Any Way You Want Me - By Jamie Sobrato Page 0,23

and to Kyle, “Don’t worry, I got him at the shelter and his previous owner had his claws removed. He can bite, but he lives under the delusion that he’s still a fierce, clawed warrior.”

She went to the kitchen and filled the cat’s bowls with food and water, then returned to find Milo still with Kyle, letting him stroke his back.

“Wow, you should feel privileged.”

He shrugged. “Animals like me.”

“So do women,” she said as he stood up. She slid her hands around his waist and pressed her body against him.

“I’m mainly concerned about one particular woman right now.”

“Oh? Well, the one I know of is liking you really, really well.”

He cast a glance at the gifts she’d brought in from the car for him that he still hadn’t opened. “I was going to suggest you put those under the tree, but there’s not a tree. Do you have maybe a house plant or something we could decorate?”

“We should get a tree, you think? To celebrate properly?”

Kyle gave her a look. “That is the tradition.”

“I didn’t see any point in putting one up if it was just going to be for me.”

“But add a person, and you gotta have a tree.”

“Right. I think there’s a lot a few blocks over that’s selling live trees. This late in the game, though, we might get stuck with the Charlie Brown variety.”

Given Yasmine’s sad little collection of leftover ornaments that she hadn't used in her cubicle, acquired as gifts from various people over the years and mostly not removed from their original packaging, an ugly tree was better—it would keep her ornaments from looking so pathetic.

“Maybe we can find a little tabletop one,” she said.

“Oh come on, I like a nice, big tree. Maybe an eight-or nine-footer.”

She looked at him as though he’d lost it. “Are you decorating the White House or my apartment?”

“Okay, let’s say we see what kind of selection is left.”

“We might also want to grab lunch out. My apartment is sadly lacking in the food department.”

“That cat food smell is giving me a weird craving,” Kyle said.

Yasmine wrinkled her nose. “For what? Horse meat?”

“For clam chowder in those sourdough bowls like the tourists eat down at Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“Cat food reminds you of that?”

“After we pick up a tree, want to take a streetcar there and be tourists today?”

“God, I can’t remember the last time I was down there.”

“And we could shop for some more gifts to put under the tree….”

Yasmine smiled at the idea of taking a streetcar and playing tourists. “Should we put on white sneakers and jeans and I ‘heart’ San Francisco T-shirts so we’ll blend in with the crowd?”

He made a face. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Promise to buy me a San Francisco snow globe, and you’ve got yourself a date.”

6

CASS LIKED TO COOK once in a while, but she had to admit, her culinary concoctions didn’t always turn out the way she hoped. Hosting her first dinner party in months, she’d fully intended to produce not a single disaster dish for her friends by planning ahead and sticking closely to the recipes. But now, thanks to procrastination, her whole stupid plan was going to hell.

And if this Drew guy turned out to be a toad, Yasmine would pay. The doorbell rang, and Cassandra checked her appearance in the mirror on her way to answer. Not that she felt too concerned about impressions—she’d seen a few of the computer monkeys Yasmine worked with.

Peering through her peephole, her subconscious began to calculate exactly how much her best friend would have to pay, but her mental calculator halted on the plus sign.

The guy on the other side was tall, thin, with shaggy brown hair in need of a good cut. He wore a pair of wire-rim glasses, and it didn’t look as though he’d shaved yet today. Still, he wasn’t bad looking.

Further inspection revealed that he was wearing a red-and-green flannel shirt that looked way too Paul Bunyan for Cass’s taste, and was so new and starchy he’d probably ripped the sale tag off it a half hour ago.

That’s what he’d chosen to wear to impress her? It must have been his effort at looking festive, and she had to give him credit for trying. She even felt a little sense of affection that he’d gotten spiffed up for her in his finest logging apparel.

She accepted her questionable fate and opened the door. “Hi, Drew. Thank you so much for coming over—and on Christmas Eve.”

He smiled and extended a