‘Come on, cat...try!’
The frantic eyes locked on his and with a burst of super feline strength the cat launched itself upward, sinking its claws into his forearms. He gritted his teeth, then gritted them again as the cat clawed a route all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut as the cat’s claws raked the skin along one side of his face, and then it was over.
He shimmied back onto the bank, breathing hard, heart pumping, face stinging. There were lancing pains in his arms, and his stomach muscles were burning from planking over the water, but the cat hadn’t drowned and that was all that mattered. As he got to his feet a little ripple of applause filled the air and then a movement in the crowd drew his attention.
A girl in a trilby hat was working her way to the front. Her head was down and she was crooning softly to the damp, furry bundle in her arms, a furry bundle which, on closer inspection, looked vaguely familiar. And the girl...her height, her figure, the curve of her cheek beneath the brim of her hat... He felt the pavement shifting beneath his feet, the blood galloping in his neck. Could it be that in a city of over a million cats he’d somehow saved Cleuso? What were the odds? He couldn’t calculate it any more than he could stop the smile spreading painfully across his cheeks.
‘You...?’
That was all she could manage. It was hard to speak when your lips wouldn’t move. He must have been the one who’d saved Cleuso and, from the look of things, it hadn’t been an easy rescue. There were long, red scratches on his arms and on his left shoulder, another trio of scratches along the left side of his face. He had to be hurting, but his eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling such a smile.
‘Hello, Mia.’
There was a length of wet grey fabric dangling from his hands—what was left of his tee shirt, she supposed, given that his torso was bare. It was impossible not to notice his smooth golden skin, the washboard stomach, the trim, well-muscled legs. He must have been out running; that would account for the shorts and the trainers. The sight of him practically naked would account for the inconvenient rush of heat she felt. She adjusted her hold on Cleuso, wishing the onlookers would disappear, but if anything they were pressing closer, evidently curious as to what would happen next.
‘I...’ She stepped closer, trying to block out everything except his eyes, his smile. ‘I can’t thank you enough. If I wasn’t holding Cleuso, I’d give you a big hug.’
Why was he laughing? And then she knew why. Someone was lifting Cleuso out of her arms, pushing her forward gently, and suddenly she was laughing too, laughing, and blushing and stepping forward, putting her arms around him, carefully because of the scratches. Almost immediately she heard the soft slap of wet fabric hitting the ground, and then his arms were drawing her in, warm and tight. He was hugging her right back, and it was heavenly. Her hat fell off as she rose to kiss his damaged cheek, then she startled at a burst of cheering and clapping from the people watching because she’d forgotten they were there.
He looked at her for a long moment then released her, smiled and gave a little bow. Following his lead, she turned to face their audience, bobbing a little curtsey. And then a lady with grey hair put Cleuso back into her arms and the crowd melted away.
What to say next? She gave Cleuso a little hug then turned around. Theo’s arms were a mass of raised pink wheals, his shoulder too. It had to be stinging. She wondered if his tetanus shots were up to date.
‘Thank you again...so much.’ She glanced at Cleuso, rubbing his head softly. ‘This cat’s a total liability but I love him. I’d have gone mad with worry if he hadn’t come home.’
‘I know cats hate water, but I thought they could swim.’ He picked up her hat, brushed it off and placed it gently on her head.
She lifted her chin so he could seat it properly. ‘Probably most cats can...but Cleuso isn’t “most cats”.’ He was taking his time with the hat, but it gave her the chance to study his face. The scratches had narrowly missed his left eye. She wasn’t up to speed with the accepted wisdom around the hygiene of cats’ claws, but canal water was dirty, and Theo’s skin was broken all over. Antiseptic would probably be a good idea. ‘We should get something on those scratches.’
He stepped back, examining his arms. ‘I’ll live.’
He bent to pick up his ruined tee shirt, biceps, abs and hamstrings shifting like gears in a well-oiled machine. She moistened her lips. ‘But you might get septicaemia... When did you last have a tetanus?’
‘I have no idea.’ He wrung out his tee shirt and made to put it on.
‘You can’t wear it! It’ll be full of germs.’
He hesitated, amusement in his eyes. ‘It’s all I’ve got. Walking topless through the streets isn’t an option.’
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Lots of people wouldn’t mind...’
He laughed roundly. ‘Are you objectifying me?’
She shook her head, widening her eyes. ‘Of course not.’ She glanced at the railing where she’d hurriedly propped her bicycle. ‘But you saved my cat, you’ve ruined your tee shirt and you’re risking septicaemia if you put that on. It’s no distance to the barge. Come back with me. We’ll deal with those scratches; I’ll dig out something of Ash’s for you to put on, and I’ll make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had. What do you
