feral ones in the woods, and they drive him nuts when they come out.”
Macy stared in the direction Scooter was looking, the back side of the property, and told herself sure, it was just feral cats. The fence was tall and solid on all three sides of the yard. The only gates were on the house sides, and they were locked. The motion detector lights that lined the fence remained off.
The growl stopped, the dog’s hair returned to its normal position and the air of vigilance faded. Scooter sat down, backing up to his master for a scratch.
Just feral cats. Not a person. Not a ghost. Not a figment of a fragile imagination.
Stephen sighed lazily. “I guess we’d better get home. Tomorrow’s a clinic day.”
The anxiety Macy had just calmed flared again. She wished she could ask him to stay longer. Better yet, could she go home with him? She’d be happy to sleep on the sofa.
But instead, she took a breath to level her voice. “Sounds like fun.”
“Not always fun, but usually different.” He stood, then offered his hand. She took it without hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet, almost pulling her into his arms. When he realized how close they were, he stood motionless, and so did she. Her fingers were warm in his grip, and the heat spread up her arm and through her body. With her next breath, she caught another whiff of his scent and closed her eyes for a moment to savor it.
When she opened them again, the distance between them had diminished by half. Had he moved, or had she? In the next instant, it didn’t matter because he was bending his head to hers, brushing his mouth to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut again, and her free hand touched his chest, resting there on warm fabric.
Sweet kiss, but not really so sweet, not with its promise of hunger, of need and heat and being alone way too long. Her heart thudded louder, her breath turned liquid in her lungs and her body trembled in that incredibly nice yearning way that it hadn’t in far too long.
She moved closer, and their noses bumped, knocking his glasses askew. Ending the kiss, he pushed them back into place and gave her a slow, warm smile. “I’m awfully glad Scooter ran away the other day.”
Her smile felt smaller, shakier. “Me, too.”
Curling his fingers around her hand, he lifted it to his chest, then caught hold of the other one, too. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here all day.” Breathless words, little more than a whisper.
Still holding her hands, he made a smooching sound for the dog, then led the way to the patio. There he let go and filled his hands with dishes instead. It took them a few moments to carry everything inside: dishes in the sink, towels in the laundry room, leftovers in the refrigerator.
“I get off around noon,” he said at the door. “Is that too early?”
“No. I’ll fix lunch.”
He fastened the leash on Scooter’s collar, then kissed her again. “I’ll see you then.”
Her lips tingling—her entire body tingling—she locked the door, set the alarm, then sighed. It was a precious feeling, this sense of normalcy. At least, almost normal. More or less. If she discounted her jumpiness and the contract she’d moved without knowing it.
Then she lifted her gaze to the wedding portrait above the living room fireplace and her features settled stubbornly. No. She was normal. The jumpiness was normal. As for the contract... If she wasn’t entitled to a little forgetfulness, then who was?
She was three months shy of her thirtieth birthday, a widow, a single mom and having a bit of a hard time closing out this chapter of her life. No one had expected it to be easy. Brent, Anne, her psychiatrist—they’d all told her it would be tough. She’d known it without their warnings.
But she would get through it. Mark had cost her so much already. Tying up the loose ends of their life together wouldn’t steal her self-confidence, and it damn well wouldn’t steal her sanity. Not again.
* * *
Stephen woke Friday morning to the eau du doggy, thanks to his bed partner sprawled in a limp, doggy-breath-emanating heap, pinning him to the mattress.
The fragrance drifting on the air when Macy woke was exotic with notes of sandalwood and orange and cost $200 an ounce. It came in an elegantly curved black bottle that sat on the counter in Mark’s dressing room and