Page 1 of Tangled in Temptation

Chapter One

Catherine

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THE RAINDROPS TAPPED on the windows, creating a comforting backdrop to my melancholy. I wandered through the rooms of my new house, making mental notes about what I needed to do first. My father’s thoughtful gift was a refuge from the chaos that had enveloped my life in recent days. The wide plank floorboards were my favorite style. They were old and authentic and in desperate need of being sanded and restored. I took a moment to bounce up and down, checking the sturdiness of the floor. The house wasn’t as old as Gloriana Manor, but it was old enough. It was built well, and I couldn’t wait to put my personal touch on the restoration.

I liked to imagine the history that these walls had witnessed. I liked to come up with my own stories about the family that had once lived in the home. I liked to imagine kids at the table doing homework and their mom in the old-fashioned kitchen making a meal from scratch while wearing a cute apron. Basically, I liked to fantasize about the family I’d never had. The mother I never really gotten to know before she died.

It was a big project, but I was ready for the challenge. This house, right in the center of town, would be my sanctuary—a place to rebuild, to heal. I needed another project to absorb all my attention. I didn’t want to think about Timothy living up there in his beautiful mansion with that woman. That whole situation made me so mad and hurt at the same time. The two emotions fed off the other.

I was still furious to know that woman was enjoying the fruits of my labor. Not that I ever had a chance to live in the house, but I did have a taste of the man of the house. A man that had led me to believe he was available. I had no idea he was still with the woman he pretended to hate. I had thought there might actually be something happening between us.

And then we’d had sex, and he’d practically run away. That was never the reaction a woman wanted after having the best sex of her life. Yes, he swooped in and saved me from Scott’s tirade in my dad’s shop, but I could have beaten Scott away. And my dad was there. He would have kicked Scott out eventually. So, while it was very chivalrous, it wasn’t like he stuck around to talk about it. Once again, he walked away. The man had a bad habit of grunting and walking away from a situation that warranted at least a brief conversation.

I dismissed Timothy from my mind. I didn’t want to think about him. He was in my past. The one night we’d had together was history. It didn’t matter. It had been a quickie in the kitchen. There was nothing between us and never would be. I refused to be the other woman. I knew he was divorced, but after seeing his ex and getting to witness her in action, I wanted nothing to do with that situation. No way. I wasn’t going to be his side chick while he still banged his wife.

“Enough. Stop. No more.”

I gave myself a mental shake and went out to my truck to get the cleaning supplies I’d brought along. My furniture would be delivered soon. I’d actually splurged and bought a new couch with the money I’d made restoring the manor. The rest of my things were going to be arriving from my old apartment that had officially been condemned after it was discovered the mold situation was far more serious than anyone thought. My father buying me this house came at the perfect time. Even though I was still a little frustrated he’d wasted the money he made with the manor project to buy me a house. I wished he had bought it for himself.

But I was grateful. I loved the house, and I couldn’t wait to get started working on it. I got busy wiping down the kitchen counters, preparing for the tedious process of unpacking all my kitchen stuff. The sound of a moving truck pulled me from my thoughts that immediately went back to Timothy when I wasn’t actively trying not to think about him. No matter what I did, he was in my head twenty-four seven.

I rushed outside to direct the movers, eager to transform this house into my dream home. The rain continued to fall, but my excitement overshadowed any discomfort. Together, we brought my meager belongings from the condemned apartment up the creaky stairs to what would soon be my bedroom.

“Thank you guys,” I said when the small U-Haul was unloaded. I gave them each forty bucks. I thought it was more than enough given I had almost no furniture. I looked around at the boxes piled up and was actually kind of grateful for the mess. This had to keep my mind off the man that would not be mentioned. I didn’t need upbeat music from my playlist. This was a moment of quiet. The sound of the rain was the perfect soundtrack for my mood. I carried the boxes for the kitchen in and put them on the counter. I opened one after the other, noticing the cabinet doors would need to be refinished.

Later, as I unpacked, my phone rang, interrupting the quiet hum of rain outside. I glanced at the screen and saw Timothy’s name on the screen. Three days in a row, and each time, I’d chosen to ignore his calls. The wound was still fresh. Was I just a distraction? A fleeting amusement in between moments with his ex-wife, or whatever she was to him now? She was in Germany, and he needed to satisfy his needs. Why not fuck the willing woman taking advantage of his kindness? I’d known it was a bad idea to move into the house. It was inevitable there would be a moment between us. The chemistry was obvious. I just assumed he was single and the chemistry was okay.

I let the call go to voicemail, but my fingers lingered over the screen. The temptation to answer was strong, but I resisted. I couldn’t afford to let him back into my life, not after what I’d seen. His betrayal stung more than I expected, and this new house was my chance to escape the shadows of Gloriana Manor. I never wanted to think about it again.

As I continued unpacking, the rain outside intensified. I found comfort in the sound, each drop a reminder that life goes on, even after the storm. I liked that it was a downpour. An angry storm that reflected my mood as well. The memories of Timothy lingered, but I pushed them away, determined to focus on the fresh start the new house represented.

I went upstairs to unpack my bathroom and some of my clothes. I didn’t want to do too much because I was just going to have to move it around and re-box it while I painted and worked on the floors.

“Catherine!” My dad’s voice echoed through the house.

“Up here,” I called out.

I made my way downstairs to find him standing in the foyer, a proud smile on his face. I knew giving me this house made him just as happy as it made me to get it.

“Dad.” I greeted him with a quick hug, not wanting to get wet from his slicker. “What brings you here?”

He gestured around house. “Just checking on how things are going. This place is looking more incredible every time I visit. You’ve already cleaned up a lot.”

I nodded, appreciating his support. “It’s a lot of work, but I’m excited about making it my own. I can’t wait to refinish the floors. I priced out windows yesterday. And that stone fireplace, I think I’m going to paint it white.”

He chuckled, glancing around. “You got that determination from your mom, you know. She loved turning a house into a home.”

As we talked about the house for a minute, a serious expression crossed my dad’s face. He cleared his throat, and I could sense that something else was on his mind. “Catherine, Timothy called.”

I frowned, my mood shifting at the mention of Timothy’s name. “What does he want now?”

“He has another job for you at Gloriana Manor,” my dad said.

I sighed, my frustration bubbling up. “Dad, you’ll have to find another contractor. I’m not going back there. All the major stuff is done. If he wants something else, you can do it, or he can hire someone else. I did what I set out to do. I’m done.”

My dad furrowed his brows. “What happened, Catherine? You’ve been avoiding Timothy’s calls for days now. Is this about the confrontation with Scott?”