Gage spent a miserable week avoiding Sophie. When she would jog by in the evenings, he had to remind himself not to look out his window, since it had become a habit. He had taken to jogging on a different schedule, bringing Rambo out with him for company. Maybe it would toughen the dog up, too. Sophie’s comment about Rambo being a wimp still stung. It was an affront to all males—whatever the species.

After all, us guys have to stick together.

Having lots of time on his hands just gave him more time to think. After he calmed down, he replayed the scene in his mind, over and over. There was lot of truth in what she’d said, except, of course, about Rambo being a wimp.

Perhaps he had jumped to conclusions about Sophie and Bryce. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember whether Bryce had ever mentioned Sophie’s last name during their first meeting. He’d just accepted Bryce’s friendship, no questions asked.

Part of avoiding Sophie meant he also had to avoid Bryce. He was sure that her name would come up in a conversation, and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Besides, he should be just as mad at Bryce as he was at Sophie, but knowing Bryce’s youth and sense of humor, he could see how the deception might have been a big practical joke. There really wasn’t a mean bone in the young man’s body.

On the Friday following D-day, Gage made his weekly trip to the grocery store to stock up for the weekend on all the essentials—beer, hot dogs and frozen French fries. Upon his return from the store, he propped open the front door and unloaded the groceries from his jeep. He made a second trip to his vehicle for the remaining bags. Back in the kitchen, he put away the food in the pantry and refrigerator.

Rambo whimpered and scratched at the back door.

Once he’d placed the six-pack of beer into the refrigerator, Gage turned to the door. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming. Stop scratching the door.”

Gage opened the door slowly so that he wouldn’t whack the dog in the face.

Rambo was normally eager to come in and greet him when he came home, but this time, instead of wiggling and wagging his tail in excitement, the dog shot past him and put his nose to the floor. He sniffed his way out of the room.

Curious, Gage followed Rambo to see what he was up to. Rambo’s head lifted from the trail and shot through the door of Gage’s bedroom.

“Rrreeeerrr! Pfffft!”

“What the hell?”

Suddenly, he heard a loud screech, followed by a hiss, and Rambo began barking furiously. The noise of objects falling to the floor emanated from his bedroom. It sounded like an all-out war going on in there.

When he rounded the corner, the dog and the intruder had moved into his adjoining bathroom. The bedroom was a disaster. A curtain rod hung from only one end, and the curtains were rapidly sliding off into a pile on the carpet. His bedspread looked as if it had been run over by a herd of monkeys. The glass he’d left on his nightstand that morning had overturned, its leftover contents spreading over the wood and dripping onto the carpet below.

The battle still raged in his bathroom, but before he could reach it, a ball of yellow and white fur rocketed out of the door and went straight for him. Sharp claws scaled his pant legs and up his shirt, until the cat perched on his shoulder like a bird, talons gripping into the skin around his neck.

Rambo was in close pursuit and barreled into Gage at full speed. Leaping up, the dog placed his paws on Gage’s chest, nearly sending him flying, cat and all.

As he rocked to the side, the cat tried to gain a higher purchase by climbing onto his head, but couldn’t find much to hold onto besides skin.

Fortunately, Gage righted himself in time to save himself from being scalped.

Rambo continued to bark, and the cat screeched and hissed in his ear from the relative safety of Gage’s shoulders.

“Rambo! Down, boy! Down, boy. Dammit, cat. Get your claws out of my neck. Down, Rambo!”

Alternating between shoving the dog away and trying to untangle the cat from around his neck, Gage realized he was in a hopeless situation. Carrying the cat around his neck, he eased his way to the back of the house. When he reached the back door, he opened it.

“Out, Rambo! Out!”

Rambo continued to bark until Gage repeated the order.

“Out!”

Ducking his head, the dog passed through the door and turned immediately to put his nose in the gap between the open door and the doorframe.

Gage pressed his knee against the dog’s nose, pushed him fully outside then closed the door. Gage reached to pry the cat from his shoulders, but the cat obviously had other plans and dug his claws deeper.

Outside, Rambo ran to the window and jumped in place, as though his backside were spring-loaded, and continued barking. Each spring from the other side of the glass earned Gage a new dig from the pest he now wore around his neck. Gage left the kitchen, and the barking finally ended. Only then was he able to pry the cat loose from his shirt.

