Kitabı oku: «Inner Harbor», sayfa 2

“He will?” Her first customer, and he had to be a flirt!

“He’s opening The Quest. He’ll be selling silver lamps.” Felicity fairly oozed with admiration, her brown eyes melting with adulation. “I think it will be wonderful to have the place open again, Russ.”

“Thanks, Felicity.”

Annie felt an overwhelming need to break up this mutual admiration society.

“Yes, it will be nice.” She walked behind the counter and glanced at the ledger. Apparently Mr. Russ Mitchard, of no fixed address, was to be her only customer. One client was better than none, wasn’t he?

“I hear an unspoken ‘but’ in your voice.” Russ leaned against the counter, shadowed chin propped on one palm.

“I’m glad the bookstore is able to remain open.” She shrugged. “It’s full of character. I used to go there often when my mother was alive, but lately…”

“I heard about the accident. I understand.” He nodded, his voice sympathetic. “I can imagine it hasn’t been easy on your godson, either.” He shrugged. “Perhaps seeing the place open again will ease his memories, help him see life goes on.” His attention shifted to Felicity. “I’ll bet Annie was one of those little girls who lost themselves in fairy tales and dreamed of her own Prince Charming.”

He was so exactly on target that Annie drew into her shell.

“Actually I studied birds,” she informed him. “I had a thing for birds.”

“Still do. Birds and wildflowers. Which anyone who looks through this place could tell right off. Her watercolors are all over the place.” Felicity grinned, then shrugged into her jacket. “I’ve got to get going. Saturday is our play day, and my daughter doesn’t like waiting. See you, Annie. Bye, Russ.” She disappeared like a whirlwind, her long legs carrying her out the door and down the street in mere seconds.

“When she goes, she really goes.” Russ swiveled his head, watched Felicity’s lithe figure disappear. “She seems nice. Straightforward.” He was looking at Annie again.

“As straight as they come.” Annie wished the phone would ring. Anything to get his focus off of her.

“Unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She glared at him. “I’m no crook.”

His finger grazed her cheek, cupped her chin, forced her to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that. But you’ve got secrets, Annie girl. Anyone can see that. Sad secrets buried in the glacial silt of those blue eyes. It’s going to take some work to dig them out.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing glacial about my eyes. They’re just plain old blue.” She jerked her chin away, then stepped out from behind the counter. “Besides, in a place like Safe Harbor, it’s impossible to have secrets.”

“Do you think so?” He sounded strange, almost hopeful.

Annie took a deep breath and refocused. She was his hostess. Time to earn her money and act like it.

“Did Felicity show you to your room?”

“Changing the subject, Annie?”

“Yes. Did she?”

He nodded, his mouth tilted in a wicked grin. “She did. Thank you.”

“Good. Fine. Excellent.” She was babbling. “Well, make yourself at home then. Let me know if you need anything.” She turned, walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. There she made a pot of coffee, chose a freshly baked cinnamon bun from the rack.

When she turned again, he stood leaning against the door frame, leather jacket gone but still the charmer in black cashmere and worsted slacks. If she’d snapped a photo of him, Annie would have titled it The Ultimate Flirt. Funny, she’d thought she’d heard him leave.

“Wanna share?”

“Oh. Well, it’s up to you.” What else could she say? He was her guest. She poured two cups of coffee, then motioned toward the cinnamon rolls. He put three on the plate she offered.

“I’m good at sharing.” He laughed at her look. “I’m also starved.”

“I see that.”

They sat down at the small bistro table under a bank of windows that overlooked a tiny flagstone patio and Lake Michigan beyond. Suddenly Annie remembered.

“Since you’re going to be living here, I wonder if you’d be interested in playing for our children’s choir—the same music you played today. Easter morning.” She rushed on, blurting out the facts in no particular order. “They’re good kids, but I can’t direct and play, and they need to practice to memorize their parts. We haven’t yet begun to coordinate with the readers, and that will take a lot of work to get the timing right, and—”

“Okay.”

“And then, of course, there are the robes to think of. Someone else is handling them, but I expect—” She stopped, stared at him. “What did you say?”

