since the accident. There was yet another in a long line of casseroles molding in his refrigerator while Jay tried to relearn cooking for himself blindfolded. At least he was getting pretty good at scrambled eggs, the middles only a little runny and the edges singed. God knew what the stove top looked like though. “So, besides rescuing the local flora and fauna, what brings you to this part of town?”
“I never got around to thanking you for the flowers you sent to the hospital…or for rescuing me, for that matter.”
He shrugged, wishing he could see her. But in his mind’s eye he pictured her collar-length blond hair curving softly against her jaw and eyes that special shade of blue that reminded him of springtime wild-flowers. “All in a day’s work.”
“The bouquet, too?”
“Yeah, well, I thought you might need a pick-me-up.”
“I did, more than you could know.” Her voice dipped to a low, husky note that was little more than a warm breath of air rippling across the hairs on his bare arms. “It was very sweet of you.”
“How are you doing since Paseo del Real’s little trembler?”
“Great, great. No problems at all.”
He caught a touch of agitation in her voice as if she didn’t want to talk about the earthquake and its aftermath. “So, I haven’t seen you back on TV yet.” Or in recent days, heard her, since he couldn’t see a damn thing.
“I’m, um, on a bit of a sabbatical.”
“Oh.” He wondered what the hesitation in her voice meant.
“So, are you going to invite me in for a glass of ice tea, or something?” she asked.
“Tea?” His forehead pulled tight as he did a mental inventory of his pantry. “I’ve got beer.” A beverage he could find in the dark.
“Even better.”
She hooked her arm through his and he felt the soft swell of her breast brush against his skin. Heat simmered through him, making him ache for her. “Guess I can leave the rest of the mowing till later.”
She laughed, warm and seductive. “I’m sure the neighbors will appreciate that.”
Her shoes made clicking noises on the walkway. High heels, he concluded. And there was a subtle rustle of fabric with each step she took. A silk skirt, he thought. Or maybe soft cotton. His fingers itched to touch the material, to feel the texture and imagine the vivid color—cornflower blue to match her eyes or bright salmon to set off her honey-blond hair.
The perfume was hers, he decided, the scent lightly riding on each molecule of air he breathed, and he inhaled deeply.
He sensed by the slight lift of her arm when she reached the porch steps. A beat behind her, he followed her up the stairs without falling on his face—a significant accomplishment these days as attested to by the tender scrapes on his shins.
Thank God the doctor said the eye patches would go in three more weeks or so. By then he’d have bruises on top of his bruises. Meantime, he wasn’t willing to sit around on his behind doing nothing. He wasn’t going to be a cripple.
With a minimum of fumbling, he opened the screen door for Kim.
She stepped past Jay into the house, her eyes taking a moment to adjust from bright sunshine to the dimmer light of the living room. An overstuffed couch and chair, worn but comfortable-looking, faced a small fireplace flanked by a bookcase on one side and a big-screen TV on the other. Magazines were stacked neatly on a coffee table along with a remote tuner and a half-finished mug of coffee that looked like it had been forgotten or misplaced several days ago.
A big tiger-striped cat eyed Kim curiously from the center cushion of the couch then rose, stretched and yawned.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jay said. “I’ll get the beer.”
“Need some help?”
“Naw, I can manage.” He walked through the arched doorway of the dining room, swerved to miss the chair at the end of the table only to bump into a second chair. He swore.
Kim winced. “You sure I can’t—”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”
Kim got the distinct impression Jay was among the most stubborn men she’d ever met.
The cat eased off the couch, his bulk giving him the appearance of a yellow bowling ball with stubby legs, and followed Jay toward the kitchen.
Slipping her scarf off her head and looping it around her neck, Kim dropped her purse on the couch, deciding to follow the cat.
“What’s your cat’s name?”
“Cat.” He opened the refrigerator, an older model, and unerringly took two bottles of beer from the top shelf.
“Cat? That’s it?”
“He probably has another name but I don’t know what it is. He was a stray that just sort of moved in on me and he didn’t have a collar on or anything.” Closing the refrigerator door with his elbow, he asked, “You want a glass?”
“No, the bottle’s fine.” There was already a collection of unwashed dishes on the tile counter and Kim didn’t want to add to the clutter. “How long ago did he show up?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Three or four years ago, I guess.”
She stifled a laugh. “And you still just call him Cat?”
“That’s what he answers to.” He handed her the beer.
She took it firmly in her grasp so he’d know she had hold of it, and her fingers brushed his in the process. An electric warmth skittered up her arm in the instant before he released his grip.
“Thanks,” she whispered, startled by the powerful sensation of such a brief contact. She wished she could see his eyes behind his glasses, the distinctive copper-brown she remembered so clearly. Unfathomable eyes that gave away nothing. “I was sorry to hear about your accident.”
He paused in the middle of twisting the top off his beer. “A temporary problem. No big deal.”
Assuming, according to Chief Gray, that Jay didn’t manage to kill himself before he got his eyesight back. “I’m sure that’s true.”
He finished twisting the top off and took a swig. “I guess the explosion at the plastics company made the news, huh?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been watching TV much lately.”
“Then how did you—”
“Your boss dropped by to see me. Chief Gray thought—”
“The chief? Geez, what is this? A sympathy visit?” He whirled, his demeanor angry, and he marched across the room to the counter. “I don’t need your pity, Kim.”
She could understand
