Seduced by the Screenwriter

Chapter 7, Catrina Turns Tail Part 7

Chapter 7

Catrina Turns Tail

She was leaving? Chett's scrambled to his feet. "I thought you had fun tonight."

"I did," Catrina mumbled in a monotone stripped of the passion she'd expressed before they dozed off in each other's arms, sated, before the warm fire.

He ran both hands over his head as if to clear sleep fog that hazed his understanding of what the hell was happening. "Cat, what's wrong? What did I do?"

"Thank you for dinner. For everything." Bare-assed, ribbons trailing from the corset she clutched to her breasts, she stumbled over to the closet, pulled out a parka, and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

As Catrina reached for the door latch, Chett flicked on a side table lamp. "You've forgotten your boots."

She looked down at her bare feet, then around the foyer, at a loss as to where he'd stowed her bulky arctic-grade boots. She waited dismally until Chett wrapped his jeans around his bare middle against the chill and hurried over.

He opened the closet door wide to locate her boots beside his on the drip tray, and set them before her. "Do you have your keys?"

"They're in the SUV." She shoved her feet into the boots without fastening them, and yanked open the heavy front door, face averted. Frigid air swept into the room. "Good-bye, Chett," she said, head averted. "Sorry."

Chett felt the bottom of his world sink deeper into the purgatory of his existence the past year: no wife, no work, no income. "Tell me and I'll fix it."

She faced him at last, her inscrutable dark eyes glistening in the light reflected from the lamp. "This," she threw an arm out in a wide gesture that encompassed the Great Room and him, "is not working for me. You'll— You'll have better luck with my friend Brigit," she choked. "She wants you bad."She stepped out into the icy wind and yanked the heavy door closed behind her, not waiting to hear Chett's reply.

"I want you bad."

***

"For a woman who supposedly enjoyed a night of passion, you look miserable." Brigit placed a mug filled with green tea on a coaster on the vintage mahogany coffee table in front of Catrina. "Where's the post-coital glow, girl?"

At ten o'clock on a grey Monday morning, the SereniTea Shoppe's half dozen round tables were empty except for two elderly ladies gossiping over Earl Grey, scones and homemade jam beside the bow window overlooking Main Street.

At the back of the room, out of earshot, Brigit had pulled two armchairs slip-covered in spring green and white chintz close to a small gas fireplace with an antique carved walnut mantle. It threw off enough heat to displace chilly drafts from French doors that opened to a rear balcony overlooking Lake Muskoka.

On either side of the fireplace, bookcases held Brigit's collection of cozy mystery novels with food themes. She insisted she bought the paperbacks for the recipes. Indeed, the glass display cases by the cash register tempted tourists and locals with an ever-changing variety of tarts, pies, cookies, cupcakes, breads, and scones. Brigit loved to bake.

Brigit placed two plates, napkins and a tiered cupcake stand on the coffee table within easy reach and sank into soft cushions opposite Catrina.

From the enticing selection Cat chose an angel food cupcake topped with a swirl of mint buttercream icing and rainbow sprinkles.

"The evening didn't turn out quite the way I expected," Catrina mumbled around a mouthful of cake. She slid her tongue across her upper lip to dislodge the sugary confection clinging to it. "I don't want to talk about it."

Brigit eyed her over the rim of her mug of peppermint tea. "He's a disappointment, eh?"

Catrina reached for a chocolate cupcake with mocha icing adorned with chocolate chips and placed it on her plate. It's a two cupcake kinda' day. "You want him? You can have him. We're done."

"But if the sex was awful, why would I—"

Catrina's heart lurched. Awful? Hardly. They'd gone at each other like rabbits until they lost consciousness from exhaustion. "The sex was fine, okay? That's not the reason. We're not... compatible. Satisfied?"

"Not compatible, how?" Brigit pressed.

Her sleep-deprived brain struggled to invent an answer that would satisfy her friend. Catrina reached for a third cupcake.

Brigit widened blue eyes and raised blond brows in exaggerated shock. "You're such a fitness nut, you never eat three cupcakes! You must be really upset."

"He pushed my buttons," she said finally. It was close enough to the truth. "He's not for me. I'm moving on."

Given the lack of available men in Port Carson, Brigit kindly forbore from adding the obvious 'to who'. Instead she changed the subject. "I watched the Golden Globes last night. Jenna Jordan didn't win."

Cat set her half-eaten third cupcake on her blue plate and sipped her cooling tea while she digested the news. "Then Jenna is sure to ramp up pressure on Chett to finish a screenplay for her. That's another good excuse for me to stay out of his way. So he can work."

"You told me the playacting was helping him develop ideas." Brigit shot her a considering look. "Maybe I'll invite Chett to the Port Carson Winter Carnival next weekend."

"Be my guest." Catrina reached for the unfinished cupcake, then withdrew her hand when a stab of pain cramped her stomach. Funny, Brigit's delicious baking hadn't ever affected her this way before.

Brigit leaned forward to peer into her face. "Eyes are windows to the soul, and yours are tearing up. I don't think you mean it. I do believe Chett's gotten under your skin. You're falling for him. As in falling in love."

Catrina scoffed. "No way. We just met." Last night Chett's sensitive, expert love-making had lowered her guard. She'd accidentally dozed off. It must never happen again. "It's over. I can't be with him," she insisted, her insides twisting.

"If you're sure."

"Positive." If Chett took up with Brigit, then Catrina couldn't be tempted. Win-win. "He's all yours."

Brigit settled back into the cushions, her pert features illuminated with eagerness. "Then I should drop by and welcome Chett to Port Carson. I wonder if he prefers pie or cookies?"

Catrina lurched to her feet. "I need to use your restroom." To be sick.