Chapter 4—The Cat’s out of the Bag

Lavender hoisted the fat feline into her arms and rapped on her neighbor’s door. The orange tabby cat, evil prima donna that he was, purred his approval.

As long as she had anything to do with it, Tyler Harris was going to take care of Art’s cat and not shirk his responsibilities. He’d had two weeks to take care of business, now she’d take care of it for him.

After Art went to the nursing home, she’d fed the pissed-off tabby, even smuggled him into her little house, but her landlady—who was also her mother and a neat freak— showed up one morning and found the animal drinking out of the toilet. Add to that the claw marks on the back door, cat hairballs on the carpet, and her mom’s cat allergies. The cat found himself kicked out for good. She’d tried to find him a home, but no one wanted the demanding animal. Besides, Art willed Cat to Tyler, and Art had adored Cat. That must mean something. She just hoped like hell she was doing the right thing.

Bracing herself, she knocked on the door again.

The door opened. Lavender stared face-to-abs with the most incredibly sculpted, sweaty chest she’d ever seen. Tyler towered over her, naked from the waist up, his faded jeans slung low on his hips. She lifted her gaze to his well-defined pecs with a smattering of black chest hair. Muscles bunched in his arms and a Rose Bowl tattoo adorned his right upper arm. Despite the muscles, he looked lean and ready for action. She licked her dry lips, imagining a certain kind of action.

Ryan was tattooed on his chest, right above his heart. The name rang a bell in connection with Tyler, but she couldn’t quite recall why and chose not to ask.

Instead, she focused on the superficial. Damn, but he had a fine body. As she stood next to him at point-blank range, he was taller than expected, and gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Too gorgeous for his own good and hers.

A slow, sexy smile softened the hard lines of his face and transformed him from a jerk to a charmer, all the more lethal. “So, purple lady, what brings you to my doorstep? Been missing me?” His deep voice rolled over her like the gentle swell of a tide on the beach.

She found her tongue tied to the roof of her mouth and forced it back into service. “My name is Lavender.”

“Hey, I’m a guy. Lavender, purple, it’s all the same to me.”

He was trying to get to her. She ignored his stupid remark. “I’m your neighbor, and this is your cat.”

His amused gaze washed over her, warming her inside and outside. His turquoise-blue eyes infiltrated her defenses.

“My cat?” Tyler leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. He crossed one ankle over the other, as he studied the cat. The smile faded from his face. “I know that cat.”

“You’ve met before.” Lavender bit back a laugh at the image of the vindictive feline tripping Tyler and sending him and the urn tumbling into the frigid waters of Outlaw Bay.

“Yeah, I remember, and no way in hell is that my cat.”

Cat looked up at him and meowed, digging his claws into Lavender’s arm.

“That’s not what he says.”

He stared at the fat lump of orange fur in her arms, his expression skeptical. “The cat lies.”

“Cats never lie.”

“That one does. I don’t have a fucking cat.”

“He’s not a fucking cat; he’s fixed.”

Tyler chuckled. “Don’t quit your day job. You’ll never make it on the comedy channel.” His mouth turned up in a genuine grin, making him seem human, almost nice. The man was get-naked-now gorgeous when he smiled like that, and way too irresistible. Good thing he spent the majority of his time in jerk mode.

She steeled herself against his many weapons even as her body rebelled. Well, it could protest all it wanted; she’d limit her fantasies to her imagination and her vibrator. She’d learned her lesson when it came to men who played games for a living.

Case in point, her absentee father, who abandoned his family for the fame and fortune of coaching ball at a major college. And the quarterback who dated her in high school just to add another notch in his belt. Then there was the linebacker her freshman year of college who told his frat buddies about their sex life in very vivid detail. The dickhead even offered to share. That was the end of him. There were more, but those were the highlights.

She’d been on a jock-free diet for four years now. So what if Tyler happened to be an exceptional physical specimen? Willpower stood on her side. Only willpower didn’t have a killer smile, straight white teeth, and a teasing glint in his oh-so-blue eyes.

Oh, Lord, she’d been staring at him like a lovesick high-school cheerleader. Rattled, she lowered her gaze back to his chest—not a good idea, either—so she looked back at his face, specifically his nose, about the safest part on his body.

“This cat comes with the house. He was Artie’s cat.” At his blank expression, she prodded his memory a little more. “Remember? The one named in the will?”

“Oh, that one.” The man even had a gorgeous frown.

“Yes, that one.”

“Tell you what. Since I’m such a generous guy, I’ll let you have him.” She watched as his charm flooded back at full wattage, especially now that he wanted something from her.

“My landlady doesn’t allow animals.”

“What am I going to do with a cat?”

Lavender could think of a lot of things. Love them. Cuddle them. Take care of them. And when things got tough, no matter what, they’d always be there, purring or licking your face, taking away the hurt. Nothing like a man. “You’re not an animal person, are you?”

“I love animals. Just not cats.” He straightened and glared down at her, like she’d insulted him or something.

