The Magical Christmas Cat

So Bree shut the door on his sexy face.



She didn't feel like playing games.



Or maybe she was offended that he could want her physically but had reservations about liking her, as a person.



Of course, she was doing the same thing about him. Wanting his body but not necessarily him.



Which made the whole damn thing too complicated. She was letting it go. Done with it.



But she still found herself wandering back into the kitchen and pulling out her tarot cards. Maybe they would reveal to her why, exactly, a sexy lawyer from Chicago had popped into her life, only to pop right back out.



Only all she could seem to see in the cards was a future real-estate transaction, which was totally boring, and totally wrong. She was not going to sell her house to Ian Carrington's rich client.



"Never," she said out loud to the spread in front of her, pushing all the cards back into a pile and wondering if she had any ice cream in the freezer.



Cold outside or not, she could use a little comfort from the carton.



Chapter 3



Ian was pulling in the driveway of the bed-and-breakfast he was staying in, annoyed with himself for wimping out and not asking Bree to dinner, when he sensed movement in the car with him. He glanced over to the passenger seat and slammed on the brakes.



"What the hell?"



Bree's cat was sitting on the seat, staring up at him calmly, mistletoe dangling from her mouth.



"How did you get into my car?" The doors had been shut at Bree's house. Locked. He was positive of that. Even if he had, just this one time, inadvertently forgotten to lock it, it wasn't like the cat could open car doors by herself.



But Akasha wasn't answering him, thank God, and he had no choice but to put the car in reverse and drive back to Bree's. Ian glanced over at the cat every few seconds, wary of her. He didn't believe in magic or witches or the power of black cats.



Nonetheless, he had a feline Houdini miraculously sitting next to him at the end of a five-minute drive, and it was weirding him out. Especially since the cat just stared at him, that sprig of greenery dangling from her mouth, her big green eyes unblinking.



"What?" Ian asked her in irritation. "You look stupid with that thing hanging from your mouth, you know."



Akasha dropped the mistletoe onto the seat.



Ian felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Man, he needed to get out of this town. Cuttersville billed itself as Ohio's Most Haunted Town, and he had always thought it was a ridiculous designation. Now he was struggling with the illogic of certain things, like the dreams he'd been having and this crazy-ass cat.



"Okay, you're home. Bree is probably wondering where the hell you are." Ian parked his car in Bree's driveway and gave a sigh as he glanced up at the big Victorian. It was a cool house, totally different from his streamlined, modern apartment, reminding him a bit of the house in which he'd grown up, though his mother's farmhouse had been more shabby than architecturally intriguing. But this Victorian was pretty and complicated, somewhat brooding and mysterious. The alleged witch who lived there shared the same characteristics with her house, and Ian doubted she was going to be thrilled to see him again.



She didn't seem to like him, nor did she seem to be suffering from the same overpowering lust that he was. Unfortunately.



Grabbing the cat in a firm grip, Ian carried her up the walk and rang the bell.



Bree answered the door with a frown. "What are you doing with Akasha?"



Not much of a greeting. Yeah, she so wasn't interested in him. She held her hands out for her pet, and Ian turned the cat over.



"She was in my car . . . it was the weirdest thing. I drove all the way through town and looked over, and suddenly she was just sitting on the passenger seat."



He still couldn't imagine how it had happened, but there it was.



Bree's eyebrows rose. "You can't be serious."



"Totally. I have no idea how it could have happened, but I swear to God, she was suddenly just there with me."



"Yeah, because cats just open car doors and jump in." Bree rolled her eyes.



Ian frowned back. "I know it's insane," he said in irritation. "But she was in my car, and I didn't put her there."



"Whatever."



There was no single word more designed to incite Ian's anger. He couldn't stand it when people said that to him. It catapulted him back to childhood, when his older sister would toss "whatever" at him a hundred times a day. It made him feel dismissed, humiliated.



So he immediately reacted. "What, you think I swiped your damn cat or something?"



"That certainly seems more plausible than my cat somehow opening my front door and your car door—and closing both again, I might add—in the five minutes you and I sat in my kitchen. It's ridiculous."



