“Shut up. This is like being on the Bachelor!” she laughed, “No lie, I love that stupid show. Every single season I think they’re really gonna find love. Do not fire me for being stupid.”
“Let’s clear this up. You’re not here as an employee of Astley Corp. You’re my guest. I asked you to spend the day with me, not with the CEO at your job.”
“So nothing I say can be held against me?” she teased.
“Exactly,” I said, “we’re off the record.”
“Good. Now pop the champagne. I’m freezing cold, and you better not get between me and that hot water!”
I stopped unwrapping the top of the bottle because I was distracted by the sight of Cat stepping into the hot tub, sliding down as the water enveloped her and giving a happy sigh. Her sigh ran through me like an electrical shock. My body always responded to her, but that soft, satisfied noise she made had me hard in an instant. I opened the champagne and poured her a glass. Once I was in the hot tub with her, the steam rising off our skin, we toasted to a stolen afternoon. A toast to total privacy and time together.
“So, do you use this a lot?” she said.
“Not as much as I’d like. I swim laps in the pool, but I seldom get in the whirlpool here.”
“Why the hell not? I mean, what could be so important that you skip this? I’d be like, hell, sell off three or four companies so I got time to soak!” she laughed. I laughed with her.
“Why sell them? Why not hire people to manage them?” I said.
“How would I know? I don’t own companies. And you have lots of hired people but you don’t take the time to enjoy what you have. What’s that about?” she said. She was looking at me very seriously as she drained her champagne glass.
“I think it’s a case of priorities,” I said, “I spend most of my time at work because I choose to.”
“Why? Do you love working in an office that much?”
“Not really. I like what I can accomplish.”
“But you accomplished this. Look around you,” she said, gesturing with her empty glass to the beautiful grounds and my home.
I looked at it all just as she suggested. It looked the same as always. I didn’t see it with new eyes and suddenly decide to do more self-care or whatever the trending term was, but I liked what I saw, mainly the sight of Cat in my hot tub, indignant and waving a champagne flute.
“If this were an old movie, I’d say it’s because I never had anyone to share it with,” I said offhandedly.
“Uh, if this were an old movie, we wouldn’t be day drinking in a hot tub,” she said with a light laugh. I smiled. I couldn’t help smiling around Cat. I refilled her glass. She set it on the stone edge of the whirlpool and stretched out her legs, pointing her toes into the waterfall. Her head tipped back and eyes shut, she looked the perfect picture of relaxation.
I thought about edging closer to her on the bench while her eyes were shut, but that was too timid for my taste. I reached out and touched her arm. She turned to look at me.
“Come closer,” I said. She grinned at me and cut across the corner of the hot tub to scoot in beside me. I looped my arm around her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and gave another happy sigh.
“This is the best,” she said.
I took a drink of champagne and offered her my glass. She took a sip. I liked that, the way she drank from my glass. We sat back and relaxed for a minute.
“I love this. You know what, when I was in eighth grade, I stole my mom’s bikini and went and got in a hot tub with Sarah Jo’s big brother Ryan.”
“Does your friend know you were hot-tubbing with her brother?”
“It wasn’t even their hot tub. Or ours. It was a neighbor’s,” she laughed, “There was this family that moved back north and left their hot tub, the house was empty—we just went out there and plugged it in. He was such a creep too.”
“So what you’re saying is I’m excellent company as far as men you’ve been in hot tubs with,” I said.
“Exactly. I mean my best friend’s brother did try to feel me up—he was sixteen, I was almost fourteen but flat as a board. I had stuffed the top of the bikini so he got a handful of soggy tissues.”
“Because you thought stuffing it with tissues and getting wet wouldn’t be a problem?” I said dubiously.
“Hey, I didn’t say I was smart. I was a late bloomer and none too bright at thirteen either.”
“I hope the little creep learned his lesson,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not sure he knew the difference. He didn’t act like he knew anything was off, so it was probably the first time he ever tried to get to second base.”
“I can’t say I have a high opinion of your friend’s brother since he took an eighth-grader out to an abandoned hot tub to feel her up.”
“Hey, it’s what passes for romance where I come from,” she laughed.
“Really. So how do champagne and laundry facilities rank?”
“Even better than soggy tissues and septic chlorine,” she said, “Five stars.”
I kissed her then. She wound her arms around my neck and kissed me back. For a time, there was nothing but the churning hot water around us and my mouth on hers. Then she nestled against me, and I held her close, as close as we could be. I pulled her onto my lap. She wrapped her legs around me. I pressed her in my arms and kissed her, my tongue stroking hers, wanting to mark her and make her mine. My hands almost covered her back, and it made me feel strong and powerful. I could almost pull her into me, absorb her. The sensation was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
“Mr. Waltham? Pardon me, Mr. Waltham?” a voice called from the French doors.
I dragged my mouth from Cat’s, reluctant and growing furious. My housekeeper stood with her hands on her hips.
“Forgive me, but the load of washing is done. Do you want these things hung to dry or put in the dryer?” she called.
I made myself take a deep breath. I reminded myself that Clara was an excellent housekeeper. That she managed the other staff superbly and catered to my unpredictable schedule. I would regret it if I fired her for interrupting me at a very inopportune moment. I was a rational man, a successful businessman who didn’t make rash decisions based on impulse or out of anger, so I composed myself before I formed a response.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Cat said, vaulting out of the hot tub, shivering into a towel over her dripping suit and heading for the French doors, “I’ll get that. You don’t have to put my stuff in the dryer.”
“No, please, I would be happy to dry the clothes. I didn’t know what you wanted to be done with them—” Clara broke off.
Cat stood before her, dripping and apologizing, completely adorable. Clara was obviously mystified, particularly by someone who didn’t want to be waited on. I watched with a little amusement as my housekeeper argued with her about who would do the laundry. Within moments, Clara had produced more towels, was trying to help squeeze out Cat’s streaming wet hair, and they disappeared into the house together. I got out of the hot tub and collected the champagne glasses and bottle with no small annoyance. That moment was gone.