Cujo dropped to the floor, shook out his ruffled fur with an expression of feline disgust, then began to calmly groom himself. Amazed at the cat’s arrogance, Gage crouched down to scratch it under the chin. “How did you get into this house, you little vandal?”

Cujo leaned into Gage’s fingers and ran his long body over the big man’s knuckles.

“Didn’t anyone bother to tell you that I hate cats?” He straightened, lifted the cat into his arms and carried him to the front door. With the door open, he leaned down to place the cat on the front porch. Before he could stand up again, Cujo shot past him and back into the house. Gage turned to see the cat settle on the arm of the couch and watch him.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m a one-dog man. Besides, you belong to her. Come on, out!”

The cat began to clean itself, ignoring the man at the door.

“Here kitty, kitty,” he coaxed.

Nothing.

In a more commanding voice, he called out, “Cujo! Outside!”

Never having had a cat, Gage couldn’t understand why he couldn’t follow the simplest of commands. Any dog would eventually figure it out and do what it was told. Why couldn’t this small cat?

Frustrated, he shrugged and gave up, closing the door.

“All right, you can stay, but only for a little while. Sophie’ll be worried about you if you stay too long.”

Cujo stayed until after dark, exploring the house and sleeping on the sofa. Gage had tried to put him outside again but suffered the same result. The cat wasn’t ready to leave. Gage finally gave up. Besides, he didn’t really mind. He liked having the company. How much of that liking was due to the cat itself, or the fact that it belonged to Sophie, was something he didn’t want to think about.

When Gage was ready to shower and head for bed, he decided to try one more time to put the cat out. This time, Cujo walked away. Heaving a sigh of relief, Gage fed Rambo, smoothed his ruffled fur and then headed inside. He showered and laid down on the sofa to watch the late news.

Just as he was nodding off, he was jerked awake by a god-awful yowl coming from outside his front door.

“What the—”

As soon as he opened the door, Cujo was back in the house. Gage tried to put him out again, but the cat hid under his bed. He decided he’d had enough bodily harm done to him for one day by the stubborn creature and headed for his bathroom. When he finished brushing his teeth, he immediately noticed the fur ball curled up on his pillow.

“No way. If you want to stay, you are going to learn that what’s mine is mine. And that is my pillow! Get off!”

Gage grabbed the edges of the pillow and yanked it out from under the cat. The cat calmly rolled back to its paws and padded to the pillow on the other side of the bed.

“You don’t seem to understand. I’m not sleeping with anything that coughs up fur balls. Get off the bed.”

The cat tipped its head and looked up at Gage, blinking its lazy cat eyes and completely ignored the command.

He blew out a deep breath. “I guess not. Why can’t you be more like a dog? They’re generally eager to obey. Or at least they learn to obey, unlike cats.”

He gave up and laid his pillow back on the bed, then stretched out next to the cat with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s with you, Cujo? How come you want to stay here, tonight? Why aren’t you with Sophie? At least she appreciates you. I don’t even like cats.”

Hearing a rumbling sound, he glanced over at the cat. He was purring. Here, Gage was telling him how much he couldn’t stand cats, and the darned thing loved it. Go figure.

The cat looked comfortable on the bed. Gage surmised he must sleep with Sophie at night. That was a thought he could have done without. The instant image it evoked was of a softly lit hotel room, tangled sheets, and Sophie lying naked on the bed beneath him. Damn, he needed her. Who was he trying to kid? He needed her like he needed to breathe.

So, what was stopping him from being with her? Pride? Principle? Those certainly weren’t going to keep him warm at night. He had held back before, because he’d thought she and Bryce were lovers, and he didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between them.

After he had gotten over his anger, he had begun to understand what she had said to him. He glanced over at the cat.

“I guess I did jump to conclusions, Cujo. I was just too blind to see the truth.” Gage frowned. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact she didn’t set me straight. It was almost as if she didn’t want anything to do with me, anyway. After all, she knew she wasn’t attached to someone else. We could have had a good thing going, but for some reason she didn’t want to. Why?”

Gage looked to Cujo for the answers. The worthless cat was purring in his sleep.

As far as Gage was concerned, there was nothing to keep him from pursuing her. He just had to find out why she’d pushed him away when her body betrayed her real desires every time she was alone with him.

Gage turned on his side, away from Cujo, and punched his pillow a couple of times to shape it.

“Sleep tight, Cujo. Tomorrow, I’m taking you home so we can get this all straightened out with Sophie.”

