The Sweetheart Game

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “I have allergies,” she lied. Visiting the cat would be an excellent excuse to poke around his life.

  “Then I’ll put her back. She seemed okay under there.”

  “You can’t put her under the deck.” She glared. “When winter comes, she and her babies will freeze.”

  “Winter is months away.”

  “But they could get hit by cars.” Summer said. “Do you want to see squished kittens up and down the street?” She managed a slight lower lip wobble as she peered into his eyes and laid it on thick. “Don’t you care about the babies?”

  He winced. She had him. “Then I’ll drop her off at the pound.” At Summer’s horrified expression, his shoulders slumped. “Fine. I’ll take her to the vet and see if they can re-home her. But I am not keeping the cat.”

  * * *

  Jason, buried up to his elbows in wet cat and flea shampoo, tried to figure out the exact moment when Summer, using her pretty eyes and heavy southern drawl—which had miraculously appeared while she’d convinced him to take the cat—got him to agree to co-parent the pregnant feline.

  Was it when he’d said pound and she’d looked at him like he’d said drowned instead? As if he’d ever put the cat in a sack and chuck it off a bridge. Or was it when she’d cuddled the feline in his truck and told him that he’d have a forty percent less chance of a heart attack with a pet cat?

  He wasn’t sure if that statistic was correct, but she looked adorable as she said it.

  No, he couldn’t nail down the tipping point, only that he was now washing fleas down the drain with floral-scented cat shampoo and Summer was grinning.

  He should have left the cat under the porch.

  Summer, sitting on the toilet lid and holding a towel, said, “Don’t forget to get her tail.”

  Knowing that cats didn’t like baths, he’d put on two layers of rubber gloves for the washing. And fearing that the cat would freak out and start birthing baby kitties, he’d asked the vet to give her a mild sedative before they left.

  Now mama cat was slightly high and not putting much effort into struggling. He washed her as fast as he could before psycho kitty appeared and scratched his face off.

  “She looks amazing,” Summer said, awed.

  Then to the cat, “Who knew you were so pretty under all that dirt?”

  Jason jerked his eyes away from the sweet expression on her face. They weren’t even sleeping together and she was already leading him around by the balls. If he didn’t watch out, they’d be back to the vet for one of the ferrets they’d had featured for Ferret Adoption Day.

  “How can you say that? She looks like a drowned rat.” He rinsed her off and lifted her from the tub.

  “You have to see beyond the obvious. She’s going to be gorgeous, aren’t you, honey?” she said. Summer wrapped her in the towel. Despite the trauma of the vet visit and the bath, as soon as Summer started gently rubbing her off, the cat started purring.

  Hell, he’d purr too if Summer rubbed him. She was damp and messy and smiling. Her wet t-shirt molded to her body and the kissy sounds she leveled at the cat made him think wicked things. She’d never looked sexier or more troublesome.

  Obviously, he couldn’t say no to her. If he didn’t watch out, he’d be re-plumbing her house or taking her elderly Aunt Hortense to her colonoscopy appointment.

  First, he’d tell her he wasn’t a serial killer. He didn’t want her fearful around him. “Summer, I—”

  “We need to name her,” she said, and his confession died. “What about Molly? Or Fluffy?”

  “No naming.” Pulling the plug on the drain, he stood and stretched his stiff back. “You promised that we’d put up flyers to see if we can find her owner. If you name her, you’ll want to keep her.”

  A shadow passed over her face. Damn. She was already attached to the cat. “I know you like her but there may be a little girl out there somewhere, crying every night over her lost cat and worrying over the danger her kitty faces out in the wilds of Ann Arbor. We have to reunite them.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That was just mean.”

  Chuckling, he took the cat from her. The wet towel dampened his shirt. The cat notched up her purr. She was loud.

  “Did you know that cats sleep seventy percent of their lives? They are super sleepy critters.”

  Yes, another fun random fact from the O’Keefe encyclopedia of knowledge. The woman was smart. And entertaining.

  “I do now. While you were setting up the bath, I put a heating pad in the laundry room with her cat box,” he said. “She can dry herself off in there.”

