A Soft Place to Fall (42 page)

"Hold on just a minute!" Cat's voice rose in
annoyance. "I don't need your help." A small but vital
difference.

"Yes, you do," said Max, setting the coffee
mugs and bagels down on the table. "You need a lot of help,
Cat."

She was aware of McKendrick's eyes on her and
she had to remind herself it was professional interest on his part,
not personal. Not that she wanted it to be personal but there was
something thrilling about being the focus of such undivided male
attention.

Cat forced a laugh. "You're becoming very
melodramatic, Max. Next thing I know you'll tell me this is a
planned intervention for the hopelessly disorganized. It just so
happens that I thrive on chaos."

"Your last two manuscripts were late."

"Jack had a tonsillectomy when I was
finishing
The Kindergarten Caper
and we found termites right
at the climax of
Dead Cowboys Never Talk
.
" She smiled sweetly at McKendrick. "No offense."

"None taken." His grin told her he knew
otherwise.

She met Max's eyes. "A tonsillectomy is an
act of God, right?"

"Only when it's
your
tonsillectomy."

"It was my son's. That's the same thing,
isn't it?"

"Not to Global Publishing."

Max sighed longingly. "I know one author who
finished up a book longhand in a storm cellar while a tornado
ripped apart his house."

McKendrick helped himself to a mug of coffee.
"I know of a writer who broke both arms and still made his
deadline."

You would
,
she thought. "Those people need serious therapy. No one is that
disciplined."
Or that demented
.

"Wrong," said McKendrick. "A hell of a lot of
people are that disciplined." He paused for effect. "And that
organized."

She shuddered. "What a frightening
thought."

"Want to hear a really frightening thought?"
Max volunteered, handing her a mug of coffee. "No more extensions
on your deadline, Catherine. I know chaos and you're heading
straight for it."

"I love you dearly, Max, but you're a
bachelor. Your idea of chaos is misplacing your copy of the Sunday
Times Book Review." She put down the coffee mug and gathered up her
belongings. "Thanksgiving's tomorrow and I have a million things to
do. Stuffing, turnips, the pies...."

"Tomorrow's Thanksgiving?" asked
McKendrick.

"Didn't those cardboard pilgrims in the lobby
tell you something?" Cat turned to Max. Some time management
specialist
.
He didn't even know tomorrow
was a national holiday.

Max cleared his throat. "Riley's been in
Tokyo the last few months," he said, as if that could explain away
McKendrick's appalling lapse of memory.

"Pleasure?" asked Cat.

"Business," said McKendrick.

Max lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The
Japanese government," he said. "This guy taught the Japanese
something about organization."

"Wow," said Cat, who wasn't the slightest bit
impressed.

She could almost see the lightbulb flash on
over Max's head as he turned to McKendrick. "You'll be on your own
tomorrow, Riley?"

"Looks like," said McKendrick.

Oh no
,
Cat
thought.
Don't do this, Max. Not with him....

"How long's it been since you had a homemade
Thanksgiving dinner?" Max continued.

Was it her imagination or did a look of
sadness flicker across McKendrick's movie star face? "Couldn't tell
you, Max."

"That long?" Max asked.

"That long," said McKendrick.

Don't pay any attention to them.
McKendrick's a grown man. This is a big city. Somewhere out there
is a turkey with his name on it and he's smart enough to find
it.

Max was a rat and a traitor. He knew she was
a sucker for strays, especially around the holidays, and he was
doing his best to manipulate her into issuing an invitation.

She'd choke before she uttered anything that
even remotely resembled a dinner invitiation.

"Flannery's on East 47th has a pretty good
spread," Max went on, "or you might want to try Stein's Deli near
Rock Center. They have a restaurant in the back and the best turkey
in the city."

"Thought I might drive on up to Boston," the
cowboy drawled. "Celebrate Thanksgiving where it started."

"It started in Plymouth," Max said. "Why
don't you--"

"--come to my house." It sounded like her
voice but she had the insane urge to look over her shoulder for her
Evil Twin.

Max beamed at her. Why not? She'd played
right into his hands like the lily-livered, soft-hearted dope she
was. Could she take it back? She struggled to find a way to erase
her foolhardy words.