With that last thought in mind, he settled into sleep. He dreamed of Sophie lying beside him with her head tucked under his chin, and humming softly. He ran his fingers through her silken hair, and she hummed louder. So loud, in fact, that it woke him up. Shaking the sleep from his brain, he realized it hadn’t been a dream, but Cujo. The rascally cat was curled along the side of his neck, purring to beat the band.

Tossing an indignant cat off the bed, Gage rose to a bright sunny morning. Today, he was going to resolve things with Sophie.

With a light-hearted step, he went through his morning ritual of shaving and getting dressed. Cujo sat on the counter beside him, watching his hand as he dragged the electric razor across his chin in short, crisp motions, making rasping sounds as the blades sliced through the bristles. Unable to contain his curiosity, Cujo stood on his hind legs and placed one of his forepaws on Gage’s arm, swatting at the noisy contraption with the other. Laughing, Gage dropped his hand to the cat and let him sniff the razor.

“See, nothing interesting or tasty, like a moth or a fat mouse.”

He finished with the razor, tossed on a shirt and a pair of shorts, and then went to the kitchen to start breakfast. “So, what’s it to be? Eggs, bacon, and toast? What does Sophie like to eat for breakfast?”

Gage imagined himself cooking breakfast for Sophie. He would like to wake up to find her in his bed, every morning. Pausing in the middle of cracking an egg into a bowl, he wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of your life with one woman. For so long, it had sounded like shackles or a prison sentence. But with Sophie, he didn’t feel that way at all.

“I guess that’s what the guys meant by finding the right person for you. You know, Mrs. Right. Huh, Cujo?”

Cracking an extra egg into the pan to scramble for Cujo, Gage stirred until the eggs were done. He spooned portions onto two plates and carried his to the table. He placed Cujo’s on the floor beside him. “Eat up.”

After breakfast was consumed and the dishes stacked hastily in the sink, Gage grabbed Cujo and headed over to Sophie’s house.

He stood at the front door and pressed the doorbell, wondering what he was going to say. He had left things in a pretty sad state the last time they’d met. She might not even want to open the door and let him in. He patted Cujo and knew that he was holding excellent blackmail in his arms. Sophie might not want to open the door to him, but she wouldn’t close the door on her own cat.

The door opened, and Bryce stood before him wearing only his pajama bottoms, and wincing at the bright morning light.

“Gage, what are you doing here?”

Smiling, he held Cujo out at arm’s length and said, “I came to return Sophie’s cat. He stayed the night at my house.”

“Damn. I thought he’d left for good.”

Cujo hissed and swatted at Bryce, while Gage laughed. The look of disappointment on Bryce’s face was comical. If ever there was a pair of sworn enemies, it was Bryce and Cujo.

“I really came over to see Sophie, is she home?” Gage peered around Bryce, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

“Sorry, buddy, but she went away for the weekend.”

As Gage’s smile faded, Bryce opened the door and motioned for him to come in. Bryce sat on the couch while Gage sat on a chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I understand you know who Sophie really is?” Bryce started.

Gage nodded and sat up straighter.

“I want to apologize for aggravating the circumstances by playing you guys against each other. I love a little practical joke as much as the next guy, but after spending a week watching Sophie moping around the house, it’s not funny anymore.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t appreciate being made a fool of, but I accept your apology.” Gage’s heart sped at the news Sophie had moped around the house. Could she be feeling as dejected as him by the rift between them?

“Well, all that aside,” Bryce said, “what are you going to do about Sophie?”

Gage’s frowned. “What do you mean?”

Bryce leaned toward him and looked him in the eyes. “Do you love her?”

Gage stood and paced the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.” He turned to Bryce and spread his hands. “How does anyone know when they’re in love?”

“Why are you asking me? I’ve never been in love before. I’ve only read about other people being in love.” Bryce gave Gage a considering look. “What are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” Gage looked exasperated. “What do you mean, symptoms?”

“You know, like getting all hot and bothered whenever you’re around her...like thinking of her every hour of every day... You know.”

Gage paced the length of the room and back, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yeah, it’s like that—and more. I dream about her. I watch the clock to know when she’s going out for her evening jog. I smile when I think about her smile. I could feel the attraction even when she disguised herself as homely Lieutenant Keaton. I even talk to her darn cat. And I’ve never liked cats.”

Bryce looked at him and shook his head. “Man, you do have it bad.”

“What I can’t figure out is why she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

“You noticed that, huh?”

