Cupid Cats

by Katie MacAlister

  “You’re insane.”

  “No, I’m trying to impress the hell out of you.”

  “I’m already impressed. You can put me down.”

  “You’re not impressed enough.” He climbed the stairs. “If you were, you’d come to LA with me.”

  “Oh, Jon.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “You don’t know what you’re rejecting. But I plan to stage a demonstration.”

  Striding down the hall and into his room, he held her over the mattress. After carrying her all the way there without dropping her or banging any part of her against a door frame, he miscalculated the distance down to the bed and let her go a little early. She bounced on the quilt, which made her laugh.

  “I love kissing you when you laugh.” Following her down, he pulled open her robe and discovered a very naked Kate underneath. Jackpot.

  As he worked her completely out of the robe, he kissed her thoroughly, letting his tongue convey in no uncertain terms what he had in mind as the grand finale. Then he quickly tore off his wet clothes and started kissing the rest of her.

  She sighed with pleasure. “That’s . . . That’s lovely.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, oh, yes.”

  “How about here?”

  She moaned and shifted to give him greater access.

  “Listen to the rain,” he murmured against her skin.

  “I hear it.”

  “It’s like a steel drum band.”

  “Mmm.”

  He wasn’t sure if that was a comment on the rain or on his tongue circling her nipple. “Come home with me. I’ll take you to Jamaica and we’ll make love on the beach.”

  “Ahhh.” She lifted her hips as he moved slowly down her body.

  Now the rain tinkled like the tiny finger cymbals played by a belly dancer. “I’ll take you to India, wrap you in silk, and then peel it away.”

  Her moans of pleasure blended with the rain as he settled between her thighs and used his tongue to drive her slightly crazy, but not too crazy. He wanted to be deep inside her when she came. He wanted to be looking into her eyes.

  Dreams of a lifetime of loving her swirled in his head as he licked and nibbled his way back to her mouth. “I could show you the world, Kate.”

  “You’re . . .” She gulped for air. “You’re a devil, Jon Ramsey. Tempting me with a . . . devil’s bargain.”

  “Ah, but we make love like angels.” Reaching for a condom, he eased back on his heels and held her gaze as he rolled it on. He moved deliberately, keeping eye contact as he braced his hands on either side of her and knelt between her thighs.

  She reached up and cupped his face in both hands. “I do love making love to you.”

  “That’s a start.” And he thrust deep.

  Her eyes darkened. “You feel . . . perfect there.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” He eased back and pushed in tight again. “We belong together. Like this.”

  “But we can’t—”

  “Expand your mind. You might be surprised what we can do.” He began a slow, steady rhythm. “Something this great . . . doesn’t come along every day.” He shifted his angle slightly and zeroed in on her G-spot.

  She gasped with pleasure.

  “Good?”

  “You know it is. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I do,” he murmured. “I’m loving you.” And he gave it everything he had.

  Her climax lifted her inches off the bed, and she cried out his name. He followed soon after, his body shuddering in the grip of an orgasm that obliterated any memory of other women. He needed Kate and only Kate.

  As the world slowly stopped spinning, he drew a shaky breath and combed her damp hair back from her face. “Here’s the thing. I’m in love with you.”

  Moisture glistened in her dark eyes. “I’m in love with you, too.”

  Joy filled his heart.

  “But—”

  His joy began to leak away. “I’ve learned that the real truth comes after that nasty little word.”

  “I love you, but it’s not enough.”

  He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see how deeply she’d wounded him. “Okay.” He drew another steadying breath. “Okay. I gave it my best shot.”

  He rolled away from her and climbed from the bed. “The rain seems to have stopped. I’ll be on my way.”

  In the misery-laden hours and days that followed, Kate would have loved to pack up her cat and take the road out of Bisbee, too. Everything about the place was a reminder of Jon, and each memory twisted the knife in her heart.

  But it turned out she was a prisoner in the B and B. Jon had left just in time. He’d been gone about two hours when the first phone call came from a reporter in Hollywood.

