Page 17 of Under Pressure

I pull into my apartment complex’s parking lot fifteen minutes later, where Tyler’s already waiting, leaning against the back of a beat-up Camry.

“You finally decide to show up?” he asks as I shut my car door and walk over to join him.

“Sorry I don’t drive like a maniac—”

A pitiful meow interrupts us and we both look down, a small orange kitten with beautiful gold eyes at our feet. I glance around but there’s no one else nearby. Where did he come from?

“Hey there, little guy,” Tyler murmurs, bending down to pick up the fluffball. “You lost?”

He holds the cat securely under his arm, gently stroking its fur while making nonsensical noises to it. I cover my mouth with my hands before I let out the squeal that wants to escape. Does he have any idea how incredibly adorable he is right now?

He finally glances up and notices me, his eyes narrowing. “What?” he demands, his voice noticeably lower now talking to me than it was to the cat.

“Nothing.” I smile, stepping in closer so I can pet it too. “Who’s the cutest kitten in the whole world?” I whisper softly. “That’s right, you are.”

He moves the cuddle bug nearer against his chest, shielding it from me. “Don’t baby-talk to it.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “What a hypocrite. You were just doing the same thing.”

“No, I wasn’t.” He glares, daring me to contradict him.

My hands move to my hips. “Then what would you call what you were doing?”

“I was being… reassuring.” He strokes the kitten from ears to tail. “It’s scared,” he whispers softly, just as the tiny fluffball lets out a rumbling purr.

“Do you like it when Tyler pets you?” I say in an even babier voice. He rolls his eyes, but I catch an amused quirk of his lips before he can hide it. I scratch under the cat’s chin and it lifts its head up to give me better access. “Mmm, you like that, don’t you? That feel good?”

“All right, now it’s starting to sound like bedroom talk.”

I laugh and lightly push his shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. You’re such a perv.”

He bends down and groans in my ear, “Mmm, you like that, don’t you?” My breath catches at his sensual tone, that voice I love so much even better up close and personal. Though I know what’s coming next, I still have to bite back a moan as he whispers, “That feel good?”

His eyes are dancing with mirth as he leans back to look at me, his expression sobering once he sees my face. I’ve never been skilled at hiding what I’m feeling. He stares at me, the air between us becoming charged until we’re interrupted by a loud, “Muffin!”

We both swivel our heads in the direction of a large woman running toward us, her gray hair streaming out behind her, the pink housecoat and slippers she’s donning like something out of the 1950s. “Muffin,” she screeches again, waving her arms above her head as if we don’t see her.

Tyler has the sense to wave his free hand in response so she’ll stop yelling across the parking lot, and when she finally approaches, he quickly transfers the cat to her.

“You found my Muffin,” she sobs, pressing her face into the kitten’s fur. It looks at us pitifully, its big eyes pleading for rescue, but she soon has the bundle of fur tucked so securely against her, we’d have no chance of prying it out of her arms. “How can I ever thank you?” she asks, eyeing Tyler in a way that goes beyond appreciative and into lascivious.

He takes a step back so I’m partially shielding him, and I honestly can’t blame him. “No need to thank us,” I tell her, looping my arm through Tyler’s so she’ll be less likely to drag him off to her and Muffin’s lair. “Just glad we could help this little guy.” I reach out to stroke his soft fur one last time.

“I could give you my number if you ever want to stop by and visit Muffin.” She directs this at Tyler, completely ignoring me.

“No, thanks,” he says hastily, steering us toward the apartments until we’re in front of my door.

“What? You don’t want to have aprivatevisit with Muffin?” I whisper as I fish my keys out of my pocket.

“Open the damn door,” he grits out, glancing over his shoulder. “She’s just standing there, watching us.”

“Well, Muffin probably needs a daddy.”

He shudders and unlinks his arm from mine, sliding it across my waist in a possessive hold. His fingers curl around my hip and I freeze in shock, the keys nearly slipping from my hand. “What are you doing?”

“Calm down,” he says easily. “If she thinks we’re a couple, she won’t wait out here in the parking lot to corner me later.”

“Oh, right.”

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