That Kind of Special by Abby Wood Page A

for her to become too sated to figure out that he’d taken over control from the beginning, and she was at his mercy.
    This meant that her time with Trent was different. She’d slipped away from herself and quit paying attention. Her body wanted one thing. Her mind wanted the same thing.
    All because Trent demanded it. So, what did that say about her?
    Her phone rang.
    Trent motioned toward the door. “Go ahead and answer that. I’m going to the kitchen. If that’s Colby, hang up. When you’re finished, come down and have a drink with me.”
    She nodded. “‘Kay.”
    The phone rang again. She glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey.”
    “Here’s me calling with your excuse to leave,” Doreen said.
    “Thanks, but a phone call isn’t going to work with Trent.” Katina sank down on the bed. “I need you to come to his house. Do you think you can remember how to get here?”
    “Yeah, I can figure it out.” Doreen paused. “Are you okay?”
    “Sure.” Katina swallowed. “I’ll tell you more after you pick me up.”
    “Gotcha. Be there in a half hour.” Doreen disconnected the call.
    Katina dropped the phone back in her purse and stood. A fast snack, a little conversation to ease Trent’s mind, and she was out of here.
    * * * *
    Something had turned Katina off, and Trent was damn sure it wasn’t him. He had been right there in bed with her, and experienced the same thing. No woman who came that easily and that powerfully walked away when he was offering her more.
    He’d seen her pull away the moment she recovered from her second orgasm. He took the roast beef from the butcher paper and laid it out on the bread.
    Footsteps came from the hallway. He glanced up and frowned.
    Something was definitely wrong.
    Katina set her purse on the counter and gripped the back of the bar stool. He took in everything about her. The stiff shoulders, the extra lift of her chin, the lack of eye contact. Things were not looking good.
    “Hungry?” He cut the sandwiches in half.
    She nodded. “Yeah.”
    “Go ahead and take the plates to the table, and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He stepped around the island and opened the fridge. “Canned iced tea?”
    “Sure,” she said.
    He walked to the table. “You’re lucky my housekeeper keeps me in cold cuts and beverages. We at least won’t starve. I do know how to make a mean sandwich.”
    She relaxed and laughed. “You just haven’t found the right incentive to learn to cook.”
    “You cook?”
    She bit into the sandwich and nodded. “You’ve met my mom. You don’t really think she spends much time in the kitchen, do you?”
    “No, I guess not.”
    “Instead, she signed me up for cooking camp growing up. After three summers, I was serving three-course meals for her and her friends. She liked to show me off.” She grinned. “All that cooking and baking caught up with me though, and explains why she sent me to fat camp at age fourteen.”
    “No…”
    She laughed. “You don’t think a former Miss USA would have a daughter who is twenty pounds overweight, do you?”
    “That’s awful,” he said.
    “I lost the twenty pounds that summer, and still have the ribbon I received for participation. The trophy went to Jenny Devine, who lost fifty-three pounds.” She shrugged. “I ran into Jenny a couple of years ago. She’s happy, married, and had two kids and a killer body. So, really, she deserved to win.”
    He laughed. “You’ve got a point.”
    The bitterness most women tried to hide after being sent to camp by their perfect mothers wasn’t apparent in Katina. Her smile came easily, and her body remained relaxed. Interesting.
    He opened his iced tea, then reached over and opened hers. “I went to camp.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yeah.” He took a drink. “Guess which one.”
    She tapped her finger against her lips. “Boy Scouts?”
    He grimaced. “Hell no.”
    “Safety…” She clapped her hands. “I got it. You were one of the crossing