  Thinking it might be something to do with Jon, she’d picked up. But she’d quickly realized the person wanted a story about Jon and his new girlfriend, who was reportedly Kate Archer, daughter of Benjamin Archer, the late Hollywood star. Was Kate there? Was the Hummingbird Inn their love nest? She’d hung up.

  Eventually she’d unplugged the phone to end its constant ringing. Then she’d had to turn off her cell phone. By the next morning the reporters had begun ringing the doorbell, and she’d finally called the Cochise County sheriff’s office for some help.

  The deputy had warned away the media folks, but Kate still didn’t feel comfortable leaving the B and B. Fortunately, Esmeralda came by with a couple of casseroles, so she had enough food to last her until Maggie came home. Esmeralda also tried to explain to Kate that Darwin’s magical presence had created situations that would ultimately bring Kate and Jon together. Kate listened politely, but privately she concluded that poor Esmeralda was delusional.

  Prior to Maggie’s arrival, Kate turned on her phone long enough to send her sister a text with the basic information in it. She wanted Maggie to be prepared in case she was waylaid on her way in. By a stroke of luck, on the afternoon Maggie parked her truck next to Kate’s hybrid, no one was watching the B and B. Kate chanced running out to help Maggie in with her bags.

  Maggie looked more tanned but not much happier than Kate. She waved a tabloid as she climbed out of the truck. “After your text message, I looked for this in the grocery store when I stopped for coffee. Have you seen it?”

  “Nope.” Grabbing the newspaper without looking at it, Kate took Maggie’s carry-on. “Let’s get inside before somebody shows up with a camera or a microphone.” She hustled Maggie up the steps and into the parlor. Then she closed and locked the front door.

  “Whew.” Maggie put down her suitcase. “That’ll teach me to leave for a week.”

  “Maggie, I’m sorry.” Kate gazed at her sister. “I know Jon was a valuable customer, and I don’t think he’ll ever be able to stay here again.”

  “Are you kidding? Who cares? You and Jon have put the Hummingbird Inn on the map. I’ll bet you’ve been swamped with calls requesting reservations.”

  Kate groaned. “I don’t know. The reporters were driving me nuts, so I turned off the phone. I probably lost you a bunch of business, but I—”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. Not being able to get in touch by phone will confirm that the Hummingbird Inn is one exclusive destination. I’ll guarantee that when I check the Web site, we’ll have people clamoring to stay here.”

  Kate felt marginally better. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Business will boom, so don’t worry about that. But I’m sure this has been traumatic for you, and I feel responsible.”

  “Maggie, it’s not your fault.”

  “It’s sort of my fault, and it would ease my guilt if we shared a bottle of wine. Let’s leave my suitcase right here and open the special red I tucked away for emergencies. I think this qualifies.”

  “Sounds like a fabulous idea.” Still holding the tabloid, Kate headed for the kitchen. “What about your trip? Was it good?”

  “No. Ted i
s cheap and he flirts with other women constantly. Who knew?” Maggie paused in the kitchen doorway as Darwin leaped down from the top of the refrigerator and strolled over to greet her. “This must be the famous kitty.”

  “That’s Darwin. He came from the shelter down the street, the one that put the flyers on our windshields.” It seemed years ago that Kate had looked at that flyer and decided to pay Cupid Cats a visit.

  “Hello, Darwin. You have the perfect name, did you know that?” Maggie crouched down and gave Darwin a good scratch down his spine. He arched his back in obvious delight.

  “According to the woman who runs the shelter, this cat is magical.”

  “Oh?” Maggie glanced up. “How so?”

  “She says he’s somehow influenced the chain of events, and it will ultimately turn out well for Jon and me.”

  “Sounds as if a Bisbee flake runs the shelter.”

  “I’m afraid so. I don’t see how any of this could be a good thing, except for my adopting Darwin.”

  “He is gorgeous.” Rising to her feet, Maggie walked over to a deep cupboard and pulled out a bottle of red wine from the very back. Then she handed it to Kate and reached for a couple of glasses. “Those eyes are amazing. I don’t blame you for bringing him home.”

