Garrett flicked the switch for the overhead light in his office.

His gaze swept across the space in front of him. Beige carpet, the leg of a cherry desk, several crumbs from yesterday’s cookies baked as a thank-you by Mrs. Crane and…one woman’s naked foot.

He stood there for a second, blinking. One woman’s naked foot.

His gaze traveled up. A naked foot, attached to a naked leg. Garrett jerked upright and found himself looking at a twenty-ish blonde who filled out a lab coat—his lab coat—in ways that should be illegal.

His jaw dropped open. Not a word came out.

Dear Reader,

Let this month’s collection of Silhouette Romance books sweep you into the poetry of love!

Roses are red,

or white in the case of these Nighttime Sweethearts (SR #1754) by Cara Colter. Scarred both physically and emotionally, this cynical architect will only woo his long-lost love under the protection of night. Can a bright beauty tame this dark beast? Find out in the fourth title of Silhouette Romance’s exquisite IN A FAIRY TALE WORLD… miniseries.

Violets are blue,

like the eyes of the ladies’ man in Myrna Mackenzie’s latest, Instant Marriage, Just Add Groom (SR #1755). All business, even in his relationships, this hardened hero would never father a child without the protection of marriage—but he didn’t count on falling for the prim bookseller next door!

Cupid’s at play,

and he’s got the use of more than arrows for matchmaking! Even a blinding blizzard can bring two reluctant people together. Watch the steam rise when a gruff, reclusive writer is stranded with a single mom and her adorable baby in Daddy, He Wrote (SR #1756) by Jill Limber.

And magic, too!

With only six days left to break her curse, Cat knew she couldn’t count on finding true love. Until she happened upon a dark, reticent veterinarian with a penchant for rescuing animals—and damsels—in distress! You’re sure to be enchanted by Shirley Jump’s SOULMATES story, Kissed by Cat (SR #1757).

May love find you this Valentine’s Day!

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

Kissed by Cat
Shirley Jump

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my daughter, whose love of cats provided

the inspiration for this book as well as many of

the details about how cats behave, walk and think.

Someday, I promise, you’ll be old enough and I’ll

let you read past the first chapter. I love you,

honey, more than words can say.

Books by Shirley Jump

Silhouette Romance

*The Virgin’s Proposal #1641

*The Bachelor’s Dare #1700

*The Daddy’s Promise #1724

Her Frog Prince #1746

Kissed by Cat #1757

SHIRLEY JUMP

has been a writer ever since she learned to read. She sold her first article at the age of eleven and from there, became a reporter and finally a freelance writer. However, she always maintained the dream of writing fiction, too. Since then, she has made a full-time career out of writing, dividing her time between articles, nonfiction books and romance. With a husband, two children and a houseful of pets, inspiration abounds in her life, giving her good fodder for writing and a daily workout for her sense of humor.

From the journal of Hezabeth, the witch: Curse #581:

I had a perfectly good black cat, until Catherine Wyndham came along and set it free, like some dogooder on an animal rescue mission. So I cursed her. Hee-hee-hee.

Yes, I did. I cursed her but good. If she loves animals so much, I told her, she could have a taste of life as one. I tossed my magic powder at her and in the language of the ancients said, “By day a woman, by night a cat. The curse can only be broken if you find a man who loves you as both.”

That’s never going to happen. No man in his right mind would love a woman like that. Especially not when he sees what happens to her when the sun goes down.

Hee-hee-hee. Sometimes, I’m too bad for my own good!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

Being chased down Broward Street by an ugly, hungry Great Dane at one in the morning did not rank on the top ten of Catherine Wyndham’s favorite ways to spend an evening. She’d much rather have been curled up in front of a fireplace with a fuzzy blanket, a saucer of warm milk and a freshly opened can of tuna.

The lumbering beast of a dog opened his jaws and lunged forward. Catherine scampered up someone’s back porch, across the railing and into the next yard, leaving the dog barking at nothing but cold November air.

For the ten thousandth time in two hundred years, Catherine regretted ever tangling with that witch. She’d always had a bad habit of helping stray and mistreated animals. She’d picked the wrong black cat one day and had thus been cursed by Hezabeth the Witch to live a half life—which was really no life at all.

Today, though, had been a good day, relatively speaking. Catherine turned the corner, quite pleased with her getaway.

She jerked to a stop. There it was. Their scent. She lowered her head to the ground, concentrating as she tracked. Her instincts perked up, telegraphing a warning signal, but she ignored it.

Five more seconds. I’ve almost—

And then she was being scooped up by a pair of strong, masculine hands. She shrieked and tried to twist away but the man held tight, depositing her into a small metal cage, with no more effort than he’d use to flick a whip.

She let out a second scream of protest. “I know, I know,” he said in a soft, crooning voice. “Right now, you probably hate me, but believe me, it’s for your own good.”

She glared back, swatted at the bars. Futile gestures. He had the upper hand—not to mention bigger hands that could transport her anywhere he wanted her to go.

She hated that. Hated being eight inches tall and about as powerful as a gnat wrestling a gorilla.

He did have a kind face, at least. Better to be kidnapped by a prince than an ogre. She’d been with both in the last two centuries. Handsome didn’t always equal nice or bright, but it did provide a better view.

Ugly or cute, none of the men she’d met had been the knight in shining armor that could end the curse put in place by Hezabeth—her revenge against Catherine for setting the witch’s cat free.

“You love animals so much, how about a taste of life like one?” the witch had cackled. Before Catherine could get away, Hezabeth had thrown some powder at her and muttered something in an ancient language. From that day forward, Lady Catherine Wyndham, heir to the Wyndham estates and fortune, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Wyndham, had ceased to exist. And, thanks to Hezabeth’s addition of a catch-22 twist, Catherine had no hope of ever breaking the curse with some storybook ending.

It didn’t matter. Finding Prince Charming wasn’t at the top of her To Do list. Hadn’t been in fifty-odd years. If he even existed, the chances of meeting him when she wasn’t sporting whiskers were pretty slim.

In the half light of the car, she could see a day’s worth of stubble on the man’s chin, softening the hard edges of his jaw. Faint lines zigzagged down the left side of his face, disappearing beneath his collar.

Scars. From what? From who?

