by Mallory Kane
"Cat? Are you all right?"
She realized Debra was talking. "What?"
"I said, are you okay? You look sad."
"Uh, sure."
"Well, you can't just decide not to get married. You're dying to get married."
Cat winced. "Not anymore. Face it, Deb. I've been engaged three times, and three times I've screwed it up. I think God's trying to tell me something."
"Yeah, that you have lousy taste in men."
"Hey!"
"Sorry," Debra shrugged, "but it's true."
"Oh thank you so much. Now I feel better." She tried to make a joke of it but Deb's words hurt. Mostly because they were true. She must have inherited her taste in men from her mother.
"Well, you can't deny that David was just a little too attached to his parents' money."
Heat flared in Cat's cheeks. "I'd almost talked him out of that prenuptial agreement," she mumbled. "Okay, you finally did it. I'm depressed. Go away. I'm going to hang myself with my mouse cord."
Debra laughed. "Well, when you decide to test the questionnaire, count me in, and Phil. It will be interesting to see if we're compatible."
"Compatible? You're married. Why wouldn't you be compatible?"
"Don't you know opposites attract?"
Cat frowned. "So are you saying people who are totally opposite are compatible?"
"Not necessarily." Debra waggled her fingers at Cat as she left. "I'm just saying it could be interesting to find out."
Cat considered Deb's suggestion. Using people she knew to test the You Dot Com software would certainly be easier, and more of a real test, than making up answers to the questions. And it could prove to be very interesting. The site wouldn't go live until she had thoroughly tested it, and she could use numbers to identify each person. Nobody would have to know who was who. It would just be for purposes of debugging the software.
She liked the idea of matching the guy in graphic design with Blondie, the new security officer. She wondered how opposite their answers would be. She smiled to herself. And it would be fun to find out who Michael might be compatible with.
He needed a woman. That was obvious, based on her one day's experience. He needed help in a number of areas, notably apartment hygiene. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the seven dirty coffee mugs in the sink, then turned her attention to her computer screen. Cat pulled her brain back to the job at hand, and began putting together the demographic data form. She rested her hands on the keyboard. The dragon-lady from You Dot Com, Lorraine Cameron, wanted a preview of the site by the end of the week. Cat abandoned the weird questions for the moment and began programming.
Once she got a basic form put together, Cat started thinking about who she could use to test the data. Herself, obviously.
Date of birth. December thirtieth. She started typing, stared at the screen for a moment as her teeth worried her lower lip. Michael's birthday was July fourteenth. Birth place, Nashville. But her brain kept going back to Deb's suggestion. She actually could do Michael, and herself. Not together of course, but just to test the software. After all, she knew Michael as well as she knew herself. She could answer his questions for him.
She quickly filled in all Michael's demographic data, then started on the You Dot Com personality based questionnaire. A guilty thrill went through her, as if she were doing something wrong. She glanced toward the entrance to her cubicle, then back at the computer.
Are you a virgin? She chuckled quietly. She knew the answer to that one. She knew who Michael had lost his virginity to, and when, almost to the minute. He'd been sixteen, and he'd blushed for a week. She even knew who the girl was. Of course, she had wondered what he'd seen in the busty cheerleader. Busty cheerleader. "Oh yeah, never mind," she muttered.
She quickly answered several more similar questions. Then she came to one that stumped her, so to speak. It wasn't a unique question, but it was a good one. If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?
She stopped and stared at the screen. What would Michael's answer be? An oak? A redwood? A Christmas tree? She had no idea. She looked up the answers that the You Dot Com creators had designed to be input into the system. Her first choice for Michael would be oak. Probably clichéd, but he was definitely steady and strong. But when she read the personality traits associated with the elm tree, she changed her mind. People who chose the elm tree were noble, faithful and loving. Then when she read the traits for the olive tree, she changed her mind again. Olive people were well-balanced, kind and understanding.
