by Edie Ramer
“I’m surprised that Cara’s so...lively already,” she said. “But if she has to live with them again, it won’t take her long to go back to the dark place. And now that she’s known affection, it might be harder to go back to the coldness.” Her tone softened. “I think you’ve gotten to her in time.”
“Not me.” He leaned toward her. “You.”
She sat back. “I won’t be part of her life. I was just doing this for two weeks. And you’re getting married. Your fiancée will be her mother.”
“Will she?” He took another drink before speaking. “Ryan hinted that he knew something about Portia. Something I should know before I marry her.”
She put her hand over her mouth, partially covering it. He didn’t have to be an expert in body language to know what that meant.
“You know,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I don’t know anything for sure.”
“Join the crowd.” He held up his beer as if making a toast with it then brought it to his mouth and gulped it down, something he couldn’t ever remember doing, not even as a teenager. He thumped the bottle on the tabletop, and she winced.
“Ask Portia,” she said.
“I did. Are you going to make me hire a private detective?”
She closed her eyes, silent. Then her breath came out in a long sigh. “It’s not just Portia. It involves someone else.”
“Ryan.”
Her quick laugh and crinkling eyes told him she was telling the truth as she shook her head.
“So you are going to make me hire an investigator?”
Her features settled into cool lines, and one eyebrow arched. “I’m not making you do anything. All I can say is that if you distrust her to such an extent that you’re even thinking of calling a detective, are you sure you want to marry her?”
He didn’t have to think about his answer. “No.”
“No, you’re not sure? Then—”
“No, I’m positive I don’t want to marry her.” As he said the words, a sense of freedom rose inside him. An exultation.
She tilted her head. “That was fast.”
“I can be fast.” He looked at her, suddenly filled with a deep longing. “Or slow.” His voice turned husky. “I can be very slow.”
She shook her head and laughed, and her laugh was husky, too. She stood. “I’m going to get the covers and a pillow for you.”
“We could just sleep in your bed. Now that I’m not engaged.”
“As far as Portia is concerned, you’re still engaged. And tonight I’m sleeping alone.” She grinned at him, and he saw a flush on her cheeks. When she walked away, he watched her hips sway.
It was going to be a long night...but it didn’t matter. He headed to the living room and the couch, feeling lighter, as if a heavy weight on his shoulders had dissolved.
Tonight he should think about why he’d almost married someone so wrong for him, but with this bright, shining Abby sleeping so near to him, it was hard to think. He wasn’t made of steel. And even the mythical man of steel had the hots for the inappropriate Lois Lane. The reporter who, if she discovered his real identity, would reveal it to the world.
It was probably a good thing that Abby had turned him down. He wasn’t like Ryan, a rabbit that went after anything that wagged its tail his way. He wanted to be the eagle who had one mate for life, though it was too late for that, with one divorce behind him and engaged to another woman with secrets.
But that was in the past. He was looking to the future, and it felt to him that his forever woman was Abby, as if this knowledge was tangled in his DNA.
Only he’d once thought Juliana was his forever woman.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Abby, he thought. He couldn’t trust himself.
Abby returned to the living room with her arms loaded with a pillow and covers. He took them from her, their hands touching, and his body reacting to that touch.
His emotions might be melting, but the rest of his body was not melting after all.
It was going to be a long night.
16
Why are they sleeping in different rooms? Quigley asked.
In the hall, between Mom’s bedroom and the living room, Minnie stretched. It was the time of the night when the moon was the highest and the humans were sleeping.
But as Quigley pointed out, not in the right places. After all, Mom and Holden wanted to sleep together. She and Quigley could smell it. Even Lion, sleeping as soundly as the humans now, had smelled it.
They’re humans, Minnie said. They do things that don’t make sense.
We should jump on top of him. Quigley peered into the living room, where Holden stretched out on the couch, breathing heavily in sleep. Wake him up so he’ll go into Mom’s room.
It’s not that simple with humans. You never know what they might do.
I still think—
The bed in Mom’s room squeaked, then creaked. Sounds of her getting off it.
Minnie sat up, fully alert. Mom was awake. She did that sometimes at night. Then she would sit on the living room chair and take turns petting her and Quigley while she read a book. Sometimes she put the book down and just petted her. It was their time together.
A strangled yelp came from Mom’s bedroom. Minnie and Quigley jumped up. As they dashed toward Mom’s room, the mattress squeaked again; Mom collapsing onto it. Behind them, the couch creaked; Holden getting up.
It didn’t stop Minnie. It was a fact that humans were slower than cats, and she needed to see what was wrong with Mom.
Quigley leaped on top of the bed before her, beating her by a head. But she came up after him and knocked him off. He yowled as he tumbled to the floor. She ignored him and craned her face in front of Mom’s. Mom sat on the side of the bed, one knee up to her chest, holding her hands over her toes and saying bad words under her breath.
Heat streamed from her skin. Minnie liked warmth, but this was too warm for humans. Mom smelled of pain and confusion and something more.
