Gabe did not look distracted. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her. “He wanted to know what snails taste like.”
“That’s it?” Her eyes drifted to his mouth, but she didn’t allow them to linger. “I was imagining all kinds of guy things a little boy might want to ask out of earshot of his mother, but ‘What do snails taste like?’ was not a possibility.”
“He wanted to know if they taste like dirt.”
“Oh.” She was breathless and couldn’t keep her glance from falling to his lips. “Do they?”
“They taste like earthworms, only chewier.”
“I hope you were just using your imagination when you said that.”
He raised his hand and ran his fingers through her hair, watching as it fell in strands of flyaway gold against her cheek. Then he gathered the feathered tendrils and tucked them, like a flower, behind her ear. “I’m using my imagination now,” he said softly.
“There was something I wanted to...wanted to...say,” she began, although she couldn’t remember what it could have been. “I wanted to say...”
“Kiss me,” he supplied, bringing his hands to her shoulders.
“That...wasn’t it.” Although she was fairly certain she liked his idea better than hers. “We need to...talk. I have something to...to tell you.”
“Do you think it could wait?” His gaze traveled over her face and Katherine was sure she would never breathe normally again. “Because I need to kiss you. And I need to do it very soon.”
Her fingers were tingling. Also her toes. It was possible she was tingling all over. “I think it’s only fair...” she whispered in soft, breathy syllables “...to tell you I’m not interested in a relationship.”
“Okay.” He slid his hands down her arms and took possession of her tingling fingers. “Are you interested in a kiss?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said impulsively, anticipation flaring like the flame of a candle left in an open door. Before he could make another move, she was on her tiptoes and kissing him full on the mouth. It was just like the time in his office. She hadn’t gone there to kiss him, hadn’t even had a thought of doing so. But she’d been looking for someone to let her out of the building, and in the dusky darkness, she’d seen Gabe moving toward her and recognized him by his size and the way he moved. And there had been the mistletoe, tied with a silver bow that shone like a guiding star above the doorway he was fast approaching, and somewhere distant she could hear people laughing, and it had been Christmas Eve and she had been going home alone...and in the heat of an overpowering impulse, she had kissed him with all the pent-up passion anonymity could provide. She had been amazed by her actions—was still amazed that she had done something so uninhibited—and completely mesmerized by the response that singular kiss had elicited.
And it was happening again. Now. All of it. Except this time he knew who she was. This time, she couldn’t pretend it was an accident.
If he was startled at first, she was too involved in the kiss to notice. But when he slowly, deliberately, eased into control, she paid attention...if only because the sensation of his mouth against hers was heaven. Then, as if heaven were just the preliminary phase of delight, Gabe proceeded to deepen the embrace.
His hands moved up and down her back. Katherine felt so weak in the knees she could hardly see straight.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought. It was supposed to be a mutual thing, a shared exchange. He wasn’t supposed to be so in control. She wasn’t supposed to be so...willing.
If she could just get away from the temptation to drown herself in his kisses, she’d tell him she had no intention of ever seeing him again. His lips nudged hers with gentle persuasion, and she nudged back, because it seemed unnecessary to be abrupt. She’d ease her way out of this. That was what she’d do. She’d stop kissing him first, then she’d tell him there was no hope of this relationship going anywhere fast. Or slow. No. There was no chance of this relationship going nowhere. That was it. Yes, that was what she’d tell him. Just as soon as she figured out why she’d thought she wanted to stop kissing him.
But it wasn’t until the kiss fell apart for lack of oxygen that her memory returned a full and embarrassing account of her action, and intentions. Katherine came to her senses in a heartbeat, backing away from Gabe. “That’s not the way this was supposed to happen,” she said, in a voice that mimicked her tenuous control and the rapid cadence of her pulse.
He sat on the couch and pulled her down with him, draping his arm around her shoulders and moving into her space again, into the danger zone. “Show me how it was supposed to happen, Kate, and I’ll try again.”
“No.” Her hands were at his chest. She couldn’t quite get them to move. “No. We are going nowhere with this.”
“Define nowhere,” he said, leaning toward her again.
“Nowhere,” she whispered. “Nowhere... That would be...where this is going.”
“Mmm...” he murmured as he brushed her lips. “I’ve never wanted to go nowhere before.”
“Me, either.”
His kisses requested her silence then...until he abruptly pulled back and scooted a short distance away from her. When he turned his head and looked into her eyes, her heart nearly melted from the expression on his face.
“I think it’s time I went home,” he said, catching her off guard with a smile that did not match his words.
She folded her hands firmly in her lap. “I think you’re right.”
He stood and reached for her hand, tried to pry one from the other, and finally grasped them both and drew her to her feet. “You can walk me to the door,” he suggested.
Yes. She could do that without completely embarrassing herself, she thought. “Okay.” She congratulated herself on moving steadily, decisively, ahead of Gabe toward the door. When she opened it and turned to him, he paused expectantly. “I don’t think I should kiss you again,” she said quickly. “Really, I think you should go.”
His eyes smiled in amusement. “I’m going. As soon as I get my coat.”