Her gaze skipped over the marks and connected with his eyes. Large, brown and almost…soft.

They looked at her with a kindness and compassion she’d rarely seen in two hundred and twenty-five years of life. She’d traveled the world, by land and by boat, before ending up in the United States and now, the Midwest. All those cities, all those people, and not one had seen her as much more than a waste of DNA. But now, in this small city in Indiana, a man with an almost empathetic gaze.

As if he understood.

Impossible. No one knew what she’d gone through. What a nightmare her life had been since Hezabeth had damned Catherine to an existence filled with pain and loneliness, one no sane person would find believable.

She shook herself. She must be due for a distemper shot. She was getting maudlin again.

“You’re going to be much happier where you’re going.” That quiet, soothing voice again. “It’s warmer there, too.”

Fat chance. Being locked in a cage didn’t fit Catherine’s definition of happy. She wrinkled her nose and cast him her iciest look.

He chuckled. “You’ll thank me after you get a good meal in you.” He shut the door to the car, came around to the driver’s side, got in, then put the car in gear and started driving. He did a good job ignoring her plaintive wails from the seat beside him.

Nice eyes or not, she didn’t want to go wherever he was taking her. She had things to do and this man, with his do-gooder, save-the-world-and-the-whales charity crusade, was getting in the way.

Catherine paced the cage, inspecting every inch. Thin metal bars, secure lock. A flat metal base, cool against her feet.

She silently cursed in English, then added a few choice words in French. The orphans had been close by, maybe five minutes from her. She’d been so focused on finding them she’d ignored the warning signals and thus, had ended up in the hands of Dr. Dolittle.

She’d rescued so many animals over the course of her lifetime—kittens, puppies, even a lost turtle once. It had become her mission, she supposed, which was ironic given that all the trouble in her life had started with saving one black cat.

Still, she wanted to find those kittens. If she could reunite them with their mother, she hoped it would give her a little more closure. Make it easier to accept the inevitable end of Catherine’s life.

And then, just maybe, she’d find a taste of what she was seeking when she came to Indiana in the first place. The ordinary life. No castles. No kings. Just a house with a white picket fence and cookies in the oven.

The problem was getting away before her “rescuer” took her home and made her over into his pretty pet by stringing pink ribbons and a silver bell around her neck.

“Here we are,” he said cheerily a minute later, as if he’d just pulled up outside Buckingham Palace. “Your temporary home.” She hissed, but he just chuckled again. “Ah, give it a chance, little one.” He came around and opened the door. He lifted out the cage, hefted it awkwardly into one arm and carried it toward the building.

Tall and well-built, he had the muscles of a man who had worked hard in his life, not one who bench-pressed his way to perfection. The scent of him—a dark, very human scent—teased at her nose. Wood shavings, pine, a bit of sweat. And warmth. Like a blanket she could cuddle into.

She would not feel any kind of fondness for this Humanitarian Harry who’d interrupted her quest. Once he put her down, she’d find a way to escape and be on her way faster than he could say, “God Save the Queen.”

He opened the door, letting it shut behind them. There was a moment of total darkness as they traveled down a hall and into another room. He flicked a switch, sending the room into light. Catherine blinked until her eyes adjusted. The man laid the cage on a metal table in the center of a small, austere, white room. She peered through the bars, then shrank back. The sheen of stainless steel glinted back at her. Instruments. Medicines. Needles.

Panicking would do nothing but put her at a disadvantage. She held herself steady, focused on escape.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” He bent and peered into her cage.

Those eyes. Brown like a river of coffee, so kind they seemed to take her into his heart and hold her there, the way she’d always hoped home would be, but never had been, even two hundred years ago.

Catherine leaned forward, nose to the metal bars.

“Ah, there you go.” He reached in a finger and stroked the bridge of her nose.

She lashed out, catching him good with one nail before he yelped and pulled back. That would teach him for kidnapping her.

Do it again, Buster, and I’ll show you nine more like that one.

He chuckled and wagged his injured finger at her as if she’d been an errant child. She hissed and spat and yowled her frustration, but he merely smiled.

“You’re really going to make me work to get your affection, aren’t you?” He reached for the latch.

Catherine stilled. Finally. A chance to escape. She lowered her body, feigning acquiescence. He unlatched the door and reached inside, two broad warm hands at once encircling her and drawing her out of the cage. His grip was firm, secure.

Inescapable.

Catherine fought against him anyway, but he cradled her close, within the soft comfort of his sweater. A well-worn wool, washed so many times it felt rather like down. He ran a hand along her head, crooning again, saying nothing at all really, but sending a sense of calm rippling through her veins.

Against every instinct she’d honed in the last two centuries, Catherine relaxed, snuggling into that warmth, allowing herself to relax.

Such a long, lonely road I’ve traveled. How nice it would be to let someone else take care of me. For just one tiny, blissful minute.

And then, she’d go back to her life. To finding the kittens. To worrying about the curse, the deadline looming over her.

A low, quiet, strange rumbling started in her throat. Catherine jerked upright. The sound stopped. The man kept stroking her head and again, she relaxed. A second later, the curious sound started again, vibrating through her as gently as the wash of a tide.

Why was that sound coming from her throat? What did it mean? And why did it feel so good?

“There you are, little one,” he whispered, touching every nerve with what seemed such intimate knowledge of the best-feeling places, “I knew I could make you purr.”

She closed her eyes and forgot momentarily about escape. Absorbing simply this man, his touch, his kindness.

A few more seconds, that’s all. Then she’d—

There was a squeak. Catherine opened her eyes only to see a second, bigger cage. He’d betrayed her. She shrieked but couldn’t stop him from placing her inside and shutting the door.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry,” he said. “Sleep tight.”

Catherine hissed and swatted at his retreating form. A second later, the room was plunged into darkness.

She settled onto the newspaper-covered floor and let out a heavy sigh, ignoring the bowls of food and water beside her. Oh Lord, she was tired, more tired than she could remember feeling before. Maybe because the end was near. Six more days and her fate would be sealed. For better or worse, this half existence would be over.

