Page 41 of At the Heart of It
Marilyn sniffed and yawned, then twitched her tail again. It would be easy enough to nudge her out of the way of the fridge, but for some reason Jonah didn’t have the heart. He heaved another sigh, then turned and grabbed a lukewarm bottle of iced tea from the pack he’d left sitting on the counter God knows when. He popped the top and took a swig, then yanked open a cupboard door and pulled out a bag of chips.
“You win, cat,” he muttered as he headed for the living room. “You’ve obviously pegged me as a guy who’s used to being overruled by a pushy female.”
“Owl.”
Jonah stalked toward the sofa, his steps accompanied by the tiny tinkle of a bell. Either fairies were stalking him or Marilyn was on the move, jingling the collar he’d managed to wrestle onto her the night before. He glanced over his shoulder to see her trotting along behind him, disapproval radiating from her like laser beams.
She’d decided he needed to be monitored.
“This okay?” Jonah asked as he dropped the chip bag onto the coffee table.
The cat said nothing, but jumped up onto the arm of the sofa and stared at him. Jonah sat down and grabbed a paperback off the coffee table. He’d dog-eared the page where he’d left off—a habit that used to bug the crap out of Viv—and flipped to the middle of chapter seven. Grabbing a handful of chips, he began to read.
“Owl.” The cat head-butted him—hard—then jumped onto the coffee table and gave a half-hearted sniff at the potato chip bowl. Deeming it unsuitable, she hopped to the opposite arm of the couch, the one closest to Jonah. She curled into the shape of a comma and began to purr against his ribs.
Jonah looked at her, then shook his head. “You’re a strange one, cat.”
He went back to reading, settling against the couch with the book in one hand. Somehow, his free hand found its way to the cat’s slender body, and he stroked the silky fur. She purred louder and tilted her rump to give him a better angle.
The book had held his interest all week, but for some reason it wasn’t cutting it. He’d read the same paragraph three times and still had no idea what it was about. He would have liked to blame the cat for the distraction, but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t even blame Viv, really, though she was part of it.
He did blame himself, though. For falling back into old patterns in that damn pre-production meeting. For letting his ex get under his skin. For arguing just for the sake of argument, instead of because he gave a shit.
For not being able to keep his mind off Kate and what she might’ve been wearing under that slim black skirt and her silky blouse the color of caramel. Did she wear sleek satin underthings, or basic white cotton? Black lace thong or conservative bikini panties in nude?
Focus, dipshit, he ordered himself.
He’d just flipped the page in his book when the doorbell rang.
“Owl.”
“Yeah, thanks. I got it.” Jonah heaved himself off the sofa. He expected to see the UPS woman with some package he’d ordered on Amazon and forgotten about, same way he did every week.
What he didn’t expect was Kate. She stood there on his front porch like he’d conjured her with his thoughts. No longer wearing the skirt and silky blouse, she’d changed into jeans and a blue sweater that looked unbearably soft. Cashmere, maybe, and Jonah realized that if he opened the door instead of standing here staring like an idiot, he might find out for himself.
Kate met his eyes through the floor-to-ceiling side panel window next to the door. She lifted a hand in greeting, but there was something timid in her expression. An uncertainty he hadn’t seen before in her face.
He opened the door, half-nervous about why she’d come, half-thrilled-to-fucking-pieces she was here.
“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”
Kate started to nod, then stopped mid-gesture and shook her head. Her odd coppery eyes glinted under the porch light, and he watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath.
“We need to talk.”
Chapter 7
Kate saw Jonah hesitate as she stood there on his doorstep feeling the glare of his porch light beating down on her like a spotlight. She took a deep breath, wondering if she should have come here at all. If she should have kept texting or maybe sent an email.
Then he stepped aside and waved her into his home, and Kate released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Come on in,” he said. “I was just helping the cat get settled.”
Kate looked at Marilyn, who was standing on the back of a tan leather sofa with her eyebrows arched in silent judgment.
“Hey, kitty,” she said, stepping over to stroke the cat’s ears. “I’m glad he decided to keep you.”
“Me, too,” Jonah said, and Kate thought she caught a note of embarrassment in his voice.
