Sarah Morgan - Sunset In Central Park

Not a serial killer, but a cat.

“Claws? Is that you?” Still holding her book, she walked through to the kitchen, saw the soil and shards of terracotta scattered across the floor and a terrified cat with fur the color of marmalade. “Hey—you need to look where you’re walking.”

The cat shot under the kitchen table, eyeing Frankie from a safe distance, her fur almost vertical.

“Did you scare yourself? Because you scared the hell out of me.” Calm, Frankie put her book on the table and stooped to clear up the mess. The cat shrank farther under the table. “What are you doing down here? Where’s Matt? Is he working late?”

Matt, Paige’s brother, owned the house and lived on the top two floors. It was Matt, a landscape architect, who had found the old, neglected brownstone years before and lovingly converted it into three apartments. The four of them lived there in almost perfect harmony. Along with the cat Matt had rescued.

Frankie disposed of the shattered pot and the soil and reached for a tin of cat food. She carried on talking, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Are you hungry?”

The cat didn’t move, so Frankie opened the tin and tipped it into the bowl she’d bought after the cat’s first visit.

“I’ll just leave it here.” She put the bowl down.

Claws approached with the watchful caution she always showed toward humans.

As someone who approached people in much the same way, Frankie empathized.

“I don’t know how you’re getting down from Matt’s apartment, but I hope you’re being careful where you tread. Wouldn’t want you to be hurt.” Although it was a bit late for that. She knew Claws had been abused and neglected before Matt had rescued her. As a result, the cat trusted no one except Matt, and even he was scratched if he made any sudden movements.

Claws sniffed cautiously at the bowl and Frankie stood back, giving the animal space.

Pretending to ignore her, she topped off her wineglass, cut a few more slices of cheese and sat down at the kitchen table that had been a housewarming gift from her friends. It was her favorite place to sit, especially first thing in the morning. She liked to open the windows and watch the sunlight stream over her garden. It was a suntrap, catching the light and warmth from early in the morning.

“We should probably celebrate.” She raised the glass. “To being single. I can go where I like, do what I like, I’m dependent on no one. I sail my own ship through whichever waters I choose to navigate. Life is good.”

Claws took another sniff at the food, keeping one eye on Frankie.

Finally, she started to eat and Frankie was surprised by the sense of satisfaction that came from knowing the animal was beginning to trust her. Maybe she should get a cat of her own.

Unlike some humans, cats understood the notion of personal space.

She opened the book and started to read where she’d left off.

She was halfway through the third chapter when she heard a knock on the door.

Claws froze.

Frankie pushed a piece of paper in the book to mark her place, trying not to be irritated at the disturbance. “It will be Eva or Paige, so there’s no need to freak out. They’ve probably run out of wine. Don’t break any of my plant pots while I answer the door.”

She tugged open the front door. “Have you drunk so much that you can’t—oh.”

Matt stood in the doorway, although stood wasn’t really the right word, she decided. He virtually filled the space. He topped six feet, his shoulders broad and powerful from all the heavy lifting he did at his job. He could have been intimidating, but a faint smile tilted the corners of his mouth and softened the rough edges of masculinity. There were a dozen reasons why a woman might take a second look at Matt Walker, but it was that bone-melting sexy smile that guaranteed he was never short of female company.

“So far this evening, I haven’t drunk a drop. Hoping to remedy that soon.” He glanced from her to the door. “You should use that security chain I fitted for you.”

“Normally I do. I thought you were Paige.”

He smelled good, she thought. Like summer rain and sea breeze. It made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.

She wondered which of them would be more embarrassed.

Definitely her. Matt wasn’t the kind of guy who was easily embarrassed.

“Am I disturbing you?” He scanned her damp hair and she pushed at it self-consciously.

When it was wet it turned an unflattering shade. “Rust” one boy had called it at school after she’d been caught in a heavy rainstorm. When she blushed, which she was now doing thanks to her wayward imagination, her face clashed horribly with her hair.

“You’re not disturbing me, but if you’re looking for Paige and Eva they’re up on the roof terrace.”

“I wasn’t looking for them. I’ve lost my cat. Have you seen her?”

“She’s here. Come in. I opened a bottle of wine.” She issued the invitation without a second thought because this was Matt. Matt, whom she’d known forever and trusted.

“You’re inviting me in?” His eyes gleamed. “I’m honored. It’s Saturday night and I know how much you love your own space.”

The fact that he knew her so well was one of the things that made their relationship so easy and comfortable.

“You have owner’s privilege.”

“There’s such a thing? I never knew that. What other benefits am I entitled to that I haven’t been claiming?”

“The occasional glass of wine is definitely on that list.” She opened the door wider for him and he strolled past her into her apartment.

Her gaze lingered on his shoulders. She was human, wasn’t she? And Matt had an impressive set of shoulders. The kind you could lean on, if you were the leaning type. She wasn’t. Even so, there was no denying that the man was sexy from every angle, even from the back. Of course, the fact that she found him sexy was her secret and it was going to stay that way.

She could enjoy her own private fantasy, safe in the knowledge that no one was ever going to find out.

Frankie closed the door behind him. “How did you lose your cat?”

“I left the window open but she’s never had the courage to climb through it before. I don’t know whether to be pleased that she was finally brave enough to explore or worried that she felt the need to escape from me.”

“Mmm, I guess that depends on whether this is a onetime thing. Do women often try and escape from you?” No, she thought. Of course they didn’t.

“All the time. It’s hell on the ego.” He was cool and relaxed and her heart gave a little kick, as it always did around him.

She ignored it, as she always did.

Unlike her mother, she didn’t think sexual attraction was an impulse that had to be acted on. She’d rather have a long-term friendship than short-term sex any day. In fact, there were a million activities more appealing than sex, which she’d always found to be fraught with complications, unrealistic expectations and pressure.

If they gave out grades for sex, you’d be a D minus, Cole, with nothing for effort.

She frowned, wondering why that memory had come into her head now.

The guy had been a total jerk. She wasn’t going to give a second thought to a man whose ego was so big it had needed its own zip code.

Matt, on the other hand, was a good friend. She saw him most days, sometimes on the roof terrace where they met for drinks or movie night and sometimes at Romano’s, the local Italian restaurant owned by Jake’s mother.

Their friendship was one of the most important relationships in her life.

Which was one of the reasons she tolerated his cat.