Barty let out a particularly loud meow, startling Brynn into almost knocking over the uncapped bottle of oil.
“Yes, baby, I’m sorry. Let’s try a little oil to work that gum out, okay?” As she started to carefully work the oil into the fur around the gum, she glanced up at Sean, who was disinfecting and bandaging his hand. “He has quite a loud meow, doesn’t he?”
“That’s how he got his name.”
“Barty?”
Sean grinned. “Nope. Bartholomeow, if you can believe it.”
“That’s a good one,” she had to admit. “I’ve heard a lot of funny pet names, as you can imagine. Today I had one of my favorite dogs in here; an enormous golden cross named Peaches. He’s quite an elegant, dignified dog, so I always wonder if he’s a little embarrassed by his name.”
“I think I know that dog,” Sean said, after he put the first-aid kit away. “Tiny little Mrs. Mastroianni?”
“That’s the one. Bordertown is a small place, isn’t it?”
“Mrs. M. is a friend of my mother’s. They used to go for tea, before . . . before.”
Brynn recognized the pain that stamped his face. She’d worn the same expression after her mom had died.
“She’s gone?”
“No. She’s—no. Cancer. She doesn’t have much time left. Maybe three or four months, they tell us.” His eyes were dry, but his voice was rough with the unshed tears that she knew must be clogging his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, wanting to do something—anything. Reach out to him, give him a hug, offer some comfort. But she knew better. Getting involved was dangerous.
Caring about someone was worse. Look what had happened to her mom.
She worked diligently to remove the rest of the gum, and then she washed the oil out of the beautiful Persian’s fluffy tail. He was purring now, lying on his side and enjoying the attention.
“I can’t get over how calm and happy he is for you,” Sean said, gesturing to Barty. “He hates everybody.”
Brynn gently rubbed the cat’s belly, and a thought occurred to her. “Has he always been like this? Persians are one of the best-tempered of all the cat breeds. It’s unusual to hear of one hating people.”
“Come to think of it, he hasn’t. He was a perfectly good cat for the first couple of years she had him. Cute as a button when he was a kitten, too. It’s just for the past year or so—”
Brynn knew what was coming when his voice trailed off. “When did your mom get sick?”
“Right about the same time, I think, although she didn’t get her diagnosis until several months ago,” he said, his eyes widening. “Do you think Barty knew?”
“It’s very common for animals to react when their people get sick,” Brynn said. “There are even doctors who use dogs to detect cancer in humans. They can smell the tumors or the difference in the bloodstream, or something like that, I think. I’m sure cats can do the same, only I haven’t heard of anyone trying to train a cat to do the job.”
“I’ll be damned,” Sean said, lifting the now-clean and gum-free cat up off the table and staring into his eyes. “Are you just worried about Mom, Barty?”
The cat meowed plaintively and quite loudly, and Sean smiled at him. Brynn’s heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of the big, masculine firefighter sharing a moment of compassionate understanding with the beautiful little creature, and the feeling rang every warning bell she had.
“Oh, boy, you should be on a poster,” she muttered, going to wash her hands and drop the comb in the disinfectant.
“What was that?”
She turned around, and he was standing way too close to her, even though she hadn’t heard him move.
“You,” she said, almost accusingly, backing away. “You’re like a movie poster. Hot guy rescues people from burning buildings and saves kittens from trees in his spare time. You don’t own a spandex suit, do you?”
A slow, deliciously wicked smile spread across his face. “Hey, if you’re into that kind of thing, I’ll see what I can find.”
SIX
Sean watched the intriguing rosy glow rise in Brynn’s face, and the blood in his body rushed straight to his cock. He’d never been so glad to be holding Barty, whose fluffy sweep of a tail hung down and concealed Sean’s enormous erection. Damn, but he was suddenly acting like a teenager at his first sight of cleavage, although Brynn couldn’t be more covered up.
His memory, though, was happy to rush in and supply her image, in full-color detail, from the night before. Her incredibly beautiful body, naked and gleaming in the moonlight, wasn’t a picture he was likely to forget anytime soon. His throat went dry, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to pull Brynn into his arms and kiss the breath out of her. He could put poor Barty in one of the roomy crates lining the back wall—just for a few minutes, or an hour or two—and see if kissing her would quench the need that had been simmering at a slow burn ever since he’d first seen her.
His cock strained against its denim confinement, and Sean knew the answer was a resounding no. Kissing wouldn’t do anything but make him want more and more of her. Long, slow, powerful kisses. Naked kisses. Long, slow, hard thrusts into her hot, wet, welcoming body, maybe right there up against the glass counter.
He groaned, and Barty hissed at him, snapping him out of the fantasy and into the reality in which Brynn was staring at him like he was a lunatic, and they were standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass front wall of her shop.
With people walking by outside.
So, maybe not.
Instead, he took a deep breath and told her a different truth. “It’s pretty impressive that you own and run your own business, when you have to deal with the curse.”
She blinked, clearly not having expected him to say that.
“I—it’s—thank you. I’m very proud of my little shop, actually,” she admitted, and her cheeks turned pink again.
He caught himself staring at her like an idiot, and tried to come up with something to say.
“Dinner,” he finally said desperately.
“Excuse me?” Brynn looked around, probably wondering if she had a bigger pair of scissors nearby so she could use them to protect herself from the crazy man. He tried again, but this time he attempted to channel his brother Oscar, who was charming and funny and great with women.
It didn’t work.
“Dinner? With me? You?”
Her lips quivered, and he realized with relief that she was trying to fight back laughter instead of yelling at him to get out of her shop.
He hoped.
“Is this a thing with you? One-word invitations to meals?” Her smile faded quickly, though. “Sean, I told you, I can’t get involved. The curse—”
“It’s only dinner. You have to eat, right? Eat with me.”
She glanced down at Barty, who seemed to be bored with the entire conversation, and then back up at Sean’s face. “Well. I do have to eat. How can I refuse an eloquent invitation like that?”
“Tomorrow? No, I have the night shift. The day after tomorrow?”
A shadow passed through her winter-blue eyes, and he remembered that she’d have to do swan duty then.
“We can eat early, if you like,” he added, willing her to agree.
She bit her luscious lip, which made him go right back to wanting to kiss her, but then she nodded. “All right. But just dinner.”
“Just dinner. How much do I owe you for Barty?”
Brynn smiled and shook her head. “No charge. Bring him back to me for a bath and grooming soon, though, okay? He’s looking a little scruffy.”