by Gina Wilkins
“That happens sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “Especially with these plastic brackets. I’ve brought another blind with me. It won’t take but a few minutes to replace it.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
Feeling something brushing against his leg, he glanced down and grinned. “Well, hello, Norman. Nice to see you again.”
The cat meowed a greeting, then arched and purred when Mike reached down to stroke his soft fur.
“He seems to remember you,” Catherine remarked, watching them. “You really do have a way with cats.”
“I grew up with them. At one time my sisters had four in the house with us, one cat for each sister. I had a pet snake at the time, just as a way to assert my masculinity.”
“You have four sisters?”
He chuckled and straightened away from her cat. “All older. There are a few people who might tell you I was just a bit spoiled growing up.”
Her smile transformed her face in a way that made his pulse jump in instinctive male reaction. It added warmth and personality to her cool expression and drew his attention again to her perfectly shaped lips. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Actually, it’s absolutely true,” he admitted with a laugh. “I was shamelessly indulged.”
Whatever she might have said in response was interrupted by the ring of her telephone. Her smile vanished. “Excuse me,” she said, and turned to pick up the cordless extension that had been lying on the glass-topped wood coffee table.
He concentrated on his work as she carried the phone into the kitchen. While Norman lay at his feet begging for attention, he unscrewed the broken blind from the window casing. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on Catherine’s conversation, but he couldn’t help overhearing a few snatches of what she was saying. Not that it mattered. Though she was speaking English, she might as well have been talking in a foreign language.
Obviously, the caller was someone from her work. She seemed to be giving instructions to whoever it was on how to do some sort of procedure that apparently involved a lot of steps and many multisyllabic terms that Mike had never heard.
He’d been told that some men were intimidated by brainy women. He, on the other hand, had nothing but respect for intelligent women, having been raised in a house full of them.
As for himself, he was smart enough to read the signs when a woman was interested in him, and he wasn’t getting any of those signals from Catherine Travis. So, despite his respect for her body and her brains, he would keep things strictly professional while he was here.
He glanced at the coffee table as he set the broken blind on the floor and reached for the new one he’d brought with him. A stack of science journals and notebooks teetered at one end of the table, looking as though she’d been reading through them when he’d arrived. A workaholic? Seemed to be in character with his first impressions of her.
By the time she had finished her call, he had just completed the installation of the new blind. He opened and closed it a couple of times, raised and lowered the slats to assure himself that everything was working correctly, then he closed his toolbox. “All done,” he said as Catherine came back into the room. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
She nodded. “I appreciate it. I’ll tell Lucille how much I’ve appreciated your quick responses this week.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a pretty slow week. You seem to be one of the few tenants having breakdowns at the moment.”
To his pleasure, the smile he had admired before returned. “I got lucky, I guess,” she said.
Before he could decide if there was even a hint of flirtation in her response, her expression grew serious again and she reached for the door. “Thank you again,” she said, her tone now politely dismissive.
“You’re welcome.” He stepped outside and glanced back at her. “Have a nice…”
The door closed in his face.
“…day,” he finished wryly. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. He had a class to get to that evening. He didn’t have time to stand around mooning over a pretty, but decidedly distant, scientist.
“So, you’ve really had a lousy week,” Julia observed, reaching for a tortilla chip to dip into the salsa that sat on the restaurant table in front of her. “First you spent your birthday alone, and then everything in your apartment broke. Not to mention a difficult week at work.”
Catherine took a sip of her punch and set the plastic tumbler back down on the table before replying to her friend of almost two years. “It wasn’t so bad, really. I received some lovely gifts for my birthday. Thank you again for the gloves, by the way. They’re gorgeous.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just sorry I had to be away on that business trip and couldn’t celebrate with you. A girl shouldn’t be by herself on her thirtieth birthday.”
“Norman and I had a very nice little private party.”
“The cat doesn’t count.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Catherine advised with a smile. “Norman is very sensitive, you know. And as for things breaking in my apartment, that turned out okay, too. The management responded very quickly each time, having the repairs done the very day I reported the problems.”
“Wow. That is efficient. I hope you didn’t have to deal with gripey old Luther again.”
Catherine concentrated on scooping a tortilla chip into white cheese dip, keeping her voice casual when she replied, “Actually, no. There’s a new maintenance guy now. His name’s Mike.”
“Really. Nice guy?”
“Yes, he seems very nice.”
A sudden, rather loaded silence from the other side of the table made Catherine look up. “What?”
“How did he look?”
She started to give a vaguely generic answer, but then she sighed and said, “Like he just stepped off a surfboard. Or—since we’re a ten-hour drive from the nearest beach—a skateboard, maybe.”
“Young guy, huh?”
“I’m not very good at guessing ages, but I’d say twenty-five. Maybe a year or two older.”
“And you say he’s nice looking?”
