Sarah’s chin shot into the air as she jerked her purse strap over her shoulder. “I . . . I don’t believe we have anything more to say to each other.” She hurried past Lacey toward the elevator.
“Sarah.” Jack placed both his hands on Lacey’s shoulders and edged his way past her. “I’m warning you . . . just don’t do anything stupid.”
“You mean, like listen to you?”
Jack groaned and stared at Lacey as if this were all her fault.
Lacey opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him and then abruptly changed her mind. Jack wouldn’t listen. Men never did. Why waste her breath?
With nothing more to say, she returned to her apartment. To her surprise she realized she’d left the door open. Her immediate concern was for Cleo, and she rushed inside in a panic.
She stopped cold in her tracks at the sight that greeted her.
“Cleo!” Her cat was in the throes of passion with a long-haired feline she didn’t recognize.
Placing her hands over her mouth, Lacey sagged against the wall. She wasn’t going to need the Irish woman after all. Cleo had already found her mate.
Two
“Stop!” Lacey demanded, already knowing it was too late. The two cats ignored her. So much for the thrill of being a cat owner.
Knowing only one thing to do, Lacey raced into the kitchen and filled a tall glass with water. She’d get the lovers’ attention soon enough. Rushing back into the living room, she tripped on a throw rug and staggered a few steps in a desperate effort to maintain her balance. By the time she reached the cats, most of the liquid was down the front of her blouse and only a few drops landed on the passionate couple.
By then they were finished and the strange cat was looking for a way out of her apartment. Typical male! He’d gotten what he wanted and was ready to be on his merry way.
Lacey was about to open the sliding glass door that led out to her balcony when someone rang her doorbell. Frowning fiercely at the alley cat, Lacey traipsed across her living room and checked the peephole.
It was her Don Juan neighbor, fresh from his argument with Sarah. “Hello again.” He flashed her an easy smile which, Lacey hated to admit, hit its mark. She didn’t know what was in her personality profile that made her vulnerable to this type of man, but whatever it was, she sincerely wished it would go away.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my cat?” he asked.
“You own a cat?”
“Actually, he allows me to live with him.”
As if she’d planned it this way, Cleo strolled past, her tail in the air, giving the impression of royalty. The long-haired mixed breed followed closely behind, looking as if he’d rested enough for a second go-round.
“There’s Dog,” Jack said.
“Dog? You named your cat Dog?”
“Yeah,” he said, walking past her. He reached for his cat affectionately and cradled him in his arms. “I wanted a dog, but I had to compromise.”
“So you got yourself a cat named Dog.” In light of how she’d met his faithful companion, Lacey wasn’t amused.
“Exactly.”
“Well, listen here, your Dog has stolen Cleo’s virginity. What do you plan to do about it?”
Jack’s eyes widened. Lacey swore the man looked downright pleased. “Dog? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It’s you I’m asking,” Lacey said, squaring her shoulders. “As a responsible pet owner, you have an answer, I hope.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “I can only apologize.”
“Then I accept your apology,” Lacey murmured. It seemed darn little in light of the possible consequences, but the less they had to say to each other the better. Lacey wanted as little to do with Jack as possible. The more she saw of him the more attracted she was, which made absolutely no sense. She was like someone on a strict diet, irresistibly drawn to a dessert tray.
“Listen, I was hoping for an opportunity to get to know you a little better,” Jack said, as if he planned to stay awhile.
Lacey couldn’t allow that to happen. She all but opened the door for him.
“We’ve been neighbors for the past several months. I think we must have gotten started on the wrong foot,” he said, showing no signs of leaving. “I understand you aren’t interested in dating, but we could be a bit more neighborly, don’t you think?”
Lacey nodded politely, if reluctantly. It would help to have someone to feed her cat and collect her mail on occasion. She would be willing to do the same for him, but she wanted it firmly understood that this was the extent of what she was offering.
She told him so.
“Friends?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Friends,” she agreed. They exchanged handshakes. She found his grasp secure, but his fingers held hers far longer than necessary. She disliked the way her heart reacted. This man was dangerous in more ways than one. The less she had to do with him, the better.
He seemed to be waiting for her to invite him to stay for coffee and chitchat. The thought was tempting. It would be nice to have someone to be neighborly with, but the lesson she’d learned from Peter had sunk in.
“We do seem to share a love of cats,” Jack added, as if this were grounds for a long-standing friendship.
“I like Cleo,” she said pointedly. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” This time she held the door open for him.
“It was nice talking to you, Lacey,” Jack said with a boyish grin that was potent enough to topple her resolve to limit their relationship. “I’m hoping we can become good friends.”
Lacey didn’t miss the emphasis on good. The last thing she needed or wanted was friendship with a known Casanova. Not when she’d been fool enough to marry one who’d ruthlessly left her for another.
Since she hadn’t summoned the gumption to ask for a raise, she found it even more difficult to explain to her neighbor that she wasn’t interested in a man who kept women on the side.