"Uh, oh," she muttered. ""Looks like I may have to ask him." Of course she couldn't. If she told him she was working on a dating service, he'd refuse to be a part of it, and if she just started asking him questions, he'd think she was crazy.
She'd thought she knew everything about Michael. She was a little taken aback that she did not immediately know what kind of tree Michael would choose for himself.
Abandoning Michael's questionnaire, she started on her own, and worked on it until just before five o'clock. Then she checked her Email one more time before shutting down her system. There was a message from Michael.
Pick you up at five? I'll take you out for ribs.
"Now how did you get my Email address?" she muttered as she clicked on reply. Sara, probably.
If Michael was willing to eat ribs voluntarily, he must really be feeling sorry for her.
It’s sweet of you to endure ribs for me, she typed, smiling as she remembered the dozens of times he’d groaned when she insisted on eating spareribs.
Deb appeared. "So what have you done with the questionnaires? Just let me know when you want to interview me."
She stopped. "What is that Cheshire cat grin for?" she asked, leaning over to get a good look at Cat's computer screen.
"Ooh, who's that? MGrey. Sounds like a guy. Making dates already? Good girl! Or is this some of your research?"
Cat shrugged. "This is my best friend. We've known each other for a hundred years."
"Your best friend? Where's she been?"
Cat frowned. "She's a he. He took a job in Japan a few years ago," she hedged, not wanting to tell her friend how long Michael had been back without contacting her.
Debra plucked the open newspaper off the other chair in Cat's cubicle, then sat. "A best friend who's a he? Why haven't I ever heard of him?"
"We haven't talked in a long time." She recalled Michael's confession with a twinge of hurt. "I found out last night that he's back."
Debra opened the paper, then lowered it enough to peer at Cat. "So?"
Cat glanced at her. "So? What?"
"So, he turned up at a convenient time."
"Convenient is one word," Cat muttered.
Debra turned a page. "Well, you know what they say, friends make the best lovers."
Cat clicked on "send," then spun her chair around. "Do they now? Just who is 'they,' Debra? And how do they know so much?"
"'They' is everybody who's anybody, and my guess is they know because they've tried it and it works." She picked up a newspaper folded to reveal the classified ads. "Are you looking for an apartment?"
"Yes." Cat indicated the newspaper in Deb's hands. "I've got to find one, soon. Could I have my newspaper, please?"
"Ouch. A tad touchy, are we?"
"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Where are you looking? Near here? There's a new complex going up in West Meade."
Where Michael lived. Michael and her ex-fiancé. "Yeah. I've driven past it. I can’t live there. It's practically on David's parents' doorstep."
"That close, eh. Oh, well never mind."
"Besides, I don't have to move to pay more than I can afford. I can do that, in fact I am doing that, right where I am." She scooted her chair over and pointed at a highlighted ad. "Look at this renovated Victorian. High ceilings and all that dark wood."
"Yeah but it's way over in the riverfront district. That's a long commute. Plus, you have to be careful about
the location. There's good and not so good."
"I know," she sighed. "They're just so beautiful. Anyhow, I've got to spend all day tomorrow looking."
"I'm just glad it's you and not me. I am so relieved that we finally have a house of our own." Debra sighed and rose. "Well, speaking of a house of our own, I guess I'd better get myself home. Phil will be going nuts. It's his week to pick up the kids at daycare, and he has no idea how to entertain both of them by himself."
"Bye."
Debra started out of the tiny space that comprised Cat's cubicle, just as Michael rounded the corner and blocked her way.
"Eek!" she shrieked, nearly bumping into him. She ducked and he raised his arms. The effect was comical, since he was at least a foot taller than she.
He grinned down at her. "'S'cuse me. I'm looking for--hi, Cat. Ready?" He was all dressed up in a dark navy three piece suit with a snowy white shirt and a designer tie.
"Hi."
