“Then speak for yourself. I, personally, am on a deadline. You know about deadlines. They have to be met in order for books to get published.”
“Jed, don’t be a douche bag. It’s NY at Night.”
“So get me a slot in November—or better yet, during the next book tour.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way with a popular show. You’ve got to take it when they’re willing to have you on. And next month Drew is running a whole series with top authors.” Drew was Andrew Golden, the show’s near-legendary host. “And can’t you please be a little excited? Come on, Jed. NY at Night.”
“You keep saying that as though I’m suddenly going to have a different reaction.”
“Once we get the date, the publicist will call with all the details.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“But you will make time—and the book?” she asked, switching subjects so fast he was lucky he didn’t get conversational whiplash. “Going well?”
“It won’t be if I have to break my rhythm to fly halfway across the country just to kiss some talk show host’s ass.”
“But it is going well?”
“I’m afraid to admit it to you,” he grumbled. “You might put me on another talk show.”
“I am really glad to hear this,” Holly said fervently. He got that. She’d been just as worried as he was that his case of writer’s block might never end.
He gave in and confessed, “Yeah, I’m relieved, too.”
“You finally found an assistant.” It wasn’t a question. Holly understood his process. She’d been representing him from the first.
He thought of Elise and felt good about everything. “Yes, I did. Her name is Elise Bravo. She’s just what I needed.”
“Pay her a lot and never let her go.”
The good feeling became less so. He didn’t like being reminded that he still hadn’t figured out exactly how he would convince Elise to stay. “Anything else, Holly?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Carl’s been worried about you.” Carl Burgess was his editor and deserved to know that things were going well now.
He promised to call Carl and reassure him. There was more. Jed had turned down two film deals. A third had languished in “development.” The option on that one had just expired. Holly had another film offer she wanted him to consider. And there were new foreign-rights contracts she was overnighting to him. Next, she started nagging him about social media. He had a brilliant virtual assistant who handled all that, but Holly wanted him to be more directly involved.
“I’m a recluse, Holly. It’s what I do. My readers get that even if you don’t.”
“But if you’d only—”
“Work, Holly. I need to get down to it.”
Finally, she let him go. He called his editor as promised. Carl picked up. They talked for maybe five minutes, Jed promising the other man that he was on top of it now and there would be no more deadline extensions. Then Carl had a meeting. He rang off.
Elise returned a couple of minutes later. The sight of her, so curvy and lush, in white jeans with rolled cuffs and a pretty pink shirt, her dark hair loose on her shoulders, had him realizing that even if his excellent agent drove him crazy and he hated making reassurance calls to his editor, it was a beautiful day.
She asked, “Ready to go?”
He got up from her chair and she took his place.
That day, he wrote double his page goal.
And that night, he had trouble sleeping. But for a good reason. The book filled his head. And when he finally did drop off to sleep, he dreamed plot points, tweaks for rough spots and clever ways to fit in boring exposition.
At some point, a motorboat started rumbling. He was dreaming of the misty lake again.
The cat.
He opened his eyes to find the fur ball curled up right beside him, making biscuits on the comforter, that motorboat purr vibrating against his thigh.
Elise must have left her door open again.
The golden eyes opened. The cat stared at Jed with a blissed-out expression.
It was kind of pleasant, to be truthful—the warmth of the animal against his leg, the rhythmic kneading, the soft, incessant purr. And Jed was still groggy, still half asleep. He had zero desire to get up from the comfort of his bed to put the creature out.
So fine. Let the damn thing stay. He punched at his pillow and settled back into sleep.
The cat was gone when he woke in the morning. He decided against mentioning the animal’s nighttime visit to Elise. Let the cat roam free. If it ended up on his bed, so be it. Jed would simply roll over and pretend it wasn’t there.
During the hour-long break for lunch, which Elise spent at the kitchen island chatting with Deirdre as the housekeeper prepared their dinner, Jed went downstairs for a quick session on the elliptical. When he came out of the gym into the open area at the base of the stairs, he saw the cat.
The animal sat staring out the French doors that led to a flagstone patio. Jed went over there and opened the doors for it. The cat glanced up at him as though puzzled.
“Well, go on then,” Jed said. Mr. Wiggles went out. Jed shut the doors and ran upstairs to grab a quick shower before returning to work.
He didn’t give the cat another thought until dinnertime, when Elise seemed preoccupied. They dished up the food and sat down, all without a single word from her. He was about to ask her what she had on her mind when she glanced up from her untouched dinner with a worried frown and asked, “Have you seen Wigs?”
“Not since lunchtime.” He said it with a shrug. Inside, however, he felt a definite stirring of alarm. It had suddenly occurred to him that not once in the weeks she’d been living in his house had he seen her let the cat out.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done that.
Elise set down her fork. “I keep trying to tell myself he’s just fallen asleep in a closet or something and he’ll be popping up out of nowhere any minute. But he didn’t come when I called him to eat. That never happens.”
