Page 19 of Herding Cat

She even found herself toying with the idea of succumbing to his charms...which was terrifying. She knew if she allowed herself to make love with this beautiful, compelling man, she’d probably fall for him. And then, when the tryst ended—or when he found someone more to his liking—where would she be? Alone again...but alone and heartbroken.

Yes, it was a tempting thought, but she was a businesswoman and used to analyzing the risks of a particular proposition. This one had disaster written all over it.

It was a relief when the knock came at the door.

Garrett waved her back—although she hardly needed waving—and peeped through the fisheye before opening the door, making sure it was, indeed, a waiter. It was clear in the way he held his body, he was on alert.

And it was a damn good thing.

Because as soon as he turned the latch, a man crashed through the door, slamming him hard against the wall.

The waiter, who was not a waiter at all, burst into the room, found Catherine standing by the sofa, and lifted a Glock and pointed it at her heart.

Catherine froze.

Sheer terror screamed through her as she stared down the barrel of the intruder’s gun.

She was going to die.

Right here. Right now.

Damn.

It was too soon. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t—

A blur of movement captured her attention, just as the weapon fired with an eerie, muffled zip. Garrett barreled into her assailant and the shot went wide. A pillow by her side exploded in a flurry of feathers.

“Get down!” It was a snarled command, but one she was inclined to obey. She hunched behind the sofa but couldn’t help peeping around the corner to watch. Because hell, if anything happened to Garrett...

It stunned her, the sudden wash of emotion at the thought. Yeah, she had the hots for him, but it was a physical thing. Nothing more. Why the thought of him being hurt or killed devastated her the way it did, she had no idea. Why she was more worried about him than herself was an even bigger mystery.

But if he died, here and now, she would too.

That was probably it.

Wasn’t it?

The men came together in a clash of muscles. It was clear they were well-matched. It was a relief to see Garrett knock the gun out of the other man’s hand, but he spun around and plowed his fist into Garrett’s gut, sending him reeling. While he regained his balance, the man dressed as a waiter reached for his weapon again and leveled it on Garrett.

Catherine’s heart clenched. No. No!

But Garrett was quick. He launched his legs up and, in a scissoring motion, knocked the man’s aim askew. Another bullet exploded, this time into the wall. Then a chilling snap and a warbled shriek rounded the room. The pistol clattered onto the marble tile of the foyer.

Garrett bounded up onto his feet and pummeled his opponent with a series of savage hits, each one sending him back, until he was against the wall. With a knee to the groin, the man fell. Garrett didn’t stop. He pulled something from his back pocket, flipped his assailant onto his back and—ignoring his snarls and howls—zip-tied his hands together. And his feet.

He stood then and wiped the sweat from his brow. His expression was fierce, wild. It sent something licking through Catherine, something she couldn’t quite define. But it felt like hunger.

Without a word, he pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

Catherine couldn’t hear what he said, but she hardly cared. She was far too relieved, and at the same time, frightened to death.

This was proof positive that someone was trying to kill her.

Proof positive that Steven wanted her dead.

“Are you all right?”

She blinked up at Garrett, at his outstretched hand. She took it, but didn’t stop there. She launched herself into his arms and—God—it felt so good when his embrace closed on her. When he held her tight. When he whispered nonsense into her hair.