He flattened himself against the cubicle wall as Debra squeezed by. She turned her head toward Cat and mouthed 'wow' and rolled her eyes.
Cat giggled.
"What?" Michael said, raising his brows. "Do I have catsup on my tie?"
"No." She waved her hand. "Are you going to eat ribs dressed like that?"
"I thought we could stop back at my place so I can change. I see you're properly attired for ribs."
Cat stood and grabbed her purse. "It's casual Friday. What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. That's what I said. You're dressed just right."
"No, you said I was 'properly attired.' That was sarcasm."
He shook his head indulgently. "It’s just lawyer mode. You sure are touchy. Let me try again. You look great."
"Eh--" she held out her hand and waggled it from side to side.
"You look marvelous!"
Cat smiled. "Okay, you're getting there. Well, come on then, I'm starved." She sidled past him.
It was easy to forget how tall he was until they stood really close, or someone as short as Debra stood next to him. He was at least six two, which made her five-eight seem small. As she brushed against him, she had a sudden realization. Michael was very hard, very--male.
Whew! Where did that come from? Cat sucked in her tummy and squeezed by. Behind her, Michael cleared his throat.
As they headed toward the elevator, Debra stuck her head out the door. "Cat? Can you come here a second?" she called. "I need--something."
Cat glanced over her shoulder. The innocent look on Debra's face immediately made her suspicious. "Can't it wait until Monday? I thought you were gone."
Debra shook her head. "No, it can most definitely not wait until Monday. In fact it can't wait another two minutes. She'll be there in just a minute, Gorgeous," she called out to Michael and winked at him.
Michael chuckled as he stepped into the elevator. "Want me to hold it?"
Cat shook her head and sighed. "No. I'll be right down. Nothing could have come up this late. She probably wants to tell me I have toilet paper sticking to my shoe or something."
He pointedly looked her up and down as the elevator doors closed.
Cat glanced behind her at her heels and at the back of her jeans as she trudged up the hall and into the office. "What?" she said to Debra.
"Oh--my--God!" Debra breathed, her hand to her breast.
"Debra, are you okay? You're not pregnant again, are you? You're positively pale."
Debra leaned against a bookshelf and fanned herself with her hand. "I feel pale. Cat, you have got to latch onto that guy, right now. Oh--my--God!"
Cat stared at her, one fist propped on her hip. "You want to tell me why the histrionics?"
"You want to tell me why you've never mentioned your 'best friend' before? I feel it's my duty to inform you that he's gorgeous."
"So you said." Cat considered. "I guess he could be classified as gorgeous."
"You guess? Cat, tell me you're not blind."
"I'm not blind. But, Deb, I've known him since he was eight years old. And trust me, at eight he was not gorgeous. He had crooked teeth, and I was at least six inches taller than him. Of course he always did dress well." She paused, remembering the feel of him as she'd squeezed past. "He's got a good body, I guess."
"You guess? You guess? Who cares what he looked like at eight? This is now. I tell you, if I weren't married--."
"Now stop it. I don't care what new mothers say, drooling is not even attractive on babies, much less grown women. Michael's like my--well, not my brother, but my cousin or something."
"Oh, be still my heart."
Cat laughed. "I had no idea anybody actually said that. Next you’ll be putting the back of your wrist to your forehead and fainting on the fainting couch. You could be straight out of a historical romance novel."
Deb mimed fanning herself with her hand.
Laughter bubbled up from Cat's chest like shaken champagne. "You do understand, right? Michael and I are friends? I mean really, truly friends, since forever. Nothing more?"
"I understand what you're saying. I just don't understand your reasoning. What's the matter with him? Is he gay? Please tell me he's not gay. Or taken?"
"No!" Cat laughed. "Nothing's the matter with him. He's a friend. You know, one of those people you can depend on. Someone you can tell things you'd tell no one else," she said pointedly.
