Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Heat

“Like what? Put a horse’s head in his bed? Break his legs? Rough him up? We’re cats, Dooley. We don’t mess with humans.”

“Unless they mess with our humans,” said Dooley. “Like this guy Leo.”

We were out on the porch, tucking into our bowls. I darted a quick look at Harriet and Brutus, who were out near the tree next to the hedge, smooching.

“When are they ever going to get enough of each other?” I asked.

Dooley followed my gaze and shrugged. “It’s love, Max. It’s beautiful.”

I slowly turned to him. “It’s love, it’s beautiful? What happened to ‘Brutus is a monster for stealing Harriet away from me?’ I thought you loved Harriet.”

“I do love Harriet, but I’ve come to realize that if you truly love a cat, you need to be happy when they’re happy. You have to set them free to follow their hearts. And if Harriet’s heart leads her to Brutus, well, then that’s fine by me.”

I stared at him. “Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”

Dooley grinned. “I’m growing up, Max, what about that? Maybe one of these days I might even have a shot with Norma.”

“Oh, so that’s the deal. You like Norma now.”

“Well, she is pretty.”

“She sure is. She’s also high-maintenance.”

He frowned. “What’s high-maintenance, Max?”

“When a cat wants you to fetch her Swiss chocolates or else.”

“I’ll fetch her Swiss chocolates. I’ll fetch her all the Swiss chocolates she needs,” he said.

He had that dumb look in his eyes that goes along with being in love. Yeah, Dooley had it bad, I saw. So that’s why he was cool with Harriet and Brutus. He’d transferred his affections to another queen. Well, maybe it was for the best. At least he wouldn’t bother me with his endless moaning about Harriet.

“Don’t you think she has the most beautiful eyes, Max? Like rays of sunshine? Or, better yet, golden orbs that reflect the world’s early dawn?”

Oh, crap. This was even worse.

Harriet and Brutus walked up. Apparently you can’t live on love alone, for Brutus barked, “Where’s my meat? I thought we were getting meat? You two morons didn’t eat my meat, did you? Cause if you did, there’ll be hell to pay!”

“Here’s your meat,” I said, indicating Brutus’s bowl.

“Good,” he muttered. “I need meat. I’m a meat-eating cat.”

“I think we’ve established that,” I said.

He glanced up, a piece of raw liver between his teeth. “Giving me lip, Maxie? Better don’t give me any lip. I’m the one that got us this meat. Without me, there would be kibble on the menu. So better pay me some respect.”

I blinked. “Um, are you feeling all right, Brutus?”

“Course I’m feeling all right.” He grinned at Harriet, his bloodied teeth an awful sight. “I’m feeling on top of the world, ain’t that right, snuggle puss?”

“That’s right, my cuddle man.”

Then he dug in again.

I directed a worried look at Dooley, but he was still dreaming about Norma, his face displaying a moronic look. Well, even more moronic than usual.

I sidled up to Harriet. “Is Brutus all right? He seems… aggressive.”

“He’s just fine,” said Harriet, darting loved-up looks at her cat. “I told him that the reason I was so attracted to Diego was because he acted like a real cat. A butch cat, if you know what I mean. Not like you and Dooley, who are just a tad too sweet for my taste.” She sighed. “I love a cat who’s tough and strong. A catly cat. And I think Brutus got the message loud and clear.”

I groaned. “You turned him back into a bully?”

“Not a bully,” she said with a look of reproach. “A catly cat.”

“What does that even mean?!”

Brutus looked up. “Hey! Don’t talk to my lady like that, Max. Show some respect.”

“Brutus, my friend,” I began.

He gave me the evil eye. “Don’t go getting all soft on me again, Max. We’re all catly cats together. There’s no reason to get mushy.” He directed a grin at Harriet. “Isn’t that right, sugar lips?”

“That’s absolutely right, my stud muffin,” she cooed.

Brutus took me aside, and whispered, “Just play along, Max! She likes me all butch and macho so butch and macho is what she gets. Capisce?”

“But I liked you better when you were, you know, normal!”

Brutus rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you ever been in love, Max?”

“Um, no?”

He punched my chest. “Fall in love, and then we’ll talk again. And now don’t cramp my style, buddy. I’m warning you. Don’t ruin this for me.”

“What are you two whispering about, Brutus?” Harriet asked.

“Just telling this chump what’s what, my queen.” Quieter, he hissed, “I like you, Max. I like you a lot, and I wanna thank you for what you did for me. But this is how it’s gonna be from now on, got me?” Then, louder again, “You little weasel! If you talk to me like that again, I’m kicking your big, hairy, orange butt!”

And then he stalked off, leaving me staring after him, floored.

Oh, great. Instead of a real bully, now I got the Actors Studio version.

Dooley wandered over. “Don’t you think Norma’s fur is the color of—”

“No, I don’t!” I interrupted him brutally. “And please don’t talk to me about that cat again. Ever!”

Dooley stared at me, rudely awakened from his roseate dream. And as I sat there, moping, suddenly Harriet stole over to me. She gave me a gentle shove. “Maxie,” she said in a sultry voice. “I never saw this side of you before. When did you become all dominant and butch?”

I stared at her. “Huh?”

She giggled, a low and seductive sound. “I like this new Max a lot better than the old one. How about we share a piece of chicken?”

This was just too much. After all this nonsense with Diego, and now Brutus, she wanted to steal my chicken? No way! “You’ve got your own damn piece of chicken,” I snapped. “I’m not sharing mine.”

“Ooh, Maxie,” she cooed. “My butchy Maxie!”

And then she threw herself into my paws and kissed me!

THE END

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Excerpt from A Tale of Two Harrys (Ghosts of London 4)

Prologue

“And… Action!”

Harry Potter sat at the casino bar and nursed his whiskey—shaken, not stirred—while trying to look casual and debonair. In his tux with the crisply ironed white shirt and black slacks he was doing a pretty good job. This Monte Carlo casino was way swanky, and the baccarat table a buzz of activity as players dressed to impress crowded around the croupier.

One of the players was Hermione, and he watched her intently as she gave him the secret signal. He narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of Le Miffre at the poker table, the most dangerous criminal ever to walk the face of the earth. The dark-haired master evildoer was casually letting his chips fall where they might, and gave no sign he knew he was being watched.

Jacques Le Miffre had recently gone into business with Frank Riddle, the evil twin of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, and this was Harry, Hermione and Ron’s attempt to catch the evil genius, who was building himself an army of followers to rival that of his twin brother.

Just then, Ron walked over, dressed in a frilly pink tux that looked absolutely ridiculous. Harry casually brought his hand to his mouth and muttered into his wrist mic, “Did Liberace have a garage sale, Ron?”

“It was the only bloody thing the Ministry of Espionage had left. It was either this or a lime-green one that used to belong to Kermit the Frog.”