Gage looked at him sharply, “What do you know about why she doesn’t want to get involved with me?”

“Let’s just say I was there when she first saw you in the bar, and I was there the next morning to pick her up from your motel.”

Gage frowned, girding himself to ask the question he’d wanted to ask for weeks. “Why did she leave so suddenly?”

“That night in the bar, she had no idea you were Captain Jenkins—I think it was the margaritas. The next morning, she knew.”

“So, what does my rank have to do with anything?”

“Did I ever tell you we were raised as military brats?”

“Yes, but why should that have any bearing?”

“Our father was an officer in the military. One very similar in style to you.”

Gage sat down and put his head in his hands. “And that’s bad? For some reason, this isn’t getting any clearer.”

“Just hang on. I’m getting there.” Bryce paused for effect. “You remind her too much of our father.”

Looking up, Gage frowned. “I remind her of your father? That’s why she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

“Yeah!” Bryce leaned back with a satisfied grin.

Running his hand through his short-cropped hair, Gage shook his head. “I just don’t see the logic in it.”

“Well, that’s where you’re going all wrong, pal! You have to remember that woman aren’t like us men. They’re not logical!”

Gage shook his head. He doubted any woman would agree. “Why not?”

“I think it’s something in their chromosomes that makes them that way, because they’re all like that.”

“Like what?”

Bryce shrugged. “For example, women are like cats.”

Feeling more confused by the minute, Gage tried to follow Bryce’s train of thought. “Cats?”

“Cats. When you open the door and tell a cat to go out, does he?”

Gage smiled, thinking of Cujo, and shook his head. “No.”

“When you want to pet a cat, does he want you to?”

“No.”

“When you don’t want to pet a cat, does he want you to pet him? Like when you’re trying to read the newspaper and the cat sits in the middle of it, expecting you to do the honors.”

“Yes, but—”

“Let me finish.” Bryce cut him off. He was on a roll. “Does a cat seem to know when you don’t like him and then proceed to snuggle right up to you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the way a woman thinks.”

Gage shook his head. “I still don’t get it.”

Bryce rolled his eyes. “Forget the cat.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s try this another way. If a man is interested in a woman, does he show it?”

“Yes.”

Bryce pointed his finger. “That’s right—because it’s logical. When a woman is interested in a man, she hides it. Is that logical?”

“No.”

Bryce grinned and sat back. “Exactly.”

“So, what does this have to do with me getting through to Sophie?”

“Don’t you see? It’s kinda like reverse psychology. If you’re interested in her, don’t show it. Ignore her.”

“How’s that going to make her more interested in me?”

“A woman likes to go for what she can’t have. There’s challenge in it. Ignoring her is the only way.”

Gage shook his head skeptically. “Sounds dishonest to me.”

“Not at all. It’s the way of the world.”

“I’ve been ignoring her all week, and it hasn’t worked yet.”

“Oh yes, it has. She’s been crying most of the week. If that’s not interest, I don’t know what is.”

“She’s been crying?” Concern and remorse filled Gage’s chest. “Because of me?”

“Mostly. But she’s up at Mom and Dad’s this weekend trying to sort out her feelings about Dad. Hopefully, when she gets back, she’ll be ready to sort out her feelings for you.”

“I hope so. It all seems so complicated.”

“It’ll be a piece of cake. Just wait and see.”

“Cake, huh? More like upside down cake, if you ask me.”

---

As it would happen, Gage was to be disappointed in his efforts to see Sophie. He was already in bed Sunday night when she finally arrived home from her parents’ house. For the entire next week, she stayed late at the gallery probably trying to get everything squared away before her two-week absence for annual training. His efforts to ignore her were wasted, because she was too busy to notice.

Annual training was fast approaching, and he was running out of time to talk to her. He knew they wouldn’t have any privacy for the sort of discussion they needed to have. Sophie had a temper, and she would want to vent some of the hurt he’d caused her. And he was afraid that once he got close to her again, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her sweet little self. No, they definitely didn’t need an audience.

There was one other issue that had to be dealt with. If they were to have any kind of relationship, they couldn’t remain in the same unit. He was her commanding officer, and they were already guilty of fraternization. Better not to get the horse before the cart, though. She might not want to have any kind of relationship with him, anyway. He’d follow Bryce’s advice and ignore her throughout the two weeks annual training, and then speak with her afterward. Two weeks ought to be long enough.