She only had those few days to get a taste of what life might have been like—had she been able to go down a different lane. A life that could have included a husband, children. A home of her own. She’d missed out on all of that, thanks to Hezabeth’s rather warped sense of revenge. If only—

Enough self-pity. Catherine got to her feet and paced the length of the metal container, clean newspaper crunching beneath her paws. She was in a bit of a sticky wicket, to say the least.

First on the agenda was escape. She’d deal with figuring out how to get back to the kittens and the alley where she’d stashed her small reserve of cash for safekeeping later. She’d had two hundred years to ponder her fate and hadn’t reached any answers yet. Better to stay busy with the things she could change.

There had to be a way out. Finding a twenty-five-year-old blonde busting out of the locked two-by-three cage where he’d last seen a pale orange tabby would undoubtedly shock Humanitarian Harry into cardiac arrest. As appealing as that idea was, Catherine pushed it aside and went back to trying to figure out how she could pick a lock with four paws and a spattering of whiskers for tools.

The clock on the wall ticked along at a steady pace. Catherine had four hours to find a way out. Four hours until she changed from a cat…and became a woman again.

She had until sunrise to pull off a miracle.

Garrett couldn’t sleep. Charlie, his chocolate Labrador, snored loudly at the end of the bed. In a corner basket, Ferdinand and Isabel, a pair of muddled-blood cats, lay stretched out and quiet. Garrett, the only human in the room, lay on the bed, eyes open, arms crossed behind his head.

He’d come back to the house he shared with his Aunt Mabel at one in the morning. As always, he’d stopped to check on his elderly aunt, turning off the blaring TV and covering her with a blanket before heading to his own room. Up until a couple weeks ago, when Aunt Mabel had come down with a bout of pneumonia and temporarily needed more care, he’d lived in a cottage that sat on the back of her land.

When her home had been part of an estate, the little house had been the gardener’s home. Ten years ago, Uncle Leo had converted it into a rental property. But when Leo died, leaving a grieving and frail Mabel alone, Garrett had moved into the cottage. Just at the right time, too, given all that had gone wrong in his life then.

Garrett rolled over and punched his pillow into a new shape, but it didn’t make him any sleepier. His thoughts went back to the stray he’d found that night. She was such a tiny thing, all spit and fire. Despite her temper, she was a beautiful cat—short-haired and petite, with a pale orange coat, almost blond in color. He chuckled. Whoever took her home would need a lot of patience and cat treats to win over that grumpy girl.

Exhaustion weighed on him, but not enough to grant him sleep. His mind refused to quit, to give in and stop the reminders.

Garrett hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a stretch in three years. Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares returned, tearing at him, making him relive that horrible night again and again.

To hell with it. He got to his feet. The Monday morning sun would be up in an hour or so and then sleep would be pointless. As he’d done a thousand times before, he decided to go to the office before the rest of the world woke up. There was always work.

Ever since his last assistant had quit, he’d been running himself ragged, trying to keep up with the appointments, the shelter and the day-to-day of running his practice. Dottie, his receptionist, was a big help, but what he really needed was a second pair of hands to work with the animals. Problem was, he’d been through three assistants in the past six months.

Either he couldn’t hire good help or he didn’t have the personality to keep good help. He had a feeling it was the latter.

Standing around thinking about the problem wouldn’t get it solved. He needed to work on plans for expanding the shelter and hopefully come up with a strategy to convince the Lawford Community Foundation to finance his dream. Their support thus far had been barely tepid, which, admittedly, was partly his fault. He wasn’t exactly a great communicator. If he was going to make his dream happen, he needed a miracle before Saturday night.

Without looking in the mirror, Garrett showered, shaved and dressed. He avoided his reflection, slipping into jeans and a light blue button-down shirt, stepping into loafers and combing his hair into the same pattern as he had for almost twenty-eight years. Minutes later, he’d fed his cats and dropped them off at the cottage for the day, then set off for the office. Charlie panted in the seat beside him, eager for work.

First thing, he’d see how that cat was doing. After tangling with her last night, he’d put off an exam until today. No sense igniting her temper more than he already had. Once she was deemed healthy, he could find her a home.

He’d miss her, despite her cranky personality. He missed every animal that left his building. You can’t keep them all, his mother always told him, or you’ll be running a zoo instead of a veterinarian’s office.

He already had three pets, more than enough for the cottage and for his aunt’s home. And here, in the office, there was always a dozen or so waiting for his attention. Between the shelter and his veterinarian practice, hundreds of animals came into his care each year.

He loved them all. Well, except for Miss Tanner’s giant Doberman. What he wouldn’t give for a little help with Sweet Pea, whose name had nothing to do with her description or her personality. Even Dottie feared the dog, a nearly maniacal barker who ate almost everything in sight. Garrett had to admit he dreaded Miss Tanner and Sweet Pea’s annual appointment. Not to mention her continual “emergency” visits with the dog.

Where her Doberman was concerned, Miss Tanner was a canine hypochondriac.

But the rest of the animals had a piece of his heart. Maybe because they never looked at him with a touch of revulsion in their eyes, never stood there with a question they dared not ask on their lips. They responded only to his touch and his voice, as if they were blind to everything else the world judged about Garrett McAllister.

He pulled up in front of the small white building decorated with a simple sign: Garrett McAllister, DVM. The sky was beginning to turn from gray to light pink as the sun edged up the horizon.

Charlie settled onto a padded dog bed by the front door. Garrett made his way through the darkened office, knowing the path without the help of a light. He’d worked here most of his life, first with Doc West, then by himself when he bought the practice from Doc three years ago. There’d been a year when he’d lived—and worked—somewhere else, but his life had always been here. These rooms were more like home than his own. More familiar, more comforting. The place where he most belonged.

He unlocked the door to the exam room. Last night, the shelter had been full, so he’d kept the tabby here. What he’d do with her once patients started coming in and out at nine, he didn’t know, but he’d figure something out. A freezing rain was predicted for tonight and he had no intentions of letting the cat wander Lawford’s streets.

He flicked on the light. She was sitting on her haunches, every sense on alert. As if she’d been expecting him.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep?”

She glared at him in response.

He laughed. “Neither did I.” Her food bowl was untouched. “Didn’t like the selections on the menu? Let’s try some canned food then.” He pivoted, reached for a can on the shelf and opened it into a bowl. The first signs of morning orange sky peeked through the blinds. The tabby let out a howl that sounded almost panicked. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, turning back toward her.