  To his surprise, her eyes softened. “That is so sweet.”

  Why did it sound like she was shocked by his kindness to the cat? Oh, right, the whole graves in the backyard caper.

  Suddenly, he wanted to keep the truth to himself. It would be fun to see how long she’d wait before admitting she’d been spying and ask about the burials.

  Besides, he didn’t need a woman in his life. His dad had had enough failed relationships for the both of them. He’d stick to online flirtations and causal dinners out and leave deeper connections alone.

  The best way to keep that pledge was for Summer to remain convinced that he was one of America’s Most Wanted.

  The cat squirmed in the towel when they entered the laundry room. By the time he got her unwrapped, the drug was wearing off and she was spoiling for a fight. He released her and she darted behind the dryer.

  “She hates us,” Summer said, frowning.

  “She hates me,” he said. “I’m the one who washed her.”

  “I’m the one who held her for the vet exam. She hates us both.” She took the bag of food they’d purchased from the vet and poured some in a bowl covered with decorative pink paw prints. They’d bought supplies on the way home.

  On his credit card. That alone convinced him that he was already losing control.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay in here?” she said.

  “She’ll be fine. We’ll visit her so she can get used to us. After a couple of days, we’ll start letting her out into the kitchen.” He laid out the kitty bed near the food and away from the box, then added water to the second bowl. “She’s just scared.”

  “And used to living under the deck,” she added. “Being here will be like a fancy resort.”

  Great. An invisible bedazzled cat collar was tightening around his neck. He had a feeling in his gut that he was now a cat person, whether he wanted to be or not.

  He scowled at the pink paw prints. Damn, he felt his balls shrinking. Soon, he’d have to use a magnifying glass and tweezers to find them. “Why couldn’t I have rescued a scarred bulldog with a pronounced underbite?”

  “Nonsense. I think she’s cute.”

  Oh hell no. As soon as she left, he was heading for a beer and a turkey leg to gnaw on.

  Summer reluctantly followed him out and closed the door. The laundry room was good-sized and quiet enough to settle one scared cat. He had enough clean underwear to last a couple of days, so the room was all hers. After she recovered, he’d find a way to donate her to Summer, whether she liked it or not.

  “Would you like some tea?” He knew Pops kept tea in the pantry. Where he hid the kettle was anyone’s guess. “I also have beer and chips.”

  “No thank you.” She glanced around the kitchen and out into the entryway. Thankfully, that narrow area was a dead-animal-free zone. If she saw the stuffed critters, she’d never leave the cat alone with him.

  Then again, he’d be rid of her and the cat.

  “I should go,” she said before he could formulate that plan and she headed for the side door. “I have your number. I’d like to come over tomorrow and see how she’s doing, if that’s okay?”

  “That’s fine. But call first. I have to go to the hardware store a buy a new shovel. I broke mine.”

  Eyes widening, she hurried out the door.

  Chapter 7

  The creepy sound of Anthony Perkins in Psyc
ho stabbing Janet Leigh through the shower curtain ran through her mind on the way home. Several times during the short walk back, she paused, wondering if she should return for the cat, but knew that the sweet mama had gone through enough trauma for one day. Besides, it was unlikely Jason would harm the kitty. Anyone as gentle as he was to the little creature during the bath had a soft spot for small animals.

  Despite the bulldog comment.

  Plus, as long as she was safe, the kitty gave her an excuse to visit. Having only seen the upstairs bathroom, laundry room, and kitchen, there was nothing to confirm or exclude him as a dangerous wanted felon.

  However, she had one thing to check and hurried upstairs to her computer. Unfortunately, there were no new updates on the Jason look-alike and nothing about tattoos in his short FBI profile. She was no further ahead than before.

  The doorbell rang. Worried that the cat had suffered a heart attack over the bathing, she raced downstairs to the front door. To her surprise, it wasn’t Jason.

  Taryn, her hair messed up and her eyes red, shuffled over the threshold, stiffly propelling her body in the direction of Summer’s couch. Her overalls were dusty and her cheek had a dirt smear from nose to ear.