Debra held up a hand. "Come on. This is me. I'm not starting any gossip. But you need to take a serious look at the bird, or in this case the hunk, in your hand." Debra hoisted her tremendous purse up onto her shoulders. "I've got to go."
"Go? You called me back here and now you're going to leave?"
Debra shot her friend a dazzling smile. "You've got a gorgeous hunk waiting for you."
CHAPTER FOUR
Cat threw up her hands as Debra exited. She looked at her watch, then left, locking the door behind her. Downstairs, Michael was talking to Blondie, the new security guard.
Cat smiled as she approached quietly. Michael Grey at work. Like his attitude toward his appearance, like his sense of style, his friendly manner and his sex appeal were totally unconscious. She thought about Deb's reaction to him, and what he'd say if she told him. That was the amazing thing about him. He truly didn't realize how special he was.
He leaned casually against the counter, talking to the guard. His attitude was indolence, his longish hair gave him just the right touch of rebellion to offset the tailored business suit. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. And Cat swore she could see the sparkle of his dark blue eyes from fifty paces.
The blonde guard was lapping it up, too. She was attractive, if you liked the obvious type. Her hair was long and, although she wore it up, several strands had artlessly escaped and framed her face, which had way too much make-up for Cat's taste.
Michael laughed, and the sound made Cat want to laugh too. Oh yeah. He was definitely easy to look at. Black hair with blue eyes should be declared a lethal weapon.
Cat wrinkled her brow. Now that Debra had mentioned it, Being with Michael had always meant being the center of attention. She'd pretty much taken his looks for granted, just like he always had. After all, she knew which tooth was chipped, where his cowlick was, and his really big secret, that he had a heart-shaped birthmark on his tummy, below his navel.
The blonde laughed and leaned forward, the action pushing her breasts up and out.
"Hmm, methinks yon comely lad needs rescuing," Cat murmured to herself, then coughed discreetly and held her shoulders back. The successful young businesswoman on her way home from work. It might work better if she weren't wearing jeans and a Henley tee that screamed J. Crew.
Michael shifted his gaze from the blonde to her. He straightened and his smile widened. "Here she is now," he said.
The blonde flashed an expensive set of teeth at her, as she looked her up and down. "Hello."
"Hi!" Cat grinned and cut her eyes over at Michael, sending him a silent warning.
/> His brows drew close in a frown. "Uh, Cat--."
She ignored him. "You must be new," she purred.
"Why no. I've been here three months," the blonde said, and pouted for Michael's benefit. "I'm stuck with the evening shift."
"That's funny. I've never noticed you before. Aw, well, hang in there. You'll be promoted, some day."
The blonde frowned and opened her mouth, but Michael stepped between them. "Come on, Cat. We'd better get going."
"I'm sure I'll see you around, if you work this late all the time," Cat tossed back over her shoulder as Michael herded her toward the door. "I get off every day at five." She waggled her fingers at the guard.
"Still living up to your name, I see," Michael muttered as he pushed open the glass door and went through, then held it for her.
"What?"
"Meow . . . ."
Cat smiled. "I wasn't the one acting like I was in heat. I rescued you. You should thank me."
"Okay, thank you. What made you think I needed rescuing?"
"You didn't recognize that deadly blonde widow spider? Hourglass figure. Eats males alive?"
"Very funny."
"Ah the sun feels good," she said, shivering as she walked outside. It was always cold in their building. "So, did you make a date with her?"
Michael unlocked his vintage Porsche 911. "No. As a matter of fact I didn't."
"Why not? Did I interrupt too soon?"
He sent her a mild glare as he started the car. "I don't ask out every woman I meet, Cat."
"Really? You used to."
"Yeah, well I got over it."
"No kidding? When?" Cat leaned back against the worn leather seats, and let the heat seep into her back. It was just like old times, bantering with Michael. She hadn't felt this good in a long time, maybe since he'd left. Cat smiled secretly. With a slight pang, she realized that her best times had always been with him.