She was frantic now, pawing and gnawing at the bars, shrieking in frustration.

“It’s okay, little one. It’s okay.”

She began to toss herself against the door of the cage. Was she in pain? Sick? Garrett rushed to unlatch the lock and thrust his free hand inside to catch her.

With a howl, she leapt past him, missing his grip by millimeters, dashing across the room and out the door he’d left ajar. She was gone in the space of a heartbeat.

“You won’t get far. Not unless you can open doors, too.” Garrett picked up the bowl of food and left the room, following the cat’s path. The office was small and most of the doors were shut. He’d find her soon enough.

One more second and it all would have been over. Her secret discovered—in one heck of a big way.

Nothing like making a grand entrance.

She darted out of the room, down the hall and through the first open door she saw. Just in time. She could feel it beginning to happen. The tingling, the stretching and expanding of her body from cat to woman.

She braced herself, hugged against the wall, knowing the pain was coming, yet jerking away in shock when it did. It was always like this when the change started. She’d never gotten used to it, even after two hundred years.

“Here kitty, kitty,” came the man’s voice. She heard him tap against the plastic food bowl. “Shrimp dinner. Come and get it.”

By day a woman, by night a cat. The curse can only be broken if you find a man who loves you as both a woman and a cat. Every day, Hezabeth the Witch’s screeching voice echoed in Catherine’s mind.

Her arms and legs began to lengthen, the cat’s furry hide transforming into pale skin. Catherine closed her eyes and envisioned a quiet meadow, songbirds, blooming flowers, anything but the hideous half-animal, half-human creature she was for the next few seconds.

There was another momentary protest of pain from her body and then, finally, it was over.

Before she opened her eyes, Catherine ran a hand over her face and skin. As the end of the curse drew nearer, she worried one day it would all go horribly wrong, leaving her stuck between the two worlds and looking like some fifty-cent sideshow in the carnival.

Not today, thank God. Everything felt as it should. Human. Womanly. And then, she realized—

Naked.

“Here kitty, kitty.” His voice again, closer. A few feet away.

Catherine scrambled to her feet, her eyes still unseeing—the last part of her body to adjust to the switch. In a second, she’d have her vision, but right now she was essentially blind.

How could she be so unprepared? The first time she’d transformed, she’d been caught naked in a marketplace in London during the bustle before the holidays, with vendors scrambling to set out their wares in the early morning.

When an unclothed woman had suddenly sprung up in the middle of the square, the fishmonger had dropped his mackerel, the butcher nearly chopped off his index finger, and the ladies readying the dress shop for the day had swooned, silly bats fainting as if they’d never seen a woman without clothes before.

Ever since, Catherine had made sure she was ready for the change, whether it meant stealing clothes from a washerwoman’s line or diving into a charity donation bin.

But this time, she hadn’t had a second to grab anything. She stood naked and cold against the wall, her vision now a blur of colors. How would she get past him? How could she explain being here at six in the morning?

Not to mention the nudity thing.

“Kitty?” The door across the hall clicked open, then shut. “Kitty?” Closer, on the other side of the pine door. This pine door. And then, the knob turned.

A miracle would take more time than Catherine had.

Chapter Two

Garrett flicked the switch for the overhead light in his office, bending over as he did so he wouldn’t miss the cat zipping by. His gaze swept the space in front of him, to the left, then the right. Beige carpet, the leg of a cherry desk, several crumbs from yesterday’s cookies baked as a thank-you by Mrs. Crane and…one woman’s naked foot.

He stood there for a second, blinking. One woman’s naked foot.

His gaze traveled up. A naked foot, attached to a naked leg. Garrett jerked upright and found himself looking at a twenty-ish blonde who filled out a lab coat—his lab coat—in ways that should be illegal.

His jaw dropped open. Not a word came out.

She, however, didn’t seem so surprised to see him. She smiled, a soft look that took over her face and reached into her gray-green eyes. A strange feeling of connection zipped through Garrett, which was odd, because he knew he’d never met her before. And yet, he felt as if he should know her.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Dr.—” her gaze flicked to his desk, then back. She sounded slightly out of breath, which caused a weird hitch in Garrett’s own breathing. “Dr. McAllister. I’ve been anxious to talk to you.”

“What are you doing in my office? Wearing my lab coat?”

“I told you. I wanted to talk to you.”

He could barely get his mind around any of this. “What? Why?”

If she had on any clothes at all, they were very short and hidden by the knee-length white jacket. Either way, he couldn’t focus on anything but the creamy length of her legs and the way the oversized jacket dipped in front, giving him a too-brief peek at the rounded pale curves of her breasts.

“I, umm…I wanted to talk to you about ah…a…job.” She gave a quick, firm nod.

He quirked an eyebrow. “A job?”

“As your…assistant. You know, helping with the animals.” The smile again, secure, confident.

Had he been in some kind of fugue state yesterday and forgotten he’d hired her?

No, impossible. He’d never forget hiring a woman like her. Besides, people didn’t exactly clamor to work for him. His last two assistants had said he lacked any kind of people skills before they’d slammed the door and left for good. Not to mention that most of his annual budget was poured into keeping the shelter up and running.

Although he needed the help, he preferred to work alone. Dealing with people was a hell of a lot harder than dealing with animals. People asked questions. People stared. People, he’d found, could disappoint you and let you down when you needed them most.

He’d already been down that road one painful time too many.

“I don’t have an opening for an assistant right now.” Another glimpse of her legs, then his gaze traveled up to her lean, heart-shaped face and deep gray-green eyes. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

A slow smile spread across her face like peanut butter on toast. Her gaze locked on his, and she took a step forward. “A busy vet can always use more help, I’m sure.”

He gestured at her, a hundred questions in the movement of his hands. “How did you get in here?”

“That’s rather a long story,” she said.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “I have time.”

“Well…” Her voice trailed off. She bit her lip and took a step back, settling on the corner of his desk. When she sat, the lab coat rode up, exposing more of her thighs.

His heart rate leapt to five times the normal rate. Garrett swallowed and forced his jaw to stay in place this time. Maybe this was one of those reality show pranks where someone had set him up with a gorgeous woman pretending she wanted a job.

