How Cat Got a Life by Tatiana March

back to sleep?” he asked.
    Cat shook her head. “I was too edgy. I roamed about the house. Where did you get the furniture from?”
    “My grandparents. This house used to belong to them.”
    “I puttered about a little. Cleaned in the kitchen and set up things for breakfast. You’ll have to show me where you keep your laundry. I like to do ironing when I can’t sleep at night.”
    “Ironing, huh?” He blew into her ear. “Can’t you think of anything better?”
    “Not anything that I can do alone.”
    “You’re not alone now.” He pushed up to his feet, holding her in his arms. “I vote we go back to bed.”
    “I second the proposal.” She opened the top button on is uniform shirt and kissed his chest. “I could get used to this, you know.”
    “So could I,” Brock said as he set off to carry her upstairs.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    “Mrs. Bridgewater!”
    Cat halted by the reception desk on her way back from her extended sentence of community service. She’d snuck into the hotel early that morning, wearing her evening dress and high heels, and rushed out again after hastily showering and dressing for the office.
    “We put a charge through for your first week on your credit card. Could I take another imprint, please?”
    “Of course.” She stepped up to the young man behind the counter.
    He took her Visa card and swiped it. Frowning at the display, he keyed in the number manually. “I’m afraid it’s not going through,’ he said. ‘Do you have another card?”
    Her lungs stopped working. “No. Could I…write a check?”
    “You don’t have to pay until you leave. Perhaps you can speak to your credit card company tomorrow and find out what the problem is.” The young man handed the card to back her, not appearing particularly concerned.
    Cat’s legs barely supported her as she made her way to the cramped business center and sat at the computer. She logged on to her account. Oh God. She’d maxed out on her credit card. The car rental company took prepayment, and she had upgraded her flight home to a flexible ticket, and bought that horrendously expensive dress. Her hands shook as she entered the password to her checking account. The balance stood at just under two hundred dollars. She transferred it all to her credit card. The amount would cover the previous night at the hotel.
    A shudder ran through her as she read through her emails and learned that the accountant dealing with the closure of Tim’s business had found another unpaid invoice. The small safety net she’d relied on was gone, the last of their funds depleted, leaving her with nothing to fall back on.
    Cat pulled herself together and returned to the counter. Quietly, she explained to the young man that she had a problem at home that needed taking care of. His eyes grew cool, but he had enough compassion to let her check out immediately and not charge her for the coming night. She rushed upstairs and packed her things. The evening dress didn’t fit in her trolley case. She considered trying to take it back for a refund, but she’d cut off the tags, and fifty people had seen her wearing the outfit.
    Feeling numb, Cat went over her options. She could sleep on the floor in Dalton’s dorm room. No . Her mouth compressed into a hard line. It would break all the college rules, and if her Mrs. Robinson remark had been repeated around town, she couldn’t be seen mixing with young men.
    Go to Brock. Ask him for help . Temptation whispered in her ear. She crushed the idea at once. He’d been out of the office all day, but he’d called her to let her know he was thinking of her and would see her tomorrow. His words filled her mind. I’ve got a reelection to think of next year. Consorting with a woman of dubious morals could ruin my campaign . The rumors about her moral corruption could be written off as a joke, but if she stayed, she’d end up writing bad checks.
    There was only one answer. She’d have to go home.