Greg saw the silent interaction between Cate and Jodi, but had no idea what was going on.  Keith was awfully quiet at the moment, and he’d been outside quite awhile after talking to Cate in the kitchen—Greg had been able to hear their voices, but not what had been said.

Not that he needed to—the way the two were avoiding eye contact told him that something uncomfortable had happened, and that was a shame.  His own interest aside, Cate and Keith had been friends for fifteen years, and Greg hated to see that cast aside for any reason.  Keith had often talked of his Caty-girl, and now Greg could see why—Keith clearly thought Caitlyn had hung the moon, or at least assisted in the process.  How long had Keith idolized the woman without her knowledge?  Then again, maybe Cate knew—but did she feel the same way?  Was it possible she didn’t know and harbored similar feelings, but was too shy to express them?

Greg suddenly wondered if the girl was worthy of Keith—he knew the other man to be a devoted, loyal friend and had no trouble envisioning Keith treating any woman in his life like royalty.  He cast a speculative gaze at the two women in the room, wondering if either could measure up to what his friend deserved.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully.  The conversation between the adults lagged at times, but (((Jodi’s children))) more than made up for the silence with their observations and interjections.

Finally back at his apartment after a day that had lasted far longer than he’d planned, Greg glanced at the answering machine to see a blinking red light.

“Greg, it’s Tamara.”  He raised his eyebrows at her tone—even over the phone, it was sweet enough to make him wonder if he’d need insulin.  Yet she managed to do it without sounding completely fake—Greg couldn’t figure out how for the life of him. “I’m sorry I was such a brat yesterday about what happened in the office.  I should have called last night, but I was too embarrassed after the way I’d acted in front of you—again.  I swear you do the strangest things to me without even trying.”  A dramatic sigh.  “I’d still like to go out with you sometime.  Give me a call—it’s still early, and maybe I can make it up to you yet tonight.”

He considered the phone for a moment before finally deciding it could wait until the morning. Greg’s head was still spinning after spending the day with Cate, and he knew he’d be poor company for Tamara.  She would be unlikely to let that go uncommented upon, and the verbal sparring session that was sure to follow wasn’t how Greg wanted to end his weekend.  As a lawyer, Tamara Webster was brilliant—and the owner of one of the sharpest tongues Greg had ever encountered.  Greg had no doubt that she would be comfortable gouging out the eyes of an opponent with her well-manicured fingernails if she thought she could get away with it.

But she was beautiful, and could be incredibly sweet when she chose to.  The disparity between the ice queen in the court room and the sweet woman of the other evening still made Greg shake his head.  That girl was dangerous in more ways than one.

But so was Cate, in her own way.  Quiet and unassuming, she was nothing like Tamara—and that’s what made her even more dangerous.  Seemingly unaware of the affect her sweet ways could have on men, Caitlyn Jordan was a heartbreaker without even meaning to be one.  Greg knew from experience that made her the most dangerous sort of all, in part because it was hard to hold a grudge against someone who had no idea what she was doing.  Compared to Tamara, Cate was an innocent.

That was part of her appeal, Greg had to admit.   The pretty gift store manager was the sort of woman a man wanted to take home to meet his family, while Tamara was the ideal woman to have on his arm for a night on the town.

But that wasn’t fair, either—he’d seen Cate in a suit at church that day and she’d nearly taken his breath away.  She wasn’t a beauty queen like Tamara—the other woman was a former Miss Colorado, Greg reminded himself—but she was definitely easy on the eyes, attractive in a girl-next-door sort of way.  And when she smiled—which Cate did far more often than Tamara—her eyes sparkled with happiness, though they’d been dull with pain nearly all day.

Greg reached for the phone, but not to return Tamara’s call.  He had the sudden urge to check on Cate.  His hand on the receiver, he glanced at the clock.  10:34. Too late to call, especially when he wasn’t sure his call would be welcome, regardless of the time.

Go to bed, Tanner.  Greg knew the following day would be a long one, especially if the credit card transaction hadn’t been corrected.  Smiling in spite of himself, Greg knew that once the correction went through, he might want to thank this Kara person for her error—without it, he might never have taken the time to meet Keith’s Caty-girl.