It's In His Kiss (15 page)

 "You know what your problem is, Cat?"

 "No, Deb." She sat back and crossed her arms. "Please, tell me. What is my problem?"

"You spend way too much time thinking about yourself."

 "Oh thank you, friend."

 "Don’t get smart with me. I’m your closest friend, besides Michael, of course. I know you, and I’m going to give you a piece of advice. You have some unresolved issues with your mother, and you need to get them worked out. IMHO, you're never going to be happy until you can accept your mother for who she is and be happy for her."

 "I could be happy for her, if she didn't always make these huge mistakes with men."

 "Wow." Deb sat back and laughed.

 "What?"

 "I never actually witnessed a pot calling a kettle black before."

 "You can leave now." Cat was having trouble with her throat, and her eyes. For some reason her eyes were stinging and her throat was all lumpy. She blinked and turned back to the computer screen.

 "I didn't mean to upset you."

 "I'm not upset," she said tightly. "I'm just busy."

 "Okay. Sorry. Look. If you want to talk, I'll promise to be quiet and just listen."

 Cat nodded without looking up.

 Deb left, and Cat turned her back on the entrance to her cubicle. She stared off into space as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Why was Deb being so mean to her? Didn't she understand that Cat was worried about her mother? This Hank was probably going to break her heart. Cat thought about how happy her mother had looked, and a tight, achy feeling started in her chest. She knew what it was. It was fear--for her mother and for herself.

 After a few seconds she swiped at her eyes and turned back to the computer. She had to get the rest of those questionnaires input today, so she could start the test phase of the software.

 By afternoon, Cat had gotten almost nothing done, and she was more miserable than she'd been that morning. Plus at lunchtime, Deb was nowhere to be found, so Cat had just grabbed a cola and gone back to staring at the YOU DOT COM webpage. 

 After reading over the same three lines of code for the twenty-fifth time, Cat groaned and flopped back in her chair, pushing her fingers through her hair. She wiped her face, drained the cola can, then stood up and tried to pace, which wasn't easy in her five by five space.

 Blowing out a huge sigh, she decided to bite the bullet and go apologize to Deb. She walked the long way around to Deb's cubicle.

 Her friend was twisting her hair with one hand as she clicked down page after page of code with the other, muttering to herself.

 "Deb?" Cat said cautiously.

 Deb didn't look up.

 "Um, Deb?" she said a little louder.

 Her friend dropped her twist of hair and turned around. "Hi, Cat," she said, as if nothing had transpired between them just this morning, then turned back to the computer screen.

 For a moment, Cat was tempted just to ask if she wanted to go get a coke or something, but guilt had already eaten quite a hole in her conscience. She knew Deb was right about her. She did tend to be awfully self-centered about some things. She owed Deb this apology, and she was determined to give it to her.

 "Deb, can we talk?"

 Deb's shoulders raised in a shrug. "Sure, fire away."

 "I mean really talk. You know--talk."

 Deb turned around and eyed her friend sharply. "Okay. Now?"

 "Yeah, sure." Cat swallowed. That frightened feeling was still pressing on her breast, and she had no idea where it had come from or what it was doing there. But she couldn't ignore it.

 She sat down.

 Deb clicked her mouse, then typed something and hit return. Then she turned and gave her full attention to Cat.

 Cat licked her lips, and smoothed her skirt.

 "Okay, Cat. Whatcha need?"  Deb was determined to play it cool.

 "I know what you're doing."

 Deb's eyes narrowed. "What am I doing?"

 "Don't think I don't appreciate it. You're giving me an out. In fact, you're giving me out after out after out, but I don't need an out. I don't even want one."

 "O-o-o-kay," Deb said slowly, a frown forming between her brows.

 Cat smiled reluctantly. "Don't worry. I haven't gone totally nuts. I know you're pretending nothing happened, so I'll feel more comfortable. I realize that a lot of the time I'm self-centered, but I do know that you're always trying your best to make other people feel comfortable, and to give them every benefit of the doubt."

 Deb's eyebrows raised.