“I…” she glanced around the room again, then back at him. “I was here late yesterday to talk to you about a job, but you’d already left. Your receptionist said I could find you here early in the morning. I got ah, turned around when I went to leave and accidentally got locked in.”

“It’s a small building. Not exactly full of halls and wrong turns.”

“I was nervous.”

She looked like the kind of woman who never got flustered. Her story had more holes than a cheap pair of socks. And yet, he sensed a vulnerability about her, as if she wasn’t used to asking for help or relying on others. Much like himself, he realized. And for some odd reason, that made him want to help her.

He needed more sleep. Clearly, he wasn’t thinking straight.

“I didn’t see you when I came back late last night,” he said.

“I fell asleep in your chair. When I’m asleep, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade could come by and I’d never hear a thing.”

“Must be nice to sleep that deeply,” he said quietly, then drew himself up. He wasn’t here to confess his insomnia problems to a stranger, especially one without any clothes on.

The way the coat drifted over her and peaked above her breasts, he suspected she was nude. Completely nude.

Oh boy, was he going to have a lot of fantasies running through his head over this one. He’d never look at that coat the same way again. “Do you, ah, always dress like this for a job interview?”

“I…I spilled some coffee on my clothes last night and washed them out in the sink. I slipped on this to wear until they dried. I didn’t expect you to be here so early. I hope you don’t mind.” She crossed one leg over the other, which only served to hitch the coat up farther.

He gulped. “Uh…no.”

She smiled again. “Good.”

“Did it hit your shoes, too?”

“Shoes?”

He looked pointedly at her bare feet.

“Oh, ah, yeah. Coffee all over them.”

“Must have been a hell of a big mug.”

She nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Huge.”

He should send her packing. Mentally, Garrett started ticking through the inconsistencies in her tale. “Why—”

“Well, let’s get to work,” she said, interrupting him with an enthusiastic clap. “I bet the animals are starving.”

“I don’t need an assistant.”

“I find that hard to believe. There are lots of animals here. You definitely need help.”

“I can’t afford an assistant. I can barely afford me.”

“I’ll work for peanuts.”

She had an argument for his every reason not to hire her. “But—” he tried one last time, sputtering like an engine that couldn’t quite quit.

“Give me a trial run this morning and if I don’t work out, I’ll take off your lab coat and leave you alone. Sound fair?”

A mental image of her stripping off his jacket popped unbidden into Garrett’s mind. For a second, he considered firing her just to see her remove it and walk out the door.

She would never do. For one, she was too distracting. For another, she was much too pleasant to be working with him. He’d have to be nice, and that was something Garrett rarely succeeded at.

“I don’t work well with other people hovering around me,” he said.

“You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be quiet as a cat.” She winked.

He thought of the dozens of patients that would be in and out today. The paperwork still sitting on his desk that he hadn’t gotten to in weeks. The stack of unreturned phone messages. The supplies list he needed to go over. The records he needed to finish updating. Not to mention the three dozen animals currently residing in the shelter.

And today was Miss Tanner’s annual visit with Sweet Pea. That alone was enough reason to bring in reinforcements.

He wasn’t about it to admit it, but the stranger in his office had impeccable timing.

“Okay, I’ll try you out today. But,” he held up a finger before she could say anything, “just today.”

She beamed. “Great! I love working with animals.”

“You might want to—” he gestured at her, not knowing what words to use.

“Want to what?”

“Ah, put something on beneath the coat.”

“Oh.” She blushed, and the red extended down her chest, flushing bright against the white fabric. “My clothes probably won’t be dry for hours. Any chance you have something in a size eight here?”

He thought of telling her to just go buy something, but the thought of her parading down the street in nothing more than his lab coat stopped him. “Try the storage room. Tiffany probably left a few things there.”

“Tiffany?”

“Assistant number three. She had a backup closet of clothes here in case she wanted to change.” Garrett scowled. “When she quit, she left pretty fast. And left behind part of her wardrobe.”

“Why’d she quit?”

“We had a disagreement over which kind of mammals Tiffany should be tending to.”

The woman raised her eyes.

“Tiffany had more interest in creatures with two legs than the ones with four.”

“Oh.” She paused, then her mouth opened. “Oh.”

Garrett shifted on his feet. The room seemed awfully warm. Furnace must be on the blink again.

Yeah, that was it.

“I have to get to work,” he said. He went to reach for the hook that normally held his lab coat, realized where it was, and jerked his hand back. Without a second glance at the woman or his jacket, Garrett turned on his heel and left the room.

He headed down the hall, looking for the cat that had escaped his grasp that morning but he didn’t see her anywhere. Odd how she had disappeared like that. Usually, Charlie would have tracked down any strays running around the office, but there was no sign of the sassy feline from last night.

Garrett entered the shelter and went first to the animals that needed him most. They were the abandoned and unwanted pets society forgot. Garrett found most people never gave a second thought to strays—unless they were messing up the front lawn.

That attitude was what he was fighting against in his quest to get funding for a bigger shelter. So far, he’d had no success. If things didn’t work out on Saturday, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. His building was too small to house more than a few dogs and cats. And there were so many, more than one office could hold.

With more money, he could hire help, expand the space, make a difference. And maybe, just maybe, find a little peace. He’d spent the last three years working himself to death and that hadn’t brought him one inch of serenity. Maybe if the shelter were a success and he could save just a few more animals, Garrett could regain a little of what he’d lost in that fire.

He turned on the light, dimmed the switch to gently light the room. “Hey, Rags,” he crooned to a motley-colored dog in the first kennel. The mutt leapt to his feet, tail wagging furiously. He let out a few yips and pressed his nose to the kennel’s bars. Garrett chuckled and rubbed Rags’s nose with two fingers. “I’ll feed you in a second. Let me check on the others.”

He moved down the line, greeting each animal in turn. He’d given them all names, humanizing each a little bit. Most were as excited to see him as children at Christmas.

Except one. In the last cage, a thin white cat sat on her haunches, nose in the air, seeming to ignore him even though she was looking straight ahead. “Hi, Queenie,” he said. “You gonna look at me today?”

She raised her nose more, stood, turned three quarters of the way around, and gave him her back.

