The Magical Christmas Cat

by Nalini Singh

Page 28

 

  Logan, the very shy widow who lived on the other end of the cul-de-sac.

  "So, can I borrow this?" Benedict lifted his head and looked at Ruby expectantly.

  He looked so anxious, so excited, she almost gave him an instant yes, but something stopped her. "Well, Professor . . . "

  "Zane," he interrupted. "Call me Zane. We are neighbors, after all. "

  Her heart did a strange little flip. It was the expression in his eyes and the intimacy of calling him by his first name and the fact that all day she had been hyperaware that she was all alone in this world that made her insides react. Ruby took a deep breath.

  "Well, Zane, if you want it that badly . . . " She opened the box that sat on the chair beside her and reached in, randomly plucking out a cookie. Orange-walnut, she noticed as she held it beneath his nose. "Live a little. Eat a cookie. "

  Zane didn't hesitate. He'd worked too hard, given up too much to get to this point, to let a little dietary lapse get in his way. He didn't even bother to take the cookie from Ruby's hand but simply dipped his head and took a big bite.

  He was prepared for the cookie to be tasty, and still the flavor that burst on his tongue and the way the sweet melted in his mouth took him by surprise. Yes, it had been a long time since he had indulged. In anything.

  Watching his reaction, she smiled with evident satisfaction. It was a tempting look on a very pretty face, he admitted. The soft smile, the twinkle in her green eyes, they were very nice.

  "More?" she asked softly, and he responded by taking one more bite from her hand. The second bite was as good as the first, but without the shock.

  As he savored the second bite of the decadent cookie, he studied Ruby Kincaid. She wore her dark brown hair very short. At the moment it was shorter than his. On most women it might've been too severe, but the style suited her face and made her eyes look larger than they might've if she had a mop of hair. No, it was best that the neck and that pixie face be shown off to their best advantage. Not that he should be thinking about how she looked. Poor girl, she had no idea what was about to happen—if he was right and this was her.

  It was a shame, really. Taste in holiday sweaters aside, she seemed like a very nice person. He did not understand why she was alone, when her looks and baking skills should have men lined up at her door.

  True, she was a few years too old for the college students who made up a large portion of the population of Minville, Alabama, and more than a few years too young for most of the professors at the college that was the heart of this small town, but there were many men in between.

  Of course, in order to meet men, one had to be available. Ruby was not. She'd moved into the house directly across the street from Zane shortly after her aunt's death this past summer, and he had studied her, just as he had studied the others in the neighborhood.

  She left the house shortly after five every morning, headed for work. Ruby's Sweet Shop was located within walking distance of the college and did a brisk morning and lunchtime business. There were a

  number of part-time employees, all students, who apparently spent a good portion of their salaries on cakes, cookies, and pies. Ruby served coffee as well as sweets, but none of those fancy caffeinated

  concoctions that were served at the chain store down the street. No, nothing was available to compete with the taste of her scrumptious creations.

  He understood why, now, as the flavor of the cookie lingered.

  She closed at two in the afternoon and headed straight home— unless she stopped by the grocery store on her way, in which case she'd be home by 2:35.

  Once home, she worked in the yard, did laundry, cleaned the house she now called her own, perhaps grabbed a nap before dinner. Her lights were always off by nine at night, and sometimes as early as eight thirty. She was open six days a week. So, where was the time for a personal life in that schedule?

  Zane took what was left of the cookie from Ruby and finished it in short order. By the time he was finished, she wore a wide smile that broke his heart.

  She had no idea what was coming. Maybe he was wrong. He could still hope that he was wrong.

  "See?" she said as he swallowed the last bite. "A little bit of indulgence now and then isn't a bad thing. "

  He looked her in the eye, and she blushed. Ruby might push indulgence on other people, but he suspected she didn't practice what she preached. She led a structured, dull life, apparently of her own choosing.

  If he thought telling her to run would save her, he would. Not only would she not believe him, he was convinced that running would not do her any good at all. They would find her; they would bring her back and keep her where she needed to be until the time was right. Time was running out.

  The party was winding down. A few people had already left, and Hester busied herself picking up dirty dishes. Time to go. Zane reached past Ruby and grabbed the box of cookies. "Can I walk you home?" he asked as he stood, cookies in one hand, cat statuette in the other.

