“Yes,” Min said, trying not to laugh. “Especially if you promise to call them Sweet and Tart.”
“Liza would kill me,” Diana said, but her voice sounded lighter.
“Come here first,” Min said. “And then we’ll go out and you can come back and spend the night. It’ll be like old times. Except we’ll be folding your cake boxes because they have to be assembled, I’ve just found out.”
“Okay,” Di said. “Okay. I feel better. It’s just pre-wedding jitters.”
“Right,” Min said. “You haven’t talked to Mom recently, have you?”
“Well, yes,” Diana said. “I live with her.”
“No, I mean talk. Because she just called to tell me Dad’s cheating on her.”
“Oh,” Diana said, sounding taken aback. “No, she hasn’t mentioned that.”
“Well, good,” Min said, and reassured Diana that their father was not sleeping with his secretary—”It would mean he’d have to skip lunch, Di, and do you really see that happening?”—and hung up with a renewed promise that they would have a wonderful time on Wednesday.
Then she sat and looked at the phone and waited for it to ring again. She’d told Cal not to call her, that she wanted Monday to herself, but he was not good at taking directions, so maybe . . .
By five that evening, it had become clear that the bastard had learned to take directions. Min went home and heard Elvis playing on the stereo before she opened the door. She went in and saw the cat splayed out on the back of her couch, his ears close to the speakers. “Turned it on again, did you?” she said, and went over and cuddled him to make up for leaving him all day, something that didn’t seem to bother him much at all. Then she made spaghetti and began the pleasant evening she’d planned with her cat, keeping one ear cocked for a knock at the door, just in case. When it came, she felt equal parts exasperated and happy. Okay, Cal wasn’t good at listening, that was bad, but she was still glad he was there.
Then she opened the door and he wasn’t, it was David, and her feelings simplified down to just exasperated.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I need to talk to you.” He walked in and stopped dead, staring at the end of her couch. “My God, what is that?”
“That’s Elvis,” Min said closing the door behind him. “My cat. I love him. Insult him and you’re history.”
David sat down on the couch, as far away from Elvis as he could get. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he began as he loosened his tie.
“There is no us,” Min said. “There never was an us. The best thing you ever did for me was dump me. I’d be grateful but I’m still mad at you for it.”
“I know, I know, I deserve it.” David pulled the knot out of his tie, looking more undone than Min could ever remember seeing him. “It was the dumbest thing I ever did.” He patted the couch beside him. “Come here and let me talk to you.”
Min went over and sat down on the couch. “Make this fast,” she told him. “Elvis and I have a big evening ahead of us.” At the sound of his name, Elvis crept forward on the back of the couch and sat beside her, growling softly, and she put her hand up and rubbed him behind the ears. “Easy, tiger,” she told him. “He’s leaving.”
David leaned closer, keeping one eye on the cat. “I want to marry you, Min.”
Elvis reached out a claw and buried it in David’s sleeve.
“Hell,” David said, scooting back on the couch. “What was that for?”
“Elvis doesn’t want to get married,” Min said. “I think Priscilla broke his heart. He always loved her, you know.”
“It’s not funny,” David said.
“Who’s laughing?”
“Look, I’m serious.” David reached in his coat pocket and handed her a package. “This is how serious I am.”
“That’s not a ring, is it?” Min said with horror.
“No,” David said, so she unwrapped the box. Inside was an expensive, three-inch snow globe with the Eiffel Tower inside.
“The Eiffel Tower?” Min said. This guy doesn’t know me at all.
“That’s where we’ll honeymoon,” David said, edging closer. “In Paris. We’ll have a wonderful life, Min. And I don’t mind starting a family right away, we can—”
“I don’t want kids,” Min said, peering into the snow globe. “David, this isn’t my kind of—”
“Of course you want kids,” David said. “You were born to be a mother.”