Jack left then, to Lacey’s intense relief. She scooped Cleo up in her arms and held her tight, as if her beloved cat had had a narrow escape. Cleo, however, didn’t take kindly to being pressed against a wet blouse and squirmed free, leaping onto the carpet. She made her way to the seat of the overstuffed chair, her favorite spot for a catnap, and curled up contentedly. It might have been Lacey’s imagination, but Cleo seemed completely at ease and thoroughly satisfied.
Just as Lacey was about to turn on the television, the phone rang. It was probably her best friend, Jeanne Becker. Jeanne had been one of the first people to befriend Lacey after her move to San Francisco. She worked as a dental assistant and was single, like Lacey, but had been dating Dave steadily for nearly a year. However, neither seemed to be in any hurry to get engaged. With so many friends divorcing, they both wanted to be very sure they were taking the right step.
“Well?” Jeanne asked. “Did you ask for your raise?”
“No,” Lacey confessed.
“Why not?” Jeanne demanded. “You promised you would. What’s so difficult about talking to Mr. Sullivan?”
“I have no defense. I’m a worm.”
“What are you so frightened of?” Jeanne asked after a thoughtful moment, as if there were something deep and dark hidden in Lacey’s childhood that kept her from confronting her employer.
“I don’t know,” Lacey admitted. “It’s just that Mr. Sullivan is so . . . so intimidating. He’s got these beady eyes, and when I ask to talk to him, he looks at his watch as if he doesn’t have any time for me and asks how long it will take. And by the time he goes through this little routine, I’ve lost my nerve.”
“Don’t you know the man’s psyching you out?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Lacey murmured, disheartened. “But knowing that doesn’t do any good. My talk with Mr. Sullivan
isn’t the only thing that went wrong,” she added. “Cleo’s in heat, and the neighbor’s cat stole into my apartment, and I found them . . . together.”
“Oh, dear, it sounds like you’ve had a full day.”
“It gets better,” Lacey said. “The guy who lives next to me suggested we be neighborly.”
“You mean the hunk who’s been asking you out for the last six months? I met him, remember?”
Lacey wasn’t comfortable thinking of Jack in those terms, but she let her friend’s comment pass. “Yeah. He owns Dog, the cat who had his way with Cleo. And before you ask, I did get the name of his cat right.”
“I could like this guy,” Jeanne said, laughing softly.
“You’re welcome to him.”
“Lacey! Honestly, when are you going to let bygones be bygones? Peter was a rat, but he’s out of your life. The worst thing you can do is blame other men for what happened between you and your ex.”
“I’m not blaming other men.”
“You’ve been divorced for over a year now and you never date.”
“I don’t want another relationship.”
“You were wise not to date right away,” Jeanne said sympathetically, “but now it’s time you got on with your life. If you want my advice, I think you should go out with Jack. He’s adorable.”
“Are you crazy?” Lacey insisted. “He was fighting with Sarah again. It’s all I can do not to tell that sweet young girl what I know. He’s playing her for a fool just the way Peter played me.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“I don’t think so,” Lacey insisted. “They’re constantly fighting. From bits of conversation I’ve heard, it sounds like Jack wants her to move in with him. Apparently she’s on to him because she refuses. I wouldn’t trust him either.”
“You know what’s happened, don’t you?” Jeanne asked. “You’ve gotten to be a cynic. I don’t think you realize how much Peter hurt you.”
“Nonsense,” was Lacey’s immediate reply. “He didn’t do anything more than teach me a valuable lesson.”
Lacey didn’t sleep well that night. It was little wonder, in light of how her day had gone. The unpleasant run-in with her neighbor continued to plague her. Jack was easygoing and friendly, the kind of man who put people at ease. Not her, though. Lacey’s defenses went up whenever he was around her.
As luck would have it, they met in the hallway on their way to work the following morning.
“Off to the coal mines, I see,” he said amicably as they made their way to the elevator. He was dressed in a dark three-piece suit, and the only word she could think to describe him was debonair. His smile was wide and charming. Too charming, Lacey decided. His eyes were friendly and warm, the type of eyes a woman remembers for a long time.
“Where do you work?” he asked conversationally as he summoned the elevator.
“Sullivan’s Decorating,” she answered, without elaborating. Encouraging conversation between them wouldn’t be smart. It would be far too easy to be seduced by his magnetism.
“Really? I think that was the firm the bank hired last year when we redecorated.”
“We’ve been involved in several bank renovations,” she agreeded evenly. So Jack was a bank executive? Lacey didn’t press for information, although she couldn’t help being curious.
As if reading her thoughts, he reached inside his suit pocket and handed her a business card. “Come see me if you ever need a loan.”
“I will, thank you.”
“I’ll look forward to having you apply.” He smiled down on her and, even knowing what she did about him, her heart fluttered. She was cursed, Lacey mused, destined to be attracted to the wrong kind of men. There was probably some technical name for it, some term psychologists used for women like her. Nutty would do, she decided. Tangling her life with his would be downright disastrous.
“Have a good day,” Jack said when the elevator opened.
