“Julia has seen too many vulnerable women hurt by men who found it amusing to toy with them for a while and then move on. She’s had a couple of unhappy relationships, herself, and I’m afraid they’ve left her suspicious and a little bitter.”
“And this is the woman you’ve thought of fixing up with Bob?” he asked in disbelief.
Catherine looked away from the road ahead long enough to give Mike a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about? I never said I wanted to fix her up with Bob.”
“He said you have a lawyer friend you want him to meet. Were you talking about another lawyer friend?”
“No. No,” she repeated more firmly. “Bob’s either confused or he’s deliberately misrepresenting the conversation I had with him. He asked if I had any single friends, and I said I had only one close single friend, an attorney, but that I didn’t think they would hit it off.”
Because Bob had a notorious habit of hearing only what he wanted to hear, Mike decided Catherine’s version was the more likely one.
“Good call,” he muttered. “I can’t think of a more mismatched couple than Bob and Julia.”
“Neither can I.”
He wondered if Catherine was asking herself just then if they were as wrong for each other as Bob and Julia would have been. He doubted he was the only one with that question nagging at the back of his mind.
He was becoming discouraged with this whole situation. As strongly as he was drawn to Catherine, there just seemed to be too many counts against them. This was the third time they’d been out, and each time there had been some obvious indications that their lives didn’t exactly mesh. She had hated the haunted house he thought would be so much fun. His sisters thought she was too reserved and intellectual for him. Her friends seemed to think she was either having an impulsive fling with the maintenance guy or being the victim of a manipulative, opportunistic gigolo.
They didn’t say much as she parked the car and they climbed out on their opposite sides. Catherine glanced up toward her apartment and he followed her example, spotting movement in the darkened living room window.
“Looks like Norman’s waiting up for you.”
She nodded. “He’s acted kind of restless lately. Maybe the shorter days are unnerving him.”
“A cat with seasonal affective disorder? Maybe he needs some serotonin-laced kibble?”
She laughed, and the sound pleased him, as it always did when he succeeded in drawing a laugh from her. “Maybe. I’ll see if I can find a kitty shrink in the yellow pages.”
Glancing up at the window again, he frowned. “Looks like your blind is hanging crooked. I hope Norman hasn’t broken it again.”
“He’s probably just been bumping against it. I tied the cords up so he couldn’t accidentally hurt himself with them.”
“I’d better come up and check it out.”
Catherine looked at him, and he sighed. “I’m not looking for an excuse to get into your apartment,” he told her a bit testily. “If you’d rather check the blinds yourself, then call the office if there’s a problem, that’s fine.”
“Don’t be silly. I would appreciate you checking the blinds for me. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated when you aren’t on duty.”
A little sheepishly he muttered an apology for his grumpiness and followed her up the steps.
Meowing loudly, Norman twined around their ankles when they walked in.
“He is kind of wound up, isn’t he?” Mike knelt to stroke Norman’s silky fur, scratching behind the ears and beneath the chin to elicit rumbling purrs of pleasure.
“You’d think he never had any attention,” Catherine said with an exasperated shake of her head.
Straightening, Mike looked at the window blinds. The slats were a little crooked, probably because the cat had been pushing against them either out of boredom or to better see around them, but nothing was broken. He straightened the slats, retied the cords and turned back to Catherine. “Have you been having any other maintenance problems?”
“No. Everything is working satisfactorily.”
“Good to hear.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. He really hadn’t used the blinds as an excuse to get in. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Can I get you anything?” Catherine asked, sounding almost as awkward as he felt. “Coffee? Herbal tea?”
“No, thanks. Your friend is a really good cook. She pretty well filled me up.”
Catherine looked pleased. “Karen is a wonderful cook. She loves to experiment with unusual recipes. I wasn’t sure you’d like the food.”