She took another sniff, and she knew.
The mating scent. Even with her hurt toes, Mom wanted to mate.
Minnie put her paw on Mom’s cheek to calm her, to try to take the hurt away, as Quigley pounced on the bed again, and running footsteps pounded on the hall floor.
Is she all right? Quigley asked. Is she?
She ignored him and continued soothing Mom with her soft paw as Holden burst into the room and flicked on the lights.
“Abby!” he called. “What’s wrong?”
As if he didn’t notice her and Quigley, he blundered to the side of the bed and leaned over Mom. Minnie hissed at him to stay back, letting him know she was handling it.
She didn’t want him in Mom’s room. He upset Mom. Men always upset Mom. She was better off without them.
Human females didn’t seem to realize that males were only needed for impregnating them. After that, what good were they?
Not glancing her way, Holden put his hand on Mom’s shoulder, his face close to hers. If he leaned a little closer, they would be kissing.
Instead of swiping her claws across his face, Minnie pulled her paw back as Mom gazed back up at him.
“I’m fine.” She held a hand up. “Nothing to fuss about. My mouth was dry. I got up to get a glass of water and stubbed my little toe.”
“Let me rub it.” Holden didn’t wait to be asked. He bent, took her foot in his big hands, and began to massage it.
Minnie approved. Massaging and petting were good.
There was silence for a moment, but Minnie heard their breaths quickening and their hearts beating faster. The mating smell thickened, coming from both of them, streaming out of their pores.
“I can bring you the glass of water,” he said, and his voice thickened, too.
Her laugh was shaky. “My mouth isn’t dry anymore. And I don’t have a muscle cramp and really don’t need a foot rub. It just
felt too good to stop you.” She jerked her foot away from his hands. “Thank you for the massage.”
“It was my pleasure.” He didn’t take his gaze off her face.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I should go to sleep now. So should you.”
“It will be harder to sleep now,” he said, and his voice softened. “I was dreaming about you when your shout woke me. Do you want to know what you were doing?”
“No!” Her breath sucked in. “Actually, I was dreaming about my parents before I woke.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Sometimes the subject needs to be changed.”
He laughed, but Minnie heard no humor in it.
“You never talk about your parents,” she said.
“After my grandfather died, my parents sold their stock to me. They took the money and bought a home in Cannes. Every year, they vacation in Spain. They haven’t been back since.”
“Don’t you or Ryan see them at all?”
“They call us on our birthdays.” He made a motion with his hands, like he wanted something to go away. “I’d rather hear about your parents than talk about mine.”
She stared at him for what seemed to Minnie to be long seconds before talking. “It’s been nine years, and I still miss them. They were...the best. They taught me what parents should be like. And I wasn’t the easiest kid.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it. After all, I went out with boys like your brother.”
He laughed, the sound low and intimate. Minnie hunched down to watch them. Next to her, Quigley did the same thing, keeping his mouth shut for once.
“And you’re still going out with him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Because he canceled tonight?”
She reached out and put her hand on the side of his face. “I shouldn’t tell you this.”
Minnie’s ears pricked up. Next to her, Quigley’s ears perked, too.
They would have a lot to tell Lion in the morning.
The silence stretched as the two humans stared at each other. A movement broke the quiet, his hand cupping her face.
“I prefer you,” she whispered.
His breath puffed out. “I’m still engaged.”
“I know.”
“Not much longer.”
“Don’t break the engagement over me.” She made a sound that was either a laugh or a cry or both. “Not that I think you will. But just in case.”
His lips curved slightly, and the next second they tightened to a line, all the softness gone. “I already planned on breaking the engagement. She’s keeping secrets from me. It could be another man. I don’t know.” He took his hand from her cheek. “And it doesn’t matter. Lately, I’ve concluded that I wanted to marry her because she’s the opposite of Juliana, Cara’s mother. Not because I love her or she loves me. We aren’t passionate with each other. We’re polite. We talk, but it’s like talking to a friend who I don’t really know that well.”
“Ouch.” She made a face. “In that case, you’re doing her a favor by calling off the wedding.”
“I’ll tell her that.” His lips curved up again, Minnie’s sharp eyes watching every muscle of his face. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you and your sore toe.”
“My toe’s not sore anymore, but I need to get up.”
Minnie and Quigley leaped to the floor a second before he stepped back, giving her room to scoot out of bed. On her feet, she headed toward the bathroom while he strode to the living room and put his outside clothes on, the way humans did. Hiding their pale, furless bodies.
He should have climbed into bed with her, Quigley said. He wanted to mate with her. And she wanted to mate with him. What’s wrong with them?
Minnie didn’t have an answer. Many human actions were mysteries to her.
A sound from the living room that wasn’t clothes being pulled on made Minnie pad silently to the entranceway. Peering in, she saw Holden take something out of his wallet and slide it into his pocket.
