Cattitude (29 page)

The same impulse that made Caroline shove
Emery on the trail and throw the cat at the speeding car came over
Caroline again, too powerful to resist.

She put out her foot.

Sorcha tripped forward and reached out, her
palms slapping onto the tile, protecting her face.

“I’m so sorry.” Caroline bent over her.
“Here, let me help you up.”

The look of hate Sorcha turned on her made
Caroline back up, her hand against her throat. The cat squeaked
again.

Caroline tilted her face down and stared deep
into the cat’s eyes. Unease made her arms prickle with goose bumps.
Why did the cat’s eyes look so human? There was a spark inside the
green depths, as if the cat knew exactly what she had done and what
she was thinking. As if she remembered what Caroline had done to
her last time...and planned to do again.

Only the next time, she’d make sure the cat
would never walk into Max’s life again.

***

Looking at the beautiful blond woman, Sorcha
doubted her eyes. Did this woman who looked like she should be on a
magazine cover really trip Belle? Why would she do that?

The answer came, not in a psychic flash but
by adding the leg trip to the cat toss. The reason she was in this
four-legged, furry body.

Aware of Belle scrambling to her feet, Sorcha
kept her gaze on the blond. The woman bent toward Sorcha, her hands
out, reaching for her. Sorcha hissed and backed up, her claws
extending.

The door opened. A redhead walked in,
laughing, a dark haired man behind her.

Sorcha scratched the blond’s wrist. The blond
gave an ear-hurting screech. Jackknifing to a standing position,
she cradled her wrist in her palm.

“Belle! You’re back!” The redhead’s voice
gurgled like a fountain. Her arms outstretched, she swooped toward
Sorcha.

Sorcha dashed beneath her arms, around her
legs and out the open door.

“Belle!” the redheaded woman cried. “Belle,
come back!”

Sorcha ran faster. The redhead seemed happy
to see her, but the blond wanted to kill her.

She was halfway to the thicket of trees.
Behind her, she heard the redhead wail, “Why? Why did Belle run
from...” before her voice grew too distant to hear.

Gwen,
Sorcha thought.
I want
Gwen.

She reached the tree line, her body shaking.
She’d cheated death twice. Once with Deavers and once after the car
accident. But everyone knew what happened the third time.

Rain poured down, pelting through her fur,
soaking her small body. She stopped beneath an umbrella of thick
branches. After shaking off droplets of rain, she burrowed under a
pile of leaves. Even if someone came out looking for her, they
wouldn’t find her here unless they stepped on her.

She was safe. For now.

***

Max shrugged into his jacket. In the kitchen
around him, Caroline and Tory jabbered. Not Sorcha. She wouldn’t
look at him and he didn’t know why—not after the night they’d
shared. He’d woken this morning determined to talk her into leaving
with him, but he didn’t need to be whacked on the head with a
two-by-four to guess that wasn’t going to happen. Morning-after
regrets were written all over her downturned face.

He ignored the sinking feeling in his chest,
as if his heart was drowning in a flood of hurt. Last night he’d
been riding the waves, the champion of the world. Today he was
going under for the third time.

The hell with it. He had a cat to find.

“I tried to hold her for you,” Caroline said.
“And she scratched me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at the thin
line of blood on her wrist. “Thanks for trying to hold her.” He
looked at Sorcha. “And thanks for bringing her in.”

Sorcha glanced from Caroline to him, her
mouth twisted into a sneer. He had no clue what he’d said to get
that reaction.

He strode to the door. Women
.
Rain or
no rain, he’d be glad to get outside in the fresh air.

“She’s not going to let you find her,” Sorcha
said, her voice more clipped and deeper than usual. “Not unless she
wants to.”

“Belle’s my cat. Of course she’ll come to
me.”

“Wait until the rain stops,” Caroline said.
“You’ll catch a cold.”

“Phil can go with you.” Tory jumped for the
phone on the counter. “He’s an FBI agent. He’ll find Belle.”

“I don’t think finding cats is part of their
training,” Max said, unable to suppress a flash of irritation.

“Give him a chance. You want to find Belle,
don’t you?”

“What’s up?” Ted said from the entryway, his
voice thick with sleep. “Hey, no one made coffee yet?”