That surprised her. Shocked her actually. She never would’ve pegged him for an animal lover. “Good. Then I won’t need to report you for animal neglect.”

“Sweetheart, threats don’t work with me, but I am open to other types of bribes.” The jerk made a show of looking her up and down.

“Not even a threat of castration? It might improve your attitude. It helps with most animals.”

“Honey, I’d like to see you try.” He threw back his head and laughed deep, from his belly. She liked his laugh, all strong and masculine with an undercurrent of good-natured humor, totally at odds with his usual asshole scowl.

“They grow on you. In no time you’ll be drowning in cat hair and loving every minute of it. Give me a call if you need any cat tips.” She shoved Cat into his arms and tucked a business card deep in the pocket of his jeans. Her fingers brushed something hard and—

Oh, crap.

Without another word, Lavender hurried down his front steps and out through the main gate.

* * * * *

Tyler stared after Lavender, mouth hanging open, cock locked and loaded, and the furry hunk of orange lard clutched in his arms.

Her butt in those baggy chinos swayed back and forth. Her tangle of red hair bounced with each step. He liked what he saw from the back as much as he’d liked the front. Usually, he preferred his women tall and willowy with large, enhanced breasts, Barbie dolls in the flesh, but his neighbor had it going on for some unexplained reason.

The island must be getting to him. He’d spent two weeks stuck on this rock in the farthest corner of Washington. Needless to say, he craved some entertainment.

When Lavender showed up on his doorstep holding the cat in her arms, he couldn’t hide his interest. Especially after she slid that business card in his jeans and shocked the hell out of him. She’d copped a feel, most likely an accident, since his pocket and his cock were in the same vicinity. His cock didn’t care if it was an accident or not. Desire surged to his dick and turned it harder than that big boulder on the shore near the marina.

Most women drooled all over him. Not her. The contempt on her face came through as loud as a referee’s whistle. No problem. You didn’t have to like a person to have great sex with them. Every one of his last several girlfriends proved that theory. Besides, her body didn’t hate his body—not one damn bit.

Since Cass had ignored his occasional calls and text messages, he figured the engagement was off, but that deeply hidden decent side of him needed to know for sure before he acted on his interest in his neighbor.

The cat meowed at him, breaking him out of his trance. Shit, he hated cats. What the hell was he going to do with a fur-spreading, litter-box using, flea-infested cat? He didn’t want cat fur on his furniture or headless mice on his front porch, and no way in hell would he clean a litter box.

The fat cat lolling in his arms drooled, rolled its eyes up at him, and smirked as if to say, “Fuck you, buddy.”

“Hey, fuck you, too.” He put the cat on the porch.

The cat stared up at him, blinking his green eyes.

“I mean it. Find a new home. I’m not a cat person.”

The cat didn’t move. Tyler frowned, narrowed his eyes, set his jaw, and glowered at the furry creature with his best you’re-in-deep-shit glower. It worked on the biggest, baddest linemen in the NFL.

It didn’t work on the cat.

The damn thing yawned and sauntered past him to scratch at the door.

“No way in hell are you getting in my house.” Tyler liked things neat and tidy. Claw marks on his antique leather furniture and orange cat hair on his black leather jacket didn’t do it for him.

The cat stared at him. Tyler got the impression the cat knew something he didn’t. It rankled him. He hated being out of the loop, even with a damn cat.

“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll buy cat food if you agree to live in the barn. And that’s my final offer.”

The cat blinked again.

“Canned cat food?”

The cat meowed.

With an annoyed sigh, Tyler opened the door. The cat slipped past him and led the way into the old mansion as if he owned the flipping place. His orange-and-white striped tail waved like the flag of a conquering army.

Damn. Damn. Damn. He didn’t need a fucking cat. What the hell was he doing letting the damn thing in his house? Someone might see it and accuse him of being a softie under his asshole exterior. That would never, ever do. The guys in the locker room would eat him alive.

He followed the cat into the kitchen. The little shit sat down and waited while he poured milk in a bowl and placed it on the floor. The cat sauntered over to the bowl, sniffed it, lapped at it a few times, and sat down again, glaring up at him.

“Aw, hell. What now?” Tyler pulled a ham out of the refrigerator, cut it up in small pieces, and put it next to the milk bowl. Finally satisfied, the cat finished the whole thing and rubbed against his legs. Tyler leaned down and scratched the tabby behind the ears. The cat arched its back and danced around him. Tyler shook his head and smiled. “Don’t get any ideas, buddy. I don’t like cats.”

The cat rested on its haunches and yawned as if he knew Tyler was full of shit.

Shaking his head, Tyler remembered the business card and pulled it from his pocket. Printed on one side was the name and address of a local veterans club. On the other she’d scratched a phone number. He rubbed his chin, wondering which mixed message this female meant to send him. With a shrug, he left the card on the counter and went to bed.

A few hours later, Tyler woke from a sound sleep and spat out a mouth full of cat hair. The cat purred loudly on the pillow next to his. Rolling over, he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Tomorrow he’d deal with the cat.