all.
Something she knew in her heart Riley McKendrick could never understand.
Chapter Three
Get out , a voice warned him again as he watched Cat sprint toward the door of the mini-mart. Get out while you still can.
He knew how to handle sexual chemistry. You acted on attraction or you didn't, but either way it wasn't a life-altering force that moved through your world like a tornado across the plains.
This was different. All she had to do was turn those big blue eyes on him and he was lost. Done for. No wonder she wrote murder mysteries for a living. The woman must have left a trail of dead men behind her a mile long.
He watched as she disappeared inside the store. Max didn't think she was beautiful and he supposed that technically Max was right. Her mouth was too wide and mobile for classic beauty, her jawline too strong and stubborn. Still in combination with her fierce intelligence, the effect was stunning.
He had known women who were more beautiful. He'd also known women who knew how to flatter a man, how to make him feel like he was better than he was. Cat Zaslow didn't flatter, she didn't fawn, she sure as hell didn't flirt but he was drawn to her by a force more powerful than anything he'd ever encountered.
"Five kids," he muttered, tapping his finger against the steering wheel. A score of dogs and cats underfoot. Hell, the woman had a housekeeper and between the two of them they couldn't remember the cranberries for Thanksgiving dinner. Not that she'd admitted forgetting them but he wasn't born yesterday.
She didn't look happy when she climbed back into the car. There was a furrow between her brows and a murderous glint in her blue eyes. And as far as he could tell, she didn't have cranberries.
"So did you leave the wallet for your housekeeper?" he asked, all mock innocence.
She favored him with a fierce look. "Don't say a word," she said through gritted teeth. "Not one single word."
"We could check out the supermarket," he said, shifting into first. "Maybe your housekeeper's there."
"I'm warning you, McKendrick--"
"There's always a farm stand."
"Why would I look for Jenny at a farm stand?"
"Admit it, Zaslow. You forgot the cranberries."
"I did not."
"We'll go to a supermarket and get the cranberries."
"The supermarkets are closed," she muttered.
"What was that?" He couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
"Damn it! So I forgot the cranberries. Is it a crime against the nation?" She stared, grim-faced, out the window at the passing scenery. "Besides, what's it to you? You'll be in Boston where I'm sure there'll be a surfeit of cranberries and you can stuff your fat face to your heart's content."
You're sunk, McKendrick. It's too late now...
"About Boston," he said, "there's been a change of plans..."
***
"There's nothing sadder than a ravaged turkey." Cat shook her head hours later as she surveyed the remains of the feast. "Thirty pounds and I don't think we'll get two sandwiches out of those leftovers."
"And that's if we're lucky," said Jenny, housekeeper and friend. "That's what you get for asking twenty-one people to Thanksgiving dinner."
"What can I tell you? Everyone in town knows I'm a sucker for the holidays." She gestured toward the front of the house. "Did the kids clear the small tables in the foyer?"
"Done," said Jenny. "Kevin griped that it was girl's work but he did it."
"Kevin and I are going to have another talk about division of labor tonight. He's becoming a twelve year old sexist."
"Hormones," said Jenny sagely. "He'll get over it."
"He's male," Cat said. "He'll never get over it. It's only going to get worse. Before you know it, he'll be shaving and channel-surfing with the remote control." With three other sons and a little daughter marching inexorably toward puberty, Cat sometimes wondered if she'd make it to thirty-five with her sanity. "Where are they now?"
"Where else? Tossing around a football in the front yard."
Cat opened the freezer door and removed