many years past pinching as a weapon, had pinched him. And she hadn’t regretted it, either.
No, the pain in her back teeth wasn’t as bad as normal because something seemed…off. Phony. The lazy, loose-limbed look. The recitation of his adventures. The smile. Maybe what he was saying was the truth, but not the whole truth. Maybe it was the only truth he wanted to share with her. Maybe…
He was a jerk and always had been to her. Start the game the way you intend to play, her grandfather the high-school football coach used to say, and Justin had started their association being a jerk. But if his dive-shop friend’s behavior was anything to judge by, he didn’t share her opinion. Neither did Benita or her little boy. She’d invited him to dinner— again, she’d said—and he’d agreed without hesitation.
Which proved what? That Cate was on his list of people who didn’t deserve common courtesy?
She didn’t like having people dislike her, especially based on superficialities. He’d taken one look at her the night they’d met and recognized that she wasn’t like them. She didn’t have money; she’d been wearing the uniform for the waitressing job that helped pay her tuition. She hadn’t been sophisticated or witty, hadn’t known a damn thing about diving or clothing designers or sports or booze. He’d dismissed her as unworthy two minutes after meeting her and had emphasized it at every subsequent meeting.
And she’d borne a hell of a lot of resentment toward him. Not just for trying to dissuade Trent from marrying her. Not for telling her the night before the wedding that she wasn’t good enough for Trent. Not for dragging Trent off on a new adventure every time they were starting to settle in together.
She’d resented him because he’d made her feel less.
And judging by the knot in her stomach, she still did.
She hesitated to raise her hand to brush off Justin’s list of vacations for fear it would tremble, but it didn’t. “Okay, Trent truly does help Susanna run the shelter, and you do things that cost a lot of money and benefit you and the travel industry. Let’s get back to the Wallace brothers. What do they have to do with Trent and Susanna?”
For a moment Justin looked as if he were wishing for the decent beer or fine tequila, too. He might even be throwing in a wish that he’d left her at La Casa for the men to do with what they would.
Then he sighed. “When Susanna started the shelter, she needed funding. The Wallaces give a ton of money to charity. Since they have offices here in Cozumel, I suggested they donate to La Casa. Give back to the community, you know. And they did.”
“Why didn’t you? Or Trent?”
His blue eyes darkened. “I don’t know what Trent does with his money, and it’s none of your business what I do with mine, unless you want to share your financials, too.”
She snorted. Rich people had financials; she had a checking account and a savings account. He had investments; she had a retirement account. He had revenue; she got a paycheck.
And he was right that it was none of her business. She had better manners than that. She never pried into people’s private business, except on the job, where knowing what really happened to a patient could mean the difference between living and dying. She did her best to minimize the risks of anybody dying in her E.R.
Besides, she knew how Justin spent his fortune: fun, fun and more fun.
“The Wallaces invest. They get a tax write-off. The shelter gets badly needed money. The partnership benefits everyone, and they’re all happy…for a while. What happened to send you and Susanna into their office to take—” deliberately she rephrased “—to steal files from their computer?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a few blond strands standing on end. It gave him a look of boyishness that was seriously at odds with the definitely-not-a-boy body.
Not that she was noticing for any reason beyond a
No, the pain in her back teeth wasn’t as bad as normal because something seemed…off. Phony. The lazy, loose-limbed look. The recitation of his adventures. The smile. Maybe what he was saying was the truth, but not the whole truth. Maybe it was the only truth he wanted to share with her. Maybe…
He was a jerk and always had been to her. Start the game the way you intend to play, her grandfather the high-school football coach used to say, and Justin had started their association being a jerk. But if his dive-shop friend’s behavior was anything to judge by, he didn’t share her opinion. Neither did Benita or her little boy. She’d invited him to dinner— again, she’d said—and he’d agreed without hesitation.
Which proved what? That Cate was on his list of people who didn’t deserve common courtesy?
She didn’t like having people dislike her, especially based on superficialities. He’d taken one look at her the night they’d met and recognized that she wasn’t like them. She didn’t have money; she’d been wearing the uniform for the waitressing job that helped pay her tuition. She hadn’t been sophisticated or witty, hadn’t known a damn thing about diving or clothing designers or sports or booze. He’d dismissed her as unworthy two minutes after meeting her and had emphasized it at every subsequent meeting.
And she’d borne a hell of a lot of resentment toward him. Not just for trying to dissuade Trent from marrying her. Not for telling her the night before the wedding that she wasn’t good enough for Trent. Not for dragging Trent off on a new adventure every time they were starting to settle in together.
She’d resented him because he’d made her feel less.
And judging by the knot in her stomach, she still did.
She hesitated to raise her hand to brush off Justin’s list of vacations for fear it would tremble, but it didn’t. “Okay, Trent truly does help Susanna run the shelter, and you do things that cost a lot of money and benefit you and the travel industry. Let’s get back to the Wallace brothers. What do they have to do with Trent and Susanna?”
For a moment Justin looked as if he were wishing for the decent beer or fine tequila, too. He might even be throwing in a wish that he’d left her at La Casa for the men to do with what they would.
Then he sighed. “When Susanna started the shelter, she needed funding. The Wallaces give a ton of money to charity. Since they have offices here in Cozumel, I suggested they donate to La Casa. Give back to the community, you know. And they did.”
“Why didn’t you? Or Trent?”
His blue eyes darkened. “I don’t know what Trent does with his money, and it’s none of your business what I do with mine, unless you want to share your financials, too.”
She snorted. Rich people had financials; she had a checking account and a savings account. He had investments; she had a retirement account. He had revenue; she got a paycheck.
And he was right that it was none of her business. She had better manners than that. She never pried into people’s private business, except on the job, where knowing what really happened to a patient could mean the difference between living and dying. She did her best to minimize the risks of anybody dying in her E.R.
Besides, she knew how Justin spent his fortune: fun, fun and more fun.
“The Wallaces invest. They get a tax write-off. The shelter gets badly needed money. The partnership benefits everyone, and they’re all happy…for a while. What happened to send you and Susanna into their office to take—” deliberately she rephrased “—to steal files from their computer?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a few blond strands standing on end. It gave him a look of boyishness that was seriously at odds with the definitely-not-a-boy body.
Not that she was noticing for any reason beyond a
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