Jennifer opened the door, relieved to see a friendly face. "Hi, Carla."
"Hi." Without even sparing Jennifer a glance, Carla stared directly at Rick, absently patting her short, red hair. Rick smiled and murmured a polite greeting, then turned and retreated to his office.
Carla fanned herself, giving Jennifer a questioning look. "That's the charity case?" she whispered, her voice incredulous. Then Nick and Annie, scampering across the room in perfect unison, attacked Carla's foot. Her baby-doll face broke into an adoring smile. "Kitties! Oh, how cute. I can't believe someone abandoned them." She scooped up both kittens and snuggled them against her breast. "They're almost as cute as that hunk of a man you have there."
Jennifer felt a strange twinge. Carla, even in cut-offs and a T-shirt, was to-die-for gorgeous.
"Sshh" Jennifer warned. "He can hear us."
Carla wrinkled his nose. "Men don't listen to women."
A wave of sadness swept over Jennifer. "That's not true. You just need to find the right guy." Why was a pretty woman like Carla always attracting men who ignored her?
"Right guy or not," Carla said, "looks like that one got caught. Somebody snag him making time with their wife or what? That's quite a shiner he's got."
"I don't want to talk about it."
Carla raised one eyebrow. "You're responsible?"
"I already said--"
"Hey, don't get mad." Carla pressed a hand over her mouth in a losing battle to keep back her snicker. "You guys like rough stuff, that's your business, not mine."
"Carla!" Jennifer couldn't help her gasp. "That is so far from the truth that--"
"You mean you haven't done him yet?" Carla made tssking noises with her tongue. "Better put your brand on that bull before some other heifer comes along and makes him an offer."
"But--"
Carla reached out and grasped Jennifer's cheeks with both of her hands. "Don't worry, sweetie. Not me. You saw him first." She shook her head sadly. "Only if he happens to have a friend..."
Jennifer needed to set Carla straight on her relationship with Rick. Strangely, she found herself unwilling to hurry her disclosure. Perhaps, she finally admitted to herself, because she was having a hard time herself defining what was between her and Rick.
"I know you're kidding now. You've already got Harry."
Carla gave her a lopsided grin. "There's a lot to be said for having a guy around. There's more to be said for a hunk, and that's what you have here."
Jennifer dropped her voice to a whisper. "He might be a ten in the looks department," she agreed. "But he needs our help."
***
"Oh, come on. I'm sure he knows what to do."
"Carla, do you ever talk about anything but sex?" Not that Jennifer could contribute much to any such discussion. Neither of her two sexual experiences had come close to equaling the pleasure she'd gotten from the kiss she and Rick had so recently shared.
Carla sobered. "Okay, girlfriend, then what exactly is the problem?"
"You won't believe what he does for a living." Jennifer led the way into the living room and sank into the leather couch. Carla joined her, caressing the smooth leather with one envious hand. "Rick teaches some sort of Do Wan Go and works on cars."
Carla nodded seriously. "Sure would be handy to have a guy who can do things. He can work on my engine and play doe-see-doe with me any time. Now Harry ... well, when Harry went fishing last week, the only thing he caught was himself. He ended up in the hospital with a hook in his butt."
Heat flushed in Jennifer's cheeks. "I don't ever want to hear the word fish again. But anyway, you're missing my point. Rick is smart. He could be a bank vice president. We've got to help him."
Carla crossed her arms under her impressive breasts. "He doesn't look like he needs rescuing. Except maybe from the fifty thousand women in Dallas who would pay money to take him to bed, even for an hour."
***
Rick stared at the financial report for his web business, then realized he'd been looking at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself back to the computer screen.
A gale of laughter pulled him away. Why was it, he wondered, that women always seem to find things to laugh about? He could spend all day with Eric without either of them feeling the urge to giggle even once.
He couldn't make out what the two women were saying, but once in a while he did catch a couple of words. His name was one of them. Probably conspiring to turn him into a cat-lover.
