Stir (The Sizzle TV Series Book 5)

Chapter 4 – Natalie

Something is wrong.

Nic isn’t prone to drama or overreaction. He can be stone-cold when he chooses, but he is never loud or theatrical about it. Instead, he takes you apart with bloodless logic. I have wondered more than once how it was he chose contract law, when that intensely competent calm seems well-suited for big corporate takeovers. Or getting murder convictions. Or avoiding them.

As it is, I’m just thankful to be working with a man who clearly knows his stuff, and if that turns out to be more attractive than I expected, well, that’s my problem.

In any case, Nic was tense this afternoon, and tense Nic is not good. If all he needs from me is to feed Cat, I’ll do my best to make sure it’s one less thing he has to worry about.

My earlier purchases are burning a hole in my proverbial pocket, but there had been no time to change after I said goodbye to Moira, and I’m not about to jump into a whole new forties-film-noir persona without at least washing my face first. Monday morning will be soon enough to show off my brand-new self and will give me the weekend to prepare. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get crazy and go out.

For the second time this afternoon, I swipe the keycard to get into Nic’s building. His place is several tiers nicer than mine, hence the fancy keycard security and passcode lock on his door. But for all the fanciness, Nic’s apartment itself is spartan, with only the minimum of solid, unfussy furniture that probably costs more than I make in a year. The sofa is, nonetheless, the highest quality leather I’ve ever laid eyes on. Function over form is the phrase, and it suits the man himself, deep brown leather sitting on top of dark gray tile. I counted three paintings on my first trip here, and I suspect they’re actual paintings, not discount canvas prints ordered off the Internet.

And then there’s Cat: thick, fluffy, steely silver-gray, slightly overfed, and skittish. He has all the appearance of a pampered pet except for a few hard-to-spot scars near his left ear. The first time I’d been here, it had taken a little while to convince him to get close enough for me to pet him. The scars had been a surprise, but I’ve never had the nerve to ask Nic about them. Is he a rescue? Because every scar has a story, even cat scars.

I make cat-cooing sounds as I set my keys on the kitchen table and retrieve the tin of food from the cabinet. By the time I fill the pet food dish and refresh his water, there’s still no sign of Cat.

I frown.

Nic didn’t say check on his cat, he said feed the cat, but it doesn’t seem right to be here and not at least make sure Cat is all right.

And maybe I want to pet him, sue me. I’ve had an awesome but emotional day, and my landlord doesn’t allow animals.

Poking my head in the half bath in the hallway—no sign of Cat here—the mirror catches me off guard. You’d think after months of looking this way, I’d stop being surprised at the slimmer version of myself I see there. It took me nearly a year to get here, so it shouldn’t be startling. God knows I’ve spent enough time studying the mirror for progress in the meantime. Getting on the bathroom scale squicks me out, so every time I make another little change in my habits, diet, or workout, I stand in front of the cheap full-length mirror in my bedroom, analyzing every angle to see the effects. Taking measurements helps, especially on those days I can’t bear to see myself, and even after reaching a level of fitness I am proud of, there are still days I don’t like the way I look. One of the only downsides about losing weight, I guess… nobody tells you there will still be days you don’t like what you see in the mirror.

One definite upside, though, is there are a lot of days I don’t think about it at all anymore, and man, that feels good. After breaking up with Jeff, my body was all I could think about. Looking back, I can see just how close I’d come to taking a much less healthy path and how badly that breakup and my reaction to it could have gone. Instead, I cleaned the slate: I quit my job at Sizzle, went to work for Nic, emptied my apartment of junk, and started making small changes.

These days, I pay more attention to my hair before I leave home. My eyes sparkle when I happen to see my reflection. My skin looks vibrant, and I don’t need to wear as much makeup—another perk I hadn’t expected. That’s the gym membership fee paying for itself, again.

It’s easier to smile, too, but I’m pretty sure that has as much to do with my newfound health and fitness as it does with the absence of Jeff the jerk.

Best of all, I wake up every day knowing I’m not the doormat I used to be. I can’t tell how much of that has to do with losing weight, but I know I didn’t discover that part of myself until I started taking better care of my body.

One thing at a time, Nat.My mantra.

Right now, the thing in question is finding Nic’s cat so I can get out of his personal space. Something about being here, surrounded by his things where he might possibly walk around naked, has me feeling vulnerable.

