Free Forever in Love by Nadia Lee Page A

and she curled her hand to contain the shiver-inducing sensation.
    “Okay, then.” She turned and walked out, knowing that his eyes were on her hips, her body throbbing for more contact with him. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

Chapter Eight
    Propping her feet on the coffee table, Catherine looked over a portfolio sent by an art gallery owner in New York. Yelena apparently hadn’t heard Catherine couldn’t afford to buy anything anymore. Some of the pieces looked quite good, though the quality of offerings was generally uneven. The artist needed better guidance and focus in his work.
    Putting the portfolio away, she sighed. She missed Theresa, the assistant who used to buy audiobooks for her. Catherine listened to at least two a month so she could stay informed about what people were reading. But right now she didn’t have the money for an assistant or the energy to figure out what to get, so she hadn’t listened to anything in a while.
    The clock ticked and the big hand got closer to the large black six. If she didn’t want to be late, she had to leave by five thirty, but…
    She shouldn’t have walked away the way she’d done the night before. Once she’d had some rest and sleep, it was obvious what she’d done had to have annoyed Blaine, like she was playing games or something.
    Still…she’d promised to help, and she was a woman of her word. And it was only until Rick recovered.
    At the bar, Blaine greeted her like nothing had happened the night before. Since she didn’t want to talk about
that
in front of others, especially the super gossips who’d labeled her a drug dealer, she treated him just the same. He even let her go early. “No need to help me clean up. Janey’s going to stay behind. You go home and get some rest.”
    Catherine took a quick glance at the waitress. Janey’s round face held nothing but gratitude and friendliness.
    The next night and the next the pattern continued. If she hadn’t known better she’d think Blaine was avoiding her. Which was silly.
    They had to share the space behind the counter and brushed by each other. She liked the fleeting touches of his hard, muscular body against hers, even through the layers of clothes.
    Blaine had probably assumed she’d rejected him when she’d walked away. That wasn’t how she’d meant it, but what could she do about that now?
    On the fifth night, Janey came over to the bar during a lull. “Rick’s gonna be well enough to come in tomorrow.”
    “Great.” Catherine smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”
    “Thanks so much for your help. Rick’s been worried about it and felt awful.”
    “It was my pleasure, Janey.”
    And it really had been. Her mother occasionally said, “We don’t serve—we are served” to show her disdain for labor. And she’d been true to her convictions; she’d chosen poverty when her husband had died and left them destitute. But Catherine didn’t mind working. It was sort of cool that she could do something as simple as making drinks and people appreciated it enough to
pay
her.
    The money she’d made bartending would never be enough to give her the kind of financial security she needed, but it was nice to be acknowledged for something other than looking pretty for once.
    “Anyway I guess you won’t be coming in tomorrow?” Janey said.
    “No. Why?”
    “Rick wanted to thank you in person.”
    “He doesn’t need to do that. And I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities to run into each other before I leave town.”
    * * *
    Blaine stood in front of the Blue House the next morning with a bag full of groceries. There was no sign of the white Ford that Irene drove. Catherine’s silver Aston Martin was shiny and spotless, though he was certain she hadn’t had it washed after the bar closed the night before. Maybe something about the woman made her car stay extra clean.
    What was he doing there anyway? He’d stayed away from her as much as he could, since that was what she