She needn't have bothered. McKendrick wasn't
interested.

"Thanks for the invitation," he said. He
probably practiced that sexy drawl into a tape recorder every
night. "I'm not much for family celebrations."

"You'll be alone." He didn't want to come to
her house. She didn't want him there. She should be relieved, but
no. The words were out before she could stop them. "Nobody should
be alone on Thanksgiving."

Max's smile widened. "Cat has this thing
about strays during the holidays, Riley. She'll hound you until you
say yes."

"Been alone most of my life," said
McKendrick. "It's the way I like it."

If Cat had a nickel for every time she'd
heard macho statements like that, she could singlehandedly pay off
the national debt. But it was different this time.
He means it,
she thought, and it struck her as a
terrible shame. There was something shadowy in his gaze, something
bittersweet and lonely, and despite her better judgment Cat felt
herself melting.

"Mr. McKendrick?" She sounded cool and
collected, amazing when you considered the strange rush of emotion
that filled her heart. "You'll come for Thanksgiving dinner, won't
you?"

He nodded.

She smiled.

He met her eyes and for a moment she thought
she saw them years from now, looking back at this moment as the one
that changed their lives. She drew in a deep breath, trying to
regain her equilibrium in a world that was shifting more rapidly
than she could handle. She'd never understood the concept of
love-at-first-sight. Everyone knew love grew slowly, cautiously,
built on a foundation of friendship and respect. This was lust.
Nothing more than lust. She had to remember that.

"So it's on?" Max asked.

McKendrick held her gaze. "It's on."

Max barely restrained a whoop of excitement.
So did Cat. She had to make her escape before she made an absolute
fool of herself.

"Three o'clock," she tossed over her shoulder
as she raced for the door. "Max will give you directions."

And then she ran for her life.

#

Riley McKendrick whistled low. Tall, willowy,
with sleek golden brown hair that brushed her shoulders like a
caress. He'd been expecting a frumpy writer who spent her life in
fantasyland, not a flesh-and-blood woman who looked as if she'd
like to take a juicy bite out of life. "Thanks a lot, Max," he
muttered after Cat Zaslow disappeared down the hallway. "You
might've mentioned she was a knockout."

Max stared at him as if he was speaking
Greek. "Cat? A knockout? Never noticed."

"Time to get your glasses checked," Riley
said with a laugh. "That is one helluva woman."

"Cat's not a woman," Max said, in what had to
be the single dumbest statement of the year. "She's a client."
Riley shook his head, trying to banish the memory of the way her
hips had swayed beneath her short black wool skirt. "You sure she
has five kids?"

"Last time I counted."

"How many husbands?"

"She's a widow." Max seemed puzzled. "You
really think she's good-looking?"

"You don't?"

"I never thought about it." Max was quiet for
a moment. "Since when do you like skinny women?"

"I don't," Riley said. He liked his women
soft, with big breasts and sweet dispositions. Cat Zaslow had a
tongue like a double-edged razor blade and her breasts--

Riley stopped, galvanized by the thought of
her breasts. High and round, surprisingly full for so slender a
woman. He wondered if she'd been wearing a bra or one of those lacy
things made to come off. He already knew she had the legs for it,
wickedly long with thighs made for welcoming a man between
them.

His blood shifted south and he forced the
image from his mind.

"I dated her housekeeper for a few weeks,"
Max said. "Damn near gave me a nervous breakdown." He made to drag
a hand through his perfect hair then apparently thought better of
it. "Diapers, barking dogs, McDonald's Happy Meals--hell. Cat lives
at the edge of disaster. Gimme Lutece any day."

"So what was her husband like?"

"I hear he was a nice guy."

"You never met him?"

"Cat started writing after David died."

Riley started to ask another question then
caught himself. She loved him enough to have five kids with him.
That was all he needed to know.

Max looked at him with open curiosity.
"You're not interested in her as a woman, are you?"

He thought about the long, lovely length of
her legs, that beautiful face...then he thought about reality.
"Five kids, a housekeeper, the housekeeper's kid, and an in-home
zoo?" He threw back his head and laughed out loud. "Not me, Max.
Not in this lifetime."