  “I’m not sorry I did.” Kate twisted the corkscrew in and levered the cork out of the bottle. “But regardless of what the shelter lady thinks, he’s caused me a fair amount of trouble.”

  Maggie put the glasses on the counter. “Pour the wine, and then we’ll talk.”

  In moments they were seated at the kitchen table, their glasses in front of them and the bottle between them. The moment for looking at the tabloid spread had come. But before Kate faced it, she raised her glass to Maggie’s. “To the Archer sisters.”

  “To the Archer sisters. Three tough broads.” Maggie clicked her glass to Kate’s and drank.

  “Amen to that.” Once Kate had taken a hefty swallow of her wine, she flipped the tabloid over.

  “It could’ve been worse,” Maggie said.

  “Yes, it certainly could have.” Kate gazed at a grainy picture of Jon standing on the sidewalk, gazing at her with obvious interest. She was looking right back at him with similar absorption. Darwin’s head was down, so he’d probably been munching on a tuft of grass at the time.

  The three-inch headline read CAT GOT THEIR TONGUES? A line in smaller type announced HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART MONKEYING AROUND WITH JON. Kate scanned the story, which identified her as a primatologist working at the U of A in Tucson. Her parents were both mentioned, and on the inside pages were pictures of her and Jon during their infamous fight at the prom.

  “So what happened?” Maggie asked gently.

  Tears threatened, and Kate blinked them back. She thought of a million ways to explain, but in the end it all came down to one thing. “Bottom line, I still love him.”

  “And he took advantage of that, didn’t he? That slimeball! I’ll boycott his movies. I’ll find a picture of him at fourteen when he had zits, and I’ll put it on the Internet. I’ll—”

  “No, Maggie.” Kate took a gulp of wine. “He didn’t take advantage of me. He still loves me, too.”

  “He does?” Maggie stared at her across the table. “So why is he back in LA and you’re here drinking wine with me?”

  “Because I don’t want to be shoved into the spotlight again!”

  Maggie held up the tabloid. “Too late, babe.”

  “Right! One brush with Jon Ramsey and I’m plastered all over the gossip rags. Reporters have pestered me for days trying to get a story. It’s my worst nightmare.”

  “Is it?” Maggie turned the newspaper around to look at the front cover. “Forgive me for saying so, but this is a sweet picture of you two. You look happy. You have a cute little cat on a leash. Neither of you is half naked or shockingly overweight or high on some illegal substance. As tabloid pictures go, this one is fairly innocent.”

  “Innocent or not, that picture is everywhere. All over the country, probably all over the world by now. I really, really hate that.”

  “Yeah, I see your point.” Maggie tossed the paper down on the table. “Sure, Jon Ramsey is one of the hottest men on the planet and richer than God. He’s also—and I know this because he’s stayed here twice—fun to be around and a terrific cook. He’s a little full of himself sometimes, but considering his level of success, he’s actually quite modest.”

  Kate remembered his macho trick of carrying her up the stairs to bed. “Sometimes he’s a show-off.”

  “Well, duh. He’s an entertainer. Showing off is how he makes all that lovely money.”

  “Exactly, Maggie, which means he enjoys being in the public eye. I, on the other hand—”

  “Oh, you’re so right to reject him. Rich, handsome, and fun mean nothing if you have to put up with people taking your picture all the time. What a drag. Besides, I’ll bet he’s lousy in bed. Those pretty boys often are.” Maggie paused and gazed at Kate expectantly.

  “Maggie, that’s beside the point.”

  “Beside the point? What have you been smokin’? Good sex is never beside the point. Sometimes it’s the whole point!”

  Kate sighed. “He’s great in bed, okay?”

  “Great in bed? Damn, girl!” Maggie flung the tabloid into the air. “I just got off the boat with the biggest loser known to womankind, so if you don’t want Jon, maybe I can interest him in a substitute Archer sister.”

  Kate stared at her in disbelief.