Min put the snow globe on the end table and looked at the cat. “There are two men, Elvis. One calls you a depraved angel and the other calls you a natural born mother. Which one do you pick?”
“Well, you’re more than that, of course,” David said. “But—” He stopped when the cat jumped down from the back of the sofa, brushing against him and leaving a smudge of rusty cat hair on his sleeve. “Your cat just got cat hair on me.”
“It’s only fair,” Min said. “Your suit just got expensive suit lint on him.”
“Min, I know you’re seeing Cal Morrisey,” David said.
“You do?” Min said, thinking, You miserable son of a bitch, you’re still trying to win that bet. It was enough to make her sleep with Cal just to get even with David. The thought was much more exciting than it should have been.
“You shouldn’t see Cal,” David said seriously. “Ever again.”
The cat jumped up on the end table and nosed the snow globe off with enough force that it landed on the stone hearth in front of the fireplace and smashed, water running everywhere.
“Elvis!” Min shoved herself off the couch to shoo him away. “Stay away from there. There’s broken glass.”
“He did that on purpose,” David said, outraged.
“Yes, David, the cat is plotting against you.” Min fished the base out of the water and glass shards and put it on the table. Then she went to get her wastebasket and began to put the glass pieces in it.
“That cat—” David said.
“Yes?” Min said as she picked up the biggest piece.
“Never mind,” David said. “You don’t know what Cal Morrisey’s up to.”
“Sure, I do,” Min said, picking up another piece. “He’s trying to get me into bed.”
“Well, yes,” David said. “But it’s more than that.”
“I know.” Min picked up the third and last large piece and then looked at the rest. “Give me that magazine on the table, will you?”
David passed the magazine over and she tore off the cover while he said, “You don’t know. He’s capable of anything.”
“That was the impression I got.” Min slid the cover under the glass while using the rest of the magazine as a broom. She dumped the glass in the basket and then saw one more large piece, a little beyond her sweeping area. “Look, David, you don’t have to worry about me. I am not in love with Cal Mor—ow!” She pulled back her hand as the blood welled up. “What the hell?” She picked up the last piece and dropped it in the basket and then went out to the kitchen to wash off the blood.
“Are you listening to me?” David said.
“No,” Min said over the running water. “I’m injured. Go away. I don’t want to marry you.” She turned off the water, wrapped a paper towel around her finger, and went back to get rid of him.
“Min,” David said, standing up. “You’re not taking me seriously.”
“Lord, no,” Min said, opening her front door. “You’re a nice man, David. Well, not really. Go—”
“No, Min, I’m staying,” he said, his voice deep and serious.
Then he grabbed her and kissed her hard.
Chapter Eleven
David was holding Min’s head in his hands too tightly for her to pull away, so she drew back her hand to slap him, only to have him yank away and scream before she could complete the smack.
At his feet, Elvis snarled, his front claws planted in David’s shin.
Min wiped her mouth off as David kicked Elvis off his leg. “Well, that was gross. As
I was saying, go find some woman who meets your criteria for a good mate and marry her. I have an attack cat, and I’m accessing my inner bitch all the time now, so you’ll never survive here.”
“I’m sorry,” David said. “I just want you so much.”
“Yeah,” Min said. “Do that again and I’ll Mace you. Now get out.”
“Promise me you won’t see Cal Morrisey again,” David said, and Elvis lowered his head on the back of the couch and growled.
“No, David, I will not promise you anything.” Min pointed to the door. “Out or I get a restraining order.”
“At least think about it,” David said.
“No,” Min said and pushed him out the door. When she had it shut behind him, she looked at Elvis, now stretched out on the back of the couch, his head close to the stereo he loved. He batted the stereo with his paw until he connected with the ON button, and “Heartbreak Hotel” boomed out of the speakers.
“Turn that down,” Min said and then remembered she was talking to a cat. She went over and moved the volume lever down. “That was weird, Elvis.”
Elvis patted the UP button over and over again until “Love Me Tender” came on.
