Catching Claire (3 page)

Ridge dodged his upended cereal bowl and strode in
bare feet to his guest.

“Thanks.” Claire traded her coffee for the water. He
held her mug while she downed the aspirin. “I recognize these
ruins,” she said, pointing out an enlargement. “Where is this
place?” She ran a hand through her tangled hair.

“Machu Picchu, in Peru.” Ridge stepped closer to the
picture. “That’s my dad and Ruth at the view from the Machu Picchu
gatehouse. The small mountain in the background is called Huayna
Picchu. They climbed it later that morning. He asked her to marry
him there.”

A smile curved Claire’s mouth. Not a loopy one, like
last night in the laundry, but a small, slightly shy smile that
flipped his arousal switch. He’d love to wake up to a smile like
hers…kiss her until she moaned...make love with her until she
called his name, over and over.

“I’d love to travel someday,” she murmured.

He filed away the fantasy. “Me, too. I need to
finish med school first.”

As her head tipped, her wavy brown hair grazed the
robe. “You’re a doctor?”

“On my way. Stripping helps pay my tuition. That and
my other part-time job.”

“What else do you do?”

“I shouldn’t say. You might upchuck.”

She laughed. “I like you, Ridge.”

“I like you.” A lot. His last girlfriend, a fellow
med student, had rarely let loose. At first, Ridge had thought she
was focused on her studies. Nothing wrong with that. Still, he’d
spent weeks encouraging her to unwind. However, the longer they’d
dated, the more he’d realized she wasn’t a people person. Although
brilliant, she’d become one of those doctors with a lousy bedside
manner.

Not how he wanted to approach his career
or
his life.

“Tell me about your job,” Claire said over her mug.
“I can handle it.”

“I dissect cadavers.”

Her eyes flew wide. “You
what
?”

“Cut up dead people. For summer session anatomy
classes.” He set the water glass on the coffee table he’d moved
last night to create room for Claire’s makeshift bed. “The students
aren’t permitted to dissect, just observe the samples I
prepare.”

She waved a hand. “That’s enough.”

“You don’t want to hear about the fellow I worked on
last week? He had this—”

“Triple sure.”

“Too bad. It’s fascinating.”

“Another time.” Stepping to a cluster of framed
pictures, she drank her coffee. “Where’s your mom?”

“In L.A. She left when I was two.”

“
Oh.”
Sympathy infused Claire’s tone. “I’m
sorry.”

“It’s okay. We reconnected when I was eight.” He
rubbed a hand over his mouth. “When I was little…my mom had big
dreams. She thought she’d make it as an actress.”

“Aw. Did she?”

“A few commercials now and then, a TV movie. Mainly,
she teaches dance. She’s fun to hang out with, but I wouldn’t call
her mother material. In some ways, I feel closer to Ruth.”

The corners of Claire’s mouth tipped up. “Your
mother sounds like quite the character.”

“She is. She took my name from her favorite soap
opera. I can’t remember which.”

“Look at the bright side. She could have called you
Brick. That’s a name from
my
mom’s old soap.”

Ridge chuckled. “You surprise me, Claire
Merriweather. You’re kind of serious, but fun, too. Never mind
hot.” He jiggled his eyebrows.

She glanced away. “About that toothpaste…” She set
her mug on the coffee table.

Now he’d scared her off. “Meet Fargone first.”

“I think I’ll pass.” She fidgeted with the baggy
robe sleeve. “Alicia and I have a fitting at the bridal salon at
noon. I should call her. She’s probably wondering where I went last
night.”

“You wrote a note on that erasable thing hanging on
her door. You said you’d left with me and would return at eleven
this morning.”

Claire smacked her forehead. “I don’t remember that
at all!”

“You also thanked her for dragging you to the
laundry a couple of weeks ago, because otherwise you wouldn’t have
seen my ad. And you, um, told her not to disturb us.”

Claire groaned. “Did I write down your apartment
number? Your cell phone?”

“Nope and nope. I tried to, but you erased them.”
With his T-shirt. While he’d been wearing it. He’d needed to squash
against Alicia’s door so Claire wouldn’t rip
off
his tee
during her energetic wiping. Blue marker stains now covered the
shirt—another candidate for the laundry. “You were becoming
rambunctious.” To put it mildly. “I brought you here before someone
complained to the manager—and I tucked you straight into bed.” In
the living room. He’d tried offering her the bedroom, but, to
Claire, a real bed equaled sex. Last night it had, anyway. Twice
after he’d dozed off, she’d snuck into the room to join him. Each
time, he’d escorted her back to the sofabed. Sharing sleeping
quarters with the curvy brunette would have pushed his libido over
the edge.

