"The Magical Christmas Cat" - читать интересную книгу автора (N N N, S S S, McCarthy Erin, Jones Linda Winstead, Leigh Lora)

Chapter 7

They arrived at her apartment a few minutes after six. "I'll shower and change quickly," she told him as she unlocked the door and entered.

"Can I use your shower after?" He lifted up the suit bag he'd carried inside. "I got a packmate to drop by my house and bring this to the picnic. Want to make a good first impression on your folks."

Her stomach sank. "It probably won't make any difference."

"I told you, don't worry." Draping the suit bag over the back of her sofa, he prowled over. "Go, shower." It was a whisper that im­plied all sorts of sinful things. "I'll just sit out here and imagine the droplets racing over your skin, touching you . . . stroking you."

She felt her legs tremble. "Come in with me." It was the boldest invitation she'd ever made.

He smiled. "I plan to. But not today." He brushed his lips over hers. "When I shower with you, I don't want a time limit."

"Oh." Her mind bombarded her with images of the undoubtedly delicious things he'd do to her in the shower. "I should go . . ."

He rubbed a thumb over her bottom lip before shaking his head and pulling back. "Go, before I forget my good intentions. We'd never make it to the dinner then."

She hesitated.

He tapped her lightly on the bottom. "Don't even try it. I'm meeting your parents." So he could look them in the eye and let them know that regardless of what they thought of him, he was now in their daughter's life, and they had to deal with it. No more blind dates.

"Bossy." Annie shot him a scowl but went into the bedroom to grab her stuff.

She was going to be all hot and wet and naked soon.

"Christ." Shoving his hands through his hair, he tried to get the hard thrust of his cock to settle down. It refused. Especially since he could hear the rustle of cloth sliding over skin, of boots hitting tile, of lace being peeled off. . . or maybe that was his imagination.

But he definitely heard the shower come on. Groaning, he began to pace around the room, distracting himself by looking at Annie's things. Aside from books, she had several holoframes on the walls. Family photos, he guessed, noting her resemblance to the older woman in the central portrait. The man in the photo—her father, he assumed—was smiling genially, but there was something about him that struck the cat as distant.

The shower shut off.

"Shower's free!" came the call a few minutes later.

He gave her another couple of minutes to close herself in the bedroom, not sure he'd be able to resist if he saw her swathed in the tempting impermanence of an easily removable towel. When he entered the small, tiled enclosure at last, it was to find it steamy with the lavish scent of some feminine lotion. But the soap, he was glad to see, was nothing too girly. A man had to have standards, he thought, and programmed the shower to freezing. It finally succeeded in cooling down his body.

Annie sat in Zach's car in her parents' drive and twisted her fingers in her lap. "I've never brought a man home," she blurted out. "It didn't seem worth the fuss."

"I'm flattered."

She frowned at him. "Don't tease me now." But she felt her nerves loosen a fraction. "Come on, we might as well get this over with." Opening the door, she stepped out.

They met at the front of the vehicle. "At least it's a nice night," she said.

Zach put an arm around her with the lazy grace of the leopard he was. "I like your dress," he murmured, playing his fingertips over her hip.

"Oh." Her nerves frayed again, for a different reason. She'd chosen the black crossover dress because it would give her mother nothing to complain about. But Zach's words made her realize it might actually qualify as sexy. "You don't think I'm not thin enough for it?"

"I'll tell you tonight . . . after I unwrap you." He made her sound like a present.

She felt her eyes widen, her pulse jump. "Behave."

"Do I still get to unwrap you?"

A moment of silence, the night sky cut with shards of glittering diamond.

"Yes." She wanted to dance with the wildness in him, wanted to feel what it was to be treated like a beautiful, sensual woman. But more, she wanted to lie with this man who'd already made a place for himself in her heart.

She knew she was about to break one of her most fundamental rules in deepening this relationship, in putting her heart on the line, but she also knew that if she didn't love Zach, she'd regret it for the rest of her life. Perhaps, she thought for the first time, perhaps her mother's choices hadn't been as simple as the child in Annie had always believed. Perhaps with that one man who mattered, there was no choice, no protecting yourself against the inevitable end of the dream. "Yes," she said again. "You get to unwrap me."

"Then I'll be on my best behavior." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Let's go, Angel."