“Like someone you would see on the cover of one of those teen magazines my mother would never let me buy,” she replied with an exaggerated sigh. “Blond, blue-eyed, athletic build, beautiful smile. Nice teeth. And enough charm to sell sand in a desert.”
Julia shuddered. “Sounds like one of those guys who are about as deep as a rain puddle.”
Julia had a well-known aversion to handsome, shallow men, having been hurt very badly by one in her younger, more trusting days.
“He seemed quite nice, actually. But—as always happens when I’m in the presence of a good-looking guy—I displayed the wit and personality of petrified wood.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “I doubt it was quite that bad.”
“Trust me,” she said with a groan. “I couldn’t even remember poor Norman’s name. All I could do was just sit there, staring at the guy. He probably thinks I’m the most boring tenant in the entire complex.”
“Oh well, it isn’t as if you’d be interested in boffing the maintenance stud, anyway,” Julia said with a shrug. “You’ve got more common sense than that.”
“No, of course I wouldn’t be interested in anything like that,” Catherine agreed with a laugh that sounded a bit hollow to her own ears.
“And he hardly sounds like the kind of man you’d want to date for any other purpose. A young maintenance man? What on earth would you have in common with him?”
Julia, bless her, was pretty much as clueless as Catherine when it came to men. A natural blonde who defied all the stereotypes, she was a fiercely focused and ambitious dynamo in a deceptively fragile-looking package. Unlike Catherine, Julia was frequently the target of passes from prowling males, few of them interested in her mind. Her experiences with the opposite sex had left her decidedly cynical when it came to romance.
Losing interest in the subject of buff young men—and totally oblivious to the man
who was openly ogling her from a table nearby—Julia launched into a discussion of a workshop she had attended at the conference in New York. Catherine was quite sure her friend had rarely, if ever, left the conference hotel to enjoy all the wonderfully exciting things to do in the “Big Apple.” For Julia, nothing in the city was as interesting and challenging as scholarly discussions of the law.
Hopeless, Catherine thought with a slight shake of her head. Both of them.
Settling in for an evening of spicy Mexican food and stimulating conversation, she pushed the lingering thoughts of Mike Clancy to the back of her mind. She knew full well those thoughts would be there to tease her again later, when she was alone in her apartment.
Friday afternoon Catherine was sitting at her desk behind a mountain of paperwork for an important grant, when she accidentally overheard a couple of graduate students chatting out in the hallway. Maybe they didn’t know she was in her office, or maybe they weren’t aware of how clearly their voices carried through the partially opened door.
“Got big plans for the weekend?”
“Uh-huh. Scott’s taking me to Tunica for a weekend at the casinos. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. I can’t wait.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“I know. What are you doing this weekend?”
“Going clubbing tonight with Tommy and Jan and Nick. Tomorrow Tommy and I are driving up to Jonesboro for the football game and staying the night there.”
“Cool.”
“You and Scott want to go clubbing with us tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask him and give you a call.”
There was a momentary pause before one of them said, “What do you think she’s doing this weekend?”
“Dr. Travis? Same thing she does every weekend. Working.”
“Think she ever just cuts loose and has fun?”
A laugh of disbelief was followed by a cynical, “I think fun might be one of the few words missing from her extensive vocabulary. She’s nice and all, but can you imagine her partying?”
“No. The image just won’t form in my mind.”
The voices faded as the unseen speakers moved down the hallway, leaving an echo of laughter behind them. Only after she was sure they were gone did Catherine get up to quietly close her door.
By the time she arrived at home that evening, her steps were dragging. Though it was after seven, it was still light. The days were getting shorter, though, she mused with a sigh, tucking her bulging briefcase beneath her arm. Soon it would be dark when she came home alone. And cold.
Locking her car door, she glanced across the mostly empty parking lot. Most of the other tenants were already home from work, and quite a few of them had probably already headed out for Friday night fun. Someone climbed out of the driver’s side of a small pickup truck, and she recognized Mike, the maintenance man. He seemed to be carrying a stack of books, but he managed to free a hand to give her a quick wave.
She waved back, hoping she looked friendly and casual rather than stiff and self-conscious, and then she turned toward the outside stairs that led up to her second-floor apartment. She smiled when she glanced up and spotted Norman sitting in his favorite spot on the living room windowsill, watching her.
At least someone was glad to welcome her home, she thought, walking a bit faster.
She unlocked her door and pushed it open, thinking that maybe she would throw on some sweats and make an omelet for dinner….
For the first time since she had brought him home six months ago, Norman dashed past her through the open doorway and streaked down the stairs, straight into the parking lot. Terrified that he would run in front of a car, Catherine threw down her bags and raced after him, calling his name. “Norman, stop! Come back here.”
Alerted by her shout, Mike got to Norman first, dropping his books to scoop the cat into his arms. Rather than resisting, Norman butted his head happily against Mike’s chin, as if in greeting.
Her heart still pounding against her ribs, Catherine skidded to a stop in front of them. “I can’t believe he did that. He’s never run out before. Thank you so much for catching him.”