“We didn’t fool around
at all?
” she
persisted. “We didn’t kiss, not even once?”

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” Unless he
counted her slobbering on his ear when he’d turned his head to
avoid her lips at four a.m.

She swore. “I’ll never hear the end of this. Alicia
hates disorganization.”

“She sounds charming.”

“Once she’s mad—”

“Enjoy the morning with me, then.” He darted a
glance at the news crawler across the bottom of the TV. “It’s
nine-fifteen. Meet Fargone before you go. You have plenty of time.”
He didn’t want her to leave at all. For the first time in weeks, he
had Saturday night off—no stripping gigs. He wanted to spend the
day with Claire, talk, get to know her. Convince her that hanging
around a dancer named Ridge wasn’t a bad idea.

That it could be a
great
idea.

She bit her lip. “What the hell. I’m dead meat with
Alicia, anyway.” She eyed him. “First the toothpaste, then the
snake. But
no
feeding him.”

~*~

Claire stood at the bathroom sink, gaping at the
horror show that was her reflection. Her hair looked like a chicken
coop had exploded on her head, mascara smudges circled her eyes,
and a zit had sprouted on her chin.

Ridge hadn’t mentioned any of this. Not one blessed
word.

Was he blind?

Pushing up the robe sleeve, she opened the top
vanity drawer he’d said contained a new toothbrush—Ruth’s drawer,
according to Ridge. As well as the toothbrush, makeup samples and
an unopened concealer tube greeted her.
Thank you, Ruth.

Somehow, over the next ten days, before Ridge’s dad
and new stepmom returned, Claire would replace every borrowed
item—because no way was she exiting this bathroom looking like the
Wicked Witch of the West had melted on her face.

Minutes later, she fluffed out her loose brown
waves. Tanya’s mother kept hassling her to get highlights for the
wedding. Maybe she should. Ridge was intelligent, funny, generous,
and undeniably hot. And, he seemed interested.

He’d already seen her at her worst. She’d be a fool
to walk away now.

The thumping in her forehead receded to a dull ache.
Claire unknotted the robe, plumped up the girls, then retied the
sash to expose the white bow centered between her breasts. A hint
of cleavage winked above the purple silk.

Inhaling deeply, she left the bathroom. Ridge stood
at the kitchen sink, wringing a washcloth. He’d cleaned the cereal
mess off the floor and stowed away the sofabed. The rolled-up
sleeping bag and pillow sat on the couch along with several
Aztec-patterned cushions, and a local radio station played instead
of the TV sports.

“Hey.” He draped the washcloth over the tap. “You
look different.”

“Aspirin works wonders.”

“That’s why they call it the miracle drug.” He
lifted a plate of buttered toast. “Hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled. “Starving. Thanks.” She
retrieved the top slice. As her teeth sank into the warm toast, he
refilled her coffee. He’d barely touched his mug, but she welcomed
the additional infusion of caffeine to combat her lingering
cobwebs. She drank the hot liquid between bites of her second
slice. Beside her at the counter, Ridge ate the other two
pieces.

His gaze flitted over her face. “You didn’t have to
pretty up for me, you know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you mistaking me for one of
your corpses.”

He laughed. “Fat chance of that happening. You’re a
natural beauty, Claire. That’s what I like about you. You’re real.”
He tapped her nose.

Pleasure warmed her deep inside. She hadn’t dated
since spring. The last guy had been the complete opposite of
easy-going Ridge Pederson. Not only in personality, but also looks
and age.

She’d never been with a younger man. Would Ridge
care that she had three years on him?

“Ready to see Fargone?” he asked, setting his coffee
on the counter.

She swallowed. The snake again. “Is he
poisonous?”

“Nah. Ball pythons kill by constriction.”

Gulp.
“How long is he?”

“Three feet. He’s still growing. He could reach
five.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Ridge chuckled. “Handled properly, he’s harmless.
Most snakes are nocturnal. Far’s no exception. He’s probably curled
in his hiding cave.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t disturb him.”