As if on cue, one of the little kittens Jennifer had rescued the previous day decided the laces on his work boots were proper prey and pounced. He caught himself wiggling his foot to make the laces dance, then smacked himself on the forehead.
Big mistake. After the number Jennifer had done on his head, he didn't need to get all warm and fuzzy about her animals.
Another set of giggles from outside his door decided him. The only action he needed, he wasn't going to get. One thing for sure, he wasn't getting any work done.
Rick jabbed the computer power button and stood. If he stayed in his office, he'd start listening. Twenty-eight was too old to turn into an eavesdropper.
He stepped quietly out of the office, then paused a moment to study Jennifer's friend. She was short and curvy. Typical of Dallas women, she wore lots of makeup--something he'd noticed Jennifer didn't bother with. It was interesting that two women with such completely different looks could both be attractive.
Given the choice, he'd pick Jennifer in a New York minute.
Carla spotted him. "Well, howdy. I'm sorry I couldn't take Jennifer in yesterday when she called. It was great of you to do it. Most men don't really like cats. So that makes it--"
"It was no trouble."
Carla took a breath but Rick didn't escape quickly enough. "I really like the way you've done your house. A lot of people would have figured to chop it up into a bunch of rooms or something. Of course most people would have thought the downstairs should be the main part of the house instead of a car repair place too. But then--"
Rick didn't want to be rude but he had a sneaking suspicion that Carla might never stop. He held up a hand. "I'm going downstairs."
Jennifer gave him the appraising look he'd noticed right before she had decided to cut his hair and right before she'd decided his wardrobe needed re-doing. "Do you have any buckets?"
He wasn't sure where that came from. "In the broom closet next to the 'fridge."
"We'll see you later, then." She was definitely dismissing him.
He sniffed the air. "Did one of the cats make a mistake?"
Jennifer scowled at him. "My cats are well trained. They go where they're supposed to."
"Right." His sniff hadn't revealed any evidence to the contrary, but Rick still thought getting out was the better part of valor. "I'll see you later. Um, are you staying for dinner, Carla?"
"Well, I'd--"
"You don't have to take care of us, Rick," Jennifer told him, a definite chill in her voice. "Trust me, we'll be fine."
Rick pulled his toolbox from the entry-way closet and headed down the circular stair. Without even thinking about it, his lips started whistling a cheery tune. He couldn't help it. Jennifer was jealous.
Chapter Four
"I started with his hair and his wardrobe," Jennifer told her friend as they stood in the garage filling the buckets she'd found in his broom closet. "Except he bit my head off when I asked him to wear khakis."
Carla looked up from the bucket she was filling. "What's wrong with his hair? I think it looks hot."
"Thanks. I cut it this morning."
Carla pursed her lips in a silent whistle. "Well, don't worry about the jeans thing. That man looks sexy in jeans. I mean, they show off his butt." She wiggled her own butt to show what she meant. "Khakis remind me of fraternity guys that want to get you drunk."
Jennifer shook her head. "You don't move up in the business world wearing jeans and funky T-shirts." She
giggled. "It'll be a while before I can get him into a suit."
"Now that would be a crime," Carla agreed. "Although there's something sexy about a man in a crisp white shirt. Hum."
"After doing a bit of a makeover for him, I'll find out when he can take his G.E.D. and look into college," Jennifer explained. Despite Carla's attitude, she took this seriously.
"You plan on being around that long?"
For a moment, that question stopped Jennifer short. No matter how smart Rick was, he couldn't finish college in a couple of weeks. Did she really intend to hang around while he worked his way toward a degree? Her biological clock was ticking, after all. Not that she couldn't wait but... She clamped her eyes shut so hard the inside of her brain rattled. She couldn't let herself start thinking that way. Her cats were all the children she needed. "I'll get him started on the right path, then turn it over to him."
"You'll just walk away?" Carla handed the two soap-filled buckets to Jennifer and picked up the hose she'd brought.
"I do it all the time with my cats. I mean, I like to visit them after I find them foster parents, but--"
"Spare me. A man is not a cat."
