Page 23 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

He watched a hint of color seep into her cheeks, and he wondered if she was thinking about the last time he’d been here with his tool belt. He considered making another suggestive comment when a flash of black and white tore through the room.

“Maple, no!”

The animal—was it a skunk or a cat?—snatched something off the floor and streaked around the corner, its fluffy tail trailing behind like a taunting battle flag.

Allie took off running, which was quite the feat in ridiculously high heels. Jack had no idea what was going on, but he followed anyway.

“What are we chasing?”

“A cat!” Allie yelled back as they tore around a corner and down a hall. “A thieving polydactyl.”

“That sounds like a lesser-known Shakespeare title.”

“The brat stole one of my pages.”

“An irreplaceable page from a bestselling novel you’re writing?”

“What? No, it’s just something I need.”

The fluffy black tail disappeared around another corner and through a doorway, and Allie scrambled after the kleptomaniac creature.

Jack followed suit, skidding to a halt as he saw Allie down on her hands and knees beside a bed.

She was peering under the dust ruffle, and Jack knew he should probably stop staring at her ass and help.

Any minute now. Just one more second and?—

“Come here, you little sneak.”

Jack stepped forward, shaking off the ass-trance. “Want me to grab her from the other side?”

“Sure, or maybe you could just chase her toward me.”

Jack walked around to the other edge of the bed and dropped to his knees, wondering if she felt as awkward as he did about kneeling next to a bed with a person he’d slept with for two years. Probably not. She had other things on her mind, obviously.

He lifted the dust ruffle and peered underneath. A pair of glowing yellow eyes peered back at him, daring him to make a move. The cat clutched a sheet of paper in its teeth, whiskers fanning over the pages like black streaks of ink. The cat stared at him for a few beats, then gave a muffled meow.

“Here, kitty-kitty-kitty,” he coaxed.

“Her name’s Maple.”

“Do you really know all their names now?”

“Not all of them, but she’s got those eyes the color of maple syrup.”

“Ah, I see that now.” Jack reached under the bed and tried to grab the cat. She scooted back and gave another meow, this time dropping the paper.

“Got it!” He snatched the page, sending the cat skittering backward toward the headboard. She gave a halfhearted hiss, then sat back and began to clean her ears with one of her catcher’s-mitt paws.

Jack stood up, ready to walk around the bed and help Allie to her feet again, but he saw she was already standing.

They were separated by the width of a queen-sized mattress, and there was something strangely intimate about it.

Like they were a pair of lovers on the brink of crawling into bed together instead of two exes on their way to a college reunion.

They stared at each other across the mattress, both of them still a little breathless from the chase around the house. Allie looked at him, her palm trailing absently over the blue coverlet.

She was the first to speak. “Sorry about that. Thank you for the help.”

“No problem. Your hair?—”

“Oh, God—did I mess it up? Skye’s going to kill me.” She put her hand up to touch it, and Jack shook his head.

“No, that’s not it. I just meant it’s beautiful. I didn’t notice before, but I’ve never seen you wear it like that before.”

“Oh. Thanks.” A flush crept into her cheeks, and her palm drifted over one of the pillows. Was she thinking the same thing he was? Remembering a different bed, a different reason for the heavy breathing and mussed hair? The way they used to?—

“Can I have it?”

“What?”

Allie stretched her hand out and gave him an expectant look. “My page. The paper the cat stole.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He started to hand it to her, then glanced down at the words.

ORS 98.005 Notice/Report Requirements

Allie stretched out to snatch it out of his hand, but Jack drew it back. He was probably being a nosy asshole, but he was curious.

“‘A person is always required to report found money or property (ORs 98.352 and ORS 98.376) or to pay or deliver unclaimed property to the Department of State Lands, unless the property interest vested prior to August 20, 1957 ...’”

“I was just finding out more about the laws pertaining to found property,” Allie said, interrupting his reading. “It’s no big deal.”

Jack looked up from the words to meet those dark green eyes. “So you’re thinking of reporting the cash to the authorities?”

“Yes. No.” Allie bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re supposed to?”

“I’m not sure yet. The laws are kind of complicated, and I haven’t had time to read all that yet.”

He frowned. “So where’s the money now?”

“Shhh!” She glanced toward the doorway, and Jack glanced over, too.

“Skye’s here?”

“And Wade, too.”

An unwelcome flicker of jealousy burned in his chest, which was stupid. Wade was just a friend. Besides, it’s not like Allie had entered a convent when they split up.

He was still staring at the door like an idiot when he felt Allie tug the paper from his grip. He turned to see her kneeling on the bed in front of him, sliding the paper out of his sweaty fingers.

“Thank you,” she said.

She didn’t move back right away. They were almost nose to nose, and Jack felt something stir inside him at the sight of a beautiful woman in a cocktail dress kneeling in front of him on the blue silk duvet.

She was a little flushed, and he wished like hell he knew what she was thinking.

Her gaze held his, and he could feel her breath coming fast. From chasing the cat or from something else?

He started to reach for her, and her eyes flashed. She licked her lips.

“Ready to go?” She drew the page up between them, the world’s most ineffective shield.

He nodded, not quite ready to break the spell. “I’m ready.”

For what, he had no idea.