Page 19 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

“Nobody is stashed anywhere. But if you’re volunteering, I’ve heard some interesting techniques…”

“You are quite possibly the oddest woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m also the oddest woman I’ve ever met, too, so we have something in common.” I slipped Princess another fishy treat and stood to dust off my hands. “I’m not going to murder you. Or have sex with you.” Inwardly, I sighed in despair. “You’re safe in all possible ways.”

“Can you harvest someone’s organs without murdering them?”

“Sure, depending on if you’re talking about something nonessential like a pancreas. But that would take the skill of a surgeon.” I cocked my head. “Or a vet.”

“Animals and humans are a bit different.”

“Tomato, tomahto. We could always work as a harvesting team. The 9-to-5 has to be such drudgery sometimes.”

“I’m mostly okay with it, although 9-to-5 is a dream. What about you?” He eased a hip on the arm of the couch, keeping an eye on Lucky while he spoke to me.

His cat had belly-shimmied forward to hang off the table as he attempted to reach the one treat Princess hadn’t snatched yet with his big Polydactyl paw. No wonder his slash on my fingers had hurt like a bitch.

Extra toes.

“I work from home.”

His jet-black eyebrow shot for his hairline. “Just so you know, I left your contact details with my buddy, who’s a cop. You won’t get away with it.”

I laughed richly, far too delighted with this guy, considering I was standing around in a robe too inclined to reveal parts of myself I wanted to stay hidden. Like my very full thighs and calves that would never fit in trendy leather boots unless I used lubricant in a way it had never been intended for.

Or my ample hips. And ample everything else.

At least I could be sure my robe was tied tightly enough he wouldn’t be catching a glimpse of my triple-D’s.

“I don’t like to get my hands dirty, Doctor.”

“Pity.” He stepped closer. “I love getting dirty.”

FIVE

I wasno expert on the subject, at least personally, but I was pretty sure we were currently experiencing the phenomenon known in romance novels as sexual tension.

With a capital S and T and possibly more glistening.

Which made us very bad pet parents, because we were not watching our charges due to the sudden activity in our nether regions.

Distracted by the treat, Lucky lurched forward at the same moment Princess did. One of them shrieked and then fur went flying in every direction as they rolled end over end and crashed into a side table, upending my quarter-full hard cider and my laptop.

Shit.

I gasped, stunned into inaction, unsure whether to save my laptop or my cat first, since she had claws and teeth and my laptop had no protection against an unexpected bath.

Especially since—oh God, no—my screen was still open to my edits. Because a freaking moron who looked just like me had opted to make my screen stay active for twenty minutes to account for my occasional pacing while I was working.

Big mistake. Huge.

Clint nimbly snatched up his large, squirming, growling bundle of joy with one arm and my laptop out of the splotch of cider it had landed in with the other hand.

I tried to snatch it back but he simply held it over my head. I was tall for a woman, but Clint was a mountain. Apparently, he also could not feel pain because Lucky was currently going to town on his arm as if he was a leather-jacket-clad steak sandwich, and he barely reacted as he read my screen.

Out loud. With inflection and dramatic pauses and an arched brow that could’ve impressed a stage actor.

“Rina rolled over in bed, her body loose and sated for now. Sven had put her through her paces—twice. That man owned her. Ruled her. Her tits and pussy and even her ass were all his for the taking. And he had. Oh, he had.” Clint shifted his smoldering green gaze to my face. “Rina sounds like an adventurous woman. What side of that line do you stand on?”

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