Page 24 of Say Yes

GAVIN LOOKED DOWN at the cat twined around his bare ankles. “At least you enjoyed my dinner.” He knew today had to make an impact; it was the first day of their “relationship.” So he’d made, in his humble opinion, a stupendous dinner, topped by a killer dessert. Sara had eaten a fair portion, had even complimented him on his efforts, but other than that, her attention wasn’t where he wanted it to be—on him.

Handing the cat another scrap of meat, Gavin considered his next step. Sara hadn’t as yet asked how his moving in had gone. She’d been much too busy settling Satan and enjoying being a pet owner to concern herself with anything as mundane as the new man in her life.

Pushing back from the table, Gavin left his seat and walked to where Sara stood rinsing dishes in the sink. “Are you sure you don’t want any help?”

“We had a deal, Gavin. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping…”

“You’ve done enough today.” She turned, giving him a fat smile. “The meal was fabulous.”

Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he leaned down and skimmed her cheek with his mouth. She smelled so damn good, even after working in an animal shelter all day. He nuzzled her hair, her ear. The catch in her breath was audible, and he leaned closer, caging her between his body and the counter.

Water dripped down his neck when her wet hands settled in his hair, holding him still so she could kiss him. But he darted away. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes, he hid his smile, and his own frustration. But he’d just decided what to do next. “I think I’ll go take a shower, then, if you’re sure you don’t need any help.”

“Fine. Go.” She returned her hands to the sudsy water, her stiff back showing her disgruntlement.

With a hidden grin, Gavin turned, and nearly tripped over the cat. Satan seemed to want to stay right on his heels, no matter where he went or what he did. He said to the cat, “Sorry, no shower for you. Stay here and visit with your new master.”

The cat answered with a grouchy, rusty roar, but he did stay.

Whistling, Gavin went into the bathroom and stripped down. Even with the door closed, he could hear Sara banging the pots and pans around, venting her own frustration no doubt. But that was fine with him. He wanted her so frustrated she wouldn’t be able to resist him when he suggested making their relationship more permanent. He wanted her on the edge, willing to overlook her reservations on marriage in order to get her sexual needs fulfilled.

And to that end, he’d do what he had to do.

After quickly showering, he reached for a towel. Leaving the water running, he pulled the door open and yelled, “Hey, Sara?”

There was a moment of silence, then she stuck her head around the hall. She stared at him, her gaze dropping quickly from his face to his wet chest and then down his belly. She stared at the loosely draped towel wrapped low around his hips and mumbled a crackly, “Hmm?”

“I left my shampoo in a box by the front door.” His smile was innocence personified. “Would you bring it to me, please?”

He watched her swallow, then drag her eyes back to his face. “Shampoo?” she asked, as if in a fog.

“Yeah. I’ve got a preference for my own, if you don’t mind.”

“No. No, I don’t mind.”

As he watched her hurry away, the cat slipped through the door and wove itself around and between his ankles, leaving his damp legs with clinging yellow fur. Gavin pushed the door wider and tried to nudge the cat out. Satan refused to budge.

“Go on, scat.”

The cat hunched back, preparing to leap into Gavin’s arms again.

“No!” Gavin backed away, holding the towel with one hand and shooing the cat with the other. He took three steps into the hall, hoping Satan would follow.

“Here you go.”

The sound of Sara’s breathless voice brought him back around. She held out the bottle of shampoo while staring at his legs. Gavin deliberately widened his stance, letting the towel part just a bit, then saw her eyes flare.

He saluted her with the bottle. “I appreciate it, honey. Thanks.”

“Uh…you’re welcome.”

It was dirty pool to use her attraction for his body against her, but he would do it all the same. He started to stretch, raising one arm over his head and feeling much like a determined exhibitionist. He was just getting into the game, appreciating Sara’s attentiveness, when he felt Satan’s front paws land solidly against his backside, throwing him off balance. Gavin jerked forward, almost stumbling into Sara, then turned with a yelp when Satan began contracting his claws in his butt.

The problem, the way Gavin figured it, wasn’t that the cat had inadvertently scratched him. It was that as he’d turned, Satan hadn’t released his hold and as a result the cat’s claws were now snagged in the towel, leaving Gavin bare-assed, with only the top corner of the towel preserving his frontal modesty. What was that about best laid plans?

Sara was no help at all; she was too busy ogling.

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