LITMIR.BIZ

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a kitchen it would consist of natural woods and a jungle of green plants. With a place for everything, and everything in its place.

      The condo kitchen was a gourmet chef’s dream, with brushed-chrome doors, wide black-marble countertops and a ceiling rack laden with gleaming, well-used copper pots. The counters were cluttered with weeks’ worth of newspapers, fancy coffeemakers, a Cuisinart, all sorts of high-tech gadgetry, five pairs of sunglasses and a lonely sock.

      In the deep windowsill, Luke had his only concession to plants. The window box Catherine had planted for him when he’d first moved in still flourished. She’d crowded it with various herbs he snipped for cooking. An automatic drip system hooked to the faucet guaranteed the plants’ lives.

      “Delish,” Catherine told him, after swallowing. “Oh. I passed Nick in the lobby. He has a present for you.”

      Luke set down his coffee mug. “Why?”

      “Not what?”

      “I know Nick. He’s a sneaky devil. If I know the why, I can guess the what.”

      “You won’t guess what this is, I promise.”

      “Hmm.” Luke’s glassy focus was in the vicinity of her chest. He must have zoned out, thinking about something, but it still felt as though he were looking. Her nipples peaked to full glory. She casually crossed her arms and leaned forward to brace them against the edge of the table, just in case he wasn’t as zoned out as she feared. “Luke?”

      His head shot up. This wasn’t their usual comfortable conversation. It felt a little strained, she thought, but that was her problem. Luke didn’t know she’d heard him last night in the bedroom. Remembering his comments sent a chill skittering through her like dead leaves on frozen ground. Was he trying to find a compassionate way to tell her he wanted her to leave? He’d done it before with devastating effect.

      “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was thinking about—about the foundations for the house.”

      Catherine looked at him blankly. “There’s something wrong with the foundation and you only realized this now?”

      “Nope. Nothing wrong. Solid. Firm. Perfect.” He picked up his empty mug and brought it to his mouth.

      “I think you’d better start taking vitamins.” She snatched his mug out of his hand and refilled it. “Here. I’m off to grab a shower.” She loaded her plate and cutlery into the dishwasher and avoided Luke’s eyes, miserable coward that she was.

      “And then I’m going to pack.” Catherine nudged the door closed with her knee and resolutely turned to face him.

      “Pack?” he asked blankly.

      “Pack.” She infused as much chirpy good cheer as she could muster into the words. “Let’s face it. This wasn’t one of my better ideas, Luke. I’m going home.” Before I make a fool of myself and you tell me to go.

      “Running, Cat?”

      “That’s not fair.”

      “What about finding a husband?”

      “I can do that in Beaverton.”

      “You should’ve thought of that before you sold the only home you’ve ever known. Where will you live, little sister?”

      Her chest ached. “I’ll buy a condo, big brother.”

      “Sounds like a giant hassle to me.” His knuckles whitened around his mug. “Besides, we decided you’d stay here. Why buy another condo when in a few weeks this one will be available? Consider it a favor, Cat. I can stay with you when I work late.”

      “I’m sure my husband will be thrilled to have you tromping through our bedroom to use the bathroom,” she said dryly.

      “You don’t have a husband.” He gave her a penetrating look. “It’s not like you to make impulsive decisions like this, Cat. What’s going on?”

      “It’s my prerogative to change my mind.”

      “Not when we have a bet going, it isn’t.”

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You and your dumb bets! Who cares?”

      His chair screeched across the glossy, black-vinyl floor as he shoved it back. “I care. It’s a matter of honor.”

      Catherine rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Van Buren. I admit I made a monumental mistake coming to you. I don’t fit in here. I don’t blend in with your yuppie friends.” She spread her arms. “Look at me—”

      Luke squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in pain. “Go take a shower. We’ll discuss this when you’re dressed.”

      * * *

      “SHE WANTS TO go back home,” Luke hissed, eyes fixed on the slammed-shut bedroom door. He stuck his bare feet up on the coffee table and glared at his friend. “What happened last night at the party?”

      “Other than the host being eighty-sixed?” Nick asked as he reached for another doughnut.

      “I had to take Karen home.”

      “And Catherine got in a snit when you were gone all night from your own party.” Nick shook his head. “Women. Go figure.”

      “So? My entire social and sex life has to come to a screaming halt because Cat’s here?”

      Nick put up a powdered-sugar-coated hand. “Hey, that’s your choice. Personally I wouldn’t want to see anyone else. Not with Catherine around. In case you hadn’t noticed, old son, that’s one hot babe you have sharing your— Oh, excuse me,” he drawled as Luke cleared his throat pointedly.

      “I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat, and so would half our friends. Didn’t you see them salivating around Catherine last night? Or were you too busy getting it on with Karen?”

      “She’s a beautiful woman.”

      “Cat? I know. She’s gorgeous.”

      “Not Cat. Karen. And of course those degenerates were all over Cat like bears over honey. They’re idiots, not stupid.”

      “What idiots aren’t stupid?” Cat asked, emerging from the bedroom wearing white shorts, a black crop top and strappy black sandals. She’d even put on makeup. Nothing overt, just enough to make her look...more. She’d done something to tame her hair, then swooped it on top of her head in a sexy tumble held up by gravity. A forties pinup. Nick shot up from his seat and crossed the room in three strides.

      “Let me take you away from all this, my lovely Princess Catarina.” He grabbed Cat around her waist, touching her bare skin as he swirled her in a circle.

      Luke watched through narrowed eyes, wondering where he could hide Nick’s body after the homicide. His friend brought Cat’s hand to his mouth, then theatrically kissed her fingertips before nibbling his way up her arm, reeling her in against his chest and making her laugh. Cat wrapped her arm around his waist and Nick smiled down at her.

      “I brought you a present.”

      “I thought it was for me,” Luke said, as a laughing Nick pulled Cat over to the new gate-legged table by the front door.

      “Nope. You get yours later, old son. This one’s for Catherine.”

      “Oh, Nick! Thank you.” She picked up the old-fashioned, round fishbowl in both hands, then looked at Nick with shining eyes. There was only one ordinary little goldfish in the bowl, not an entire freshwater aquarium, Luke thought sourly as he watched them.

      “This is so sweet of you.”

      “Hey, I’m a sweet guy—”

      “You’d better change into jeans,” Luke informed her, cutting Nick off. Preferably at the knees. “We’re going on the bike.”

      “I’m not going on the bike. Allan’s taking me.”

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