“Well, it could be worse,” Min said, looking at him sprawled on the back of her couch. “You could like music from Julia Roberts movies.”
Elvis’s tail began to twitch to the music, and Min gave up and went to get a Band-Aid.
Cal didn’t call Tuesday either, and Min was congratulating herself that night that she was finally free of him and feeling lousy about it when somebody knocked on her door. She stirred her chicken marsala one more time and went to answer it, picking up her Mace on the way. After forty-eight hours and no phone call, she was hoping it was a mugger so she could release some tension. But when she opened the door, Cal was leaning in the doorway, holding the usual sack from Emilio’s and another, smaller shopping bag, looking more tired than she’d ever seen him. His shirt collar was open, his tie ends hanging down, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was rumpled and sloppy and the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, and her heart lurched sideways just because she was so damn glad he was there.
He said, “Hi,” and saw the Mace. “You can just say no,” he said, and she opened the door wider, and he came in and kissed her on the forehead. She leaned into him because he looked so solid and because she was so glad to see him and then, on an impulse, she stretched up and kissed him gently, a hello-how-are-you kiss that felt like exactly the right thing to do.
When she pulled back, Cal looked stunned.
“What?” she said. “That was a friendly kiss.”
He shook his head and closed the door behind him with his shoulder. “That was . . . nice. Here.” He handed her the small shopping bag. “I’m courting. You get gifts.”
Min took the bag and felt deflated. “Bad kiss? Did I do it wrong?”
“No.” He grinned tiredly at her. “You couldn’t possibly do it wrong.” Then his smile faded. “That’s just the first time.”
“Oh, please,” Min said. “We’ve been kissing for days.”
“I’ve been kissing you for days,” Cal said, tossing his jacket on the armchair as he went to put Emilio’s bag on the table. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me. What smells so good?”
“Chicken marsala,” Min said. “I think I got it. What do you mean, that’s the first time? I . . .” Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. He was right. He always kissed her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cal said as he came back to her. “So—”
Min dropped the shopping bag and went up on her toes and kissed him again, this time giving it everything she had. The rush made her dizzy, and she grabbed his shirt to steady herself, and he held her, kissing her back until she was hot and trembling.
“That’s two,” Cal said, breathlessly. “Not that I’m counting.”
“There should have been more,” Min said, trying to get her breath back. “I mean, we’re not doing this anymore, but I shouldn’t have made you do all the work.”
“I didn’t mind,” Cal said, pulling her closer, and she knew she should pull back but she didn’t want to because he felt so damn good against her. “Although I’m liking this.”
“I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Min said, putting her forehead against his chest.
“Which would be what?”
She felt him kiss the top of her head again, and smiled. “That I wanted, you know, more.”
“Right,” Cal said. “Just friends. You bet. Kiss me again.”
Min grinned and lifted her head. “It doesn’t count if you tell me to.”
“It always counts,” Cal said and kissed her, and she let herself fall into him until she lost track of time and everything but the way he felt wrapped around her. Then he came up for air and said, “I may be getting the wrong idea.”
“No,” Min said, backing away. “Don’t do that. Forget any of that happened.” She held up the Mace can. “I have Mace.”
“Right,” he said and let go of her to collapse onto the couch. “Elvis, old buddy, how are you doing?” He reached up to scratch Elvis behind the ears and Min almost said, “Don’t,” remembering what had happened to David. But Elvis flattened his head so Cal could get closer and purred his appreciation. “You know, this is a nice cat.”
“I know.” Min tried to calm her pounding heart as Elvis rolled to his feet. “I don’t know how I ever lived without him.” She picked up the bag she’d dropped and went to sit next to Cal on the couch. “So. I’ve heard about this,” she said, pulling open the bag. “You’re going to give me something I didn’t even know I needed.”
“What do you mean, you heard?” Cal said, but Min was pulling out a shoe box and ignored him.
