine's coat and she shivered.
"Are you cold?" he asked.