"So is the idea that I would steal your cat, and then bring her right back. What kind of moronic theft is that?" Ian's indignation rose. What, like he'd steal a freakin' cat? "And why would I want your cat anyway?"



"I have no idea. Nor do I know why your client wants my house. But neither of you can have either."



She started to close the door on him yet again, but Ian stuck his palm out and held it open. Bree tried to push harder, but he was stronger. He was not a cat thief. "I didn't take your cat. I don't want your cat."



Really. He didn't.



"What do you want?" she asked acidly.



"You," Ian said. Hell, he figured he hadn't risen to success from poverty based on being passive. He had always been aggressive in going after what he wanted, and Bree shouldn't be any different.



"Excuse me?" She blinked, looking more shocked than outraged.



Ian met her gaze. "I am attracted to you, and I'm hoping you'll agree to go to dinner with me."



There was a long pause, during which Ian was aware that he was still standing on the front porch and his nuts were going numb while she stared at him, and he was just about resigned to rejection when Bree nodded.



"Okay."



"Okay?" Ian was shocked into parroting her, but he rallied. "Okay, great. Fabulous. I'm only in town for a few more days, so are you busy tonight?"



"Tonight would work."



Said she with zero enthusiasm. Very ego-boosting.



But she had agreed to dinner, so he was going to roll with it. "Let me have your number . . . I'll make some reservations and call you." Ian pulled out his cell phone.



Bree gave a smile. "You don't really need reservations in Cuttersville."



But she gave him her number anyway, reciting it quickly, testing the speed of Ian's typing.



"I'd take your number, but my phone is upstairs."



"I'll call it," he said. "So it's in your phone." He hit send for the number she had just given him and let it ring until the voice mail picked up. He smiled at her as he spoke into his phone. "Hi, this is Ian Carrington calling for Bree Murphy to see if we can change our dinner plans to a late lunch. I'd rather not wait to see you."



It was a risk, throwing his interest so clearly out there, and he watched her reaction closely, but Bree didn't balk. She just raised an eyebrow. He continued,



"So let me know what you think, and I look forward to hearing from you." He hung up his phone.



"You don't have a lot of patience, do you?" she asked, still holding her cat. It didn't sound like a censure, just curiosity.



"No, I suppose not. I want what I want."



And he wanted her. The unspoken words hung in the air between them.



Finally, Bree gave an exasperated sigh. "Would you get into the house? We're letting out all the heat while you come on strong."



Ian stepped forward. "Too strong?"



Bree shut the door behind him. "I haven't decided yet if I'm appalled or if I like it. I'll let you know."



Ian laughed. "Well, that's honest."



She didn't laugh with him, just stared searchingly at him. "Why did you ask me out? I'm not your type at all."



"You're not like women I usually date, that's true.



But that doesn't mean I can't look at you and think you're beautiful . . . it doesn't mean I can't look at you and be intrigued as to who you are." And maybe there was logic to his attraction after all. It was the fascination of someone who lived so differently from him, who embraced her different perspective of the universe and didn't apologize for it. He wanted to learn more about her, maybe even craved the sense of



"realness" that she offered.



"I have no idea what to say to that," she said. "I want to say something witty and flirtatious, but that's not really me."



"What are you then?"



"Brutally honest. I say whatever the hell I'm thinking."



"Nothing wrong with that." Ian watched Bree standing in the hallway with her cat still tightly held in her arms. "What are you thinking now?" This was uncharted territory for him. It was 2:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, and he barely knew Bree at all. He had no idea where to go from there, and he didn't think she would appreciate it if he did what he really wanted to do, which was kiss her.



She shrugged. "I'm actually desperately wishing I had brushed my teeth after I ate a cottage-cheese snack because I have a feeling you're going to kiss me at some point before you leave."



Ian laughed. "I'd certainly like to. And a little cottage cheese won't stop me." He put his hand on the small of her back, wanting to be closer to her. "But why don't you give me a tour of the house? I'd really love to see the whole place, and you can make a quick pit stop for your toothbrush if it will make you feel better."



Bree glanced up at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and mysterious under her long lashes. "This is a very strange and random date."



"Is it freaking you out?"



"Not particularly."



"Well, it is me," he told her truthfully. "This isn't the way I usually initiate a relationship."