Christ, he’d only been away from Catherine for a few hours and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. What was wrong with him? Normally he was relieved when the woman he was dating didn’t smother him twenty-four hours a day. He hated the clingy types. Catherine definitely wasn’t clingy. In fact, right now she was off listening to some orchestra perform and probably having a great time. He shook his head and put the graphite pencil back in the cup. As he stood back, he surveyed the sketch. Damn, it was the best thing he’d ever drawn. He wondered if Catherine would like it. When he heard the doorbell, Dean’s stomach knotted. It couldn’t be her. The performance wouldn’t be over until nine, Catherine had said. She’d told him that she’d call when she made it back to the hotel. Still, a guy could hope. The doorbell chimed again, and Dean strode from the room. By the time he reached the front door, he was frowning. He yanked it open, ready to blast his visitor when he was brought up short by the sight of his mom and sister.
