“Florence came over when we got home and helped me set up.” She pointed to a tall, carpet-covered cat stand by the sliding glass doors. At least it had some color, if beige could be called a color. “Florence said cats like high perches, but Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants mostly hides under the sofa.”
“Some cats feel safer in small areas close to the ground.” I spotted an empty cardboard box in the kitchen corner. “Does he play in the box?”
“No, that’s not a toy. It was the emergency litter box. Luckily, he didn’t need it, and we now have the real deal in the master bathroom.”
I smiled. She had so much to learn about cats.
“To cats, all boxes are toys. May I?”
“Sure.”
I carried the box to a different kitchen corner that was visible from the living room and turned it on its side. A paw poked out from underneath the sofa. He was interested.
“You don’t happen to have a blanket for him, do you?” I asked.
She pointed to a pile of folded blankets on the coffee table. “His first Christmas gift from Florence. The green one with red reindeer is his.”
I grabbed the blanket and arranged it so it was partially in the box and spilling out onto the floor. “If you have cat treats, you could put a few in the center of the blanket.”
She did so as I went back to my seat at the counter. “Now what?” she whispered.
“Now we drink some wine, totally ignore him, and wait for him to discover his nest.”
She set the snack bowls on the counter in front of the stools, poured two generous servings of wine into stemless glasses, carried them over, and sat down beside me.
“I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for pointing me to Janie and Florence. If Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants ever warms up to me, it will be because of the advice they gave me, and because you pointed me to them.” She lifted her glass. “Thank you. Again.”
I lifted mine. “Welcome to the building. Again.”
I clinked my glass against hers, and we both took a sip. It was a tasty red wine, full-bodied and dry.
“So, tell me something about yourself,” she said. “Other than being a sports, environment, kid, and animal enthusiast.”
I laughed. “Will does have a tendency to come on a little strong. Part of his charm.”
“I’ll take your word for it about the charm.” She set down her glass. “But you were about to tell me about yourself.”
“Was I?”
I took another sip of wine. When I set down my glass, she poured another portion into it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to get me drunk. Who was I kidding? I didn’t know better. Just because the woman was appealing as all hell didn’t mean I should trust her. But since I’d built up a decent alcohol tolerance over the past two months of pre-wedding celebrations and I didn’t have anywhere to drive that night, I was willing to see where this was going. Just for the innocent fun of it.
“What would you like to know?” I spread my hands wide. “I’m an open book.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”
I’d stepped right into that. I shook my head. “It has to be within reason. It’s not fair to ask me a question you wouldn’t want to answer yourself.”
“Then, in the name of fairness, I think I want to know about…this wedding bet.”
CHAPTER 4
GAGE
My guard went up immediately. At least that made it easier to stop fantasizing about having off-limits fun with her. Rex came from old money, had been CEO of his family’s company, and now ran a successful real estate firm. His and Chelsea’s wedding was a big deal in the Society pages. I found all that incredibly boring. I just liked the hell out of the guy and had since I’d met him through Will when I was a freshman at Columbia and they were seniors. But some people are into obsessing over the rich and famous or even not-so-famous.
I was surprised by that behavior from a woman with a foreign service career. Then again, she was an analyst, which sounded a lot like a boring desk job, so maybe a Society wedding was exciting to her after all. I was more than a little disappointed that she thought plying me with nice wine would bring out the gossip in me. Frankly, I was insulted that she was going heavy on the wine pours to gather intel on my friend and not to get me naked.
Nope, stop thinking that way.