 "That's why I know it was hard for you to say what you said this morning. You probably would have rather cut your tongue out than say something to hurt me."

 Deb's brows rose even higher.

 "But I'm glad you said it. It needed to be said. You're right. I've got to think about it for a while. Maybe a month, maybe even a year. I've got to try to figure out why seeing my mother with Williams Blair scared me."

 "Aw, Cat--"

 "No." She held up her hand. "Let me finish. This could well be the only apology you ever hear from me so you'd better enjoy it."

 Deb's mouth turned up and her eyes sparkled.

 "So--," Cat took a deep breath and blurted out as fast as she could talk, "I'm sorry I was mean to you when all you were doing was trying to help me see what I'm doing to myself. Thank you."

 Deb sat there for a long moment. "You're welcome," she said finally. "Want a hug?"

 Cat laughed shakily. "Yeah. I think maybe I need one. Then I have something else I need to talk about, if you have time."

 Deb stood and leaned over to hug Cat. Cat hugged her back tightly. She'd never done much hugging, except with her grandmother. It felt good. Cat's eyes began to mist over.

 "Okay, enough with the gooey stuff," she said brightly.

 Deb sat back down and smiled at her.

 "Stop looking at me like you just hatched me."

 Deb laughed. "What's your other problem? Michael?"

 Cat nodded miserably.

 "I knew it. What happened?"

 "What makes you think something happened?"

 "Trust me. The mother hen knows."

 Cat sighed. "I'm not sure what happened. I was going out to dinner with Janice and um, Hank, and when I came out Michael danced with me, and--"

 "He
danced
with you?" 

 "Yeah, you know. He just whirled me around a couple of times, then he dipped me and--"

 "He
dipped
you?" 

 "Would you stop repeating everything I say."

 "Was I doing that?"

 By the renewed sparkle in her eyes, Cat knew Deb was teasing her. "Just stop it."

 "What happened after he dipped you?" Deb leaned forward in her chair.

 "Well he kind of--he sort of just--well, he kissed me."

 "Oh my God!"

 "Deb!"

 "Okay, sorry. Then what happened?"

 "For some reason, he seemed to get mad, grabbed some sandwich stuff out of the refrigerator, said I was the most beautiful woman in Nashville tonight, and shooed me out the door."

 "Whoa!"

 "Whoa? What do you mean, whoa?"

 "So what kind of kiss was it? Little kiss, big kiss, short kiss, long kiss?"

 Cat closed her eyes, reliving, Michael’s strong arms sweeping her into the dip, and his dark blue eyes settling on her mouth before he kissed her. She felt her face grow warm.

 "You’re blushing. It was a big kiss, wasn't it?"

 Cat put her palms against her hot cheeks. "Deb, please. You’re driving me nuts. This is all your fault, you know. You’ve got me thinking all sorts of inappropriate things about Michael –"

 "Good! Now about that kiss."

 Cat sighed in defeat. "It was short, but it felt long. Does that make any sense?"

 Debra clapped her hands in glee. "Of course it does. You're falling for him."

 Of course that's what Deb would think. "I am not!" The pressure on her chest was back. She rubbed the ache with her hand, trying to make her breathing even.

 "Oh this is very good. He'd never have asked you to move in with him if he didn't want you. Oh
this
is
good
." 

 "It is
not
good. Would you stop saying that. Do you know what he would say if he heard you?" 

 "Do
you
? You may be his best friend, but I’ve seen him look at you." 

 Cat was ready to fire the next retort that hovered on the tip of her tongue, but Dev's words stopped her cold. "What do you mean by that?"

 "I mean, he looks at you like a lover."

 "What? No. You're wrong!"

 "He does. His eyes go all smoky and soft, and his mouth turns up just the least little bit. You cannot possibly be that blind, Cat. There’s got to be some other reason you're resisting falling for Michael."

 "I am not resisting, because I am not falling. You, however, are living in La La Land."

 "Keep talking. What else?"

Cat looked away. She'd always loved Deb's insights and her caring concern. But right now she was digging at a sore place inside Cat that she didn't want exposed. "Nothing." Cat waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't give me that. I see the guilty look in your eye."