“You too.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Say,” Jack said, turning back abruptly, as if struck by inspiration. “I don’t suppose you’d be free for dinner tomorrow night?”
Instinctively, Lacey stiffened. So he hadn’t given up trying. “No . . . I’m sorry, I’m not free,” she said. Apparently she conveyed her message because he didn’t press her.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Perhaps another time.”
“Perhaps.”
Lacey wasn’t making Jack Walker any promises. But she couldn’t get the thought of Jack out of her mind all day.
The following evening, when Lacey was taking her trash to the chute at the end of the hallway, she ran into Jack a second time, just as he was going out his door.
Taken by surprise, they stopped and stared at each other. He was dressed formally as if for a fancy dinner date. Lacey didn’t need to be reminded that he could have been wining and dining her. She’d declined his offhand invitation, but she wished briefly that she’d accepted. Then she decided she was right to refuse. There were probably any number of other women who struck his fancy. Then, too, there was always Sarah. Ever loyal, ever faithful.
“Hello again,” Jack said, with his electric smile.
“Hello.” Her voice sounded awkward. Stilted.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine.” She didn’t ask about him. The answer was obvious. He looked wonderful. Bank executives shouldn’t be this good-looking or this friendly.
“Here, let me help.” He took the plastic garbage can out of her hand.
“I can do that.” Nevertheless, she was pleased he offered.
“I’m sure you can, but let me play the role of gentleman. It’d make my mama proud.” The smile was back in place, potent enough to melt away the strongest of resolves. Hers, unfortunately, dissolved faster than most.
They went down the hallway together. Lacey took pains to avoid brushing shoulders with him. “Thanks for the help,” she said, when they neared her apartment door.
“No problem. I was happy to do it.”
She reached for the doorknob, intent on escaping. “Have a good time,” she said, turning her back to him.
“I probably won’t,” he said softly, “especially since I won’t be spending the evening with you. I’m destined to sit through a boring dinner meeting. I wish you could have seen your way clear to go with me.”
“I—” She was so flustered by his sweet talk she could barely speak. “I’m sure you’ll have an enjoyable evening. Will you be seeing Sarah?” she added, not knowing where the courage came to ask the question. Sarah was the one he should have invited, not her.
“Not tonight,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m stuck with my assistant.”
First he’d invited her, and when she refused he’d asked his assistant. Suddenly Lacey was furious. That was exactly what she expected of someone like Jack. Someone like Peter.
Poor Sarah was destined for a broken heart.
Three
“Cleo’s pregnant,” Lacey moaned as she slumped into the BART seat next to Jeanne two weeks later. “I took her to the vet yesterday afternoon and he confirmed her condition.” Lacey was deeply dismayed that her purebred Abyssinian had mated with Jack’s tomcat. And her dissatisfaction with her neighbor didn’t stop there.
Sarah had stopped by over the past weekend, and the sounds of their argument had come through the walls again. Both had been furious. This time, however, they kept the intensity of their disagreement to a lower pitch, and their fight didn’t last long. No more than ten minutes had elapsed before Lacey heard Jack’s apartment door slam and Sarah’s footsteps hurrying down the hall. Jack had stuck his head out and called after her, but to no avail.
“What are you going to do about Cleo?” Jeanne wanted to know.
“I . . .
I haven’t decided yet.” Several options were open to her, but one thing was certain: she was determined that Jack accept some responsibility.
That evening, after work, with her heart in her throat, Lacey approached Jack’s door and knocked three times in hard, timed beats.
“Lacey, hello! This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Hello,” she said stiffly. “Would you mind if I came in for a moment?”
“Not at all. I’d be honored.” He stepped aside and let her into the living room, which was more than double the size of her own. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“Nothing, thanks.” She sat down on a white leather sofa and took a small notebook from her purse. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.”
Jack sank into a recliner opposite her. He perched close to the edge of the seat cushion and braced his elbows against his knees. “Is there a problem?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Lacey answered. “Dog got Cleo pregnant.”
“I see.”
“I thought you should know.”
“Yes, of course.” He looked as if he were entirely in the dark as to what she wanted from him. “Is there something you needed?” he asked after an awkward moment.
How like a man! “Yes,” she said, having trouble restraining her irritation. “I want you to do right by my cat.”
“Do right? Are you suggesting they marry?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Then what do you mean?”
“It’s only fair that you share the expenses with me.” She hated the way her voice trembled. “Dr. Christman, Cleo’s vet, prescribed expensive vitamins and another checkup. In addition, I’ll expect you to find homes for your half of the litter.”
“My half.”
“Yes. Please submit the names to me for approval.”
Jack scratched the side of his head. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
That he should question her motives told her everything she needed to know about him. “Yes, I’m serious. Dead serious.” She stood and handed him a list of her expenses so far. “You can pay me whenever it’s convenient.” Holding her purse against her chest as though it offered her protection, she kept her back ramrod straight. “There are consequences in owning an alley cat, Mr. Walker. Even one named Dog.” Lacey knew how pious she sounded. Lines of righteousness creased her face as she let herself out.