“You’re one tough cookie.” He reached forward, testing the waters. He’d never gotten very far with Queenie, a stray he’d found a week ago. She had the personality of a wolverine and clearly didn’t appreciate his gestures of kindness or his presence.

Someone must have been very cruel to her at one time. It would probably be a while before she stopped hating everything human.

When his hand was three inches from the cage, Queenie whirled around, hissing and batting at the bars.

A long while, he amended.

“Okay, we’ll try again later.” Garrett frowned. Her food bowl was still untouched. “That’s three days, Missy. You can’t go on a hunger strike.” She hissed some more. He shook his head. He couldn’t save them all.

But, Lord, how he wanted to.

He walked back to the dog kennels and started collecting food bowls, avoiding more than one eager puppy tackle as he made his way in and out of the cages.

He knew she was there without even turning around. He sensed her standing behind him, silent and watching. He stumbled with one of the bowls, spilling kibble on the floor outside a spaniel’s kennel.

She was beside him in an instant, dustpan in hand. Still wearing just the damned lab coat, too. “Let me get that for you.”

“I can do it,” he grumbled. He yanked the dustpan out of her grip and scooped up the dry dog food, dumping it into a bin.

“I’m supposed to be your assistant. Let me assist.”

He busied himself with measuring food into the other bowls, avoiding her gaze. “You could have at least gotten dressed, for God’s sake.”

“I am dressed. Besides, you didn’t tell me where the storage room was. I didn’t think you’d want me wandering around your building, poking in all the rooms.” She took the dustpan and hung it back on its hook. “The animals are probably starving. I’ll change after we feed them.”

He whirled around, careful to keep his face out of the direct light. “Why do you keep insisting on taking this job?”

“I like peanuts.” She smiled. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “Mostly, because I love animals. I like working with them. I’ve always wanted to work in a vet’s office, but—” She shrugged, as if the ending of the sentence wasn’t important, but he got the feeling that it was quite the opposite.

Over the years, Garrett had gotten very good at telling which camp most people were in: animal lover, hater or indifferent. She was clearly in the first group. He respected that, very much. Even so, he wasn’t sure he could afford to hire her, nor did he really want someone underfoot all day.

“Face it. I’m a perfect fit for you,” she said.

“There are thousands of other veterinarians. Why do you keep bothering me?”

“Because I’m already here. And because you need an assistant more than anyone else I know.” She put her hands on her hips and the jacket rose, exposing more of her thighs.

Garrett held tight to the bowl before he scattered kibble at her feet like some pathetic gift to the goddess.

“Listen,” she began. “I’ll work for free today. Then you don’t lose anything. If it works out, great. Keep me here. If it doesn’t, I’ll be on my way. No loss, no hard feelings.”

A twinge of disappointment ran through him at the thought of her walking out the door. That was crazy. He barely knew the woman. And besides, she annoyed the heck out of him. She’d shown up at the worst possible time, disrupting his day, his schedule and making him act like a clumsy five-year-old.

He had a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work out. Another dozen why her leaving would be best. For both of them.

But all his excuses seemed to get stuck in the back of his brain. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Catherine Wyndham.” She thrust out a hand.

He took her hand. Long fingers, skin as soft as satin, a touch as delicate as cashmere.

She hadn’t flinched when her palm met his scarred one. He’d never met anyone who could touch him without even a flicker of attention toward the marks on his skin. It was as if he were himself again, before—

He quickly let go. “Garrett McAllister.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor Mc—”

“If you insist on staying here, make yourself useful.” He waved at the white cat’s cage. Start the woman off with a tough assignment first and maybe she’d give up. “Try to get Queenie to eat something.” Garrett grabbed a bag of moist cat food off the shelf. “This one has extra vitamins. She’s a little thin.” He thrust the bag at her, but she was already gone, her hands inside Queenie’s cage.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. She’s…testy.”

“This cat?” Catherine smiled. “She’s sweet.” She cradled Queenie close to her chest and whispered something into the cat’s ear. Queenie shot Garrett a look of disdain, then settled into Catherine’s arms.

And started to purr.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get her to play nice.”

Catherine shrugged. “I have a way with cats.”

“A touch of magic is more like it,” he muttered. “That cat hates me.”

“You just have to know how to talk to her.” Catherine scratched behind Queenie’s ear. The cat practically moaned.

“I know how to treat animals. I’m a vet, remember?”

“You’re also a human. That puts you in a different category from her right from the start.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re not human?”

She looked away. “Can you, ah, pour the cat food for me?” Catherine hoisted the cat in her arms. “It’s a little hard to juggle both.”

“Oh yeah. Sure.” Only one of his brain cells seemed to be firing. He’d already forgotten the cat in her arms. All he’d seen for the past couple minutes were Catherine’s gray-green eyes, so wide, so observant. He’d seen eyes that color once before, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember where.

Garrett turned back to the counter and filled a bowl with the moist food. He flaked the meaty nuggets with a fork, then pivoted to give the bowl to Catherine.

She took a step forward and reached for the dish. When she did, her hand brushed his. His remaining brain cell sputtered to a stop.

“Thanks.” Her lips curved in another smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had smiled at him like that.

Garrett’s heart gave a jerky lurch.

The only response he could muster up came out more like half a grunt than a word. He whirled back to the counter, measuring medicines into cups and syringes.

Concentrate on work, not on the woman standing five feet behind him and wearing his lab coat in ways that a lab coat should never be worn.

“Doctor McAllister—”

“I have to check on the other animals.” He left the room before he lost the capacity to breathe.

The woman was trouble, without a doubt. The sooner she was gone, the better.

Catherine watched the hurried, retreating figure of Garrett McAllister. So like a human. Heck, so like a male.

“Us girls should stick together, huh?” she said to the cat, placing Queenie and her food back into the cage. A final pat, then she left the feline to her meal. Something was bothering Queenie, but when Catherine had tried to read her, the cat had shut down and blocked out any attempt to communicate. Ever since the curse, she’d been able to “talk” to other animals in a silent manner. Sort of a mental telepathy that had helped her find a good place to sleep, a meal when she needed one and her way to a new temporary home. But now, as the end of the curse approached, those powers were weaker. Catherine decided to try again later. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Catherine stood in the center of the room. Should she follow him? She was, after all, supposed to be proving herself as his assistant, which meant actually assisting. He hadn’t given her anything to do, but then again, he didn’t seem the type to ask for help.

