Page 6 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)

CHAPTER SIX

Ali noticed a speck of lint on Jessica’s navy jacket shoulder as the woman turned to head downstairs. Her fingers twitched to brush it away, but she stopped herself. Professional boundaries.

Jessica nodded once and strode down the stairs, laptop tucked under her arm. Ali watched her shift into corporate mode—shoulders squaring, expression focusing. Gone was that tiny human flicker she’d seen in the bedroom. Such a shame.

Upstairs, Ali returned to the task at hand: finding Mozart. The nervous tabby had abandoned his spot under the guest bed. She pushed open the adjoining bedroom door and paused as it caught against something soft.

This was Jessica’s room. The bed covers were pulled taut across the mattress, military style, without a single wrinkle. A bath towel lay wedged behind the door. Had Jessica really tried to barricade herself in, to keep the cats out?

This assignment might prove more challenging than anticipated.

Several lint rollers lined the dresser beside a small brown glass bottle with a Tom Ford label. Ali smiled at the evidence of Jessica’s battle against cat hair.

A crash from downstairs froze her mid-observation, followed by a sound she couldn’t immediately identify—something between a gasp and a yelp.

“Ali! HELP!”

The desperation in Jessica’s voice sent Ali racing down the stairs. She skidded to a halt at the dining room entrance.

Jessica Taylor stood on the dining room table in stocking feet. Her dark curls had escaped their sleek bun, cascading around her face. She clutched a folder like a shield in one hand and her phone in the other, arm extended as far from her body as possible.

“What the—” Ali ducked as something large and black-and-white swooped past her, narrowly missing her head. A trail of green slime spattered the wall behind.

“Mr. Darcy,” Jessica hissed, pointing at the black cat who observed from the windowsill, “brought in a bird. A very LARGE bird.”

The creature was substantial. A black-billed magpie with glossy feathers that gleamed blue-black as it circled the room. It clipped a vase that crashed to the floor, then smacked into the wall, leaving a surprised-looking smudge against the magnolia paint before recovering and taking flight again.

“It’s a present,” Ali said, ducking as the magpie made another pass. “Cats bring prey to those they consider family. He’s trying to teach you to hunt.”

“It’s still on speaker,” Jessica whispered, gesturing with her phone. Her eyes were wide, a mix of panic and disbelief that was oddly endearing. “London office. Quarterly review.”

A concerned British voice crackled through the phone. “Ms. Taylor? Is everything alright there?”

“Perfectly fine.” Jessica’s voice rose as the bird came in for a second dive-bomb. She wobbled on one foot, nearly toppling from her perch. “Just a... slight security system malfunction. One moment, please.”

Jessica jabbed at her phone screen repeatedly, missing the mute button. Ali bit her lip to suppress a laugh. The composed investment director who commanded boardrooms was now balanced precariously on a table, fending off a magpie.

“The cat flap.” Ali pointed to the small door in the kitchen window. “He must have brought it in that way.”

“Some gift,” Jessica muttered, then flinched as the magpie swooped again. “Can you get it out?”

“Ms. Taylor?” the voice persisted. “Shall we reschedule?”

Jessica closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “That won’t be necessary. I just need two minutes to address the issue. Please continue reviewing the sustainability metrics.” She finally hit mute and locked eyes with Ali. “Please. Help.”

“I’ll open the windows.” Ali shrugged off her zip-up hoodie. “And guide it out.”

What followed was three minutes of coordinated chaos. Ali waved her hoodie like a matador, steering the frantic magpie toward an open window. Jessica directed operations from her tabletop command center, her vocabulary deteriorating with each swoop of the bird.

“On your left!” she called. “No, your other left! It’s going for the—damn it!”

The magpie, tiring of the game, finally found freedom through an open window. Ali slumped against the wall, breathless and fighting laughter.

Jessica stood frozen on the table. Her hair was tangled around her face, her blouse had pulled free from her skirt, and a small tear marred her stockings. She stared at her muted phone, then at the streaks of bird droppings on the wall, and finally at Ali.

Their eyes locked, and Jessica’s expression shifted from panic to something more complex—a mixture of anger, disbelief, and something Ali couldn’t quite identify. Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and she looked down at her disheveled state.

“I can’t—” she started, her voice tight with barely contained emotion. She made a sound—not a laugh but a short, sharp exhale of sheer incredulity. Her eyebrows shot upward as she gestured at the chaos around them. “This is... this is absolutely...”

She couldn’t seem to find words adequate to the situation.

Instead, she shook her head, a muscle working in her jaw.

For a moment, Ali thought she might explode with anger, but something flickered across Jessica’s face—a flash of bewilderment so genuine that it softened her features despite her obvious frustration.

“Unbelievable,” she finally managed, the word coming out half-strangled. Her expression hovered somewhere between outrage and astonishment, as though she couldn’t quite process that this was her life now.

Mr. Darcy sauntered through the center of the room, tail high, the picture of feline satisfaction.

“You,” Jessica said, pointing at the cat as she climbed carefully from the table, “are on notice.”

The cat blinked slowly, then sat and began cleaning his bottom.

Jessica let out a half comical, half frustrated growl, then tucked escaped curls behind her ear and smoothed her blouse. With each movement, her professional demeanor gradually returned, though a hint of that bewildered disbelief still lingered in her eyes.

“Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Ritchie,” she said, voice steadier now but with an undercurrent of tension. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to convince the London office that I haven’t lost my mind.”

She unmuted the phone. “My apologies for the interruption. Now, regarding the third-quarter projections...”

Ali retreated upstairs, still processing what she’d just witnessed.

She’d expected Jessica to be furious about the disruption, the mess, the embarrassment during an important call.

And she had been—but there had been something else there too.

That flash of vulnerability, that moment of being utterly at a loss, had revealed more about Jessica Taylor than all their previous interactions combined.

She turned back to her furry clients, already looking forward to their next appointment. There was more to Jessica Taylor than the controlled exterior suggested. And Ali found herself curious to discover what else lay beneath.

Vivian Porter, it seemed, had known exactly what she was doing when she engineered this situation.