"Guilty look?" Cat laughed.

"If you don't tell me I'll be forced to ask Michael."

Cat stared at her friend in horror. "You wouldn't," she whispered.

"Oh yes I would."

"Okay okay," Cat cried, holding up her hands in surrender. "We were talking and eating ice cream and he kind of--kissed me again."

 "I
knew
it!"
Cat glared at her friend. "You couldn't know that, because I didn't know he was going to kiss me. I don't even think he knew he was. So how could you?" 

"Call me psychic. What happened when he kissed you the second time? What happened next?" Debra was glowing like a mother hen again.

"We did laundry," Cat mumbled.

 "What?" Deb feigned a total collapse in her chair. "You did laundry? That's not some weird euphemism for –"

"No!" Cat shouted.

"How did you go from kissing to laundry?"

"I did that. I stopped the kiss."

"Why would you do that?"

"His kiss made me
very
nervous." 

"Oh, sweetheart, that's not nerves. You're horny." Deb sat up and crossed her arms. "Why are you trying to keep Michael at arm's length?"

 "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

 "Really? I think you do. You two were talking and eating ice cream. An absolutely perfect setup for a love scene. And then, Michael probably sees a bit of ice cream on your lip, so he makes his move. He touches your lip, then he leans in, and kisses you like he's wanted to kiss you--probably all his life." 

Cat was amazed. "How did you--?"

Deb waved a hand dismissively. "So there you are, in his arms, and you mention dirty laundry. There's something seriously wrong with you Cat. You need to think about this long and hard. And while you’re at it, take a look at what’s right under your nose. You've spent years looking for Mr. Right. I think you’re living with him right now. You just need to get over whatever prejudice you have against him and show him you want the same thing he does."

 "The same thing he does? I don't even know what he wants. And even if I did know what he wants, what if I don’t want the same thing."

 "Oh you do. You just won’t admit it to yourself. You've got a wonderful, caring, sexy guy who apparently is crazy about you, right there in the same apartment, and you're avoiding the issue. You won't deal with it. Just like you won't deal with what's really going on between you and your mother."

 Cat straightened and composed her face. There were always unspoken agreements between friends to avoid certain issues. Between Deb and Cat, the big issue was Cat's relationship with her mother.

 "Sorry. I know you don't like talking about your mom, but until you deal with your issues with her, you're never going to be able to trust a man--or yourself."

Cat reached for her purse and retrieved her wallet. "How much do I owe you for this therapy session, doctor?" she asked.

A brief look of hurt crossed Debra's face, but she composed herself and stood. "I've got to get back to work. You think about what I said." She turned on her heel.

"Deb, wait,” Cat said, “I'm sorry. Thank you. I know you're right. You're such a good friend.”

Debra turned back and smiled. “Sweetie, you know I have your best interests at heart. I'll help you figure this out. Now come here. I think you need another hug.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cat had just walked into the apartment when the phone rang. She set down the bag of groceries and checked the Caller I.D. It was her mother.

 "Moth--Janice?"

 "Hello, Ca-Cat."

 "What's the matter?"
Her mother laughed nervously. "Nothing. I just called to see if you wanted to come have lunch with me."

 Cat pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a second, feeling like an actress in a bad movie. "Um, when?"

 "Tomorrow? You don't work on Saturday, do you?"

 Cat couldn't focus on her mother's words. She'd called her Cat instead of Catherine Mary. It should have been a moment of triumph for her, but for some reason it just made the empty place under her breastbone throb.

 "Cat, are you there?"

 "Yeah. Yes. I'm here. Where did you want to meet?"

 "I thought we could have lunch here."

 "Here?" Cat repeated blankly.

 "Here, at my apartment."

 "Oh, there." Cat was totally bewildered. Her mother didn't cook, at least not in the normally accepted sense. It had never made sense to Cat. Her grandmother, Janice's mom, had taught Cat to cook, and so logic dictated that she must have taught her own daughter. But Janice had never shown the first sign of having learned. Her idea of a home-cooked meal was either eggs or canned spaghetti.