"Well I know that. It's just...." Jennifer ran out of steam. She wasn't sure what it just was. Her plans seemed so clear when she looked at the here and now. It was only when she let her plans stretch out into the future that she got into trouble. "I'll hang around for a while, that's all. Anyway, let's go."
They'd almost made it out of the garage when Carla spotted Rick. "Look at that car."
"Hum?" Jennifer followed Carla's gesture. An attractive, jeans-clad butt was on perfect display as Rick bent over the engine of a polished, chrome-encased, beautifully maintained car from what had to be the fifties. To her mind, the car came a distant second to that beautiful butt. "Oh, my."
Carla raised her voice. "Hey Rick. What the heck is that?"
Rick looked up from the engine. A black grease smudge marred his forehead directly above the black eye she'd gouged with the frozen fish. Jennifer had to fight back the urge to run up to him and wipe it off.
"It's a fifty-three De Soto," Rick explained. "Back then, a car was still a work of art."
This one was, anyway. Whoever owned it obviously cared for it with an attention to detail that Rick's truck never experienced. The paintwork gleamed black and green. Carla could have done her makeup in the chrome.
Drawn as if by a magnet, Jennifer stepped up to the vehicle and peered inside. The leather upholstery looked soft and uncracked.
"It's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it."
His obvious pride opened a window to his personality. Rick cared about beauty.
She fought back a small grin. She'd make a cat-lover out of him yet. Anyone who understands aesthetics was a sucker for felines.
"Is it yours?" Trust Carla to stick her foot in it.
"Of course it isn't his," Jennifer explained. "Rick works on cars. Who does it belong to, Rick. Some rich guy?"
He quirked his head to the side. "Definitely some rich guy. Made his money on the Internet, I think."
"Is he single?" Carla might have a reputation for beating around the bush. When it came to men, she had an aim like a sharpshooter.
"I believe so."
Jennifer grasped her friend's arm and dragged her out of the garage sloshing water from the buckets. "Stay away from the Internet, Carla. My father made millions with his day-trading too. It isn't hard. All you have to do is lose even more millions. That's why he's broke now."
"You wouldn't guess it from his car," Rick called after them, "but the guy is a real slob. Better stay away from him."
Carla tugged herself free from Jennifer's grasp and turned back to Rick. "If slobbiness scared women away, the human race would have died out by now."
"Carla!"
Carla gave her a dreamy smile. "I'd surely love to ride around in a car like that."
Jennifer pulled on Carla's arm again. "Help me with Rick' truck."
"You know what I think?" Carla asked when they'd exited the garage.
Jennifer shook her head and continued to drag her out sloshing water from her filled pails. "I'm sure you'll tell me."
"I think Rick owns that car."
Jennifer shook her head. "He just said it belongs to some rich guy."
"Huh-uh. You said it belongs to a rich guy. He just agreed."
"Same difference."
Carla grinned. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Jennifer shrugged. "You really do live in a fantasy world. If Rick owned that El Sozza, you think he'd drive this?" She kicked the old truck's tire.
"De Soto."
"Whatever."
Carla plumped down the two buckets of soapy water and stared at the ancient Ford truck. "Yuck. You're right. Nobody would own that beauty and drive this beast."
Jennifer screwed the hose into the faucet on the outside of the old fire house and turned on the water. "Keep the hose untangled, will you?"
Underneath the dirt, dust, and archeological layers of bird poop, the truck seemed in surprisingly good shape. Even some of what she'd been certain was rust turned out to be mud.
Jennifer turned to her friend. "This is going to work."
Carla jumped out of the way of the spray of water. "Careful."
"Sorry." Jennifer crimped back the hose to cut off the flow of water. "Once we get it washed and waxed, maybe this old heap will pass for a classic. At least it won't look like the cheapest wheels in Dallas."
Carla walked to the faucet and turned off the hose. She turned back toward Jennifer slowly and reached into one of the buckets for a soapy sponge. "Girlfriend, I only have one question."
"That'll be the day."