  “Don’t look like that. I’m kidding. There’s no chemistry between Jon and me, more’s the pity. Apparently he’s always had a thing for you, though, and I would hate to see you pass up the love of your life.”

  “But—but I thought all three of us took an oath never to get involved with anyone from Hollywood. I thought—”

  “Number one, we took that oath at least ten years ago, and number two, I’ve had the privilege of getting reacquainted with Jon, and I think he’s terrific. If he loves you and you love him, and you don’t grab him and hang on for dear life, then you’re one taco short of a combo plate.”

  Kate received that message in stunned silence.

  “Look, you said you love him.”

  Her chest felt tight and her pulse rate kicked up a notch. “I do.”

  “And he loves you.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “From what I know of Jon, he wouldn’t say that unless he meant it.” Maggie gazed at the top of the refrigerator where Darwin had taken up residence. “I’m not admitting your cat has magical powers, but taking him for a walk did bring this issue to a head.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Are you really going to let an old fear keep you from the man you love? The man who loves you?”

  Kate’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “Sounds pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

  “Your words, not mine, but . . . yeah.”

  “So what—what do you think I should do?”

  “Get to LA as fast as you can and apologize for being an idiot. And if a bunch of people take your picture, smile.”

  Chapter 10

  Wearing a tux shirt and slacks, Jon dragged himself out of the surf for what seemed like the hundredth time. The scene called for him to leap from a yacht and swim to shore. The leaping and swimming part were in the can, but the director wasn’t satisfied with the shot as Jon came out of the water.

  Jon figured it shouldn’t matter as long as he looked wet.

  And he was definitely that. He hadn’t felt this soggy since the rescue mission to fetch Darwin off the roof. The minute he started thinking about his time in Bisbee, he brought his thoughts to a screeching halt and made an abrupt mental U-turn. He’d get nothing from sorting through that wreckage, especially when he was working and needed every creative instinct to be fully operative.

  Thank God he was a pro who could compartmentalize or he wouldn’t be able to function. Off the set, when he didn’t have a scrip
t to follow and another persona to inhabit, he wasn’t in very good shape. But here he did well, and he was thrilled to finally be back at work today. The tail end of his “vacation” had been hell. He’d rather shoot this scene twenty more times than go home to face his empty house.

  The director’s voice boomed out over the sand. “Cut! Nice job, Jon. That’s a wrap.”

  With a sigh, Jon started back toward his trailer to get rid of his wet costume. Now that he was out of the water and in the sun, he was starting to steam—not quite the same as being in a thunderstorm with a cold wind blowing.

  He had the rest of the day free, so he needed to schedule things to do. Stay busy; that was his motto. He might be wrecked inside, but he wasn’t letting anyone know that. Maybe he’d work out, see if any of his friends were available for a game of racquetball. Tonight he’d watch a movie. He was on a Paul Newman kick this week.

  Or he could drop by his grandfather’s house for dinner. His mom and grandfather were always glad to see him—except he’d done that twice since coming home from Bisbee, and they were starting to get suspicious that something was wrong.

  Something was, but Jon didn’t want to talk about it. They’d asked him, very gently, about Kate, and he’d said that incident had been blown out of proportion. He and Kate were just friends. Fortunately, the media were losing interest in the story now that the two of them hadn’t made any more appearances together.

  Tracy, his assistant, hurried to meet him, a baseball cap on her short curls. As usual, her elfin face was animated. She was the perfect assistant—bright, enthusiastic, cute, and not his type at all.

  She handed him a pair of flip-flops, and after he’d put them on she walked with him to the trailer. “Kate Archer’s waiting for you inside.”

  He stopped walking. “What did you say?”

  “Kate Archer. I guess you forgot to tell me she’d be visiting the set today.”

  Jon peered at Tracy, his brain stalled on “Kate Archer is waiting for you.” “I didn’t authorize it.”

  “Oh. Well, somebody did. She had a pass. It’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, you said you were friends.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay.” Jon walked faster. Kate was here. It made no sense unless . . . No, he wouldn’t set himself up for getting kicked in the teeth again.