Max jerked open the door and strode out.
There was a kernel of comfort in their care, but mostly there was a
ton of frustration. This morning he would’ve liked them all
gone—except for Sorcha. And Belle.

Why the hell had she ran? That wasn’t the
Belle he knew.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the
Brewers game?” Tory asked. She stood in the open back door.
Standing outside the door behind her, Phil glanced at his
watch.

Belle noticed he avoided looking straight at
her. Even when he’d said he was her fiancé his gaze didn’t meet
hers. Was that a guilty conscience? She’d heard of guilt, although
she’d never experienced it herself. Unlike cats, humans had
something in their heads telling them not to do things they did
anyway.

Like what she did with Max last night. Though
when she was with him everything had been wonderful. Just thinking
about it, her human body warmed. Only present company kept her from
wanting to do it again.

The questions and doubts had besieged her
afterward, like a swarm of fleas.

“I’m staying home,” she said.

“The game might jog your memory,” Caroline
said at the stove where she was warming her soup.

Belle didn’t turn her head. Caroline had left
this afternoon. Belle had hoped with her gone, Sorcha would return.
But even though Belle went outside again and called and called, the
rain soaking her, Sorcha wouldn’t come to her. Two hours ago,
Caroline had come back with a carton of chicken soup and brownies,
ruining her day even more.

“I’m staying,” Belle said flatly. Everyone
wanted her to leave. Everyone could go out and get bitten by rabid
dogs. Well, not Tory and Max. Maybe not Phil, because Tory liked
him. But if Caroline met a pack of rabid dogs, for once Belle would
be rooting for the dogs.

“Have fun.” Tory waved and bounced out of the
house.

Phil gave Belle a quick glance. His mouth was
turned down and his eyes looked sad, like Brad on
The Love
Chronicles
when Lorraine died in the plane accident.

“Be careful,” Phil said, then he yanked the
door closed as if he couldn’t shut it fast enough.

Shaking her head, Belle peered out the square
window of the back door. Although the rain had stopped, the sky was
still gray and gloomy. She considered searching for Sorcha again,
but Sorcha knew where she was. If she wanted to find Belle, she
would come, wouldn’t she?

Belle sighed. Inside the cat body lurked a
human mind, and who knew what a human might do?

Ted poked his head into the kitchen. “I’m
going to work.”

Belle mumbled goodbye. Caroline waved like a
cheerleader Belle had watched on TV. “Don’t work too hard,” she
said, smiling so wide her gums showed.

Belle wished she had hairballs again. She
wanted to hack one up on Caroline’s shoes.

Max walked into the kitchen. At first Belle
didn’t want to look at him, then she thought of Phil and his
shifting gaze. She raised her chin and her eyes. Max stared at her,
his mouth thin as if he weren’t happy with her. She lifted her chin
higher.

“Just in time for my chicken soup,” Caroline
said, bringing two bowls to the table. She patted Max’s chair.
“Sit, both of you. You two were asking for a case of the sniffles,
searching for the cat in the pouring rain. I made this just for
you. It’ll knock any nasty cold germs right on their heinies.”

Humming, she went back to the stove to ladle
out another bowl of soup.

Max sat slowly, not taking his gaze from
Belle’s face. Keeping her chin up, she lowered into the chair
across from him.

Caroline carried another bowl of soup to the
table, still humming. She sat between Belle and Max. “Eat,” she
said to Belle. “I guarantee it will make you a new woman.”

A new woman? Belle wanted to be the old cat.
Didn’t she? Doubts lingered in her mind. When the rain had
interrupted her exchange with Sorcha, a part of her had rejoiced. A
big part of her.

Feeling Caroline’s stare on her, she blinked.
Something about the blond woman’s smile made the hair on her neck
lift.

She rose from the table, walked to the
cupboard and grabbed a can of tuna.

“What are you doing?” Caroline’s shrill voice
hurt Belle’s ears.

Belle put the can in the opener and slammed
down on the lever. The can opener whirred. When Belle heard the
click, she pressed release, grasped the can and turned around.

Caroline stood in front of her, less than two
feet away. Her shoulders were pulled up, tensed. Her eyes looked
anxious, like Ted’s the time he thought he was going to get a bad
grade in college.

“I got the soup especially for you.” Caroline
lifted her hands like a begging dog. “The least you can do is try
it.”