“Oh, your coat.” She was feeling stronger by the minute. He was just waiting for his coat. Good. She’d get it for him. Opening the coat closet, she pulled it off a hanger and handed it to him. “There,” she said with a smile. “Your coat.”
“Thank you.” He looped the wool scarf about his neck first, then slipped into the coat and reached into his pockets for his gloves. He pulled them on, then leaned forward and kissed her, sweetly, deliberately, and when he drew back, it was all Katherine could do not to follow up that kiss with another.
It was that silly coat, she thought. If he just didn’t look so attractive in it. “You should button up,” she told him. “It’s cold outside.”
He fumbled with the buttons obediently, but Katherine brushed his hands aside and began the job herself. “You should have put on your gloves after you buttoned your coat,” she said as she perfected the first closure and moved down. “It makes this easier, you know.”
“This seems pretty easy.”
She glanced up to see his smile, lost her momentum, and had to start over with the same button. “I can never get this button to work,” she said, feeling a little giddy, a lot nervous. “It always wants to stick.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“Hundreds of times in my fan—” She realized what she was saying at the same instant he did, and she thought that if ever the time had been right to die of embarrassment, this was it. From the look in his eyes and the charming tug of humor at the corner of his lips, she figured he was piecing together more than she wanted him to and decided she could only make things worse by trying to deny it. So she just stepped back and shooed him toward the door. “Just go,” she said.
Thankfully, he went.
CHAPTER NINE
GABE W
AS BACK the next afternoon.
“Is it Saturday?” Andy asked excitedly when he opened the door. “Are we going to the North Pole now?”
“Tomorrow, kiddo. Early.”
“Hiya, Gabe!” Abby bounced up behind her brother and hopped in place, alternating from one foot to the other. “What’s that?” She pointed to the bulge under his coat, and Gabe tried to look as astonished as the juggler had when the monkey crawled out of his shirt, but the twins weren’t interested. They just wanted to know what he’d brought them.
“This?” he asked, reaching in to withdraw a fuzzy orange ball. “This is—”
“Matilda!” Abby screeched, reaching for the kitten with both hands. “It’s The Real Cat Matilda!”
Katherine was in the room in less than a second, her gray eyes taking in the scene, her face forming the exact expression Gabe had been attempting...a dead ringer for yesterday’s juggler.
“Mom....” Abby’s voice held all the wonder of the ages. “Gabe found The Real Cat Matilda and brought her home.”
“Hello, Matilda,” Andy crooned as he stroked its fuzzy ear. “Hello, kitty.”
As both children cuddled around the kitten, Gabe stepped into the apartment and closed the door. He didn’t have to try to look sheepish. “Hi, Kate,” he began brightly, innocently. “How are you?”
Her frosty look fell to the fuzzball. “Allergic.”
“Oh.” That put a new perspective on things. “You’re allergic to kittens?”
“No, but I’m about to be.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him away from the cooing huddle of youngsters. “What are you doing with that cat?”
“You said it would be all right to bring my pet for a visit.”
“You said you had a dog. An obedience-trained dog.”
“I did,” he admitted, wishing that this one time Louisa had done what he asked her to do...which was to find a dog he could borrow for the afternoon...instead of doing what she thought best...which was to spend way too much money to purchase a pedigreed feline because it happened to match the description of Abby’s stuffed lion. He hadn’t even asked how she knew about the lion. “I did say I had a dog,” he continued. “But he was busy this afternoon.”
“So you brought your cat instead?”
He loved the flush of irritation on her cheeks, the sparkle of agitation in her eyes. But what he loved most right now was her lips. Her enchanting, kissable lips. “Actually, I brought your cat.”
“No, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I had to. It came with papers that had to be filled out, and I figured it would be better to put down your name instead of Abby’s, and, well, you’ll be getting a whole packet of pedigree in the mail in a couple of weeks.”
She frowned. A serious frown. A downright murderous frown. “You’ll have to take it and its papers back wherever it came from.”
Gabe shifted uneasily. Louisa had assured him that Katherine would take one look at the kitten and fall in love. She’d promised. “Now, Kate, I know you said you didn’t want a kitten, but you also said you wanted to learn how to purr, and I thought you and Matilda might put your heads together and—”
“Listen to me, Gabe Housley. I am never, ever, going to learn how to purr! Now, you just take that fuzzy little lion back where you found her and maybe, in about twenty years, I’ll forget how mad I am at you.”
Twenty years. She was still going to be mad about this in twenty years. He wondered if she’d still look this pretty, and if he’d still be so eager to kiss her.
“And you can just wipe that stupid smile off your face, too, because when you leave—in about two minutes from now—the cat goes with you.”
“Mom, look.” Abby held up the kitten. “She has a spot on her foot, just like the other Matilda. She is The Real Cat Matilda. She is!”
“Abby, you know a stuffed toy can’t suddenly become real. That spot is just some grape juice you spilled a long time ago.”
Abby picked up the kitten’s paw and checked the spot, then hugged the kitten intensely. “I spilled grape juice on you,” she murmured in a lullaby. “When you were just a toy.”
