LITMIR.BIZ

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diagnosis.

      Gert shrugged. “I’ve told you this because I know you’ll hear more gossip. I also realize that you and David got off on the wrong foot. He’ll work things out eventually. Try not to be too hard on him.”

      “No, of course not.” Even as Amy said the words, a plan was forming in her mind. Though she was Gert’s associate, she wasn’t related to David, so it wasn’t exactly unethical for her to try to help him. Not that she’d be overt. With his negative attitude toward therapy, it’d never do to let him realize she was going to be attempting to steer him into overcoming his denial, so he could return to the profession he’d once loved.

      She felt really noble for about ten seconds. Then it hit her. She, who had absolutely no use for the legal profession, was going to try to find a way to get this man to embrace law again? What a crock. On the other hand, she’d gone into psychology because she wanted to help people understand their problems and overcome them. David had a real problem. It shouldn’t matter what it was, she was a psychologist and it was her duty to help him face up to his.

      Should she discuss it with Gert? For a moment or two she wavered, then decided actually there was no need to, since she wasn’t going to officially be David’s therapist. Hers would be a covert operation. If it didn’t work, no harm would come to him. There was a good chance she could pull it off, in which case he’d be better.

      “Given time, I believe David and I can become friends,” she said.

      Gert smiled at her. “I hope so. Now I’ll show you around a bit so you’ll know where everything is when we start seeing patients tomorrow.”

      David, T-shirt slung on the porch rail again, inserted the last of today’s shrubs into its hole, a hibiscus the nursery owner thought was hardy enough to survive a Nevada winter. Time would tell. He’d given it a southern exposure near the house so the plant would have a fighting chance.

      “So are you through for the day?” Amy’s voice came from behind, startling him.

      He turned to look at her. “More or less.”

      “I’ve been thinking about our contract—you know, to try to be friends. It occurred to me if you don’t know much about cats, I might be of some help when yours delivers her kittens. My mother always had cats, so I got to be an amateur expert in kittens at an early age.”

      Taken aback at her friendly offer, David hesitated, finally saying, “It’s true I don’t know much about cats.”

      “Most of them just go ahead and have their kittens, but some can be difficult about it. I could come over and meet her so she’ll know me when the time comes.”

      Come to his apartment? He stared at her. What had brought on this sudden switch? She couldn’t be coming on to him, so just what was she up to?

      “Just to meet your cat, I mean.” A tinge of coolness in her voice told him that Amy hadn’t changed all that much.

      Let’s see how far he could push her. “You could drive over with me now and get acquainted with Hobo while I take a shower and clean up.”

      “Hobo? What kind of name is that for a female cat?”

      “How was I to know she was a female? Gert clued me in, but I’d named her by then. Coming with me?”

      She frowned—being in the same place with him while he showered wasn’t such a good idea. Time to set things straight, Amy thought. “Ever since we first met I seem to hear you telling me the best way to get places. Since we’ve decided to be friends, I want to be up front with some things, one of them being that I do not like controlling men.”

      He let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Me? Controlling?”

      “You tend to take charge without consulting me. First you wouldn’t let me drive to Tiny Tim’s by myself, you had to show me in person. It didn’t seem worth an argument so I let it go. Then you wouldn’t tell me how to get to the hotel, even though I asked you to give me directions. You insisted on taking me there. Again I didn’t protest because, well, actually I didn’t expect to see you again.”

      David thought it over for a moment or two. “I see your point, but I think you’re being a tad sensitive about what’s meant to be controlling and what isn’t. Try this on—maybe I was merely trying to be a gentleman.”

      “What about the fact you just asked if I was coming with you to your place to hang out while you showered?”

      He shrugged. “You didn’t say yes or no and I badly need a shower. I was trying to speed things up.”

      He could see she was considering that.

      “I see your point, too,” she said finally.

      “That’s what friends do—give each other a little slack when necessary.” He waited to see how she’d react to that.

      He thought her “True enough” was a bit forced. For some reason she was determined to stick to the idea of them being friends. Well, why not? He might be wary of any other type of involvement with a woman, but what was the harm in being friends with Amy?

      “Compromise is also what friends do,” she said. “So I’ll follow you to your apartment to meet Hobo. That way you won’t have to drive me back here.”

      She was one up on him there. Could be fun to have her for a friend.

      “Sounds good,” he told her, and gave her the address in case they got separated on the way.

      Then he watched her walk away. She’d changed into jeans, and as he took note of her curvy bottom, he decided it might not be all that easy to be “just friends” with Amy Simon.

       Chapter Three

       A t his apartment, David pointed out the cat to Amy and started for his bedroom to grab some clean clothes before he showered.

      “Wait,” Amy called after him. “Hobo and I need to be introduced by you.”

      He paused. “Why? She’s a cat.”

      “She’s your cat. And a very pretty tortoiseshell. Your introduction will let her know I’m okay.”

      He rolled his eyes but walked back and knelt down beside Amy, who was holding out her fingers for Hobo to sniff.

      “Hobo,” he said, “meet Amy. She’s a friend.” He rose and bolted for the bedroom before Amy could come up with another wacky idea.

      He was back in ten minutes, showered and wearing clean jeans and T-shirt.

      Amy was sitting on the floor petting the cat. “Where’s her box?” she asked.

      “Litter box?”

      “No, I mean her birthing box. For her to have the kittens in.”

      “Gert didn’t tell me she needed that.”

      “Hobo has to get used to the box ahead of time so she won’t go off and have the kittens in the corner of a closet or a dresser drawer left open. Or even on your bed. I don’t think you’d care for that since birthing is rather messy. You need to be prepared.”

      “I wasn’t planning on becoming the father of kittens, you know.”

      “Obviously. Do you happen to have a fair-size cardboard box somewhere?”

      He found one, as well as an old blanket for Amy to put in the bottom of the box and several old towels to cover it. She placed the box in an out-of-the-way corner of the living room. “Now, put Hobo in the box,” she said. “She’ll sniff all around in it and probably jump out, but she’ll know it’s there. You can keep putting her in it when you’re home so she gets the idea it’s hers.”

      “See what I got myself into for taking you in,” he told the cat as he lifted her gently and set her down inside the box. “Special cat food bowls that won’t tip

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