She was already used to the nickname. Strange as it was, it felt as if he'd been calling her that forever . . . as if it was right. Walking up to the door, she held that sense of Tightness to her like a talis­man. "Here we go." She pressed the doorbell.

Her mother opened it a couple of seconds later. Dressed in a severe black dress accented with a discreet string of pearls, her dark hair twisted into a sleek knot, Kimberly Kildaire looked what she was—a successful, sophisticated, professional. No one could've guessed at the deep vulnerability that Annie knew lay beneath the polished surface.

"Angelica." Her mother leaned forward to allow Annie to peck her on the cheek.

After drawing back, she said, "Mom, this is Zach Quinn."

Her mother's expression didn't change, but Annie knew that Kimberly would have noted everything about the man by her side, from his black suit, to his sleek silver belt buckle, to his crisp white shirt. Open at the collar, it looked both formal and relaxed. She'd about swallowed her tongue when she'd walked out of the bedroom and seen him waiting for her by the door. Zach wild was enough to blow her mind, but Zach playing at being tame . . . wow.

"Mr. Quinn," her mother now said, holding out her hand—Professor Kildaire might not think particularly highly of change­lings, but no one would ever criticize her manners.

"Mrs. Kildaire."

Releasing his hand, Kimberly stepped back. "Do come in." She led them through the hallway and into the sunken living room off to the right.

There were far more people mingling below than Annie had expected. "I thought this was supposed to be a small dinner?"

Her mother's smile did nothing to warm the cool disapproval in her eyes. "I invited some university people. I thought your . . . friend would feel more comfortable if it wasn't just family."

It was a very subtle insult. Professor Markson was worthy of a family dinner. Zach wasn't. Temper spiked, not so much at the slight against Zach—he was tough enough to take care of himself—but because Annie couldn't believe her mother would try to sabotage her and Zach's relationship with such calculated rudeness.

But before she could say something she might not have been able to take back, Zach squeezed her hip lightly, and said, "I'm honored you went to so much trouble to put me at ease." His voice was smooth whiskey and effortless warmth. "I know how close An­nie is to you, so I'm delighted by the welcome."

Annie saw her mother's expression falter for a second, but Kim­berly Kildaire was nothing if not quick on her feet. "Of course. Come, I'll introduce you." She led them into the knot of curious people below.

Caroline was the first to come over. Though she told herself not to, Annie found herself tensing up as she waited to see Zach's reac­tion to her cousin. Caro was one of her favorite people in the world. She was also quite impossibly stunning. Annie had never before been jealous of the way her cousin drew men to her like moths to a flame—no man had ever mattered enough. But Zach did.

She saw him smile at Caroline's exuberant welcome . . . but it was the same kind of smile as he'd shared with his sisters. "Con­gratulations on your baby," he said, his voice gentle.

Caroline beamed. "Can you tell? I'm not showing yet. I can't wait to get big and Madonna-like! Oh, and I want the glow every­one talks about—I so want the glow!"

Zach's lips quirked. "I don't think you need to worry. You al­ready glow."

Caroline laughed. "You're a charmer, aren't you?" She looked to Annie. "I like him, Annie. He'll give you beautiful babies."

"Caro!" Annie didn't know whether to blush or thank her cousin for breaking the ice so completely. Several people laughed, and Zach sent her a teasing smile, his eyes heating in a way they hadn't for Caro.

"How did you know?" her mother asked pointedly. "Caroline is right—she's barely showing. Even most women don't notice."

"Her scent, Mrs. Kildaire," Zach replied with open candor. "Changelings always know when a woman has a life within her."

"A breach of privacy, wouldn't you say?" Kimberly raised an eyebrow.

Zach shrugged. "It's simply another sense. Ours just happens to be keener in that area—no different from an M-Psy being able to see inside the body, or you yourself being able to tell her condition because you know the subtle physical signs."

Annie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from interfering. Caro took the chance to whisper, "Oh, he's good. Wherever did you find Mr. Scrumptious?"

Annie threw her a quelling look. "Where's Araan?"

"My darling husband is driving back from a meeting in Tahoe. He'll probably make it in time for dessert." She smiled. "I know what you're having for dessert."

Annie felt Zach's hand move on her waist. It was obvious he'd heard Caro's outrageous prediction, and that he liked the idea. However, when she looked up, it was to find his attention not on her, but on someone else—a stranger her mother had just waved over.