17
The tension seeped out of Abby, her tight muscles loosening as she stepped out of the bathroom into the hall. Holden waited for her, leaning against the wall, along with her two cats, his forehead creased with concern. All she’d done was stub her toe, but it was still nice to feel cared for, not alone. Everyone deserved that.
The hall light wasn’t on, and perhaps it was a trick of the blue nightlight plugged into the bathroom, but they all looked...angelic. So beautiful her breath caught. Minnie and Quigley couldn’t look anything other than the fabulous creatures they were, but even Holden looked like a fabulous creature tonight. Perhaps other women might think Ryan was more handsome with his golden looks, but she preferred Holden’s strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones. And perhaps because he didn’t smile often, when he did, it meant something.
“You sure you’re okay?” Holden asked.
“I’m fine. You didn’t have to wait, but thank you.”
“I wanted to wait,” he said, his voice firm, not taking any arguments.
She should insist that she didn’t need his support, but she was feeling fragile tonight. Needy. Hungry.
“It isn’t necessary, but I appreciate it.” She tried to make her voice light, but it sounded shaky. Oh great, that was going to get rid of a man who had the caretaker mentality. She headed to the kitchen. “I’m going to drink some water then go to bed again. Don’t let me keep you up.”
She heard him follow her, her skin prickling, inside and out.
In the kitchen, she ran the cold water then lifted a glass from the cupboard.
“Your hand is shaking,” he said.
Her back to him, she put the glass under the faucet, forcing the shivers to stop. When the glass was half full, she turned it off. Still facing the sink, she gulped down the water. Only then did she turn to him, her body chilled from the cold water. She wore a Springsteen T-shirt and blue tap shorts. Nothing sexy or sensual, but though he looked into her eyes, not allowing his gaze to drop, she knew she was turning him on.
Her body heated quickly. If only he wasn’t engaged....
“I just got the shivers.” Her throat tightened.
“You want to tell me about it?”
She suppressed a desire to laugh hysterically. She should tell him that she was shivering because he was engaged? She opened her mouth to tell him something light and funny instead, or even sarcastic and funny. Anything to hide her true feelings.
Only nothing came out. Not even a croak. Not even words that told him she was fine, and he should go to sleep in the living room, and she should go to sleep in her bedroom.
Instead she shivered harder, gazing up at him with what she knew must be a lost look on her face.
He stepped forward and took her in his arms, though she didn’t want this. No, she didn’t. No. She. Did. Not.
But perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to take a bit of comfort. To put her arms around him. To lean against him and let him put his arms around her. To put her head on his upper chest, the top of her head just reaching his shoulder. To soak up his body heat. To have someone support her for once. To just hold on, hold on, hold on.
She reached up, her arms around his neck, and did all those things that it perhaps wouldn’t hurt doing. And she’d been right, it didn’t hurt at all. Instead it felt wonderful. She could let go of everything. Just lean against him and not think, just feel. Just hear the thump of his heartbeat. Just feel the warmth of his body. Just feel the hardness of his chest against her head. Just feel the erection pressing against her belly.
They stayed like that for moments before she reluctantly pulled her arms away. In slow motion, he unhooked his arms from her shoulders.
Below their waists, he drew away even more slowly.
She’d been warm a second ago. Now she shivered again.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“I’m fine.” She stepped back. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“It’s my pleasure.” His voice was rough.
“Well...” She forced herself not to look below his waist. Forced herself not to say, “No, it was very much my pleasure.” Instead, she said, “I’d better go to bed.”
He followed her. She stepped into the bedroom, her hand on the door handle, and twisted around. “I’m sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep now.”
“What if you get a nightmare?”
She laughed. “I don’t have many nightmares. If I have one, I’ll survive.” She looked behind him at Minnie and Quigley. “My cats will wake me.”
“They beat me to your bed.”
“Minnie’s a Siamese. They’re very intelligent.”
“She looks intelligent.”
“And Quincy is very brave.”
“I think he understands you. He’s preening.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. It often feels like they understand me. I swear they try to talk to me.”
“I’ve never had a pet before Epic.”
“You should get two cats. When you’re away from home, they’ll keep each other company. Epic won’t be alone.”
“It’s not good being alone,” he said.
“No.” She should step back into the bedroom and close the door. She knew it. Yet here she stood.
And there he stood.
“I’ve been alone a long time.” He reached out, and still she stayed. The tips of his fingers touched the sides of her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
She closed her eyes, memorizing his touch. “Neither do I,” she whispered. “But we shouldn’t do this. Portia—”
“I can’t marry her. I know that now.” His fingers slid down to the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. “I’ve never wanted her the way I want you.”
She kept her eyes closed. She heard the dull slap of his footstep as he stepped forward. She felt him against her again. Hard flesh and hard muscles and warm man.
“Don’t send me away,” he said.
She leaned against him for a second.
Then she lifted her head and stepped back. Hurt flashed across his face, followed by sadness then resignation. He started to turn.
“Come in,” she said. “And close the door behind you.”