"I'm serious. Have you thought why this truck is so important to you?"
"You aren't going to analyze me, are you?"
Carla laughed. "I got my Masters in psychology. I'm supposed to analyze you."
"You're supposed to analyze strangers or maybe yourself. You know, real kooks."
Using the windup she'd perfected in intramural softball, Carla swung the sponge around twice and heaved it at Jennifer. The soapy water splashed off Jennifer's front.
"So neither of us is perfect," Carla told her as she reached for the second sponge. "I analyze everyone and look for guys. You spend your life rescuing cats and running from guys. So let's forget about it and see what happens when we really scrub this truck."
Jennifer nodded. "Sure. Just one thing first."
She accidentally-on-purpose wrung the still-wet sponge over Carla's head.
***
Rick realized he hadn't heard the women giggling for a long time now. He packed the sockets back in his tool case and slammed the hood of the old crate. A few more weeks of work and the thing would be as good as new.
For the past month, he'd been telling himself how much he anticipated taking his De Soto for a spin around town. The closer he got, though, the more he realized that he'd been using the car to avoid thinking about his future. Without it, he'd either have to find something else to do or admit he was thrashing.
He pressed the thought out of his mind. He had at least a few more weeks to spend on the car.
"Hey, Manuel. Is Jennifer still out there?" The man was coming back from another cigarette break. If Jennifer hung around outside for much longer, Manuel was going to end up with very bad lungs.
Manuel stuttered for a moment, let his hand begin to make the classic hour-glass sign, then stopped. "Oh, yes." His voice sounded wistful. "I saw her friend too."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Mean? Nothing. I just talk. My wife kills me if I do more than talk. Still, a man can look."
Rick decided not to throw his socket wrench at Manuel. He couldn't resist following Manuel's advice and taking a look, though.
The hot sun beat down on him as he strode from his garage. The spray of water that caught him in the chest felt surprisingly good.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Rick. I
didn't see you coming." Carla came cooing at him.
"What on earth are you guys up to?"
Carla batted her eyelashes. "Guys? You're the only guy here."
That much was obvious. Both women had tied their T-shirts high on their midriffs and wore short shorts that showed curvy derrieres cute enough to stop traffic. Worse, it was obvious that he wasn't the first person Carla had sprayed with the hose. Wetness plastered Jennifer's T-shirt to her chest.
He took a deep breath. "What have you done to my truck?"
"What does it look like?" Jennifer had rolled up her T-shirt sleeves and blue smudges of car wax smeared her arms all the way to her shoulders.
"It looks like you guys," he stopped at Carla's frown, "I mean girls--"
That warranted another spray from Carla's hose.
He ducked, but even the reflexes honed on Tai Kwon Do didn't let him avoid the spray. "Women," he finally sputtered. "Why are you women washing my truck? It'll just get dirty again."
"That's a lot like saying why bother eating because you'll just get hungry again?" Jennifer lectured. She didn't look at him, though. Instead she inspected a scratch in the truck's bed. "Waxing isn't going to help with this. Do you think you could get one of those fiberglass bed liners people get to protect their trucks?"
The idea of treating a classic truck like that made him shudder. "No."
Jennifer's face fell. "It would look better," she argued.
"It's a truck," he reminded her. "It's not supposed to be beautiful."
"Are you sure you're from Texas?"
Considering the fancy trucks gracing Dallas's freeways, she had a point. "Most of the trucks in this town have never seen a dirt road, much less hauled anything dirtier than golf clubs. Don't confuse my work truck with those sissy SUVs"
Jennifer glared at him. "I was only trying to--"
"That said, I appreciate the wash." Rick didn't need his Tae Kwon Do training to know when to retreat. "It's been a rough couple of weeks on the old girl."
"I'd say it's been a couple of decades from all the dirt we washed off," Jennifer told him.
"I said I was grateful. What do you say I take you to Farley's Corner for ice cream. My treat, of course. It'll give us a chance to show her off? Before the grackles and pigeons make a mess of her again."
Truth about Cats Page 5
