The cat paused when he saw Declan, then went about his business—which seemed to be exploring around the trash cans. Looking for food,probably—
“Oh, no,” Declan said when he got a better look at the creature. There were missing patches of hair, and his tail was bent. The top third dangled like a forlorn flag, and he waslimping.
“You poor thing. What happened to you?” He crouched and called softly, “Here, kitty. Come here,kitty.”
The cat paused its exploration of the tightly closed trash cans to consider his offer. Declan called a few more times and made crooning noises while the feline’s pair of golden-brown eyes watched him mistrustfully. When he made the mistake of inching toward the cat, however, the tabby had enough and bolted away from the trashcans, darting through a hole under the wraparoundporch.
“Damn,” he muttered, and made his way over to peer through the broken latticework around the base of the porch. He had his head under the edge and was shining his phone flashlight into the darkness when the kitchen door flew open with a sudden and loudswish.
He jolted upright, banging his head as the cat darted even further into the darkness. Declan eased out from under the porch, the back of his skull throbbing and cobwebs clinging to his hair andshoulders.
“What are you doing?” Leslie Nakano was dressed in neither a nightshirt nor a towel, and she did not appear pleased to seehim.
In fact, even though she was in a sweatshirt and—were those boxer shorts?—she looked even less composed than she had the first day he met her, when she was decorated with drywall dust andcobwebs.
“Why are you creeping around my house again?” she demanded before he had a chance to reply. She sounded halfway between suspicious andhysterical.
Definitely not the Leslie Nakano he’d come to know, howeverbriefly.
Wary, Declan stood, brushing off his jeans. “There was a cat. I was trying to get it to come to me, but it got spooked and ran under the porch. It looks like it’s prettyhurt.”
The tight look on her face eased. “Was it taffy-colored? A big one? I saw it last night—it scared the crap out of me when it came dashing out of the woods fromnowhere.”
He was about to open his mouth to say something stupid (“A little high-strung, are we?” or “Maybe you scare more easily than I realized”) and thought better of it, especially when he noticed her bare legs beneath blue and green plaid boxers. They were very nice legs. Petite, but shapely and— “Uh, it’s still under the porch… I don’t suppose you want to try and lure it out? I think it needs avet.”
She looked at him appraisingly. “So now you’re a cat rescuer too.” Her expression had softened even more, and Declan almost wanted to squirm under hergaze.
“Too?” he askedlightly.
But she didn’t reply; instead, she went back into the house, presumably to get something for which a cat would leave itssanctuary.
Moments later she returned with an open can of tuna and set it on the ground near the trash cans at hissuggestion.
“Even if it comes out, we might not be able to catch him,” she said. “At least the firsttime.”
“Right. Well, it’s up to you if you want to feed a stray. I just wanted him to see a vet. His tail’s half whacked off and he’s got patches missing from his fur…and even though he ran away like a bat outta hell, he seemed to have a limp when he was walking moreslowly.”
Leslie’s expression had returned to normal, and she was watching the hole under the porch with a sad expression. “I don’t mind feeding him. I wouldn’t mind having a cat around,” she said, almost to herself. Then she looked up. “Maybe if we go inside he’ll comeout.”
Declan was very fine with that idea. Moments later, he was sitting at the big, scarred kitchen table while she made him a cup of coffee. “Is everything all right?” he asked carefully. “You seemed a little…tense when you cameoutside.”
When she didn’t reply and merely set his coffee down, perhaps with a little louder a thump than necessary, he feared he’d stepped in it. Declan wasn’t certain what was going on with himself, but he knew he didn’t want to piss her off. And not because he was afraid of losing a client…but because he—well, she had great legs and she smelled good…she was smart, and a little funny, and he’d thought about her quite a bit last night after he’d left ShenstoneHouse.
A lot more than he’d thought about bubbly, blond Emily Delton after she’d sat at his kitchen table and had a beer with him last week, infact.
Leslie still hadn’t spoken by the time she sat down across from him, accompanied by a plate of washed grapes and bite-sized quiches that he recognized from Orbra’s Tea House. (Not that he was in the habit of taking high tea or anything. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of being among all the lace and flowers and delicate china for any length of time, pinky extended while lifting ateacup…)
Declan, for whom the silence was becoming ominous, opened his mouth to speak, but stopped immediately when she looked at him. She had very dark, exotic eyes and they were framed with thick black lashes. Instead of being angry or suspicious or even irritated, the expression therein was one of hesitation. Confusion. Maybe even a hint ofworry.
“Something happened last night,” she said finally. “And after, I—I didn’t get much sleep, so I was a little grumpy when I heard you drive up, and then you didn’t knock, and the next thing I knew, you were climbing under my porch…” The last bit came out more quickly and smoothly than the beginning, and Declan had the distinct impression she’d changed course from what she’d intended tosay.
“I can see why you might have wondered what was going on. But I assure you, if I’d had the intention of creeping around on your house, I wouldn’t have driven up in broad daylight, parked my car in full view of your kitchen, and then dove under yourporch.”
“Right. I know that.” The tense look was leaching back into her face. “I’m sorry I reacted sostrongly.”
“What happened last night that made you so tense that you reacted so strongly?” Something prickled at the back of his neck. Had someone tried to break in? Attack her? He forced himself to wait for her to speak, but his fingers curled into a fist beneath thetable.
Leslie lifted her mug to drink something that didn’t smell like coffee. It had an unfamiliar cinnamon-y, spicy aroma. She looked away, out the window, into the distance. “You’re going to think I’mcrazy.”
