Until We Touch. Susan Mallery

he thought with a grin. But what the hell. He had enough.

      He knocked once, then opened the door. Larissa wasn’t one for locks.

      “It’s me,” he called and he stepped into her small one-bedroom apartment.

      Larissa looked up from the book she’d been reading. “Hi. Meet Dyna.”

      He glanced down and saw a cat hurrying toward him. She had long hair and almost-human blue eyes.

      “You really got a cat.”

      “I told you I did.”

      “I know, but I thought you were kidding.”

      Dyna wound her way around his legs in a tight figure eight, depositing light-colored cat hair on his suit pants with every step.

      “Nice,” he murmured, making a mental note to change into jeans before visiting again, even if that meant keeping an extra pair at the office.

      Larissa stood and crossed to him. “Don’t whine. Isn’t she beautiful?”

      She picked up the cat, who immediately relaxed in her arms.

      Dyna’s fur was a creamy white in the front of her body, darkening to a taupe-beige, then darkening even more until it was a deep brown on her tail.

      “She’s great,” Jack said.

      “She intimidates me a little,” Larissa admitted. “I’ve never had a cat this gorgeous before.”

      “Your eyes are the same color. That’s a little weird.”

      Larissa laughed and set down the cat. “Afraid we have an otherworldly connection? That together we can move objects and read minds?”

      “It’s never good when a woman can read my mind,” he said honestly. “By whatever means.”

      She took the bag of food from him and led the way into her small kitchen.

      The eat-in table was already set with two place mats, plates and flatware. A vase filled with a few carnations sat in the center. The pink petals were turning brown on the edges, he noted. Probably because Larissa had bought them at 70 percent off at the grocery store. You wouldn’t want to waste money on something like flowers at full price. What if there was a mad squirrel in need of therapy?

      She picked up a bottle of merlot. “Wine or beer?”

      He considered the question. “Beer.”

      She carefully put the bottle back into the rack on her counter. It was one he’d brought over, along with the inventory of a few of his favorite merlots. While he trusted Larissa to buy beer, he was not willing to drink the cheap wine she favored.

      She pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, then nudged the door closed with a bump of her hip. He set down the bag of food and crossed to the drawer to pull out the opener. While he was there, he also grabbed a few serving spoons for their dinner.

      He turned in the small kitchen and handed her the opener. She walked back to the table.

      The windows were open and a nice breeze drifted through the kitchen. Dyna had settled on the back of the sofa to watch them from a safe and regal distance. Larissa opened both bottles, then unpacked the containers of food. She turned to him and smiled.

      “You got the crispy shrimp,” she said happily. “Thank you.”

      “You like it.”

      “You don’t.”

      “Yeah, whatever. Eat the rest for lunch.”

      “Real men don’t eat shrimp?” she asked.

      “I love shrimp. Just put it in a butter sauce and drop it over pasta. Is that too much to ask?”

      She sat down and motioned for him to do the same. Jack started to move toward the table, or at least he planned to, but suddenly he found it difficult to move.

      From this angle he could see Larissa’s bare shoulder. She’d replaced her usual work T-shirt with a tank top. One of those cottony, billowy ones with little ruffles around the arm and neckline. The soft fabric dipped low enough for him to be aware of feminine curves.

      He shook his head. So Larissa had breasts. She was a woman—it wasn’t unexpected. Only he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed them before. Or how long her legs were in her shorts. She had great legs. Tanned and toned.

      No, he corrected himself. Lanky. She was lanky. His gaze drifted to her bare feet. She’d painted her toes a dark purple and added little pink dots. Who did that?

      “What?” she asked. “You okay?”

      “Ah, fine.”

      He sat across from her and reached for one of the containers. It was the damned crispy shrimp and he quickly passed it over to her.

      “How’d you get her?” he asked, motioning to the cat.

      “Mayor Marsha mentioned she knew an older lady who had passed away. Her family couldn’t keep Dyna—everyone’s allergic. So I took her.” Larissa lowered her voice. “I think she’s starting to like me. When I pet her, she purrs.”

      Jack wanted to point out that liking or not liking wasn’t the issue. Larissa was Dyna’s meal ticket and the cat was smart enough to know that. But the words sounded harsh, even in his head, so instead he said, “What’s not to like?” and then wondered why he felt weird saying that.

      Something was wrong. Or different. Or both. And he didn’t like it. He was comfortable around Larissa. He understood her. They were friends. So what was off tonight?

      “Speaking of Mayor Marsha, what did she want with you?”

      Jack told her about the need for a new coach and a football program, and how he was going to be on the committee.

      “That will be fun for you,” Larissa told him. “College kids are great. So much enthusiasm. And you have a good eye. You’ll be able to see who has real talent.”

      “Don’t get carried away. I’m not mentoring anybody or paying for their mother’s goiter surgery.”

      Her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “You sure about that?”

      He sighed. “I won’t tempt fate by fighting with you on that. Besides, you know what I mean. I’m helping with a committee, not getting involved.”

      “You like getting involved.”

      He picked up his beer. “No. You like getting involved and dragging me with you. There’s a difference.”

      “You’re an excellent role model.”

      Only in her eyes, he thought as he took a drink. He knew the truth. In his heart, he was about as selfish as the average Joe, only with more resources.

      Larissa chattered on about her various causes and he half listened. This was what he liked, he thought. Just being with his friend. Their relationship was uncomplicated, although apparently a mystery to the outside world. Why else would Mrs. Owens have made such a bonehead statement? Larissa in love with him? Impossible.

      Jack relaxed back in his chair and watched Larissa’s hands move as she talked. Her face was expressive. He supposed on a purely impersonal basis he could admit she was pretty. Her skin was smooth and soft-looking. She never wore makeup, as far as he could tell, which was a change from the other women in his life. The long hair was nice, especially when she wore it down. At work it was always back in a ponytail. He remembered a client spotting her and asking if it was bring-your-daughter-to-work day. Because she could look kind of young.

      He grabbed another egg roll and bit into the crispy shell. Yeah, he was a lucky man, he thought. Good friends, good food and very few problems.

      “Mary’s not doing well,” Larissa said with a sigh.

      “Who’s Mary?”

      Larissa’s