“I said I’ll play for you. The organ?” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “That was what you asked, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. Yes, it was.” Annie gulped. That easy? “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He licked the white Danish icing off his fingertips, then took a sip of coffee before leaning back in his chair like a satisfied cat just finished a bowl of cream. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“Talk to me?” she demanded, suspicious of the odd smile twitching at his handsome mouth. “Why?”

“Calm down. It’s nothing horrible,” he assured her. “I can see the worst ideas flickering through your eyes.”

“What could you possibly have to talk to me about? We’ve only just met.”

“Remember I told you we used to come here in the summer?”

She nodded.

“My parents are both lawyers in Chicago. They’re very busy. Back then they lived in Green Bay and they wanted a place nearby where our family could get away from work and relax together.” His voice tightened a fraction.

“Oh, yes.” She still didn’t see what that had to do with her.

“My grandparents would come sometimes, too. My grandfather wasn’t crazy about leaving work. He was a workaholic, and lazing around made him very uncomfortable. But my mom loved having her mother visit us at the cottage, and my gran adored the lake. They spent a lot of time talking. My grandfather didn’t dare put a damper on that because Gran was the love of his life.” Those unusual eyes darkened with emotion. “Their marriage was perfect, exactly what everyone thinks of when they say the word love. Unfortunately Gran died eight years ago.”

“Oh.” Where was this going? “They were your only grandparents?”

“The only ones I knew. Dad’s parents died before I was born. They lived in New York.”

Mitchard. The name pricked her memory. A newspaper article, what, a month ago? Something named in memory, wasn’t it? Annie stared at him. “The land developer?”

He smiled. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.” What else was there to say? Russ Mitchard’s grandfather had been a household name and certainly a workaholic. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to put grandiose building schemes aside to traipse around Door Country like the tourists. If she remembered correctly, the son, Russ’s father, was an only child and had inherited everything when Mitchard Senior had a heart attack. Curiosity got the better of her.

“With that history, it seems strange you’d choose the career you have. I’d have thought you’d follow your grandfather, build more office buildings.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I do.”

The belligerent words startled her.

“I didn’t say there was. I just thought—” She stopped when his face darkened. “Never mind.” She sipped her coffee, thinking. “So you came back to Safe Harbor because of your memories.”

“I came back because the marketing studies I commissioned showed great potential for my business here.” The words stopped abruptly.

“Good for you. And welcome to our town.” She tried to lighten the tone.

“I have another reason for staying, though, Annie.” He peered at her.

“Really?” She laughed nervously. There was something about those unusual eyes. “Well, according to the Chamber of Commerce there are a lot of reasons anyone would choose Safe Harbor.”

“It had nothing to do with the Chamber of Commerce. I’d already decided to set up shop here, just not quite yet. But then my grandfather upped the ante. More particularly, his will did.”

Something—a fizzle of awareness—shot through her. “Your grandfather’s will said you had to live in Safe Harbor?” she whispered.

“No.” He took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. “My grandfather’s will said I have to marry you to collect my inheritance.”

Annie stared with shock into that cool gray gaze. So this was R.J. She wished she’d been prepared. But then, wasn’t that why Wharton Willoughby had written her, to prepare her?

As she watched him, a mask slid into place, shielding his expressive eyes from her. How much did he know, she wondered. Was he aware of the relationship she’d shared with his grandfather?

“What did you say your name was?”

He frowned. “Russell James Mitchard. Most people call me Russ. My gramps used to call me R.J. Why?”

All hope that this was a case of mistaken identity flew away. Annie swallowed.

R.J. This was the beloved grandson, the man her dearest friend had chosen as her husband. A husband she didn’t want.

Ignorance was bliss. And it was worth a try if it deflated this crazy idea before it got airborne. She’d pretend his proposal came as a shock.

“Proposing marriage to someone you’ve only just met is preposterous. I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your proposal, Mr. Mitchard. I’m not interested in getting married.”

“Now?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“Ever.”

The mask dissolved. His eyes narrowed, intensifying their scrutiny of her, probing for answers. He wouldn’t give up easily. Annie felt her heart sink to her shoes. She’d liked Wharton Willoughby a lot, but marriage? No way.

She’d tread her life path alone, and keep her heart safe.

Chapter Two

“You have to marry me!”

