was falling—I’m good at multitasking that way. It’s cold. We can’t leave her out there. Do you have a box and some old towels? Or newspaper first, maybe towels later. Isn’t birth messy? I know it’s a part of the cycle of life and all, but there are fluids.”
He stepped onto the stone path and walked toward a gatehouse. Willow let the cat issue drop as she stared at the pretty structure. It was all windows and wood, perfectly suited for the surroundings. But it wasn’t the main house.
“Hey, where are you taking me?” she demanded, having sudden visions of a dark dungeon with chains and handcuffs on the walls.
“My house. I have first-aid supplies here.”
Oh, right. That made sense. “You live on the property?”
“It’s convenient.”
“It shortens the commute, if nothing else.” She glanced around at the gardens. “Nice southern exposure. You could grow anything here.” Gardening was a favorite hobby. Her fingers itched to be in the soil and planting.
“If you say so.”
He slowly lowered her to the ground, but kept an arm around her and supported most of her weight. She leaned on him, her body nestled close.
He had to be well over six feet and a couple hundred pounds. He felt as solid as a building and she had the thought that whatever happened, this was a man who could keep a woman safe.
He dug keys out of his trouser pocket, then unlocked the door and carried her inside.
“If we were dating, this would be romantic,” she said with a sigh. “Can we pretend?”
“To be dating? No.”
“But I’m injured. I may die and, frankly, it’s your fault. Is it because you’re married?”
He lowered her into the chair by the fireplace, then put her injured foot on the ottoman.
“You’re the one who ran,” he said. “It’s your fault. I’m not married and don’t move.”
He disappeared into what Willow suspected was the kitchen. All right, so Kane didn’t mind doing the rescue thing, but he wasn’t exactly friendly about it. She could handle that.
She looked at the room, liking the high beamed ceiling and the earth tones. The space was bigger than she would have thought, yet still cozy. The large windows that faced south cried out for a few planter boxes, though.
On the table next to her was a book on the Middle East. Financial magazines littered the coffee table in front of the sofa. Interesting reading for a security guy.
“Engaged?” she yelled.
He mumbled something she couldn’t hear, then said, “No.”
“So the lack of pretending is a personal thing. Are you getting ice?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t forget the box for the cat.”
“There’s no cat.”
“Oh, there’s a cat. It’s too cold. Even if she’d be okay, what about her kittens? They’re newborn. We can’t just leave them to die.”
“There’s no damn cat.”
There was a cat, Kane thought grimly as he stared into the hollow of the tree. A gray and white one with three tiny kittens. Despite having been pregnant until a couple of hours ago, the cat looked skinny and bedraggled.
A stray, he thought, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He was a decent guy. He tried to do the right thing. All he asked was that the world leave him alone. For the most part, the world agreed. Until today.
As the odds of the cat getting into the box were close to zero, he set it on the ground and studied the situation. He wasn’t a pet person, but he knew enough to know cats had claws, teeth and miserable dispositions. However, this cat had recently given birth, so maybe it was weak and therefore feeling more cooperative. It was also a new mother and likely to be protective.
One way or the other, he knew there was going to be blood spilt and it was going to be his.
He reached inside the hollow and closed his hand around the first kitten. The mother cat stared at him and put her paw on top of his hand. As he began to move the impossibly small ratlike baby, claws sank into his skin. Oh, yeah, a real good time.
“Look. I’ve got to get you and the kittens inside. It’s cold and it’ll be foggy tonight. I know you’re hungry and tired so just shut up and cooperate.”
The cat blinked slowly. The claws retracted.
He scooped up the kittens and set them in the nest of towels he’d folded in the box, then reached for the mother cat. She hissed, then rose and jumped gracefully onto the towels and curled up around her babies.
Kane grabbed his coat, Willow’s shoe and sock and the box, then headed back to his place.
This wasn’t how his day was supposed to go. He lived a quiet life by choice. He liked his place—it was secluded and he didn’t get visitors. Solitude was his friend and he didn’t need any others. So why did he have an uncomfortable sensation that everything was about to change?
He walked into the gatehouse and found Willow on the phone.
“Gotta go,” she said. “Kane’s back with the cat and her kittens. Uh-huh. No, that’s great. Thanks, Marina. I appreciate it.”
“You called someone?” he asked as he set the box by the fireplace.
“You gave me the phone. Was I not supposed to use it?”
“It was for emergencies.”
“You didn’t say that. Anyway, the call was local. I phoned my sister. She’s bringing over cat food and a litter box. Oh, and some dishes, because I didn’t think you’d want to use yours for the cat food. I’d put money on her calling Mom and telling her what happened, which means Dr. Greenberg is probably going to want to check me out before I can move.”
“You have a doctor who makes house calls?”
“My mom’s worked for him for years. He’s great.” She glanced at her watch. “We should have this all wrapped up by two or three. Really. But if you have to be somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”
As if he was going to leave her alone in his place. “I can work from home today.”
“So that’s all good.”
She smiled at him, as if all this was normal. As if she was normal.
“You can’t do this,” he told her. “You can’t invade my life.”
“I didn’t invade it. I stumbled into it. Literally.”
There was that smile again—the one that transformed her from pretty to beautiful and made her eyes twinkle. As if there was a joke that only she got. Which, based on her loose grasp of reality, was probably true.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“I told you. Julie’s sister.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Oh, I work from home, too. I’m a cartoonist, actually. I have my own comic strip. I’m syndicated. Do you have anything to eat? I’m starved.”
He didn’t keep much food around. It was always easier to grab a meal on his way home from work. But there had to be something.
“I’ll go look.” He stalked toward the kitchen.
“Nothing with meat. I’m a vegetarian.”
“Of course you are,” he muttered.
The cat had followed him into the kitchen. He searched his bare pantry and found a can of tuna. After