Shirley Jump - Kissed by Cat

“Okay, we’ll try again later.” Garrett frowned. Her food bowl was still untouched. “That’s three days, Missy. You can’t go on a hunger strike.” She hissed some more. He shook his head. He couldn’t save them all.

But, Lord, how he wanted to.

He walked back to the dog kennels and started collecting food bowls, avoiding more than one eager puppy tackle as he made his way in and out of the cages.

He knew she was there without even turning around. He sensed her standing behind him, silent and watching. He stumbled with one of the bowls, spilling kibble on the floor outside a spaniel’s kennel.

She was beside him in an instant, dustpan in hand. Still wearing just the damned lab coat, too. “Let me get that for you.”

“I can do it,” he grumbled. He yanked the dustpan out of her grip and scooped up the dry dog food, dumping it into a bin.

“I’m supposed to be your assistant. Let me assist.”

He busied himself with measuring food into the other bowls, avoiding her gaze. “You could have at least gotten dressed, for God’s sake.”

“I am dressed. Besides, you didn’t tell me where the storage room was. I didn’t think you’d want me wandering around your building, poking in all the rooms.” She took the dustpan and hung it back on its hook. “The animals are probably starving. I’ll change after we feed them.”

He whirled around, careful to keep his face out of the direct light. “Why do you keep insisting on taking this job?”

“I like peanuts.” She smiled. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Mostly, because I love animals. I like working with them. I’ve always wanted to work in a vet’s office, but—” She shrugged, as if the ending of the sentence wasn’t important, but he got the feeling that it was quite the opposite.

Over the years, Garrett had gotten very good at telling which camp most people were in: animal lover, hater or indifferent. She was clearly in the first group. He respected that, very much. Even so, he wasn’t sure he could afford to hire her, nor did he really want someone underfoot all day.

“Face it. I’m a perfect fit for you,” she said.

“There are thousands of other veterinarians. Why do you keep bothering me?”

“Because I’m already here. And because you need an assistant more than anyone else I know.” She put her hands on her hips and the jacket rose, exposing more of her thighs.

Garrett held tight to the bowl before he scattered kibble at her feet like some pathetic gift to the goddess.

“Listen,” she began. “I’ll work for free today. Then you don’t lose anything. If it works out, great. Keep me here. If it doesn’t, I’ll be on my way. No loss, no hard feelings.”

A twinge of disappointment ran through him at the thought of her walking out the door. That was crazy. He barely knew the woman. And besides, she annoyed the heck out of him. She’d shown up at the worst possible time, disrupting his day, his schedule and making him act like a clumsy five-year-old.

He had a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work out. Another dozen why her leaving would be best. For both of them.

But all his excuses seemed to get stuck in the back of his brain. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Catherine Wyndham.” She thrust out a hand.

He took her hand. Long fingers, skin as soft as satin, a touch as delicate as cashmere.

She hadn’t flinched when her palm met his scarred one. He’d never met anyone who could touch him without even a flicker of attention toward the marks on his skin. It was as if he were himself again, before—

He quickly let go. “Garrett McAllister.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor Mc—”

“If you insist on staying here, make yourself useful.” He waved at the white cat’s cage. Start the woman off with a tough assignment first and maybe she’d give up. “Try to get Queenie to eat something.” Garrett grabbed a bag of moist cat food off the shelf. “This one has extra vitamins. She’s a little thin.” He thrust the bag at her, but she was already gone, her hands inside Queenie’s cage.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. She’s…testy.”

“This cat?” Catherine smiled. “She’s sweet.” She cradled Queenie close to her chest and whispered something into the cat’s ear. Queenie shot Garrett a look of disdain, then settled into Catherine’s arms.

And started to purr.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get her to play nice.”

Catherine shrugged. “I have a way with cats.”

“A touch of magic is more like it,” he muttered. “That cat hates me.”

“You just have to know how to talk to her.” Catherine scratched behind Queenie’s ear. The cat practically moaned.

“I know how to treat animals. I’m a vet, remember?”

“You’re also a human. That puts you in a different category from her right from the start.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re not human?”

She looked away. “Can you, ah, pour the cat food for me?” Catherine hoisted the cat in her arms. “It’s a little hard to juggle both.”

“Oh yeah. Sure.” Only one of his brain cells seemed to be firing. He’d already forgotten the cat in her arms. All he’d seen for the past couple minutes were Catherine’s gray-green eyes, so wide, so observant. He’d seen eyes that color once before, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where.

Garrett turned back to the counter and filled a bowl with the moist food. He flaked the meaty nuggets with a fork, then pivoted to give the bowl to Catherine.

She took a step forward and reached for the dish. When she did, her hand brushed his. His remaining brain cell sputtered to a stop.

“Thanks.” Her lips curved in another smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had smiled at him like that.

Garrett’s heart gave a jerky lurch.

The only response he could muster up came out more like half a grunt than a word. He whirled back to the counter, measuring medicines into cups and syringes.

Concentrate on work, not on the woman standing five feet behind him and wearing his lab coat in ways that a lab coat should never be worn.

“Doctor McAllister—”

“I have to check on the other animals.” He left the room before he lost the capacity to breathe.

The woman was trouble, without a doubt. The sooner she was gone, the better.

Catherine watched the hurried, retreating figure of Garrett McAllister. So like a human. Heck, so like a male.

“Us girls should stick together, huh?” she said to the cat, placing Queenie and her food back into the cage. A final pat, then she left the feline to her meal. Something was bothering Queenie, but when Catherine had tried to read her, the cat had shut down and blocked out any attempt to communicate. Ever since the curse, she’d been able to “talk” to other animals in a silent manner. Sort of a mental telepathy that had helped her find a good place to sleep, a meal when she needed one and her way to a new temporary home. But now, as the end of the curse approached, those powers were weaker. Catherine decided to try again later. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Catherine stood in the center of the room. Should she follow him? She was, after all, supposed to be proving herself as his assistant, which meant actually assisting. He hadn’t given her anything to do, but then again, he didn’t seem the type to ask for help.

She wrinkled up her nose, ran through twenty reasons why she should not chase after a cranky veterinarian who wanted nothing to do with her, then headed out the door and down the hall to the second set of kennels.

As she walked, she realized Garrett could be useful.

Her tracking skills had grown weaker as the years passed, her instincts less sharp, as if her feline abilities weakened as the curse’s end neared. She’d seen it when she’d tried to connect with Queenie and been blocked.