“No problem.” Smiling, Mike transferred her pet into her arms. “Guess you’d better start blocking the door when you open it.”
“I guess so.” Catherine frowned down at Norman, who was purring as if he were quite pleased with himself. “Bad cat. You could have been hurt.”
“So could you, the way you pelted down those stairs,” Mike told her. “You’re lucky you didn’t trip.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t even think about it,” she confessed. “I was so afraid he would run in front of a car.”
As if to emphasize what could have happened, an SUV passed them at that moment, the driver nodding to Mike in recognition. Mike waved back, then turned again to Catherine. “So, how’s it going—other than escaping cats? Everything in working order in your apartment?”
“Yes, thank you.” She glanced down at the three hardcover books scattered at their feet. “I hope none of your books are damaged. If so, I’ll certainly pay for replacements.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. They’re just textbooks, and I bought them used, anyway.” He crouched to gather them, and Catherine couldn’t help but notice the titles.
“Biology and American history. You’re taking classes?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cursed her own stupidity. Of course he was taking classes—why else would he be carrying textbooks?
But he merely nodded as he straightened. “I’m taking a couple of classes at UALR.” He pronounced it “you-ler,” as many locals did.
She wasn’t sure what to say, except, “Are they going well?”
He started to nod, then stopped himself with a grimace. “History’s fine. Biology’s kicking my butt.”
“Really? Anything in particular?”
“We’re having a test on glycolysis Monday, and to be honest, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. I’m going to try to study this weekend, but I have a sinking suspicion it isn’t going to help much. I can’t make heads or tails of this stuff.”
She would never know what impulse made her open her mouth and blurt, “I’ll help you.”
He looked at her with a curiously lifted eyebrow. “Um—what?”
She told herself that it would make her look even more foolish to take her words back now. And why should she, really? After all, he’d done the favor of helping her rescue Norman. And this was certainly something she was qualified to offer him in return.
“I’ll help you study for the test…if you’re interested. My undergraduate degree was in biology. So if there’s anything I can do to help you prepare—”
“Hey, I’m not too proud to beg for help,” he said with a devastatingly attractive, crooked grin. “If you’re sure you have the time, and it isn’t too much trouble, I would be grateful for any help you can give me. I really want to pass this test.”
She nodded. “It’s no trouble at all. When would you like to come by?”
“Are you free tomorrow afternoon?”
“I have some things to do at work in the morning, but I should be home by about two. Shall we make it three o’clock?”
“I’ll be there. And, hey, thanks, Dr. Travis. I really appreciate this.”
She glanced down at the cat dozing contentedly in her arms, purring like a chain saw. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Eager now to get away before she said something incredibly dumb, she carried Norman up the stairs to her apartment. When she glanced down from her front door, she noticed that Mike was already gone.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Mike! Heads up.”
He turned just in time to snatch the basketball out of the air, spin and sink it into a basket above his head. Nothing but net.
Three male voices groaned loudly. Two others cheered. Mike’s three-on-three teammates slapped him on the back and offered upraised hands for high fives.
> “And that would be…game!” Bob Sharp performed an embarrassingly dorky dance of victory, his near-shoulder-length red hair flying around his square-jawed face.
“Dude.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Chill.”
“Seriously.” Black-haired, green-eyed Brandon Williams, the third member of the winning team, tossed a sweaty towel at Bob. “You’re making us look bad.”
Still joking around with his teammates and opponents—also all friends—Mike moved to a bench at one side of the park basketball court and rooted in his gym bag for his watch. He groaned when he found it. He had lost track of time during the game and now he had ten minutes to shower, change, grab his books and make it to Catherine Travis’s apartment by three o’clock.
He was going to be late.
“Hey, Mike. Wanna go have a beer and watch a game or two?”
“Can’t,” he replied to Bob’s suggestion. “Gotta study.”
Typically, Bob brushed off the excuse. “C’mon, man, you can study later. It’s not like you’ll be grounded if you don’t get an A.”
He laughed heartily at his own joke. Bob still couldn’t understand why Mike had decided to go back to school almost ten years after dropping out of his first attempt at higher education. Bob was perfectly happy driving a delivery truck and stocking snack machines in local businesses, spending his leisure hours hanging with friends and chasing women.
Until a few months ago, Mike had been pretty much content with that lifestyle himself. Now that he had decided he wanted more, some of his friends seemed determined to try to talk him out of it.
“C’mon, Mike, have a beer with us,” Brandon seconded. “It’s too nice a day to study.”
“Sorry, guys. Can’t. I’m supposed to meet someone at three for a study session, and I’m already running late.”
“Oh, ho.” Bob gave a sudden, knowing grin. “That explains your hurry to hit the books. So who is she?”
“Just someone who offered to help me get ready for a test Monday. And I’ve really got to go, guys. See you later, okay?”
“You’re holding out on us, Clancy,” Bob called after him. “We want to meet this chick.”