“For heaven’s sake, Abby, you spilled the juice on the stuffed animal, not the cat.”
Abby had her hands on warm, fuzzy love, and she wasn’t giving in. “That proves she’s The Real Cat Matilda! If I hadn’t spilt the juice, how could she have this spot in the exact same place?”
“Give the cat back to Gabe, Abby. She doesn’t belong to you.”
“Yes, she does!” Abby first pulled the cat closer, out of adult reach, hugging it against her heart. Then she abruptly changed tactics and thrust the animal into Katherine’s unsuspecting hands. “But she is real, Mom! Feel her! She’s the most perfectest Matilda I could ever have.”
“Most perfect,” Katherine corrected as she awkwardly tried to balance the kitten, which made a soft mewling sound as it huddled, with a delicate shiver, in the palms of her hands. “Most perfect,” she repeated, looking down at the kitten’s little triangle of a face.
Gabe held his breath and counted all the way to seven before he detected the softening around her eyes. He reached twelve before her expression changed from Absolutely not! to Oh, it’s so scared.... The same thing had happened at the office, with Wendy, and with every other female pitted against the kitten’s piquant stare.
“Meow?” said The Real Cat Matilda...and the good deed was accomplished.
* * *
KATHERINE ROLLED ABBY’S parka into a bundle and fitted it under her seat in row 15, orchestra section, Radio City Music Hall. As she straightened, she purposely jostled Gabe’s elbow, pushing it from the narrow armrest between their theater seats.
“Let me know if my arm gets in your way,” he said, propping his elbow back on the armrest.
She slid an accusing glance at him, empowered by the knowledge that he owed her. He owed her big-time. And she took serene delight in reminding him at every opportunity. “Your arm is in my way,” she said pleasantly.
With a display of deference, he removed his elbow from the armrest, and she contentedly replaced it with hers. Opening the program, she leafed through the pages, just to show how unconcerned she was about his studied regard. “For Pete’s sake, Katherine,” he said eventually. “You like the cat.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I will learn to like the cat, Gabe, but you needn’t think I’m going to forgive you, because I’m not.”
“You should be grateful I showed up with the kitten instead of without it.”
“Grateful? I should be grateful?”
He nodded, crossing his arms across his chest...which, she hadn’t been able to help noticing, was nicely covered today by a dark-gold sweater that complemented the rich brown of his eyes. “A less considerate man might have shown up empty-handed and asked you to help him unbutton his coat.”
Her cheeks blushed warm—as he’d undoubtedly known they would—and she was grateful the lights had already begun to dim. “A more considerate man wouldn’t have shown up,” she said, too loudly.
“Sssshhhh, Mom!” Andy leaned around Gabe’s far side to reprimand her for continuing to talk in the quieting darkness of the huge auditorium. “The show’s getting ready to start.”
Gabe arched his eyebrows in a follow-up scold, and on Katherine’s other side, Abby flashed her Santa globe flashlight and kicked the seat in front of her. “I still don’t see why I couldn’t bring Matilda,” she muttered. “She likes the Rockettes just as much as me.”
Katherine closed the program and, with a glance to make sure Gabe wasn’t paying attention, she let her elbow drop from the armrest to a lower, more comfortable position. As the orchestra began to play and the curtain rose, Abby and Andy sat straight, scooted to the edges of their respective seats and stared at the stage, their jaws slack, thei
r mouths rounded in fascinated and duplicate Os.
Gabe leaned close to Katherine, bringing with him a subtle awareness. “Keep your eyes open for Santa Claus,” he whispered. “If he’s here, I don’t want you to blink and miss seeing him.”
She sighed at his teasing, thinking how good he smelled, how solid his shoulder was when she occasionally brushed against it. It was a wondrously strange feeling to be sitting next to him in the dark, surrounded on every side, but very much alone together.
She usually sat through the Christmas Spectacular with just the twins, although some years, she invited friends to join them. Despite the emphasis on Santa Claus, she couldn’t deny the magical quality of hearing the ageless melodies of Christmas performed in this huge old charmer of a theater. She had been busy and failed to get tickets this year, had even been thinking they’d skip seeing the Rockettes this one time, but when Gabe produced four tickets for this afternoon’s show, she’d been as excited as the kids. And when she met his eyes over their bobbing red heads, it had been as if he had gotten the gift for her as much as for the kids.
So now, here she was, ensconced between her twins like always, but with Gabe ensconced there with her. She had said she wanted him to go away and stay away, but in every way that counted, she had invited him to stay. So why was she surprised to find him beside her, making the three of them an even four? Was it possible that she, like Abby, had willed her harmless stuffed lion into a living, breathing reality? Had Gabe, like The Real Cat Matilda, become something more than a fantasy because her heart wanted so badly for him to be real?
Katherine closed her eyes, then opened them again, getting her focus straight. There was no truth to be found in fantasy. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t meant to be. Being intangible was its charm, its attraction, and its only reality.
Onstage, a little boy began singing “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” and in the darkness, Gabe took her hand and held it as if he never meant to let go.
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