Hot Stuff

Very calm without being sterile. Earth tones. Flat-screen television. African fertility statue. Framed movie posters on his wall. Fun but not expensive. Excellent Tibetan area rug.”

“I think we should leave,” Cate said.

“Not until I see his bedroom.”

“Okay, but make it fast. I feel uncomfortable.”

Sharon tiptoed in her heels into the bedroom.

“Why are you tiptoeing?” Cate asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t help myself. It’s what you do when you’re being sneaky.” She stopped and looked around the room. “King-sized bed. Completely rumpled. He’s a thrasher. Other than that, the room is neat. Crossword puzzle book on his nightstand. I think I could live with him.”

“You don’t even know him! He could be Jack the Ripper.”

“Jack the Ripper is dead,” Sharon said.

“Okay, he could be Frank the Ripper.”

Cate looked at her watch. She’d been in the condo for not quite five minutes, but it seemed like five hours.

“I haven’t seen any photos of kids or wives or girlfriends,” Sharon said.

“Also no photos of Mr. M.”

They were in the master bedroom and two rooms away Cate and Sharon heard the front door click closed and the bolt get thrown.

Cate felt all the air leave her lungs. Mr. M. was home. It was a nightmare come true. Run! Cate’s brain was screaming. Run! Cate looked around. Nowhere to run. The window, she thought. Go out the window. Okay, so they were two flights up. Probably she’d just break both legs. She could deal. Mental head slap. That was dumb. The window was no good. They had to hide. The bathroom? The closet? Cate was in a panic attack. Sweating. Can’t breathe. Heart racing. Brain running down dead-end streets.

“The bed!” Sharon said. “Get under the bed.”

It was a faux antique mahogany four-poster. No dust ruffle but the quilt was oversized and hung low. Sharon dropped to the floor and belly crawled, barely fitting under the box spring. Cate followed her, and they lay side by side, eyes wide.

There were muffled footsteps on the rug and shoes came into view. Nike running shoes. Maybe size eleven. Jeans breaking on the shoes. Cate couldn’t see more. The shoes were walking around, doing things. Something was placed on the bedside table. A dresser drawer was opened and closed. The shoes were back by the bed. A brown- and-orange T-shirt was dropped onto the floor. The shoes were kicked off. White athletic socks were peeled off the feet. The jeans hit the floor and navy briefs followed.

Cate and Sharon stared out at the pile of clothes and the naked feet and didn’t breathe.

This is a train wreck, Cate thought. What on earth would she say if she got caught? Sharon is in love with you even though she’s never seen you and has no idea who you are, and so we sneaked into your apartment and looked around and hid under the bed. Yeah, that would fly. Not.

The feet walked into the bathroom, there was the sound of the shower being turned on, and then there was the sound of the shower curtain being drawn.

Cate and Sharon locked eyes and backed out from under the bed. They quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom and sprinted through the rest of the condo, out the door, down the hall, and up a flight of stairs. They threw themselves into Sharon’s condo and locked the door.

“I’m having a heart attack,” Sharon said. “What are the symptoms? Are they profuse sweating and burning in the chest?”

“No. I think that’s a hot flash.”

“I’m too young for a hot flash,” Sharon said. “Aren’t I?”

“I don’t know. I guess some women go into menopause earlier than others. How old are you?”

Sharon looked around, making sure no one else was in her apartment. “I’m pushing forty.”

“No! You look much younger.”

“Forty! And I just had a hot flash. Next thing I’ll be finding Modern Maturity in my mailbox. And my breasts will get saggy. And I’ll have to start popping antacids. And I’ll have to start getting Botox shots. Well, okay, so I already get a little Botox, but it’s more preventative, right? And all I have in my life is some phantom man. I haven’t gotten laid in over a year!” Sharon wailed.

“You get Botox?”

“Just a tiny shot between the eyebrows so I don’t look grumpy. No one wants to buy a house from a grumpy realtor. So what did you think of him?” Sharon asked.

“Who?”

“Mr. M. I thought he had nice feet. And the navy Calvins could be sexy.”

“You need to get out more,” Cate said. “Have you thought about a dating service?”

“Tried that. I always got stuck with the check.”

Chapter SIXTEEN

Cate bolted out of the condo building and hit the ground running. She wanted to show Kellen the scanner, and she needed to shower and change her clothes. It was close to five o’clock and the traffic was heavy. The temperature was in the high eighties, but a stiff breeze ripped down the street. A storm was blowing in. She reached the townhouse and realized she didn’t have a key. She rang the bell and prayed Kellen was home. She hadn’t thought to call first.

Kellen opened the door, and Cate rushed past him.

“I’m late,” Cate said.

Kellen snagged her arm, and pulled her to him and kissed her. “What time do you need to be at work?”

“Six. But I have to take a shower and get dressed.”

Kellen nuzzled her neck. “You smell good. You smell like birthday cake. You always smell like cake.”

“I made four cakes for the party trolley, and Julie said her boss would pay me for them.”

“I’d pay to nibble on you,” Kellen said.

“Really? Do you… um, pay for sex?”

He smiled down at her. “No. But you’d be worth it.”

“I guess that’s a compliment.”

“It’s conversation. My plan is to keep talking to you so you stay pressed up against me.”

Kellen hardly needed a plan. He was warm and hard… some places harder than others. Cate was quickly losing her sense of priority.

“It’s a good plan, but I’ve got to take a shower. And I have something to show you.” Cate scrounged around in her purse and pulled out the scanner.

“What is it?”

“It’s a scanner. It reads microchips that get implanted in pets for identification purposes. It was in Marty’s condo.”

Beast’s toenails could be heard scrabbling on the wood floor as he turned a corner and galloped toward Cate. He put the brakes on too late and plowed into her, buckling her knees.

Cate bent to hug Beast. “I missed you,” she said to Beast. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

“We went for a walk, and he played with his friends in the dog park,” Kellen said. “He drank a bowl of water and slobbered it all over the kitchen floor. And then he took a nap. If I can convince you and Beast to stay here, I’m going to have my cleaning lady come more than once a week. I might even buy a mop.”

“Wow, buying a mop is pretty drastic for a bachelor like you.”

“It’s a small price,” Kellen said.

He looked at the scanner and pushed the button to turn it on. “I should have thought of this. I know microchip use is common. It just didn’t pop up on my radar screen.” He passed the scanner over the scruff of Beast’s neck, and numbers appeared on the readout.