She smiled. “He’s fine. Last I saw, he was curled up asleep in my briefcase.”
As if she were suddenly aware of neglecting her manners, she turned to her companion with a slight start. “Oh. Mike Clancy, this is my friend Dr. Bill James.”
A doctor. Of course. Mike stuck out his hand, which he was reasonably sure was clean enough for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
To give him credit, the man in the ultraexpensive suit didn’t even hesitate to shake the hand of the guy in the tool belt and jeans. “It’s a pleasure,” he said, and looked as though he meant it.
He seemed to be quite nice. There was no reason at all for Mike to dislike him. Except the fact that Dr. Bill had a hand on Catherine’s back and was obviously prepared to escort her down the stairs.
“I’ll see you later, Catherine,” he said, making that a promise.
She nodded. “See you, Mike.”
He watched as they made their way down the stairs and to a dark, expensive sedan. He was still scowling after them when the sedan had left the parking lot, passing Mike’s mud-splattered pickup truck on the way out.
Catherine had attended dozens of parties like this one. Medical and science professionals standing around drinking too much and talking shop. Speeches prefaced by lame jokes, and toasts that went on for too long. Food that disappeared at a rather astonishing rate. Cell phones chiming and cameras flashing and dishes clattering. And yet the atmosphere overall was restrained and dignified.
Though he had claimed to dread the event, Bill seemed to be in his element. He worked the room like a pro, shaking hands, making jokes, exchanging bits of interdepartmental gossip. He and Catherine had several mutual acquaintances among the guests, and they introduced each other to the people only one of them knew.
Catherine noticed a few looks of surprise at seeing them together, but the surprise was quickly followed by smiles of approval. Apparently she and Bill were being seen as a suitable couple.
She liked him. He was amusing, courteous, attentive. She respected his work and admired what he had accomplished professionally. And yet, there was no electricity when he touched her. No little quivers that went down her spine when their eyes met. No schoolgirl urge to giggle when he smiled at her.
It bothered her considerably that she was so acutely aware of those things.
“These retirement parties are incredibly dull, aren’t they?” Bill asked her after a couple of hours, though he was still smiling from his recent exchange with the head of the Radiology Department.
“I’m having a very nice time,” she assured him.
He chuckled. “Diplomatically spoken.”
“But true.” She glanced toward the busy exits. “Quite a few people seem to be leaving.”
“Yes. Angus is likely to hang around telling old anecdotes for hours yet. We should probably make our escape before we’re the last ones here to listen to them.”
A short while later, Catherine was strapped into the soft leather passenger’s seat of Bill’s luxury sedan. It was a beautiful car, and probably cost three times what she had paid for her economy compact. She made what she deemed to be a decent salary, though she chose to live rather frugally and bank a tidy amount for her future. Still, she was sure Bill earned considerably more than she did, and he didn’t seem to mind spending it.
Catherine couldn’t care less what Bill was worth. Having always intended to support herself, whether or not she remained single, salary had never been a criterion for her when deciding who she should date. So, if the fancy car was meant to impress, it didn’t quite work that way with her.
They talked about her work during the short drive to her apartment. Bill asked questions about her research and seemed genuinely interested in her answers. Since she was more accustomed to men getting glazed looks
of boredom on their faces when she talked about her work, that made a refreshing change.
He turned the car into her parking lot and negotiated the turns toward her building. “That was the apartment maintenance guy I met earlier? Mike?”
Her fingers tightened spasmodically around the purse in her lap. “Yes. Mike Clancy.”
“Seems like a nice guy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“So you have a cat, huh? I didn’t see it when I picked you up.”
“Norman’s a bit shy. He usually hides when the doorbell rings.” Except with Mike, of course, she remembered. Norman had taken to Mike immediately, and oddly seemed to know when Mike was the one on the other side of the door.
“I see.”
“Do you like cats?”