He stood. “Hold on.” He headed for the stairs.
“Jed? What in the...? Where are you going?”
“Be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he started down.
On the lower floor, he went straight to the French doors, hoping to find the cat waiting on the other side of them.
No cat. Except for the fire pit and an empty circle of Adirondack chairs waiting in the fading light of early evening, the patio was empty.
If anything had happened to that fur ball, Elise would never forgive him. How would he keep her then?
This was bad.
Plus, well, not that he would ever admit to such silliness, but he’d started to grow rather fond of the creature. So beyond the possible loss of Elise, he would really feel like crap if Mr. Wiggles met an untimely end.
He pushed the doors open and went out. Mr. Wiggles was not anywhere on the patio. He made a quick tour of the area near the house. Nothing.
So he set off at a jog to circle the building.
He called, “Mr. Wiggles? Where are you?” as he went, feeling ridiculous and guilty and increasingly aware that he’d made a serious mistake.
The cat failed to appear.
When he returned to the French doors, Elise was standing on the other side of them. Her big, sad eyes stayed locked with his as he entered. He couldn’t bear her looking at him that way, so he turned around and shut the doors. He took a long time about it, far longer than necessary.
But eventually, he had to face her again.
And when he did, she asked the question he’d been dreading. “What’s going on, Jed?”
Chapter Five
Bleak acceptance settled over him.
He couldn’t put off the inev
itable any longer. So he set about the grim task of confessing what he’d done. “At lunchtime, I saw the cat sitting right here, staring out the doors. I figured it wanted to go out.”
Except for two bright red spots of color cresting her cheeks, her face went dead white. “You let Wigs out.” She spoke at barely a whisper, but the accusation seemed to echo through the lower floor like a shout.
“Elise, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it’s around. It’ll be back.”
“He’s an indoor cat. He’s never been outside, not once since I adopted him from the shelter when he was this big.” She illustrated how small, holding her shaking hands just inches apart.
“Elise, really, I—”
“No. Stop.” Her voice trembled like the rest of her. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses. I just don’t. You saw him at a door, so you just...let him out? Who does that? Who in the wide world is that freaking oblivious?”
He felt he had to say something, so he muttered, “It’s not an excuse. It’s more of an explanation.”
“Whatever you want to call it, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But I—”
“Uh-uh. No.” Those big eyes glittered with tears. “I told you I lost everything and Wigs is all that’s left. And it is dangerous out there.” She threw out an arm in the direction of the patio. “Bears. Coyotes. Bobcats. Wolves. Who knows what all? Something could hurt him, something could eat him. If I never see him again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Was she going to lose it right there in front of him? It certainly seemed so. “Elise. Please. I know you’re upset, but there’s no need to exaggerate.”
She gritted her pretty teeth at him and let out an actual growl. “Oh, there damn well is a need. Anything could happen to him. Anything at all.”
“Elise. Settle down. Nothing is going to happen to that cat.”
She threw back her head and howled at the ceiling, after which she started peppering him with questions, each one louder and more hysterical than the last. “What is the matter with you? What were you thinking? What could possibly have been going through your mind?”
He strove for calmness. One of them had to. “I made a mistake, okay? A big one, apparently. But getting yourself all worked up isn’t going to help us find your cat. You need to slow down, take a deep breath and—”
She cut him off with a wordless shout of fury and then commanded, “Get out of my way!” Dodging around him, she threw open the French doors and ran outside. “Wigs! Wigs, come here, baby. Wigs, here kitty, kitty...” She headed for the trees that rimmed the property and called in a high, plaintive voice, “Wigs, here kitty, come on, baby...”
“Elise, hold up...” He took off after her.
She ignored him and kept on going into the trees.
He didn’t know whether to follow her into the woods or not. Hesitating by an outcropping of decorative rock, he tried to decide on his next move. She clearly wanted nothing to do with his sorry ass at the moment. He got that, loud and clear.
But given her emotional state, it seemed unwise to let her wander off alone.
So he started moving again, trailing along behind her as she searched the wooded area behind the house, calling for the cat as she went. After about fifteen minutes of that, she led him into a clearing, a small meadow of tall grass and wildflowers. Past the meadow, twin trails wound upward into the trees.
In the middle of that clearing, she stopped at last. Jed halted several yards away and waited to see what she might do next.
But she only let her head drop back. For a good sixty seconds, she just stood there, staring up at the slowly darkening sky. And then, just as he was trying to figure out what his next move should be, she crumpled to a sitting position on a boulder that stuck up through the long grass.
He hesitated to approach. His nearness might just set her off again.
But then she braced her elbow on her knee, plunked her chin on her fist and looked straight at him across the clearing. “It’s okay, Jed.” She sounded sane again. But how long would the sanity last? “I’m not going to kill you.” He didn’t find those words all that reassuring, but he started for her anyway as she added drily, “Though I probably should.” He kept coming until he stood looking down at her. She tipped her face up to him.