“I don’t like chicken soup.”

“You remembered that? What else do you
recall?”

Instead of answering, Belle tipped the can.
Tuna-smelling liquid spilled out onto Caroline’s shirt and
pants.

Screeching, she jumped backward. She pulled
the shirt away from her chest. Her cheeks turned pinker than
Belle’s painted toenails and she whipped around to Max. “She did
that on purpose.”

Belle walked past her and sat at the table.
She pushed aside the bowl of soup and set the tuna in its
place.

“You could at least say you were sorry,” Max
said.

“I’m sorry.” She gazed at him and not
Caroline. Then she said the same thing Gloria on
The Love
Chronicles
said after she ran over her husband with her SUV.
“It was an accident.”

His mouth didn’t smile, but the skin around
his eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “If you’d done it on
purpose, it wouldn’t’ve been nice.”

She nodded. Exactly.

“I’ll feel better if you try my soup,”
Caroline said.

“Try the soup.” Max shrugged, the crinkles
leaving his eyes. “It won’t hurt.”

“Okay.” She used the spoon to scoop up some
tuna. “After I’m done with my tuna.”

“I have to change my clothes.” Caroline
grabbed a napkin and patted it on her blue shirt and matching
pants.

“Tory might have something to fit you,” Max
said.

“If I were four inches shorter.” Caroline
glided over to Max and curved her hand over his shoulder. “But
thanks for offering. You’re always so caring. Luckily I have a
spare outfit in my office. I’ll be back before my soup cools.” She
looked at Belle. “You’ll be sure to eat the soup, won’t you?”

Belle nodded. Anything to make Caroline hurry
and go away.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Since when had Caroline been so
concerned with what she ate?

With a tight nod, Caroline hurried from the
kitchen.

As soon as she left, Max leaned forward.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Belle swallowed a bite of tuna. “I was
looking for Sor— Belle.”

“You waited until I came back and then you
went out.”

“That’s how it is. I go and you stay. Or I
stay and you go.”

“That’s not how it has to be.”

“I can’t leave my home.”

“This isn’t your home.”

She bent her head and ate. What could she
tell him? The truth?

“I understand you’re scared—”

“You don’t understand a thing,” she said, and
her voice came out raw and shaking at the edges.

“Then tell me.”

“You tell me. What’s out there that’s not in
here?” She gestured toward the window.

“Freedom.”

“Maybe my freedom is right here.” She tapped
her knuckles on the table. “Knowing I’m right where I should
be.”

“This isn’t your home, and you’re not
agoraphobic.” He stared into her eyes. “Considering your
background, I can see why that is.”

She frowned. “Background?” What about
Sorcha’s background?

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. For
whatever reasons, the house is more important to you than anything
else. I’m not going to try to change your mind. Let’s not talk
about it anymore.”

A cry wanted to work its way out of her
throat but she swallowed it. Though she’d lost her appetite, she
took another spoonful of tuna. Max started eating his soup.

When Caroline returned shortly, wearing
turquoise pants and a pink and turquoise top, their bowls were
clean.

“You’re done already?” Caroline beamed at
them.

Belle stood abruptly. “I’m going to my room
to read,” she said. A yawn overtook her, and she put her hand over
her mouth because that’s what people did, even though she didn’t
understand why. What was wrong with showing her teeth?

“Enjoy yourself,” Caroline said cheerily.

Max didn’t say anything.

Belle waited until she was in the hall before
she replied too softly for Caroline or Max to hear. “Bite me.”

***

Phil was tortured. The dome was closed and
Milwaukee’s Miller Stadium smelled like beer and brats. Beside him,
Tory was yelling louder than the drunk in front of them. Phil
didn’t know what the score was, because he kept looking at Tory
instead of the field. She was beautiful, funny, sexy, loved
baseball, and her body was toned sweeter than any piano.

And he was lying to her and her brother and
Sorcha. Again. One damned lie after another.

Tory jumped up, slapped him on the shoulder
and shouted. The crowd erupted around them, a roar shaking the
stands and drowning out his thoughts. He glanced down. One of the
Brewers was running to home, another to first. The left fielder
caught the ball. Threw it toward home. The catcher raised his
hands. The ball arced through the air toward him.