It's In His Kiss (6 page)

 Michael shook his head. "I'm beat. I think I'll go home and take a nap. I don't have to be in court until two. Oh, and by the way, I'm ignoring the part about coming back to the firm."

 "Okay. Looking forward to kicking your butt tonight. You can tell me all about your hot friend Cat. Because if you're planning to persist in being just friends, then she's available, right? You can introduce us."

 "Not bloody likely," Michael muttered.

J.R. laughed and clapped him on the back. "See you later."

 "Yeah, later, and by the way, fat chance on getting the Montgomery case dismissed." As Michael got into his vintage Porsche, he pictured Cat and J.R. together. His heart wrenched with an almost physical pain. He rubbed his chest, wondering what Cat would say if he told her the truth. How would she react, if he actually said to her, "I'm in love with you."

 Thinking about it, he realized that, just like six years ago, he had no idea how she'd respond. Her reaction last night had surprised him. He'd expected her to be angry with him, but what he'd seen in her expressive green eyes, for a brief moment, had looked a whole lot like hurt.

 If he thought for one second that her feelings for him were anything more than friendship, he'd lay his heart wide open to her--wouldn't he? Or was he afraid she'd treat him like one of her fiancés? Like he was disposable.

 That's where his frustration came from--the fear of being rejected. The fear that, when he finally confessed to Cat that he was in love with her--had been for years, she'd laugh.

 He almost turned around and headed back to the gym. All the frustration he'd taken out on that racquetball was back, in spades. He pulled out of the parking lot of the gym, preparing to head back to his apartment for a nap. But after an instant's hesitation, he turned right instead of left. He wasn't going to get any sleep, and he had a pile of briefs and motions on his desk to get through.

 Rolling down the window to let the air dry his damp hair, he drove to the D.A.'s office. He kept a change of clothes there. He yawned and stretched. He'd had no sleep. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

All day Friday, Cat worked on the basic site design for You Dot Com. Finally, around two o'clock, she was ready to key in the questionnaire. 

She picked up the faxed sheets, which the dragon lady CEO had said were 'everything else you could possibly need.'

She rolled her eyes, just as she had when the woman had said it on the phone.
Okay.
She sat back in her chair and took a look at the first page. Basic demographic information looked fine. She turned the page to the personal questions and kept reading, for about one second. She blinked and read the words again, then shook her head in disbelief. What kind of people did they think they were going to match up using these weird questions? They looked good as long as they stuck to name, date of birth, sexual preference, etc. But the personal questions were very strange. 

Cat had researched a few on-line dating services in preparation for working on the You Dot Com software. One hundred per cent of them used essentially the same format. The questions ranged from
Do you like pets,
to
What type of sports are you interested in?
 

But You Dot Com was totally different. If they were going for unique, they'd succeeded. The first question after the basic information gathering was
Are you a virgin?
 

"Whoa," Cat whispered. "That'll weed out the shy ones." She looked at a few more questions.

Do you feel more comfortable in the company of men or women?

If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be, and why?

Name your three favorite parts of your body.

Would you be more likely to hop into bed with your best friend or your worst enemy?

She chuckled. That last question could be very interesting and enlightening, since most people's best friends--and probably worst enemies--were of the same gender.

"No, that's not interesting. It's ridiculous, just like the rest of these questions." She picked up the phone and dialed Deb's extension. In a few seconds, Deb was standing in front of her desk.

"Let me see," she demanded.

Cat gestured toward her computer with a flourish.

"Wow," Deb breathed as she read. "Scott said they were different."

"Different? In the interest of full disclosure, they should advertise 'we're your
creepy
computer dating service.' What am I going to do with this? I've got to test the questionnaires and the program that gives people their free sample." 

 “Free sample? You mean like a free sample date?”

“No, just a sample of a couple of possibly compatible people. It gives the percentage compatibility. Like a teaser, you know? ‘Based upon your answers, we show you to be more than eighty per cent compatible with User 942 and User 386.’ Something like that. It’s a heuristic program. It learns more with every questionnaire that’s filled out, and it uses the knowledge to compare questionnaires.” Cat looked at Deb. “It’s actually pretty sophisticated. Oh well, I guess I'll just make up some people."

"No wait. Here's a great idea. Put yourself in, and some folks from around the office. Oh this could be fun."

"I can't do that, Deb. That's an invasion of their privacy."

"All you have to do is get their permission. Oh, I know. Do you and Michael!"

Cat shook her head vehemently. "No. No!" She held up a finger when Debra opened her mouth. "Don't say another word. I am not, not now, not ever, going to be romantically involved with Michael. So stop trying to manipulate me. In fact, I'm never going to be romantically involved again, with anybody."

"Oh sure. Give you a week and you'll be engaged again."

"Oh, thank you for your confidence in me. I will not be engaged again." Cat glared at her friend. "Nope. No more men. Not ever." 

"You can't do that. You need a man."

"Right. What's the old saying?
Like a fish needs a bicycle
. Absolutely not. I'm fine, in fact I am better off, by myself." 

Debra stared at her. "You? By yourself? When did you decide that?"

"Oh, let's see. I guess it was five days ago, when Dave dumped me. Yeah, I believe that's when it was." She nodded cheerfully, but inside she reaffirmed her decision. She just wasn't meant to get married. That's all there was to it. As the thought formed, Cat realized she'd always known it, deep down. She was too much like her mother. Neither one of them was meant for lasting relationships.

"Cat? Are you all right?"

She realized Debra was talking. "What?"

