All Fired Up (Kate Meader) by Kate Meader

she didn’t even have that on today’s résumé.
    Damn Shane.
    Her equilibrium was shot; that was certain. Left behind in Las Vegas along with her single-girl status and a very expensive pair of Christian Laboutin leopard-print pumps.
    Sorry, something came up, the note said in her very neat script, penmanship Sister Mary Margaret had said was the envy of the entire school at Casimir Pulaski High. Envy of the nuns perhaps. The other kids didn’t seem so envious when they pulled her hair for being so perfect. Her gaze fell to the note once more. Emily Post would not approve.
    Heart thumping madly, she took another step toward Shane’s apartment, only to get the fright of her life when something furry glanced by her bare legs. She looked down and saw…it.
    Because it couldn’t possibly be described as anything else. The sorriest bundle in the world stared back up at her, all eyes and fur and defiance. A broken, scrawny thing. Too big to be a kitten, too small to be a cat, it coughed out something plaintive from its throat, then devolved into a sneezing fit.
    “Who are you?” she asked, while looking around for a possible source. There were only two apartments in the building, hers and Shane’s, but sometimes the front door was known to stick. Her husband—no, her neighbor—probably left the door open, an invitation for all manner of riffraff to make themselves at home. Standards were definitely slipping.
    Gingerly, she picked it up. Its eyes locked onto hers. A small, not insignificant gash on its nose appeared to be on the mend. It sneezed again, right in Cara’s face, and her heart broke on the spot.
    Cara didn’t possess a mushy bone in her body, but lately she had felt itchily sensitive, as if a whole layer of emotion was hovering beneath her skin’s surface waiting for an open vein. Or a gawky stray with missing patches of gray fur and what looked like the remnants of an alley fight marking its sad little body.
    They were meant to find each other. Two creatures buffeted like corks in a cruel and unfeeling sea. She smiled to herself at that thought—she’d always had a knack for melodrama. Raising her hand purposefully, she jumped when Shane’s door opened as if it had been waiting for her touch. Her world suddenly became smaller as a mess of hot male crowded her senses.
    “Hey,” Shane said. His gaze dipped to the package in her arms. “Ah, grand, you found him.”
    Him? Cara was sure he was a she. “He’s yours?”
    Before she could adjust, Shane extracted her charge and dropped her—or rather, him—to the floor inside his apartment.
    “When I moved in, he moved in with me. Just walked in off the street and made himself at home.”
    Oh, definitely male, then. So much for thinking they had a connection. Pushing her disappointment down deep, she refocused on her current problem. All six feet of him.
    “I was just—”
    “I’m afraid this isn’t going to work, Cara.”
    Shock froze her in place. He’d better not be canceling. “It’s not?”
    He made a sweeping motion with his hand that took in the line of her body, still bedecked in her gray pinstripe suit, coral silk shell, and four-inch Manolos. She’d changed from her sweats to business attire for a late-afternoon appointment with a client.
    “Well, you look wonderful as always.” How he could make a compliment sound apologetic, she had no idea. “But that outfit’s not suitable for where we’re going.” He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Gripping her elbow, he gave an unsubtle push back toward her apartment. “You need to change.”
    “I do?” Jeez, she couldn’t think straight. Only single-syllable words were making the cut today.
    “Where we’re going is pretty casual.”
    Her chest constricted at how fluidly he tossed out that word. Casual. There was no such thing in Cara’s regimented world. Did he mean a casual bistro? The taqueria on the corner? Mickey D’s?
    “About that. I’ve already