Several minutes elapsed while the world regained its balance. Russ watched Annie Simmons’s face darken, blue eyes frost over. He winced at the smothered fury in her voice, wondering why the possibility she’d refuse had never occurred to him. Gramps had given the impression he’d spoken with her, but if not—

“I don’t have to do anything.” Annie Simmons shook her head, but her stare never left his face. “You said your grandfather was leaving you something, didn’t you? I didn’t mishear that part?”

“You heard correctly, Annie. He left me a substantial amount of money so I could move up my plans to expand my business. I’d been telling him about some new equipment and—never mind.” He looked away from that stare, felt slightly abashed at his temerity in blurting it all out. He should have found an easier way. But what easier way was there to explain Gramps?

“But—” She stopped. Her lips worked, but no sound emerged.

“Trust me, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I found out his conditions—stunned. But it’s true. My mother is an excellent lawyer. She inherited his law firm and his house. She assures me it’s all legal. My grandfather specifically worded his last wishes—in order to collect my inheritance I have to marry you within six months of his death.”

He saw her swallow, hesitate, look away, then back at him.

“No offense, but is there a history of mental illness in your family?” Annie’s fingers folded and refolded in her lap.

Nervous energy, he decided, though she didn’t sound as surprised as he’d expected. Why was that? What was she hiding?

“Not that I know of.” He grinned. “Though you might think so if you’d known my grandfather. Normal wasn’t in his vocabulary.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.” Her blue gaze remained wide and fixed—on him.

Russ took another sip of coffee, sorting through his words carefully.

“Grandad was a character.” He stared into the black brew, remembering the old man’s penchant for running things. Then he chuckled. “But no one ever suggested Wharton Willoughby didn’t have what it took in the courtroom.”

“There’s something you should know.”

He watched Annie swallow, take a deep breath.

“Your grandfather was my mother’s lawyer,” she whispered.

Russ Mitchard met her frown with a shrug. He hadn’t known that, but then there was a lot about his grandfather he was just beginning to uncover. “I didn’t realize he actually knew you.” His brain began processing. “Though if he did, that explains his insistence on you as the chosen one.”

“But—” She frowned at him, her eyes intently scrutinizing his features. “So he was your grandfather. Hmm.”

She was holding back. Russ watched her puzzle something out in her mind and wondered what was going on.

“My mother’s papa,” he confirmed with a nod. “Died a little before Thanksgiving. If you met him, you must understand about the will. Eccentric was his middle name.”

“He wasn’t eccentric when I knew him. He was kind and gentle, comforting. A father figure who also happened to be my mother’s lawyer.”

He saw genuine tenderness fill her eyes.

“He helped me settle her estate. He’s the one who suggested I use the money she left me to buy this place. He helped me negotiate the sale, then came back to check on my renovations several times. But I hadn’t seen him since winter arrived.”

“He didn’t like snow very much. He caught pneumonia before he died.”

She glanced at him, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then blurted out the duty phrase he’d heard so often.

“I’m sorry. I would have gone to the funeral if I’d known. But with this place, and Drew to think of, I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”

“I understand.” Russ could see how tightly she controlled the words. She was definitely hiding something. His senses perked up.

“Why me, do you think?” Annie faltered over that question as if she weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he confessed, watching the swirl of conflicting emotions darken her eyes. Should he tell her? “My hunch is that, while he was ill, he dreamed the whole thing up.”

“Was he ill a long time?” she whispered.

“Several weeks. He couldn’t shake that cold.” Russ closed his eyes, thought it out. “My guess is he concocted one of his ideas, then purposely brought us together. He certainly knew I was doing studies on the area as a potential business site. In fact, he’s the one who originally pointed it out as a possible location, then told me not to bother. He knew very well how much I’d loved my time here as a child.”

She blinked innocently, but Russ saw a shadow flicker through her eyes. Something about this whole thing bothered him. Annie Simmons didn’t seem nearly as flabbergasted by his proposal as he’d expected.

“If I knew Gramps, and I did, he manipulated my whole situation for his personal convenience. He’d been after me to move closer to home for ages.” More flickers. Russ frowned.

“Manipulated? He didn’t seem conniving to me. Just very kind.” She avoided his stare, studied her fingers.