  “You look like a vagrant. What’s going on?” Summer sat on the other end and curled her feet beneath her. “Are you sick? Did you and Rick have a fight?” She and Rick were adorable. If they broke up, Summer might as well give up finding the right guy forever. There was no hope.

  “No, nothing like that.” She pushed sweat-damp hair off her face. “The boys saw us unloading the truck and decided to help,” Taryn said and clutched a dark blue pillow to her chest. “Their conversation started with how to build a working beer bong out of toilet paper tubes and morphed into which video games had the most ‘action’ between the hero and heroine alien space creatures. When I left they were arguing about which supermodel had the best ‘rack’. I couldn’t take anymore so I ran over here.”

  Five blocks at a full run in brown work boots and coveralls explained the sweat.

  “You left Rick alone with them?” Summer said aghast. The boys were fifteen college students who lived next door to Taryn on the edge of the University of Michigan campus. Although Summer had only met a few of them personally, she did know from Taryn that they were not unlike a large litter of puppies—sweet, yet overwhelming.

  Taryn smiled warily. “You forget that Rick was once a teenage boy, too. Plus, someone had to stay and make sure they didn’t break his stuff.”

  “True.”

  Taryn smiled. They chatted awhile about the trip to LA and the drive back, including a stop at a diner that served fillet of rattlesnake with a side of cactus casserole. Yum?

  “Did you eat that?” Summer was from Texas and even she didn’t eat snakes.

  “I did not. Rick did though. He said it tasted like . . . chicken.” She finished off chicken at the same time as Summer. They laughed. “Doesn’t every weird meat product taste like chicken?” Taryn said.

  “I think so,” Summer agreed.

  Taryn was happily adjusting to her new living arrangement and Irving was pleased to have one of his private detectives settled with a good guy. All their boss ever wanted was for them to be happy. And pastel golf shirts bought in bulk. He did love a good deal.

  “I’m surprised Irving hasn’t offered to pay for your wedding,” Summer said. “He’s eager for baby PIs nipping at his golf-sock-covered ankles.”

  Rumor had it that Irving had a son of questionable character but only the oldest of his employees had ever seen him. The kid ran off when he was seventeen, in advance of the law, and hadn’t been seen since nineteen-seventy-three.

  This made Taryn, Summer, and Jess Irving’s best shot at grandkids.

  “Bite your tongue,” Taryn said and Summer laughed. “Living together is a big step. I need to get used to Rick’s snoring before making him my second husband.”

  “Rick is such a nice guy. And cute.” Not as cute as Jason, she thought, but kept that to herself. Her mind drifted to his tattoos. She never realized she liked ink. She’d always leaned toward nerdier guys. They were safer.

  “I think I just lost you.” Taryn’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “What’s up?”

  Summer wondered how much she should share. This whole Jason thing was screwy. Sharing could lighten the load.

  “There is something.” She inhaled deeply then her words came out with a rush, “I think there’s an international terrorist living next door.”

  Where Jess would’ve given her the look, Taryn just stared blankly for a minute. Then she said, “Huh. Of all the things I expected you to say, that was not even in the top ten.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and presented a serious face. “What gives you the impression that a dangerous criminal has taken up residence in Mr. Nealy’s house?”

  The voice of reason filtered in, and filtered back out just as quickly. “Well, I don’t know for sure that he is a felon.” Only that he was very handsome. “But Mr. Nealy’s grandson looks like one of the FBI’s most-wanted illegal gunrunners.”

  “Are you serious?” Taryn scratched her ear and kept her tone even. “You think the grandson is a criminal?”

  Okay, it did sound crazy. “I swear I’m not losing it.”

  “Show me.” The two women trudged upstairs. Summer’s ankle ached with the effort. Climbing too many stairs in one day. When they got to her office, she was ready for an ice pack and a couple of aspirin. She eased into her chair.

  Pulling up the site, Jason appeared on the screen. Every time she saw the photo, she was convinced she was right. “Look at this guy. He’s the same height, weight, and build. And the jawline fits. If Jason isn’t this guy then he’s his doppelganger.”

