Page 6 of Swept Away

Holding my bathrobe together, I pace across the street.

I hate that he looks like that, all sexy and handsome, and I look like this, all disheveled, in no way presentable.

It shouldn’t matter, although it does.

It makes me so damn nervous.

2

GEMMA

“What’s his name?”he asks when I pull up in front of him and realize he is so much taller and bigger than I am.

“He doesn’t have a name,” I say, taking the kitten from him and pretending I’m not shaken by the undercurrent of electricity zapping through me when I touch his hand.

Telling him that I called him Maverick feels like letting out too much. That should remain my secret.

The man’s eyes stay on my face as I grab the kitten and tuck it against my chest, struggling to avoid his stare.

He smells good, and he hasn’t been drinking beer, as a sweet and minty aroma drifts from his lips.

A hint of aftershave and smoke dances across his skin.

His expression is reserved when I lift my eyes. And for a second, I’m at a loss for words.

I intensely dislike having to turn my back to him and leave without learning more about his presence here.

“He’s a stray,” I say when he looks at me as if thinking about something other than the cat or the street or me looking like a lunatic while chasing the kitten across the road.

“How come?” he asks in a clipped voice, and a kernel of awareness trickles through me when I realize he’s prolonging this moment for some reason.

I don’t know what he wants me to say, so I shrug. Aren’t I the greatest conversationalist?

He drags his eyes over the street.

“I don’t see any strays on the street.”

I shrug again.

“I think he’s a stray. No one’s claimed him or looked for him. I was trying to get him off the tree when he fell. I wanted to catch him, but he never comes to me the way he comes to you.”

His eyes smile as he nods in approval before slightly tipping his chin toward the cat.

“He seems fine now. You should give him a name and just keep him.”

My cheeks burn.

I wanted to do that so many times, but I thought he belonged to someone living on my street, and didn’t want to get in hot water with my neighbors.

Besides, it wasn’t only up to me.

I look at the cat.

Now he’s fine, the little devil.

That wasn’t the case moments ago when he was vocalizing in the tree and pretty much flipping the bird at me when I tried to make him climb down.

The kitten tips his face up and soaks me in with his blue eyes, purring like the true matchmaker that he is. As if his whole purpose in life is to make me get to know the man in front of me a little better.