“Gramps was kind. He was also very big on marriage. Maybe because his own was so great.” He paused, then decided to tell the whole story. “He and my grandmother were married after her parents died. It was a marriage of convenience that provided a home for her baby sister and gave him the society wife he wanted. But they fell in love, and everything worked out for them. They had a great marriage, the envy of everyone who saw them together. I guess that’s why he thought it would work if he forced the two of us together.”

If Russ closed his eyes, he could see his grandparents, hands clasped, eyes shining with a rich, deep joy he’d never known. Maybe if he could feel that kind of emotion, be so confident that nothing he did would disappoint, he would be more interested in the institution of marriage.

But Russ was smart enough to know he was not his grandfather. Nor his father. When people depended on him, they were disillusioned. Invariably. He didn’t do it deliberately. Responsibility just didn’t work with him. Whether it stemmed from selfishness, or from years of being expected to follow in the family career path, he’d never managed to be the man they wanted, had never come close to stepping up to the plate and handling the responsibility they wanted to give him.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember he once said he missed her presence more than anything else he’d ever known, that she’d gone from being a stranger to becoming a part of his heart. The way he talked about her—it was so sweet.”

She drifted away on some memory Russ couldn’t share. Clearly Annie Simmons knew his grandfather well. But how—

“So your grandfather named you as his heir?”

Nodding, Russ steeled himself to face her. “One of them.”

The next part would be touchy. There was no easy way to say it without sounding crass and greedy, but neither was he quite ready to divulge his true reasons behind this strange proposal.

“His plan goes like this. We marry, and I collect my inheritance. I get my business on a solid footing, charm the tourists with my creations and start work on some bigger projects I’ve been itching to try, once I buy some more equipment. It’s actually quite simple.”

Simple? It was a nightmare, one Russ would have avoided like the plague if he hadn’t allowed himself to be persuaded by the cajoling words in that letter Gramps had left behind. He’d only come here, asked her to do this, out of respect for the old man and because he wanted to see what Annie Simmons had that had bowled over his crusty old grandfather so much that he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a marriage.

Gramps’s opinions on marriage were no secret to him. It made a man stronger, grounded him, gave him purpose and a helpmate to lean on when things got tough. He remembered their last conversation vividly. The right woman would help Russ realize his dreams. Well, Russ was realizing his dreams just fine—gaining increasing fame with his work, landing contracts, building a base of studio buyers.

Gramps knew Russ had committed every dime he could spare to open that shop—and that wasn’t counting the loans he’d taken to move everything to this tourist Mecca. His studies had shown the potential here, the support for craftsmen willing to work hard and build their business. Russ desperately wanted to prove himself, but he was at the sink-or-swim point. If Safe Harbor didn’t work out, he’d have to dip into his savings, and that was a last resort. Gramps had known that, and apparently he’d come up with this solution.

Marriage.

Russ might have walked away without a second thought, dismissed the whole idea as the romantic machinations of a delusional old man if he hadn’t had that last conversation with his grandfather, hadn’t felt the conviction in the old man’s voice that Annie Simmons was his soul mate. Hadn’t listened to his fervent prayer for Russ’s future happiness. Hadn’t received the letter.

Even so, after the funeral, after the will had been read, he’d worked six ways through Sunday, unpacked his law books and plied every legal tactic he could remember to break that will, until finally he’d been forced to admit defeat. The will was unbreakable. Gramps would have it his way or Russ would lose his opportunity and break the trust his grandfather had placed in him. The latter would hurt far more than losing any money.

He looked at Annie. She didn’t speak, didn’t say a word. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Russ shifted uncomfortably, tented his hands, then unfolded them and shoved them in his pockets.

“So? What do you think?” he blurted, unable to keep silent a moment longer. He’d never been so uncomfortable in his life. He didn’t want to marry her, knew he couldn’t be what his grandfather had been to Gran. Annie didn’t need her life messed up by him. But Gramps—

“I’m thinking that I need to get away from you.”

“What? Why?” He ordered his mind to pay attention.

“This is a quiet little town, Mr. Mitchard. People don’t walk into my bed-and-breakfast and suggest I marry them so that they can inherit an estate! It just doesn’t happen here.” The speech burst out of her as if it had been prepared some time ago.

“It probably doesn’t happen anywhere else, either,” he admitted dryly. “My grandfather never did anything the ordinary way. He liked to be—original.” Okay, that was a vast understatement of the facts. He tried again.

