“Oh, Wynn.” The unhappiness he still felt was at odds with the amusing stories he’d told about his childhood at Chez Jerome and during dinner with Vickie and John. She’d originally assumed that he was reflecting his own upbringing in his “Free Child” theories, but she now saw that wasn’t the case. Moon Puppy Max might have been a hippie, but he’d imposed his own regimen on his son. Not much “freedom” there.
“Well, that’s my life,” he said stiffly. “I don’t want my father here and I dislike the way he’s using you and—”
“He’s not using me.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but apparently changed his mind. “I’m not going to let my father come between us.”
“Good, because I’d feel terrible if that happened.” This would be a near-perfect relationship—if it wasn’t for the fact that he was Wynn Jeffries, author of The Free Child. And the fact that he hadn’t forgiven his father, who’d been a selfish and irresponsible parent.
His eyes softened. “I won’t let it.” He kissed her then, and K.O. slipped easily into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and they exchanged a series of deep and probing kisses that left K.O.’s head reeling.
“Katherine.” Wynn breathed harshly as he abruptly released her.
She didn’t want him to stop.
“You’d better answer your door,” he advised.
K.O. had been so consumed by their kisses that she hadn’t heard the doorbell. “Oh,” she breathed, shaking her head to clear away the fog of longing. This man did things to her heart—not to mention the rest of her—that even a romance novelist couldn’t describe.
Wynn’s father stood on the other side of the door, wearing another Hawaiian flowered shirt, khaki pants and flip-flops. From the way he’d dressed, he could be on a tropical isle rather than in Seattle with temperatures hovering just above freezing. K.O. could tell that Max’s choice of clothes irritated Wynn, but to his credit, Wynn didn’t comment.
Too bad the current Christmas song was “Rudolph,” instead of “Mele Kaliki Maka.”
K.O. welcomed him and had just poured his eggnog when the doorbell chimed again. Ah, the moment she’d been waiting for. Her friend had arrived. K.O. glided toward the door and swept it open as if anticipating Santa himself.
“LaVonne,” she said, leaning forward to kiss her friend’s cheek. “How good of you to come.” Her neighbor had brought Tom with her. The oversize feline was draped over her arm like a large furry purse.
“This is so kind of you,” LaVonne said. She looked startled at seeing Max.
“Come in, please,” K.O. said, gesturing her inside. She realized how formal she sounded—like a character in an old drawing room comedy. “Allow me to introduce Wynn’s father, Max Jeffries. Max, this is LaVonne Young.”
Max stood and backed away from LaVonne. “You have a cat on your arm.”
“This is Tom,” LaVonne said. She glanced down lovingly at the cat as she stepped into the living room. “Would you like to say hello?” She held Tom out, but Max shook his head adamantly.
By now he’d backed up against the wall. “I don’t like cats.”
“What?” She sounded shocked. “Cats are magical creatures.”
“Maybe to you they are,” the other man protested. “I don’t happen to be a cat person.”
Wynn shared an I-told-you-so look with K.O.
“May I get you some eggnog?” K.O. asked, hoping to rescue the evening from a less-than-perfect beginning.
“Please,” LaVonne answered just as “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” began.
Eager for something to do, K.O. hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the pitcher of eggnog.
She heard Tom hiss loudly and gulped down some of her own eggnog to relax.
“Your cat doesn’t like me,” Max said as he carefully approached the sofa.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Tom’s the friendly one.”
“You mean you have more than one?”
“Dad,” Wynn said, “why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable. You’re quite safe. Tom is very well-behaved.”
“I don’t like cats,” Max reiterated.
“Tom is gentle and loving,” LaVonne said.
Max slowly approached the sofa. “Then why is he hissing at me?”
“He senses your dislike,” LaVonne explained. She gave Max a dazzling smile. “Pet him, and he’ll be your friend for life.”
“See, Dad?” Wynn walked over to LaVonne, who sat with Tom on her lap. He ran his hand down Tom’s back and the tabby purred with pleasure.
“He likes you,” Max said.
“He’ll like you, too, as soon as you pet him.” LaVonne was still smiling happily, stroking the cat’s head.
Max came a bit closer. “You live in the building?” he asked, making his way, step by