He massaged her shoulder, his touch reassuring
through the flannel robe. “It’s okay, he likes me. I take him out
of his tank all the time. You can handle him if you want.”

“How about
you
handle him, and I’ll watch?”
She put down her mug, and Ridge’s hand settled on her back as he
steered her to the spare bedroom. Claire recognized the apartment
layout from visiting Lacey. “Which floor is this?”

He glanced at her. “The second.”

“Lacey lives two floors above your dad and stepmom.
She uses the extra bedroom as her design studio.”

“What does she design?”

“Lingerie. She made my babydolls.” Which Claire had
squeezed into last night with the sole intention of seducing the
image in Ridge’s stripping ad—her lowest point since college.
However, now she knew he was so much more than the
six-pack-equipped hottie who’d gyrated down to an impressive
leather G-string. He took care of his father’s snake, he maintained
a relationship with a mother who’d abandoned him, and he attended
medical school.

Check, check, and check.

“Lacey’s very talented,” Ridge said, rubbing her
lower back. Her skin tingled beneath the robe.

He opened the door to the snake room and flicked on
a low-wattage light. A computer desk occupied the wall to the
right, and a rack of stripping costumes banked the left. Claire
spied a sailor suit and a pirate costume.
Ahoy!

She forced her gaze ahead. A snake tank about four
feet wide and two deep sat on a bulky stand beneath the blind-drawn
window.

Clasping her hand, Ridge led her to the tank filled
with wood shavings, a water dish and heat dome, plus various hiding
and climbing structures. Claire hung back while he hunkered down
and peered into the tank.

“I see him.” He unlatched the lid and lifted a
hiding cave. With one hand, he hoisted the snake out of the
tank.

Claire restrained a squeak. Ridge grasped the
creature by its middle. The snake coiled into a ball. An empty
depression marred its profile where one eye was missing. The
healthy eye glistened.

A moment later, the snake relaxed, curling around
Ridge’s forearm. Balancing the python against his pecs, Ridge
whispered, “Want to touch him?”

Wary of startling the snake, Claire replied in a
soft tone, “Do I have to?”

“Balls have excellent dispositions. Far is pretty
docile after living with my dad for several months.”

Balls?
She smiled.

Ridge continued in a gentle voice, “If you’re
scared, it’s probably best not to touch him. If he gets stressed,
he might not eat tonight.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Sorry, fridge mouse, you’re
already a goner.

Ridge sat on the floor and looped the snake around
his neck. As Claire watched the pair interact, her insides turned
as gooey as toasted marshmallows. And as warm. Good Lord, was there
anything sexier than a half-nude, chiseled man displaying such care
with a cold-blooded reptile?

Only if he handled
her
with such care.

“I’m sorry I misjudged you, Ridge,” she
murmured.

“As long as you’re not judging me now.”

“Actually, I am. I think you’re amazing.”

He grinned. “What do you do?”

“Work at Clemmons Consulting. It’s a venture capital
investment group downtown that specializes in small businesses like
Lacey’s. I’m executive assistant to one of the founders. When I
showed him pictures of Lacey’s designs, he agreed to introduce her
to his team.”

“That was nice of you.”

“She deserves the chance to follow her dreams.”

He gazed at her. “What are your dreams, Claire?” He
removed the snake from around his neck and allowed the creature to
curl on his forearm again.

Claire fiddled with the robe sleeve. She usually
didn’t open up to men right away. However, Ridge had shared his
feelings about his mother. If anyone would understand her desire
for a normal family life, it would be him.

Not quite ready to reply, she knelt beside him. The
over-large robe pooled on the cool laminate. Rolling up the
sleeves, she whispered, “I’d like to touch Fargone now.”

“Brave girl,” Ridge whispered back. He secured the
python with both hands.

Holding her breath, Claire feathered a finger along
Fargone’s scales. “He feels silky-smooth,” she murmured. Not slimy
or sticky like she’d feared.

She touched the snake again, and its head moved
away.

“I like my job,” she began in a quiet voice. “Work
doesn’t drive me, though. I don’t have a calling, like Lacey does.
Or like you must attending medical school. Or Alicia with her
cupcake shop.” She met Ridge’s gaze. “I enjoy working. I wouldn’t
feel right knowing someone else was supporting me. But the thing I
want most is a family. You mentioned your mom leaving. I know how
you feel.” She paused. “It seems we’ve both had a negligent
parent.”