“The marriage wouldn’t have to be the ordinary kind of marriage, Annie.” He tried to comfort her. “It could be whatever we wanted—a business arrangement between us, if you like. I fully expect to split the inheritance with you, anyway. Gramps would have wanted that.”

“Pay me, you mean? For marrying you?” She was outraged. “No.”

Russ raked one hand through his hair and desperately wished his grandfather were here right now to explain what will-o’-the-wisp dream had engendered this situation in his fertile mind. Gramps knew exactly how little Russ wanted the responsibility for someone else’s happiness—anyone else’s. Apparently Annie felt the same way. He didn’t blame her.

“No, not pay you.” He retracted the words, trying to find new ones as he stared into her angry face. “I just meant that I wouldn’t expect you to disrupt your life for nothing. I know this will inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience me? Getting married? Oh, perhaps just the teeniest bit, Mr. Mitchard.” She laughed, a sharp, grating sound that told him the state of her nerves. “This whole thing is impossible! He should have known that.”

“Maybe.” Russ reached out a hand to stop her from leaving. “But it’s also reality.” And it got worse. Russ dredged up one last ounce of courage and laid it on the line. “I have to be married to you within the next three months.”

If he had to wait that long, he’d give up. As it was, he’d had to summon every ounce of courage to ask someone he didn’t know to marry him. Only the memory of his grandfather’s whispered words pushed him forward. But Russ kept that knowledge to himself, silently chiding his grandfather for his manipulations. Bad enough Gramps had used him. But Annie? She seemed a sweet, innocent person. Why involve her in this?

“Three months? Three years. The answer is the same. No.” She shook her head, her eyes huge as she leaned away from him, jerking her hand out from under his.

“Annie, I’ve done everything I could think of to find some way around this, but the will stands.”

“I don’t know about the will. I only know I’m not marrying you. I loved and respected your grandfather. I’d like to do as he asked. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to marry you.”

Russ wasn’t crazy about marriage himself, but the way she said that made him feel like a slug. He wasn’t that bad, was he?

“But—”

“Forget it.” She jumped to her feet, grabbed her coffee cup and carried it to the sink. “No. No! No way.”

“I see.” He frowned, tilted back on his chair and studied her, stuffing down his doubts. “What’s the problem? Is it me or just the general idea of marriage that you object to?”

“Both!”

“Ah.” So he didn’t appeal to her. Well, that was humbling, but probably good. Romance complicated things, and Russ had enough complications in his life. She was pretty and graceful and efficient, but he’d never intended to tie himself down. Responsibility was the one thing he always failed at. This wouldn’t be an emotional commitment, it would be business. “It wouldn’t have to be anything personal.”

She choked. Russ moved to stand beside her.

“That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. “I meant that it’s just—”

“Business? Yes, I guessed you’d say that. Let me explain this to you.”

He noted the way she smothered her emotions, her fingers clenching at her sides.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I’d like to help you out, if I could. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for you to want your inheritance.”

He frowned. She did understand—at least as much as he’d told her. But it wasn’t the money—

She read his face and rushed to finish. “I can’t help you. Not that way. I am not marrying you. Wharton shouldn’t have asked me.”

“Asked you? But—” He stared at her, understanding dawning. She had known. “He wrote you?” Russ murmured.

She nodded.

“Yes. I didn’t get the letter until after he’d died. At first I didn’t connect you with his R.J.” She looked sad for a moment. “But this is not even up for discussion. I’m Drew’s temporary mother. Think about him. How would I explain such a thing to him? No. Drew needs security from me, not a whole new set of changes.” She shook her head vehemently, obviously appalled at the thought of being tied to Russ.

“You said they’d found a relative.” Russ caught her frown of dismay. “You’ll only have yourself to think about when he leaves.”

“I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

Something on her face told him she didn’t want to contemplate Drew leaving. Why was that?

The telephone broke the silence. Annie grabbed the receiver off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Annie.”

Russ was standing near enough to hear a man’s voice.

“Which date did you prefer? Day after tomorrow?”

