Savas's Wildcat. Anne McAllister

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Savas's Wildcat - Anne  McAllister


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disbelief both wavered, then slowly vanished, followed by a look, not of shock, but of weary resignation. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. It looked as if she had the same opinion of Misty that he did.

      Finally—something they could agree on.

      “Where is Misty?” She looked around as if she might not have noticed Harry’s mother in the room.

      “Germany.”

      “What?” Then, “You’re joking.”

      “Do I look like I’m joking?”

      Their gazes locked, dueled.

      Finally Cat accepted the truth and shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She sounded weary and disgusted, and her still pale face now showed an interesting blotch of freckles that stood out against her pallor. The indomitable Catriona MacLean looked worn out.

      It was the first time he’d been given a glimpse of the Cat beneath the fierce facade she presented to the world. Or at least to him. It reminded him of the day she’d told him her hopes—and he’d walked away from them.

      He didn’t want to think about that. Nor, apparently, did she. She must have realized that she was betraying her feelings, so she drew herself up sharply and wrapped her arms across her breasts.

      “So what’s he doing here?” she asked coolly. “With you?”

      “He was staying with your grandmother.”

      “While Misty went to Germany?” Doubt dripped from her words.

      “Apparently that’s where Harry’s father is.”

      Cat pursed her lips, the information obviously gave her pause for thought. Then she apparently had the same thought he’d had. “Why didn’t she take Harry?”

      “Maggie said Harry’s dad doesn’t know he is one.”

      Cat groaned. “So she’s gone to tell him.”

      It wasn’t a question. She sighed and shook her head. “Fat lot of good that will do.” Then she reconsidered. “Well, I suppose it does her some good. Gets her away from her responsibility for a day or two.”

      “Week or two,” Yiannis corrected. “Two, actually.”

       “What?”

      “Quiet! You’ll wake him up again. You don’t want that. Trust me.”

      To his amazement, she immediately pressed her lips into a firm tight line and didn’t say another word, just stared at him mutely. And he stared back, wondering why he did—why he always had. Catriona wasn’t beautiful, God knew. And she wasn’t his usual type. Ordinarily Yiannis went for blondes with long straight hair, small curvy girls who fit beneath his arm. Cat was nearly as tall as he was, more angles than curves, with vivid red curls, a million or so freckles, a tiny gap between her front teeth and green eyes that flashed fire rather than spoke of bedroom delights. Not his type at all.

      And yet he’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her.

      Still did. And that was the annoying part.

      He didn’t want to be plagued by attractions that wouldn’t go away. He’d steered clear of them his whole life. He’d had plenty of women tell him he was commitment-phobic. They all wanted to know what dire circumstance in his past had so damaged his psyche that he couldn’t bring himself to get involved.

      “He’s not damaged. He’s selfish,” his sister Tallie had told one of them.

      It was, essentially, the truth. Relationships required effort. They made demands. Took time. He wasn’t interested. He liked his freedom, wanted to be unencumbered, forever footloose and free.

      It was why Cat snarled and spat at him. They’d had three months together. Damn good months, he remembered. He’d never clicked with any woman the way he had with Cat, in bed and out.

      But ultimately she’d wanted more than he’d been willing to give. And now, according to Maggie, she’d found someone who was willing. He found himself looking at her hand to see if she wore a ring.

      She did. It flashed in the light as she moved. His jaw tightened.

      “Impressive,” he grunted.

      She blinked. “What?”

      “Never mind.” More power to her, he thought grimly. She’d got what she wanted. And he didn’t have to keep standing here. He was free to go. Smiling, he flexed his shoulders.

      “Right,” he said. “I’ll be off then.”

      “Off? No!” The sudden urgency in her tone surprised him, as did the volume. So much for silence. Instantly Cat clapped her hand over her mouth, then warily uncovered it again after a long moment’s wait didn’t produce a wail from the bedroom. Then she said in little more than a whisper, “I mean, no. You can’t.”

      “Can’t?”

      Cat shrugged awkwardly. “Well, I mean … he doesn’t know me. He knows you!”

      “He didn’t know me fifteen hours ago.”

      “But he knows you now,” she insisted.

      “So?”

      The color was high in her cheeks. “So you don’t want him having a fit when he wakes up and finds a stranger here.” She waved her hands. The ring flashed again.

      Yiannis narrowed his eyes. “You mean you don’t.”

      But she didn’t admit that. She gave him a guileless look, then pursed her lips and raised her chin. “Children need continuity.” She sounded like a public service pronouncement.

      “Says who?”

      “I deal with children every day. I’m a librarian.”

      “Then tell him to shush.”

      Her green eyes flashed. “Not a stereotypical librarian. I give programs. I tell stories with puppets.”

      “I’m sure Harry will love puppets.”

      She hugged her arms across her chest. “You’re laughing at me.”

      “I’m not,” he swore, but he did like watching her eyes flash. He always had.

      “You are,” she disagreed and gave him one of her disapproving looks. “But when he wakes up and doesn’t know who I am, that won’t be good for him.”

      “I’m not sure life has been particularly good for Harry.”

      Cat’s mouth opened. And closed again. From her expression he thought she was considering what Harry’s life was like.

      Finally she sighed. “Poor Harry. Gran shouldn’t have said she’d take him.”

      He frowned. “And that would have been better because?”

      She flung her hands in the air. “Because then maybe for once Misty would act responsibly.”

      “I wouldn’t count on it.”

      “No. Probably not. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t take him for two weeks! And Gran won’t be able to.”

      “Misty’s number is in the rooster bowl,” Yiannis told her. “Maybe you’ll have better luck getting hold of her than I did.”

      “I doubt it. Germany?” She shook her head. “I can’t think why Gran would have agreed. She didn’t even mention it when she called me.”

      “She didn’t mention him to me, either—until I was putting her in the car.”

      At Cat’s look of surprise, Yiannis shrugged. “Well, what was she going to do? Call social services and tell them to come and get this spare baby she couldn’t take care of any longer?”

      “Of


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