Despite Moira’s teasing, the word “naked” should not apply to my boss, even in my head, not if I want to keep my sanity. Not to mention my job. Time to move this along.

A noise from the balcony door draws me out of the hallway. I pull aside the vertical blinds but see nothing out of the ordinary. The noise is closer, louder here, so I slide open the glass door and step outside to look around.

It’s only the second floor, but the wind is sharper up here. No sign of Cat. Surely, Nic wouldn’t have left him outside.

I hear a loud meow to my right, followed by a much deeper voice.

“You’re not Nic.”

There’s a man on the balcony next door. He’s holding Cat.

“Neither are you,” I say. “Why do you have his cat?”

The man smiles, and my brain shorts out. Just blinks twice and shuts right off. Good Lord, he’s handsome. Tall, short dark hair, eyes so blue I can see their color from here. Good Lord.

Get a grip, girl.

“I’m Finn,” he says, stretching out a hand. I shake it politely, ignoring the heat of his rough palm.

“Hi, Finn,” I say. “Why do you have Nic’s cat?”

His smile widens, and I almost whimper. He’s not that good-looking. Get a grip. It’s just that smile. He’s probably completely ordinary-looking when he’s not smiling.

“Found him meowing at my door a few minutes ago. He must have gotten out somehow.”

“Your door.”

Finn tilts his head toward the glass behind him.

“You’re Nic’s neighbor,” I say brilliantly.

“Give the pretty lady a prize,” he says, good humor in his eyes. “The real question is, who are you? Nic didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend. Though I sure can’t blame him for wanting to keep you to himself.”

My cheeks burn hot. “Not his girlfriend. Definitely not.”

Those blue, blue eyes sharpen; the humor in them taken over by something else.

“Somebody else’s girlfriend then,” he says. Cat butts at his chin, clearly wanting the man’s attention. Finn reaches up to pet him, scratching under his chin, his gaze never leaving me for a second.

“No.”

“Married?”

Surely, he’s not serious. I laugh. “No.”

His gaze turns speculative, and he looks me up and down. Then again, a second time, more slowly. It’s palpable as a touch, and by the time his eyes meet mine again, I’ve forgotten why I’m here, what I’m doing, and why on earth I’ve been avoiding men. Well, men besides Nic, but he doesn’t count because he’s my boss, and for God’s sake, why am I thinking about Nic now?

“That shouldn’t make you laugh,” he says after a silence that stretches too long to be comfortable. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“Um.” There I go, being brilliant again. I take a deep breath and try to get my brain back because I have one, and it’s time to start using it. I’m a woman alone in a strange apartment, and there’s a stranger within assaulting distance. Not that I’m getting any attack vibes from this guy. He’s clearly never had to do more than smile at a woman to get what he wants.

But there are only a couple feet maybe between the rail of my balcony—Nic’s—and Finn’s, and while my instincts are to trust this guy, I had also trusted my ex enough to sleep with him, and look how that turned out.

“Thank you,” I say as my brain comes back online. “I appreciate the compliment. Can I have Cat, please? I’m supposed to feed him.”

Finn passes Cat carefully, leaning over the rail to make sure I have him. He stands, taking a step back like he, too, is suddenly conscious of our being alone up here.

“I’m glad somebody’s helping look out for him,” says Finn. “It’s not good for pets to be alone.”

I slide open the balcony door, and Cat jumps inside, heading straight to his food dish. “You sound like you mean that.”

Finn smiles, but it’s softer this time. “My sister runs a kennel just outside the city. You might say I have some experience with animals.”

“Dog person or cat person?” I ask.

“Why not both?”

I can’t stop the smile this time. “Good answer.”

His lips part. He sets his hands on the rail between us. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Natalie.”

“Natalie,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Not tonight,” I say. I meant to explain that I have plans to meet my friend at the gym, but I get distracted by his big hands gripping the rail and wondering what causes his palms to feel so rough or the calluses I felt when shaking his hand.

Finn’s smile flashes again. “Another day, then. You name it.”

“Sunday.”

“It’s a date. Let me give you my number.” He taps it into my cell phone, squeezing my fingers gently as he hands it back over the railing. “Until then, Natalie.”

I let myself back into Nic’s apartment with shaking hands.

A new wardrobe, a date with a handsome man. Today is going down as one for the record books.