“I—uh, that is, I haven’t had a chance to look at your notes yet. I just got back from choir practice.” Annie turned her back to Russ. “I’m glad you found a buyer, but I don’t really think they need me to decide whether or not they want my mother’s house.” She held the phone away from her ear, wincing at the jovial tone.

“They claim they do. I want to get this settled, strike while they’ve got their loan approval. We’ve waited a long time for a hot prospect, Annie. Let’s not lose them. I’ll tell them we’ll meet at the house this Tuesday after lunch. Okay?”

Russ thought Annie looked like a hunted fox. She glanced here and there around the room as if a sudden way of escape would open up.

“Unless you want it sooner?”

“No! Tuesday’s fine, I suppose. I just don’t see why they want me there.” She snuggled the phone close, but Russ didn’t even pretend not to listen. The conversation was fascinating, at least Annie’s side of it was.

“Oh, they saw that, did they? Well, I guess if they like it—”

The person on the phone kept talking.

“Everyone?” She seemed to shrink a little. Her voice rose. “I don’t want to be the object of people’s gossip. I want my personal life to be private.” She sighed at his guffaw. “Yes, I know. Privacy is impossible in Safe Harbor. All right. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, but stood staring at it for several moments. Eventually she moved to the table, but only to stack the rest of their dishes. Russ watched her stuff the white crockery with its delicate blue flowers into the dishwasher.

“Is everything all right?”

She looked at him, gave a half laugh that was not at all amused. “No. Absolutely nothing is all right. But I’ll manage. I always do.”

He got the impression she wanted to do much more than manage. What had happened to cause that sheen of happiness he thought so much a part of her fade away after one phone call? Where did she go when her eyes glazed over and her face stiffened into that mask of rigid self-control?

A sound broke the silence between them. Russ started out the door, twisted his head, noticed she wasn’t following.

“Annie?” She blinked, focused on him. She looked sad, about to burst into tears. He walked back, brushed a hand against her cheek. “I think someone needs you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Annie nodded, turned, walked through the doorway.

Russ followed her.

“Yowl!”

He quickened his step. Uh-oh. He’d meant to explain first.

A man with gray-streaked hair, granite jaw and midnight blue eyes that begged for their help waited in her foyer.

“She won’t leave me alone,” he muttered. He seemed glued to the spot.

“Who won’t?” Annie frowned, her eyes sliding down his frame until they arrived at the monstrously huge body of a marmalade-colored cat curled around his feet, purring a loud contented rumble. A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I see.”

“I’m not very good with cats,” he murmured, his face pinched in distressed lines. “Usually they don’t like me at all.”

“Well, this one does.”

“Apparently.” The man tried to move, but the cat counteracted his motions with her own.

Russ stood silent, watched as Annie tried to figure out a way to free her guest from its clutches.

“Were you wanting this place in particular, or did she chase you in here?”

“She was here when I arrived. But the sign says no pets.” His words sounded hesitant, confused. His eyes revealed little of his thoughts. “I’m Nathan Taylor. I’ll be coming to Safe Harbor for the next several months, but only on the weekends. I’d like to rent a room.”

“Wait a minute.” Annie studied him more closely. “I remember you. The man who saved Aidan. You were at my grand opening.”

His face darkened with embarrassment. “Yes.”

“I’m glad to see you again.”

She did look happy, Russ decided. The glare he’d been favored with had disappeared, replaced by a friendly smile.

“Well, we can certainly accommodate you here. As soon as we free you, that is.” Annie glanced at Russ.

He did his best to hide his guilt, but he knew from the furrow of her eyebrows that she’d seen some flicker of it in his face.

“I—er, I may be able to help.” He walked over and scooped up the monster cat. Instantly at peace, Marmalade curled herself over his shoulders and settled down to sleep. “I’m afraid she’s mine,” he admitted quietly.

“What?” Annie frowned at him. “But surely Felicity told you our policy of no pets.”

“Yes, she did.” Oh, why hadn’t he explained the cat’s presence earlier? Now it looked like he’d been trying to slip one past her. Which he had.

“You knew? Then why—”

“I thought that if I explained, you’d understand. She’s completely house-trained. She doesn’t scratch things or tear up shoes. Mostly she sleeps.” He shrugged, trying to appeal to her decency and love of animals, though to be frank, he wasn’t certain she did like animals. She certainly kept well out of reach of his cat.