  Ruby was momentarily stunned. It wasn't as if he'd been an overly friendly neighbor to this point, but until now he hadn't been sure. He hadn't known, until he'd seen the cat, that she was most likely the chosen one. He also hadn't realized that someone in this neighborhood was actively working against her. The fact that the jade cat was here at this party, and not left on her doorstep or sent by mail, hinted that one of Ruby's neighbors was involved.

  If he didn't find a way to save her, she wouldn't live to see Christmas.

  Chapter 2

  One of the things Ruby most liked about Holland Court was that the houses were all different. Some were brick, others were clapboard. The colors of the houses were alternately bright and subdued, indicating the personalities of those who lived within.

  In newer subdivisions, the houses all looked alike and the yards were small and there was no character. This older neighborhood, built in the fifties, definitely had character. Even the Christmas decorations hinted at the residents of those houses. Some were tastefully done, others were garish. A few, hers and the professor's among them, sported no holiday decorations at all. She kept planning to take Mildred's decorations down from the attic, but she'd just not gotten it done. There weren't enough hours in the day.

  Besides, she was doing her best to avoid the holidays, so why should she torture herself with a tree no one but her would see?

  Her house was a soothing pale yellow, and she'd worked very hard to keep up Mildred's garden and the profusion of plants on the front porch and the back patio. It wasn't a big house, not by any means, but it was lovely and warm and homey. And paid for. Zane Benedict's house was brick. It was solid and well kept, but his tastes in accommodations were as simple as his tastes in clothes. She suspected inside there were lots of bookcases and gray or brown furnishings.

  Todd lived just south of Zane, and his house was just as his mother had left it when she'd moved to Florida and put him in charge of the family home. The split level was white with blue shutters, and of all the neighbors, Todd was the last to mow. She didn't think he owned a weed eater. Unless he managed to win free landscaping service, his lawn would never be great. He had strung up sloppy but colorful Christmas lights around the porch, and there was a large plastic Santa on his lawn. Inside she suspected there were lava lamps and beaded curtains and black-light posters. She hoped she never found out if she was right or not. All up and down the street, she could see the personalities of the homeowners in their dwellings.

  In hers, she still saw Mildred. Would she ever put her own stamp on the place? Did she dare?

  She was surprised that Zane stayed with her as home grew near. He'd shortened his stride to remain beside her, and actually seemed to be walking her to the door. The very idea made her heart constrict. Her cookies were good, but no man had ever taken a bite, then latched on to her as if he was staking a claim.

  Later in the evening it would be cold, but righ
t now the air temperature was pleasant enough, even though they were well into December. That was a benefit of living in the Deep South. Her Snoopy sweater was actually a bit too warm for the day.

  After a moment of awkward silence, when Zane turned toward her house with her, Ruby blurted, "I'm not looking for a man. I don't want a man in my life.

  I'm perfectly happy being single and I don't intend for that to change. " She didn't add that she was not desperate because that would sound, well, desperate.

  "Okay," he said, sounding not at all surprised or hurt.

  "It's just, I don't want any misunderstandings," she explained. "The holidays have a tendency to make people weird. "

  "I get it," he said. "I'm not hitting on you, I'm just being neighborly. "

  "As long as that's clear," she said, trying to sound firm but not stern. She probably ended up sounding like a bitch, but better a bitch than a tease. She wanted all her cards on the table. "So, how long do you plan to keep my cat?"

  "Just a few days," he said. "Is that all right?"

  "Sure. I'm actually interested to hear what you can find out about it. The thing is definitely unique. "

  He made an absent and noncommittal sound in his throat as they stepped onto her front porch.

  "Good night," she said as she put her key into the door and turned it.

  "Thanks for the cookies," he said.

  "Sure. " She closed the door behind her and locked it, and for a moment she just stood there, back to the door as she took a deep breath, suddenly convinced that she should've skipped the party and stayed home and weathered Hester's wrath.

  The rest of the evening passed as usual. She put on her pajamas and watched a show she had recorded on her DVR. She'd eaten so much junk at the party that she wasn't hungry, but around seven she ate a bowl of cereal. Tomorrow morning would come early, so she crawled into bed about eight forty-five and pulled the covers to her chin. Her alarm was set for four. Monday mornings were always a bear, and even though classes were out for the holidays, she had lots of orders for parties and gifts, and even the locals frequented her shop. She was lucky. Business was good.