When he offered his hand, she took it. Her slim, smooth fingers disappeared in his grip. He pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her, figuring the chances were about fifty-fifty that she’d shove him away.
But she didn’t. With a sad little sigh, she rested her dark head against his chest. “I guess I kind of lost it.”
He had to actively resist the need to stroke her silky hair. “It’s understandable. You love the damn cat and I really screwed up.” She felt good in his arms—too good and he knew it. Too soft, too sweet. He lowered his head and breathed in the scent of her.
She looked up at him then, eyes so bright, both scared and hopeful. “Tell me that he’s going to be all right.”
He tried not to stare at that wide mouth of hers, not to think about swooping down for a kiss, about how good it would feel if her lips parted, welcoming him. “He’ll show up soon. He’s going to be fine.”
She gave him a slow, irresistible smile. “I think I’m having a moment.”
“Why is that?”
“You just called Wigs a he instead of an it.”
He admitted, “Yeah, Wigs and I are working things out. He showed up in my room again last night.”
“Did he wake you?”
Jed nodded. “But then I realized he wasn’t really bothering me, so I just went back to sleep.”
“If he’ll only come back, I promise to be more careful about letting him out of my room at night.”
“When he comes back,” he amended her gently.
“Right.” Another shaky sigh escaped her. “When.”
“And as I said, he doesn’t bother me. Leave your door open anytime you want to.” If he stared at her upturned mouth for one second longer, he was going to taste it. “Come on.” He took her hand again and stepped back to a slightly safer distance. “Let’s go.”
She let him lead her across the meadow and into the trees. The walk back to the house didn’t take long at all. When they reached the patio, she wanted to have a look out in front, too.
He said, “I checked there when I first went downstairs.”
She turned those shining eyes on him. “Let’s just look one more time.”
So they circled around the house and walked up and down the winding paths in the steep front yard. They checked the far side of the garage and also the shed farther out. The cat was nowhere to be found.
He kept the front door locked and he hadn’t stopped to grab a key on the way out, so they returned the way they’d come, to the French doors off the lower floor at the rear of the house.
Jed spotted the big orange cat when they rounded the corner to the backyard. Mr. Wiggles sat in front of the doors, staring straight at them. He appeared to be fine—alert, calm and uninjured. The relief Jed felt at the sight of the animal was a very fine thing.
“Look.” Elise’s soft voice vibrated with pure joy.
“Don’t run at him,” Jed warned quietly. “If he races off, we might lose him again.”
“You’re right. I’ll go slow.” She started forward at an easy pace. Jed fell in behind her. “Wigs,” she chided in a soft, coaxing tone. “There you are. Where have you been?”
The cat replied with the usual “Mrow? Mrow-mrow.”
Jed made out the small gray lump at Mr. Wiggles’s feet about the same time Elise did. She asked the cat, “Baby, what’s that you’ve got?”
“Mrow-mrow.” Mr. Wiggles bent his leonine head and scooped up the object in question. About then, Jed saw the dangling pink tale.
Mr. Wiggles had brought home a mouse.
* * *
Elise gasped as she realized that her sweet baby boy had a dead rodent in his mouth.
Behind her, Jed warned softly in what she’d come to think of as his black ops voice, “Do not start screaming. The mouse is a gift.”
She paused long enough to shoot him a dirty look over her shoulder. “Not all women start shrieking at the sight of a mouse.”
“Unfair assumption. My bad.” She knew he was trying to sound contrite. He just wasn’t all that good at it.
And Wigs was what mattered. She focused back on him, moving steadily forward. When she stopped about a foot from him, he lowered the mouse to the flagstones again and then sat up tall. “Mrow.”
“Say thank you,” Jed instructed. It was actually kind of cute, him trying to school her on the psyche of her own cat.
“I’m on it.” She reached down and scooped Wigs up into her yearning arms. “Thank you so much,” she whispered, burying her nose in his thick fur, breathing in the unaccustomed smells of pine and dust on him. “I’m so grateful for that dead mouse. And I’m so, so glad you’re home.”
“Mrow.” He’d started purring, the sound growing louder, making a pleasurable vibration against her chest.
She cuddled him closer. “You want your dinner, don’t you?”
“Mrow, mrow-mrow.” He definitely did.
She turned to Jed and asked, “Would you take care of my...gift?”
“Happy to.” He actually smiled, a rarity for him. In the fading light, his eyes were the deepest, truest green. She watched them crinkle at the corners and thought that he was a good man. And also that she’d never been happier than she was right at this moment, with Wigs in her arms—and Jed at her side. “Go on in,” he said.
Reluctantly, she broke the hold of his gaze and took Wigs inside.
* * *
Jed disposed of the mouse, washed his hands in the utility room and then returned to the table.
The food had gone cold. He grabbed a beer and waited for Elise, who was still off somewhere enjoying her reunion with the cat. Yeah, he could have just zapped his plate in the microwave and dug in.
Ms. Bravo and the Boss Page 7