"This is Professor Jeremy Markson," she was saying. "This is Annie's . . . friend, Zach Quinn."

Given that her own temper was close to igniting, Annie figured Zach would blow this time—he'd been blunt in saying he didn't share. But, to her surprise, he remained completely relaxed.

"Markson." Zach inclined his head in masculine acknowledg­ment. "What's your field, professor?"

"Molecular physics," Markson said. "It's a fascinating subject. Do you know anything about it?"

Arrogant twerp, Annie thought. "No, I don't, Professor," she said before Zach could respond. "Perhaps you'd care to en­lighten me."

The professor blinked, as if he hadn't expected her to speak. "Well, I—"

"Tell them about your latest project," her mother encouraged, shooting daggers at Annie.

Markson nodded, and off he went. Annie's eyes began to glaze over after the first few minutes. "That's so interesting," she said, when he paused for breath. "Do you work with my father?"

"Yes." He beamed.

"Where is Dad?" Annie asked, deliberately changing the focus of the conversation.

Her mother waved a hand. "You know your father. He's prob­ably lost in research." The words were light, but Annie heard the hurt Kimberly had never quite stopped feeling. "He promised he'd try to be here by the time dinner was served."

Which meant, Annie knew, that they'd be lucky if they saw him tonight. "What's on the menu?" she asked with a smile, hating that bruised pain in her mother's eyes.

Kimberly brightened. "I made your favorite vegetable dish fo an entree." Her words were sincere, her love open. "Don't start, Caro," she said, when Caroline opened her mouth. "I made your favorite pie, too."

"That's why you're my bestest aunt."

Thankfully, the conversation stayed light and easy from then on. They were about to move into the dining room when wonder of wonders, her father walked in. Erik Kildaire was dressed in the rumpled clothing of a man for whom looks mattered little, but he seemed to be with them today, rather than in his head.

Her mother's face lit up from within, and Annie smiled. "It's good to see you, Dad," she said, accepting her father's enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. Love swelled in her heart, but it was a love that had learned to be cautious. She'd never had the tangled relationship with her father that she had with her mother, but that was probably because he'd never been around to argue with her. A different kind of hurt altogether.

"And who's this?" he asked, looking Zach up and down while sliding one arm around her mother's waist.

Annie made the introductions, but her father's reaction was not what she'd expected.

"Zach Quinn," he muttered. "That's familiar. Zach Quinn. Zach—" The fog cleared. "The same Zachary Quinn who published a study on the wildcat population of Yosemite last year?"

Beside her, Zach nodded. "I'm surprised you recognized my name."

"Not my department," her father acknowledged, "but my good friend Ted—Professor Ingram, was very excited by it. Said it was the best doctoral thesis he'd seen his entire tenure."

Zach had a Ph.D.?

Annie could've kicked him for keeping that from her, especially when her mother shot her a look of accusation. Thankfully, her dad said something at that moment and drew her mom away, leaving Zach and Annie alone for the first time since their arrival. She raised an eyebrow. "Keeping secrets?"

He had the grace to look a little sheepish. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone would realize or even care. You told me they were math and physics people."

"My father knows everything about everyone. And a Ph.D. is a Ph.D.." She rapped a fist gently against his chest. "If you'd told me you had one, I wouldn't have worried so much about my mother's reaction—even she can't argue against a doctorate."

"Your mother's not the one whose opinion I care about. Does the Ph.D. matter to you, Annie?" The look in his eyes was guarded.

The hint of unfamiliar vulnerability caught her unawares. "Zach, if degrees mattered to me," she said honestly, "I'd have married the triple-Ph.D.'d physicist my mother picked out for me when I was twenty-two. Or the MD with more letters after his name than the alphabet. Or the multipublished grand pooh-bah who stared at nothing but my breasts for the entire meal."

His smile creased his cheeks. "The man had excellent taste."

"Stop making me blush." But she wasn't, not any longer—some­how, Zach Quinn had earned the trust of her vulnerable feminine heart.

It startled her, made her afraid.

But before the dark emotion could grow, Zach bent to brush his lips gently over hers, acting in the way of changelings, not caring that they had an audience. When he drew away, she leaned into him, fear—if not forgotten—then at least temporarily caged.