Catching Claire Read Free Page B

job.”
    “What else do you do?”
    “I shouldn’t say. You might upchuck.”
    She laughed. “I like you, Ridge.”
    “I like you.” A lot. His last girlfriend, a fellow
med student, had rarely let loose. At first, Ridge had thought she
was focused on her studies. Nothing wrong with that. Still, he’d
spent weeks encouraging her to unwind. However, the longer they’d
dated, the more he’d realized she wasn’t a people person. Although
brilliant, she’d become one of those doctors with a lousy bedside
manner.
    Not how he wanted to approach his career or his life.
    “Tell me about your job,” Claire said over her mug.
“I can handle it.”
    “I dissect cadavers.”
    Her eyes flew wide. “You what ?”
    “Cut up dead people. For summer session anatomy
classes.” He set the water glass on the coffee table he’d moved
last night to create room for Claire’s makeshift bed. “The students
aren’t permitted to dissect, just observe the samples I
prepare.”
    She waved a hand. “That’s enough.”
    “You don’t want to hear about the fellow I worked on
last week? He had this—”
    “Triple sure.”
    “Too bad. It’s fascinating.”
    “Another time.” Stepping to a cluster of framed
pictures, she drank her coffee. “Where’s your mom?”
    “In L.A. She left when I was two.”
    “ Oh.” Sympathy infused Claire’s tone. “I’m
sorry.”
    “It’s okay. We reconnected when I was eight.” He
rubbed a hand over his mouth. “When I was little…my mom had big
dreams. She thought she’d make it as an actress.”
    “Aw. Did she?”
    “A few commercials now and then, a TV movie. Mainly,
she teaches dance. She’s fun to hang out with, but I wouldn’t call
her mother material. In some ways, I feel closer to Ruth.”
    The corners of Claire’s mouth tipped up. “Your
mother sounds like quite the character.”
    “She is. She took my name from her favorite soap
opera. I can’t remember which.”
    “Look at the bright side. She could have called you
Brick. That’s a name from my mom’s old soap.”
    Ridge chuckled. “You surprise me, Claire
Merriweather. You’re kind of serious, but fun, too. Never mind
hot.” He jiggled his eyebrows.
    She glanced away. “About that toothpaste…” She set
her mug on the coffee table.
    Now he’d scared her off. “Meet Fargone first.”
    “I think I’ll pass.” She fidgeted with the baggy
robe sleeve. “Alicia and I have a fitting at the bridal salon at
noon. I should call her. She’s probably wondering where I went last
night.”
    “You wrote a note on that erasable thing hanging on
her door. You said you’d left with me and would return at eleven
this morning.”
    Claire smacked her forehead. “I don’t remember that
at all!”
    “You also thanked her for dragging you to the
laundry a couple of weeks ago, because otherwise you wouldn’t have
seen my ad. And you, um, told her not to disturb us.”
    Claire groaned. “Did I write down your apartment
number? Your cell phone?”
    “Nope and nope. I tried to, but you erased them.”
With his T-shirt. While he’d been wearing it. He’d needed to squash
against Alicia’s door so Claire wouldn’t rip off his tee
during her energetic wiping. Blue marker stains now covered the
shirt—another candidate for the laundry. “You were becoming
rambunctious.” To put it mildly. “I brought you here before someone
complained to the manager—and I tucked you straight into bed.” In
the living room. He’d tried offering her the bedroom, but, to
Claire, a real bed equaled sex. Last night it had, anyway. Twice
after he’d dozed off, she’d snuck into the room to join him. Each
time, he’d escorted her back to the sofabed. Sharing sleeping
quarters with the curvy brunette would have pushed his libido over
the edge.
    “We didn’t fool around at all? ” she
persisted. “We didn’t kiss, not even once?”
    He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” Unless he
counted her slobbering on his ear when