It's In His Kiss by Mallory Kane Page B

faint."
    "You sound like a very naughty Jane Austen."
    "Don't make me beg for every tidbit. Are his shoulders as broad as they look in a suit? Does he have six-pack abs? What about his legs? He's not one of those hairy men is he?"
    Cat felt her face flame. "Debra! You sound like a sex-starved nymphomaniac or something."
    "So tell me. Six pack? I'll bet he's cut, isn't he?"
    "Yes, Debra, his abs are incredible. Now if you don't go back to work, I'm calling your husband and telling him he's not paying enough attention to you." She was intimately familiar with Michael's abs, after this morning. He'd always had the sleek, long muscles of a basketball player. She thought of the picture on his book case, and the sight of him in the bathroom. Why hadn't she ever noticed how good he looked with no shirt?
    "Phil is paying plenty of attention to me," Debra cooed. "That's my entire point. You need someone to pay plenty of attention to you, and I'm voting for Michael. Oh, he is so fine."
    "You've got to stop this. Michael is my friend. That's all. You're putting impure thoughts in my head about him. It's not natural."
    "Ah ha! I knew it. Now you're sounding like a romance novel. Impure thoughts. How can you even consider living with that gorgeous body and sustaining pure thoughts?" 
    "I wasn't having a problem until you started all this.. Michael would be horrified. I'm horrified, at what you're suggesting. Does it not mean anything to you that we've known each other since we were eight years old?" 
    Debra smiled a devilish smile. "It means you should know each other's faults. If you've remained friends for this long, you've obviously got all the major problems taken care of. Trust me when I say that sex is not the major part of a lasting relationship. In the long run, while I don't kick Phil out of bed for eating crackers, if he and I weren't good friends, he'd be long gone."
    "Thank you, Masters, or is it Johnson?"
    "Listen to me. You two have knocked the hardest part of making a marriage work. You're friends. You know the worst about each other and you still love each other."
    The worst about each other . Cat winced internally. "Get out of here." 
    "No, I'm serious. You're the perfect couple."
    "No, I'm serious. Get out of my cubicle." 
    Debra just crossed her arms.
    Cat threw her hands up. "I have not seen Michael in three years. He could have totally changed."
    "Has he changed?"
    Cat thought about it. Michael had always been carefree and fun. He’d dated the girls who’d pursued him with no motive other than enjoying them and showing them a good time. At the same time, he’d been kind, dancing with wallflowers at parties, making sure even the plainest girl danced at least once. And he’d always taken care of her.
    "I don't know," Cat sighed. "That's my point. I don't know. For instance, Michael borrowed his friend's truck yesterday, and got my bedroom suite moved in. Then he left to take the guy's truck back, and when I went to bed at eleven, he still wasn't home."
    "Well, you don't know. Maybe he and his buddy got drunk."
    "Ah ha! See, that's just it. I don't know. He could have been doing anything. He could have a girlfriend." Cat paused, horrified at her words. "Although he did say he wasn't seeing anyone."
    "Well then, that's perfect."
    "What's perfect?"
    Debra twirled her hair, twisting it into a bun, then untwisting it again. "You could be his girlfriend."
    "All right. That does it. Get out." Cat made shooing gestures with her hands, as if Debra was a cat. "Go on. Shoo!"
    Debra laughed. "Okay. But you think about Michael, and when you do, picture him kissing you, holding you, picking you up and carrying you into--"
    "Out!" Cat shouted.
    Debra ducked and disappeared.
    "Grrr!" Cat turned back to her computer. Kissing her, holding her, picking her up-- "Argh!" She squeezed her head between her hands. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" After a few calming breaths, she looked back at the computer screen.  
     
    * *