She wrinkled up her nose, ran through twenty reasons why she should not chase after a cranky veterinarian who wanted nothing to do with her, then headed out the door and down the hall to the second set of kennels.

As she walked, she realized Garrett could be useful.

Her tracking skills had grown weaker as the years passed, her instincts less sharp, as if her feline abilities weakened as the curse’s end neared. She’d seen it when she’d tried to connect with Queenie and been blocked.

As a human, she had little. No money, no clothes, no transportation. As a cat, even less.

Finding the kittens was going to be difficult. She wanted to find them, one last rescue before she couldn’t rescue anyone anymore. She wasn’t sure what would happen when the curse ended, but she was sure many of her telepathic gifts would disappear. She had to help those orphans at least. Because if there was anything Catherine understood, it was being without a family. The trio could be anywhere by now, though chances were good they’d stick close to where she’d last seen them. Wherever that might be. She’d lost all sense of direction during the midnight car ride. They could be thirty blocks or thirty miles away.

Finding her way to the white-picket-fence life for the last few days of her human existence would be even more impossible. She’d lived in castles, in spacious mansions with rich people who never noticed her, thinking that was the life. But it wasn’t. As she got older, Catherine realized the one thing she craved was the one thing she’d never had—simplicity. What had she been thinking when she’d come up with that crazy idea? She hadn’t been thinking. She’d simply hopped a bus and headed for the Midwest, getting off just before sunset yesterday.

No plan, no idea how she was going to accomplish this. Just an overwhelming urge to taste that one bit of life left unsavored.

She hated to admit it, but she could use a helping hand. Someone who knew animals, knew the city and could help her find what she needed before the sun set on Saturday.

That someone could very well be Garrett McAllister, whether he liked it or not.

She heard his voice before she reached the room. The same soft reassuring tones he’d used on her last night. With animals, he was clearly at ease. With people—

Well, he had the personality of a grumpy grizzly.

Catherine could understand. She’d never been much of a people person herself, even less so in the two hundred years since she’d been cursed to spend her days as a drifter and her nights as a cat.

That kind of life gave a woman a whole new appreciation for other species, particularly the kind with fur. And a new vision of the humans who too often saw animals as disposable. Catherine had long ago realized the way a man treated his pets was often a good indication of how he’d treat other people.

Garrett, however, didn’t fit that theory. He was caring and tender with animals; prickly and annoyed with people. Last night, though, he’d been kind and gentle. He’d treated her well, as if he cared about what happened to her. No one had acted like that with her before, especially not when she’d been in feline form.

Perhaps he understood what it was like to be a stray, on the fringes of the ordinary, pretty, “groomed” world. He always kept his face turned slightly away from her whenever they talked, as if he didn’t want her to look at him.

In his office, he’d stayed in the shadows of the hall, and then here, in the shelter, the lights had been dimmed and Garrett had kept his back to her most of the time.

Keeping the scars from view, she suspected. He was an outsider, just like she was. Maybe…

No, that was a crazy thought.

On Saturday, none of this would matter anymore either way. The curse would end and she’d be left forever as a cat. She had five more sunsets, six more sunrises and then…it would be over.

Before that happened, she had one last hurrah to live. She’d already traveled the world. Seen the sights, met the kings. All she wanted now was a taste of the ordinary. Of waking up in one place day after day. Feeding the birds in the morning and watching the sun set on a back porch. Such simple things, but for a woman who had spent her life going from place to place, century to century, it was the only thing she craved.

And she had to find those kittens. To give one more happy ending to a set of young strays.

Catherine sighed. She had a lot to accomplish by Saturday. Changing Garrett McAllister’s life was not on that list.

Then why did she suddenly find herself at the door to the kennels? It wasn’t just because she wanted to work as a vet’s assistant. There was more.

She’d known since the first moment he’d caught her and held her close with kindness and trust. There’d been something in his eyes, something indefinable.

A connection.

Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that invisible tether.

She found him working with an older golden retriever. He had already folded up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt and flipped his navy and red striped tie over his shoulder to keep it out of the way. He looked so at ease, so comfortable, with his dark wavy hair slightly messy and his hands capably handling the dog. This was clearly where Garrett was most at home.

“There’s a pile of bandages over there if you want to help,” he said without turning around.

She grabbed the bandages and crossed to him. White cotton strips ran across the opposite flank of the dog. The dog’s fur had faded and paled in some spots and she limped a little as she sidled up to Garrett. “Is she hurt?”

“Nah, just thinks she’s still a puppy.” He gave the dog a tender caress. She nuzzled him back. “She raced a squirrel and lost. Hit a tree with her hip and scraped it up pretty bad.”

When he reached to take the bandages, his hand brushed hers. A jolt rushed through her and Catherine drew back. Garrett turned away, busied with applying the new bandage.

Had he been as affected as she? Had he felt that…that electrical shock?

It was her feet against the carpet. Static electricity. Yeah, except her feet were bare and they were standing on vinyl flooring.

The light was streaming through the windows now, exposing his face clearly. She saw the jagged lines that ran down his face, disappearing under his neckline, almost like pale pink zippers running along his cheeks and neck. The backs of his hands were scarred as well, dark red in some places, soft cherry in others.

Something terrible had happened to Garrett McAllister. Something he seemed to want to hide, judging by the way he kept his face averted and avoided looking directly at her.

Garrett led the retriever back to her kennel, giving her another gentle pat and a few kind words before closing the door and moving on to a small multicolored Pekingese. His hand hovered over the latch, his back to her. “This isn’t going to work, Miss Wyndham. Maybe you should find other employment.”

She crossed the room in three strides, coming to a stop beside him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t work well with others.”

She softened her tone. “Because of your scars?”

He wheeled around, a volcano erupting in his eyes. “Who do you think you are? How dare you come in here and start intruding on my life?”

She took a step back, speechless.

“I didn’t ask you for a commentary on my appearance. I asked you to leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yeah, and the sooner the better.” He turned back to the kennel, but didn’t unlatch the door. The Pekingese yipped impatiently.

