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A Good Man

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Catcher Block was not a Good Man. He had never once in his life claimed to be, because as much as he frankly enjoyed lying, this one seemed a bit silly. Nobody would ever believe it, and he was fine with that. Catcher Block was a good ladies' man, a good man's man, a good man about town.

His life was almost a part for him to play, but so far he hadn't tired of the game, so he pushed on, fulfilling and exceeding expectations every day. Besides, he was a man. No man in this day and age wanted a quiet life. A man's job was to seduce as many women as possible until he got caught in a situation he couldn't talk his way out of, and then he would settle down and seduce as many women as possible without being caught red-handed by his wife. Simple. He wanted that, too.

Right?

Barbara Novak began as a game; sure, this game was a bit more thrilling, the stakes were higher. She had outed him on national television, there is no way he could let that go. Especially when it was followed by dozens of phone calls with thin alibis for cancelled dates. He would never let her get away with this. He would get his revenge.

 

'This is just another game,' he reminded himself for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. But when she was peering with so much amazement at the moon, he could feel his face settle into a look he feared might be dangerously close to tender, and he couldn't quite get rid of it, try as he might. She was beautiful, and he told her as much. And he told himself as much. That was all it was. He was horny, and she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever met. He didn't care that she was clever, or curious, or oddly mysterious at times. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was genuinely kind, or that she was fiercely loyal. He hardly noticed the fact that she never tried to hide from him, or that she seemed to find something good in every situation. Definitely not. He was just playing. He would get what he wanted from her, and by then he would be tired of her anyway. Right?

But all thoughts fled his mind when she told him goodbye and, in desperation, he kissed her. He was pretty sure there was steam coming out of his ears. Catcher Block couldn't remember the last time one single kiss got him so worked up that it was hard to walk. Boy, this Miss Novak was something else. And letting her walk out of the apartment after a kiss like that... Well. If that wasn't one of the hardest things he had had to do in years, then he doesn't know what.

 

She had planned it all. As she spread it all out in front of him, she didn't look shy, or smug, or meek, or awkward. She laid the facts out like she was at a board meeting, and it was quite possibly the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life. She had beat him. She had won- no. She had mastered him. Completely. He had no idea that that had been what he had wanted, but it was; she had known it was. What a woman.

He came to realise something that he had only been suspecting before this: she was going to be a lot of work. He would have to work day and night so that she would never find out that he wasn't worth it. He silently promised to both of them in that moment that he would do so. He wanted to be worthy of her- he wanted to be a Good Man, for possibly the first time in his life. He never would be one, but he was an actor, right? He had spent his whole life playing the role of "Catcher Block." He was more than happy to play "the man that deserves her" now. Whatever she wanted. He kept on his confident mask, but secretly laid his heart and soul at her feet, agreeing to anything. He was sure if she asked to move to Nebraska and become pig farmers he would only ask for a minute to pack his bags.

A few minutes later, he wished she had asked that of him. Because what she had said instead was the one thing he couldn't handle- she knew. She knew he wasn't worth it. She knew he wasn't a Good Man. She had figured him out so quickly, she always had. He couldn't talk his way out of this one, try as he might. And so she stepped toward the door, stomping on the heart he had laid there at her feet moments before, crushing it, and walked out of his life.

 

Again, again, she had done it again. Barbara- Nancy- whatever her name was, she had trumped him again. Of course, he knew she would. But he still felt that rush, that thrill down his spine when she did. He didn't think it would ever go away. He hoped it wouldn't, anyway. And that red hair! He didn't realise he had a thing for it, but then, most likely he hadn't. Until he met her, that is. It seemed to be happening more and more, he was finding new things about himself whenever he was around her. Slowly, slowly, he was attempting to become a Good Man.

He had realised when she left that she deserved so much better than pretend. Better than him playing a game, playing a role. Barbara Novak deserved everything in the world, and that included an honestly Good Man to love her, and hopefully, one day, earn her love in return.

But she liked games. He knew that, that was why he went to her in her office- if he could keep her busy with a game long enough, then maybe he could capture her attention, buy himself enough time to become the Good Man that he so desperately wanted to be for her.

And then there she goes, trumping him again. Revealing things he had never seen before: she didn't want a Good Man. She wanted him. Whatever she wanted, anything. Give him a week, he would lay the world at her feet. She loved looking at the moon, well he would get it for her. Anything, everything.

As she kissed him in the elevator on their way to the roof, he understood completely that she was going to be a lot of work. He was really looking forward to it.