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  “Are you listening to me?” David said.

  “No,” Min said over the running water. “I’m injured. Go away. I don’t want to marry you.” She turned off the water, wrapped a paper towel around her finger, and went back to get rid of him.

  “Min,” David said, standing up. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

  “Lord, no,” Min said, opening her front door. “You’re a nice man, David. Well, not really. Go—”

  “No, Min, I’m staying,” he said, his voice deep and serious.

  Then he grabbed her and kissed her hard.

  Chapter Eleven

  David was holding Min’s head in his hands too tightly for her to pull away, so she drew back her hand to slap him, only to have him yank away and scream before she could complete the smack.

  At his feet, Elvis snarled, his front claws planted in David’s shin.

  Min wiped her mouth off as David kicked Elvis off his leg. “Well, that was gross. As I was saying, go find some woman who meets your criteria for a good mate and marry her. I have an attack cat, and I’m accessing my inner bitch all the time now, so you’ll never survive here.”

  “I’m sorry,” David said. “I just want you so much.”

  “Yeah,” Min said. “Do that again and I’ll Mace you. Now get out.”

  “Promise me you won’t see Cal Morrisey again,” David said, and Elvis lowered his head on the back of the couch and growled.

  “No, David, I will not promise you anything.” Min pointed to the door. “Out or I get a restraining order.”

  “At least think about it,” David said.

  “No,” Min said and pushed him out the door. When she had it shut behind him, she looked at Elvis, now stretched out on the back of the couch, his head close to the stereo he loved. He batted the stereo with his paw until he connected with the ON button, and “Heartbreak Hotel” boomed out of the speakers.

  “Turn that down,” Min said and then remembered she was talking to a cat. She went over and moved the volume lever down. “That was weird, Elvis.”

  Elvis patted the UP button over and over again until “Love Me Tender” came on.

  “Well, it could be worse,” Min said, looking at him sprawled on the back of her couch. “You could like music from Julia Roberts movies.”

  Elvis’s tail began to twitch to the music, and Min gave up and went to get a Band-Aid.

  Cal didn’t call Tuesday either, and Min was congratulating herself that night that she was finally free of him and feeling lousy about it when somebody knocked on her door. She stirred her chicken marsala one more time and went to answer it, picking up her Mace on the way. After forty-eight hours and no phone call, she was hoping it was a mugger so she could release some tension. But when she opened the door, Cal was leaning in the doorway, holding the usual sack from Emilio’s and another, smaller shopping bag, looking more tired than she’d ever seen him. His shirt collar was open, his tie ends hanging down, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was rumpled and sloppy and the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, and her heart lurched sideways just because she was so damn glad he was there.

  He said, “Hi,” and saw the Mace. “You can just say no,” he said, and she opened the door wider, and he came in and kissed her on the forehead. She leaned into him because he looked so solid and because she was so glad to see him and then, on an impulse, she stretched up and kissed him gently, a hello-how-are-you kiss that felt like exactly the right thing to do.

  When she pulled back, Cal looked stunned.

  “What?” she said. “That was a friendly kiss.”

  He shook his head and closed the door behind him with his shoulder. “That was . . . nice. Here.” He handed her the small shopping bag. “I’m courting. You get gifts.”

  Min took the bag and felt deflated. “Bad kiss? Did I do it wrong?”

  “No.” He grinned tiredly at her. “You couldn’t possibly do it wrong.” Then his smile faded. “That’s just the first time.”

  “Oh, please,” Min said. “We’ve been kissing for days.”

  “I’ve been kissing you for days,” Cal said, tossing his jacket on the armchair as he went to put Emilio’s bag on the table. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me. What smells so good?”

  “Chicken marsala,” Min said. “I think I got it. What do you mean, that’s the first time? I . . .” Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. He was right. He always kissed her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cal said as he came back to her. “So—”

  Min dropped the shopping bag and went up on her toes and kissed him again, this time giving it everything she had. The rush made her dizzy, and she grabbed his shirt to steady herself, and he held her, kissing her back until she was hot and trembling.

  “That’s two,” Cal said, breathlessly. “Not that I’m counting.”

  “There should have been more,” Min said, trying to get her breath back. “I mean, we’re not doing this anymore, but I shouldn’t have made you do all the work.”

  “I didn’t mind,” Cal said, pulling her closer, and she knew she should pull back but she didn’t want to because he felt so damn good against her. “Although I’m liking this.”

  “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Min said, putting her forehead against his chest.

  “Which would be what?”

  She felt him kiss the top of her head again, and smiled. “That I wanted, you know, more.”

  “Right,” Cal said. “Just friends. You bet. Kiss me again.”

  Min grinned and lifted her head. “It doesn’t count if you tell me to.”

  “It always counts,” Cal said and kissed her, and she let herself fall into him until she lost track of time and everything but the way he felt wrapped around her. Then he came up for air and said, “I may be getting the wrong idea.”

  “No,” Min said, backing away. “Don’t do that. Forget any of that happened.” She held up the Mace can. “I have Mace.”

  “Right,” he said and let go of her to collapse onto the couch. “Elvis, old buddy, how are you doing?” He reached up to scratch Elvis behind the ears and Min almost said, “Don’t,” remembering what had happened to David. But Elvis flattened his head so Cal could get closer and purred his appreciation. “You know, this is a nice cat.”

  “I know.” Min tried to calm her pounding heart as Elvis rolled to his feet. “I don’t know how I ever lived without him.” She picked up the bag she’d dropped and went to sit next to Cal on the couch. “So. I’ve heard about this,” she said, pulling open the bag. “You’re going to give me something I didn’t even know I needed.”

  “What do you mean, you heard?” Cal said, but Min was pulling out a shoe box and ignored him.

  “I have very specific tastes in shoes,” she said, shaking her head. “The possibilities for disaster here are huge.”

  “I live on the edge,” Cal said.

  Min opened the box. Inside were mules with her favorite French heel, but they were covered in white fur. “What the hell?” she said but when she pulled them out, she saw the bunny faces on the furry insteps. “You got me bunny slippers?” she said, holding them up. The bunnies looked back at her, dopey and sweet. “Open-toed bunny slippers? These are incredible.”

  “I know,” Cal said, scratching Elvis’s stomach now. “There’s music in there, too.”

  “Let me guess,” Min said, reaching in the bag again. “Elvis Costello.” She pulled out the CD and read the title: “Elvis Presley, Fifty Greatest Love Songs.” She looked at Cal. “You got me Elvis Presley.”

  “It’s what you like,” Cal said, as the cat rolled away from him. “Why would I get you what I like?”

  “Boy, you are good at this,” Min said, looking back at the bunnies. “I love these shoes.”

  “Every woman needs bunny slippers,” Cal said, taking one of them. “Especially women with toes like yours.” He reached down and picked up her foot and stripped her sweat sock off, and Min wiggled her s