#

Cat pushed open the heavy glass doors at 575
Madison and stepped out into the brilliant late autumn sunshine.
She stood there, motionless, on the sidewalk and waited for the
chilly wind whipping down the street to snap her back to normal.
Whatever normal was. She wasn't sure she remembered. It had been a
long time since she'd felt this way, a very long time since lust
had reared its lovely head and beckoned her toward--

"Hey, lady." One of New York City's finest
stopped next to her. "You okay?"

She blinked then managed to nod at the
policeman.

"Why don't I hail a cab for you?" the cop
offered, raising a burly arm in the air. "You don't look too good
to me."

"No," she said, regaining her powers of
speech. "I--I have a car." She glanced toward the corner and saw
the familiar Chevy waiting for her. "But thank you."

She drew a steadying breath into her lungs
then marched off toward the vehicle. The driver saw her coming and
leaped out to open the door. Alec Marton owned the one and only car
service in her small Connecticut town. The Chevy had served as
wedding car, delivery room, and taxi cab for most of the citizens
of Danville at one time or another.

"You don't look so good," Alec said as she
climbed into the front seat next to him. "Maybe you should lie down
in the back."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Alec." She
managed a smile. "You know me. Not only can't I drive in the city,
I can't even think."

He looked no more convinced than the
policeman had and no wonder. She wasn't fine. The truth was she
felt as if the real Cat Zaslow had been taken over by aliens.
Sixteen year old aliens, at that. She was aglow with excitement,
alive with possibilities, and all for a man she didn't know and was
reasonably certain she wouldn't like if she did.

Her knees had gone weak when his eyes met
hers and it was a wonder she hadn't swooned at his cowboy-booted
feet.

She'd lost her mind, that's what. All Riley
McKendrick did was walk into Max's office and Cat's brain cells had
decided to go on vacation. How humiliating. She had five wonderful
children, a beautiful home, good friends, and a terrific career.
She didn't need a man.

Truth was, her infrequent experiments in
dating all had been less than successful. Men were either
intimidated by her success, her kids, or the fact that she liked
her life exactly the way it was and made no bones about it.

"You just haven't met the right man," Jenny
liked to say whenever she got the chance.

"Yes, I have," Cat always said. David Zaslow
was a tough act to follow. Any man looking to fill his shoes would
have a lot to live up to.

He could do it, Cat. Maybe that cowboy is
the one
.

She shook her head, ignoring Alec's curious
glance in the rearview mirror. A clockwatcher. That gorgeous hunk
of man was a clockwatcher. What a waste of natural resources.

Alec maneuvered the Chevy into traffic. "Just
getting out in time," he said as they headed crosstown. "Gonna be a
zoo in another hour, everyone trying to get out early for
Thanksgiving."

She met his eyes in the mirror. "Alec, do you
think I'm disorganized?"

"Sure," he said, "but I'd never hold it
against you. You got a career and five kids. Who wouldn't be behind
the eight-ball now and again?"

She sighed loudly.

"Not my business," Alec said, "but you
asked."

"You and Sarah have three kids. How do you
manage?"

"Sarah's got everyone on a schedule," Alec
said not without a touch of pride. "Even put it on computer."

Cat suppressed a shudder. "Really?"

Alec nodded. "You bet. Even Annie's on
there."

Her eyes widened. "Annie's four years old,
Alec."

"Never too soon to start. That's what Sarah
says. How else you gonna keep their lessons and doctor's
appointments and everything straight?"

"Isn't that why God made refrigerator
magnets?" Was it possible that the rest of the world operated with
the efficiency of a Swiss watch while she was a sundial on a cloudy
day?

Which, of course, brought her right back to
Riley McKendrick, who made a living putting people's lives into
order.

Had she lost her mind or just the part of it
that governed the libido? It wasn't like there'd been any chemistry
between them. Everybody knew one-way chemistry was a physical
impossibility. He probably hadn't even realized she was a woman. So
what if she'd noticed he was tall, dark, and handsome with a voice
that could undress a woman without even trying. He couldn't help
the effect he'd had on her, any more than she could help the heated
fantasies dancing behind her eyeballs.