Bloody hell. Catherine stood there, facing his back for several seconds, chewing on her lip. She needed his help, but there was no way she was asking for it now. She’d never before needed a man to help her do anything.

She wasn’t about to start now.

“Your wish is my command.” She stripped off the lab coat, then reached over his head and dangled it in front of his face. The muscles in his neck flexed and tensed when he swallowed. Twice. He stared at the coat as if he’d never seen it before. She dropped it on the top of the kennel. The Pekingese barked at the pile of fabric. “I’m gone.”

Then she turned on her naked heel and left the room, certain Garrett would be spending the next few minutes picking his jaw up off the floor.

Chapter Three

Garrett remained rooted to the spot until he heard the soft whoosh of the door. Then, when he could function enough to move, he took a seat on the rolling stool in the corner. He left the lab coat on the kennel, an empty reminder of the woman who’d just been wearing it.

His mind conjured up several pictures of the retreating and naked Catherine but he dismissed them all, trying his damnedest not to think about what she looked like without his jacket.

It worked, for about one second, and then the pictures came anyway. Luscious, creamy skin. Firm thighs and breasts. And above it all, those steady gray-green eyes, watching him.

Garrett closed his eyes, leaned against the wall. He’d done the right thing by getting rid of Catherine Wyndham.

Then he thought of Queenie, and how she’d responded to the woman’s touch. How the dogs seemed to calm when she walked by. How every animal in the place appeared to watch her, as if they knew her somehow.

He’d never met anyone who had such a connection with animals. She would have made the perfect assistant. An even better vet.

For someone else, he amended. Not for him.

And yet, he couldn’t rejoice at driving her away, as he had all the other times he’d made someone leave him alone. By asking about his scars, she’d opened the door most polite people left shut. Everyone else was smart enough to leave it at staring and whispering about him behind his back, wondering what tragedy had left him with that tortured appearance.

There were rumors, Garrett knew. A vengeful woman who’d set his house on fire. A drunken night of partying ending in a fiery car wreck. A fight with another man over a girlfriend. The whispers were constant. Garrett didn’t bother to correct anyone. His scars were his own mark of stupidity and he saw no reason to tell anyone about how he’d earned them.

Still, he’d been mean to her—too mean. He’d lashed out like a dog that had been beaten and didn’t know a gentle hand from a cruel one. Somewhere in the last three years, he’d lost the bridge to people and replaced it with one to animals. Clearly, he’d gotten to the point where he couldn’t even behave like a civilized person anymore.

At the very least, he owed Catherine Wyndham an apology.

He heard another door open and close, somewhere in the back. She must have gone in search of Tiffany’s clothes. Despite his best intentions, he pictured her slipping into a dress, the silky fabric gliding over her breasts, sliding past her waist, snuggling along her hips. Touching where his hands dared not go.

He’d been alone for so long. Three long years spent in an empty, cold bed. Three long years without the voice of another. With only his own company, which admittedly, wasn’t all that pleasant.

Garrett stood and went down the hall, toward the storeroom. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but she opened it before his knuckles met the wood. “I’m leaving now. You don’t have to escort me out the door.”

Tiffany apparently hadn’t left many clothing choices behind. Nor had she been as tall as Catherine. The skirt Catherine wore only reached her mid-thigh, the black suede against the pale expanse of her skin. She wore a fuzzy pink sweater that rode up a little on her stomach, exposing a flat, pretty abdomen. And on her feet, red high heels that did nothing to calm the fantasies rolling through his mind.

“I’m not here to throw you out. I just came to—” His words drained away when she shifted and the sweater strained against her rib cage.

Tiffany had definitely been smaller than Catherine. In every way.

The slide show of her in the nude and in his bed played again in his mind, a lusty tape stuck on repeat. If he’d had a mental Pause button, he wasn’t so sure he’d have the strength to punch it.

Silence ticked between them. “Came to…what?”

He cleared his throat, reminded himself of his real reason for coming down this hall. “Apologize,” he muttered.

“Did I hear you say apologize or antagonize?”

“Hey, I came to say I was sorry, not start a fight.”

She put her hands on her hips and the sweater jumped up another inch. Oh Lord, she had an innie. A petite, perfect belly button.

He needed a drink.

“Then say it,” she said.

He let out a gust that mixed a hundred different types of frustration into one. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a curt nod. “Have a nice life.”

Catherine brushed past him to leave and he caught her arm. The move sent her off-kilter and she stumbled back, against his chest. The link he’d felt earlier with her multiplied tenfold, launching within him like a burst of color in a black and white world.

So many years. So lonely.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed her.

So many years. So lonely.

The words echoed in Catherine’s head. Had she thought them? Or had he?

When Garrett touched her, a searing heat exploded within her veins. Instead of pulling away, Catherine drew closer, seeking, needing…

What, she didn’t know.

And then…and then, his lips met hers and she knew what she needed. This—this touch, this tender, reverent touch, drifting over her mouth with the care of a jeweler handling a rare diamond.

She opened her mouth to his, ignoring the warning bells going off in her head, heeding only the strange desire for more of whatever was between them. She twisted against him, pressing herself to his torso, her hands reaching for his back. He cupped her face, rough skin against smooth, so full of sensation it seemed like a thousand nerve endings were awakening for the first time.

So many years, with no physical contact from others. She’d done her best to stay distant, to keep her heart intact, knowing she’d just be moving on again. But here, with Garrett’s mouth on hers, his hand against her cheeks, her chest pressed to his, she felt…

She felt as if she’d come home.

From the other room, a cat let out a meow. The sound jerked Catherine back to reality. To her damned half existence.

The curse can only be broken if you can find a man who can love you both as a woman and as a cat, the witch had said. That evil twist on the fairy tale—the witch knew what she’d been doing. No one could love her knowing she was half human and half house pet.

Even this man, with his clear love for animals, would recoil if he knew what she really was. What she became when the sun went down.

She stumbled back, breaking the connection. Her breath hitched in her throat. She pressed a hand to her heart, willing it to slow. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I was completely at fault. I—” He swallowed hard and took two steps back, once again hiding his face from her in the shadow of the corner, as if the intimacy of their kiss had opened another wound. “It’s best if you leave.”

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