“I have very specific tastes in shoes,” she said, shaking her head. “The possibilities for disaster here are huge.”
“I live on the edge,” Cal said.
Min opened the box. Inside were mules with her favorite French heel, but they were covered in white fur. “What the hell?” she said but when she pulled them out, she saw the bunny faces on the furry insteps. “You got me bunny slippers?” she said, holding them up. The bunnies looked back at her, dopey and sweet. “Open-toed bunny slippers? These are incredible.”
“I know,” Cal said, scratching Elvis’s stomach now. “There’s music in there, too.”
“Let me guess,” Min said, reaching in the bag again. “Elvis Costello.” She pulled out the CD and read the title: “Elvis Presley, Fifty Greatest Love Songs.” She looked at Cal. “You got me Elvis Presley.”
“It’s what you like,” Cal said, as the cat rolled away from him. “Why would I get you what I like?”
“Boy, you are good at this,” Min said, looking back at the bunnies. “I love these shoes.”
“Every woman needs bunny slippers,” Cal said, taking one of them. “Especially women with toes like yours.” He reached down and picked up her foot and stripped her sweat sock off, and Min wiggled her suddenly cool, pink-tipped toes at him. “Very hot toes, Minnie,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the bottom of her foot.
“Ticklish,” Min said, trying to pull her foot back, but he slipped the shoe on before she could move, and she closed her eyes and sighed at how good the fur lining felt on her skin. “Oh, lovely,” she said and then looked down at her foot again, and wiggled her toes under the bunny’s mouth. “These are perfect.”
“I know,” Cal said, and let go of her foot.
Min stripped her other sock off and slid into the other bunny slipper. “You’re a genius at this. I’ll wait to play the CD when you’re gone so you don’t have to suffer.”
“I like Elvis,” Cal began, but Elvis the cat had crept his way down the chair arm, and now he pushed something off the sewing machine table at the end of the couch.
“Hey.” Cal leaned out to retrieve it. “Careful, cat, you’ll—” He stopped as he picked it up. “Why do you have a statue of the Eiffel T
ower?”
“Somebody brought me an Eiffel Tower snow globe last night,” Min said, watching her toes wiggle under the bunnies’ chins. “Elvis broke it.”
“Good for Elvis.” Cal handed her the tower and she dropped it in the wastebasket and went back to looking at her bunnies. “So who was clueless enough to give you a snow globe without people in it? Greg?”
“No,” Min said cheerfully as she saw trouble loom. “You know what? I think I made the chicken right.” She stood up. The slippers felt wonderful. “These fit perfectly.”
“Minerva,” Cal said. “You’re keeping something from me.”
“Many things,” Min said, and went out to the kitchen, concentrating on the way the slippers tapped on her hardwood floor. “I may never take these shoes off again.”
Behind her, “Love Me Tender” began to play, and Cal said from the couch, “The cat knows how to turn on the stereo?”
“He knows the power button,” she called back. “And replay, unfortunately. I heard ‘Love Me Tender’ four times last night before I took the CD out.” She stirred the chicken one more time, tasted it, and thought, I really think this is it. She smiled to herself and tasted it again to make sure before she called back, “I think you should taste this.”
“I will,” Cal said from behind her. “First tell me who this belongs to.”
She turned and saw him holding up David’s tie.
“Where’d you get that?” she said.
“Elvis was playing with it,” Cal said.
She took it from him and dropped it in the kitchen trash. “It’s none of your business who that belongs to.”
“I know,” Cal said.
“You can’t be jealous,” Min said.
“And yet, much to my own disgust, I am,” he said, folding his arms. “All right, I have no business asking.”
“This is true,” Min said.
“So who was it?”
She leaned against the stove and realized she was glad he was jealous. You’re a mess, she told herself.
“Minnie,” Cal said.
“My ex-boyfriend. He dropped by and proposed.”
“He did?” Cal said calmly, but his jaw tightened.
Bet Me Page 24
