Chapter Four
Noelle lifted one of the kittens and petted it before setting it back on the floor to play with the others. In her lap, Duchess watched with an indulgent eye. “She is beautiful. If she doesn’t like men, she must have a good reason.”
“When Karina found her, she was a mess, matted fur and missing patches, skinny and scared. Now her only problem is me breathing her air. She thinks she owns the place.”
“No, she’s a sweet thing.” Noelle nuzzled her, and Mrs….Duchess rubbed her face against her cheek. He envied the cat’s nearness to his guest. “Come sit by me, and we’ll see if we can’t get her to accept you.”
He shrugged but welcomed the opportunity to be closer to Noelle. “Okay, but she’ll either bite me or run away. You’ll see.” Dropping down onto the rug, he kept his hands out of reach. His previous attempts to pet “his” pet had resulted in nasty scratches.
“Duchess, Charles wants to be your friend.” She dropped a kiss on the cat’s nose and, miracle of miracles, the animal didn’t attack him. She seemed as transfixed by Noelle as he was. “He gave you this beautiful house and good food to eat and takes care of you. Now, be nice.”
“I wanted a puppy,” he muttered, sounding childish even to himself.
“With a house this size, you could have a dozen. What’s held you back?”
“I don’t know. Seems like all I do is work. This Christmas was supposed to be special, but here I am all alone.” He offered her a slow smile. “At least I was until you came along.”
“Maybe Santa will bring you a puppy. If you’ve been a good boy.”
If she knew how his eyes roamed her firelit form, she’d know why he headed for the naughty list, but with her feelings toward rich people, and the evil developer who had likely caused her loss, unless Santa could read minds, his nice list status was safe. A beautiful woman like her deserved her dream man, and he wasn’t it. “I thought you were anti-Christmas?”
She shrugged. “No, I’ve just had some bad ones recently. I used to love it. I think I’d better avoid them in future. Make bah humbug my watchword and hide from holly and mistletoe. Not that I have anything else to lose.”
“You’ll want to keep out of the front hallway, then.” Because if he got her anywhere near the big bunch tied to the chandelier there, he could not be responsible for his actions. Surely Santa would forgive him one kiss?
Noelle held Duchess toward him, and he gingerly stroked her back, amazed her purring didn’t slow. And she didn’t bite him. A Christmas miracle for sure. “Now”—she set the cat on the floor and gave her a little push—“take your new friends out to the kitchen for another snack from the nice big bowl I saw out there a moment ago.”
As he watched in astonishment, the elegant almost-Persian led a parade of scampering tuxedo kittens down the hallway. “What are you, a cat whisperer? I was worried she’d be in a snit over them. In fact, I hadn’t seen her since we got home.” Not that she came to his call, but with the housekeeper gone for the holiday, she’d at least have demanded food eventually.
A peal of laughter made him smile before Noelle even answered the question. “Heavens, no. My friend Tabbi, who I told you about, has a special connection with cats. Me? I am just an admirer.” She sobered. “Tabbi will take us in until things get straightened around. She’ll help the kittens find homes, too.” Scooping up a black-and-white baby, she buried her face in the fur, murmuring, “I hate to give them up, but I don’t have a home myself, much less someplace to keep them safe and warm.”
His heart ached for her. But if he were to say, “Please, stay here with me,” she’d think him a lunatic. He’d just met her, for heaven’s sake. And Christmas Eve made him sentimental. Pushing to his feet, he reached for her hand and tugged her up, too. “We never ate the snacks I put out, so let’s raid the refrigerator.”
She blushed. “I peeked in there before, and I didn’t want to say anything, but the fridge is packed with things I want to eat.”
“You aren’t worried I’ll lose my job if you have a sandwich?”
Linking her arm in his, she let him lead her along. “Might as well be hung for a tree as a wreath.”
Pausing, he stared at her for a moment. “A what?”
Her lips curved. “Trying to get into the spirit…Christmas version of the old saying?”
“A sheep as a lamb.” Moving forward again, he freed his arm and dropped it over her shoulders in a brief hug. “Weak. Really weak. But I’ll take it.” Passing a control pad, he hit a series of buttons and “We Three Kings” poured out of hidden speakers. “We may have you ho-ho-hoing by midnight yet.”
“I’m afraid it would take more than a sandwich.”
“Whatever helps.”
The sound system filled the kitchen with carols as well as the front part of the house, and Noelle was surprised to find herself humming along as they piled the big stainless steel counter with roast beef, a dish of potatoes au gratin, breads, cookies, a cold vegetable salad, and so many good things—her restaurant had less food in it. Ouch. Try not to think about the restaurant. Over in the corner, the kittens curled up in a fluffy royal-blue cat bed with Duchess.
Charles snatched a braided bread from a basket of beautiful loaves and cut off several slices. “Do you want me to heat up anything?”
She shook her head, a forkful of delicious, creamy potatoes already in her mouth. Pulling the utensil out, she chewed and swallowed. “I’m too hungry to wait, and cold cheesy potatoes are the food of North Pole royalty.” She cocked her head. “See what I did there?”
Piling rare beef on a slice of bread, he chuckled. “Yeah…keep eating.” His sandwich, with the addition of Swiss cheese and grainy mustard, had her at his side.
“That looks good.” It looked better than good.