  “Jason?” Taryn gave her Jess’s soul-searching look. “I thought you hadn’t met him yet.”

  “I hadn’t until yesterday.” She filled Taryn in, leaving out how handsome Jason was. If he was arrested and thrown into a foreign gulag for the next hundred years, she didn’t want anyone to know she’d found him hot.

  “Wow. In the course of two days, he’s rescued you, field-dressed your ankle, and you’ve adopted a cat together.” Taryn said. “Should I schedule the bachelorette party?”

  Summer leaned back in her chair and met her friend’s eyes with an innocent look. “You and Jess always say I need to meet a man, a real living and breathing man. Now I’ve met one and you don’t look happy. At all.”

  “A nice man! We want a nice man for you!” Taryn’s voice rose. “Not a dangerous fugitive!”

  Chuckling, Summer shook her head. “I don’t remember there were stipulations beyond that he couldn’t be a perv or lifer in prison.” She pointed at the screen. “He hasn’t been convicted so we can still have the wedding and honeymoon you and Jess have always wanted for me. He may even get me pregnant before he goes in. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Taryn fell into step with the humor. “I can see you on visiting days asking the warden for conjugal visits.”

  A warm flush swept through Summer as if Taryn had read her mind. The image of Jason doing naughty things to her naked body rose unwelcome in her mind. Unwelcome, but entirely yummy. Even the idea of rolling around on a lumpy prison cot didn’t dampen her body’s enthusiasm. Her girly bits were all in.

  Ugh. Jess was right. Having a hot fantasy about a possible wanted killer was proof that she needed to get away from her neighbor, even if he’d been sweet to the mama cat.

  “Okay. You’re right,” Summer conceded. “I promise not to get involved with Eddie the Ax no matter how intriguing he is.”

  Taryn scrunched her face. “Eddie, who?”

  “Ned the Knife? Bob the Bandito? Fred the Felon?” Summer shrugged. “All good criminals need a nickname. Jason is too common to be a criminal name.”

  “You are seriously disturbed,” Taryn said shaking her head, copying Jess in her assessment.

  “Is there something wrong with putting levity int
o a serious situation?” She inhaled and decided to come clean on all of her recent adventures. “There’s more.” She explained about her Poefan7 fantasy and her cyclist misadventure. “Finally, I was spying on Jason a couple of days ago and almost fell off the roof. Thankfully, three layers of polish and the gutter held.” She gave the short version of events, ending with, “Alvin saved me from certain death. He caught me then grabbed my butt. I think. It could have been an accident.”

  “If it was Alvin, it wasn’t an accident.”

  For a topper, Summer admitted that she almost kissed the big ape after the rescue.

  By the time she finished, Taryn was hunched over, clutching her stomach. “God, I wish I’d seen that! I can’t believe you called him and almost kissed him. You hate him!”

  “Hate is such a strong word. Intense dislike works.” Summer nudged Taryn with her toe. “It isn’t that funny.” Laughter bubbled up. “Okay, it’s funny. But if Alvin’s big paw ever reaches for my butt again, I’ll shoot him!”

  * * *

  A peach pie brought Summer back to his door after dinner and, pie aside, Jason wasn’t sure if he was happy about her visit. After making up flyers and nailing them to wooden light poles around the neighborhood, he’d written a dozen or so pages on his manuscript, and spent the rest of the day clearing out the stuffed critters and putting them in an empty bedroom.

  With the cat around to open up visits from his pretty neighbor, and if she was indeed suspecting he was a murderer, there was no sense temping her wild imagination by having evidence around proving he was psycho.

  Even if he wasn’t the collector of the glassy-eyed beasts, he imagined where her paranoia would lead with the right incentive.

  “I brought dessert,” she said, stating the obvious. She appeared nervous and didn’t make eye contact.

  Good. Hopefully she wouldn’t stay long.

  “I didn’t expect you,” he said as he stepped back to let her in. The scent of warm peaches and cinnamon slipped by him as she passed, mingled with a light vanilla scent that he suspected was not from the pie. “Mrs. Kravitz is still hiding in the laundry room. I think she hates me.”