"I said, are you okay? You look sad."

"Uh, sure."

"Well, you can't just decide not to get married. You're dying to get married."

Cat winced. "Not anymore. Face it, Deb. I've been engaged three times, and three times I've screwed it up. I think God's trying to tell me something."

"Yeah, that you have lousy taste in men."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Debra shrugged, "but it's true."

"Oh thank you
so
much. Now I feel better." She tried to make a joke of it but Deb's words hurt. Mostly because they were true. She must have inherited her taste in men from her mother. 

"Well, you can't deny that David was just a little too attached to his parents' money."

 Heat flared in Cat's cheeks. "I'd almost talked him out of that prenuptial agreement," she mumbled. "Okay, you finally did it. I'm depressed. Go away. I'm going to hang myself with my mouse cord."

Debra laughed. "Well, when you decide to test the questionnaire, count me in, and Phil. It will be interesting to see if we're compatible."

"Compatible? You're married. Why wouldn't you be compatible?"

"Don't you know opposites attract?"

Cat frowned. "So are you saying people who are totally opposite are compatible?"

"Not necessarily." Debra waggled her fingers at Cat as she left. "I'm just saying it could be interesting to find out."

Cat considered Deb's suggestion. Using people she knew to test the You Dot Com software would certainly be easier, and more of a real test, than making up answers to the questions. And it could prove to be very interesting. The site wouldn't go live until she had thoroughly tested it, and she could use numbers to identify each person. Nobody would have to know who was who. It would just be for purposes of debugging the software.

She liked the idea of matching the guy in graphic design with Blondie, the new security officer. She wondered how opposite their answers would be. She smiled to herself. And it would be fun to find out who Michael might be compatible with. 

He needed a woman. That was obvious, based on her one day's experience. He needed help in a number of areas, notably apartment hygiene. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of the seven dirty coffee mugs in the sink, then turned her attention to her computer screen. Cat pulled her brain back to the job at hand, and began putting together the demographic data form. She rested her hands on the keyboard. The dragon-lady from You Dot Com, Lorraine Cameron, wanted a preview of the site by the end of the week. Cat abandoned the weird questions for the moment and began programming. 

Once she got a basic form put together, Cat started thinking about who she could use to test the data. Herself, obviously.

Date of birth.
December thirtieth. She started typing, stared at the screen for a moment as her teeth worried her lower lip. Michael's birthday was July fourteenth. Birth place, Nashville. But her brain kept going back to Deb's suggestion. She actually
could
do Michael, and herself. Not together of course, but just to test the software. After all, she knew Michael as well as she knew herself. She could answer his questions for him. 

 She quickly filled in all Michael's demographic data, then started on the You Dot Com personality based questionnaire. A guilty thrill went through her, as if she were doing something wrong. She glanced toward the entrance to her cubicle, then back at the computer.

Are you a virgin?
She chuckled quietly. She knew the answer to that one. She knew who Michael had lost his virginity to, and when, almost to the minute. He'd been sixteen, and he'd blushed for a week. She even knew who the girl was. Of course, she had wondered what he'd seen in the busty cheerleader.
Busty cheerleader.
"Oh yeah, never mind," she muttered. 

She quickly answered several more similar questions. Then she came to one that stumped her, so to speak. It wasn't a unique question, but it was a good one.
If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?
 

She stopped and stared at the screen. What would Michael's answer be? An oak? A redwood? A Christmas tree? She had no idea. She looked up the answers that the You Dot Com creators had designed to be input into the system. Her first choice for Michael would be oak. Probably clichéd, but he was definitely steady and strong. But when she read the personality traits associated with the elm tree, she changed her mind. People who chose the elm tree were noble, faithful and loving. Then when she read the traits for the olive tree, she changed her mind again. Olive people were well-balanced, kind and understanding.

"Uh, oh," she muttered. ""Looks like I may have to ask him." Of course she couldn't. If she told him she was working on a dating service, he'd refuse to be a part of it, and if she just started asking him questions, he'd think she was crazy.

She'd thought she knew everything about Michael. She was a little taken aback that she did not immediately know what kind of tree Michael would choose for himself.

Abandoning Michael's questionnaire, she started on her own, and worked on it until just before five o'clock. Then she checked her Email one more time before shutting down her system. There was a message from Michael.

Pick you up at five? I'll take you out for ribs.

"Now how did you get my Email address?" she muttered as she clicked on reply. Sara, probably.

If Michael was willing to eat ribs voluntarily, he must really be feeling sorry for her.

It’s sweet of you to endure ribs for me,
she typed, smiling as she remembered the dozens of times he’d groaned when she insisted on eating spareribs. 

Deb appeared. "So what have you done with the questionnaires? Just let me know when you want to interview me."

She stopped. "What is that Cheshire cat grin for?" she asked, leaning over to get a good look at Cat's computer screen.

"Ooh, who's that? MGrey. Sounds like a guy. Making dates already? Good girl! Or is this some of your research?"

Cat shrugged. "This is my best friend. We've known each other for a hundred years."

"Your best friend? Where's she been?"

Cat frowned. "She's a he. He took a job in Japan a few years ago," she hedged, not wanting to tell her friend how long Michael had been back without contacting her.

Debra plucked the open newspaper off the other chair in Cat's cubicle, then sat. "A best friend who's a he? Why haven't I ever heard of him?"

"We haven't talked in a long time." She recalled Michael's confession with a twinge of hurt. "I found out last night that he's back."

Debra opened the paper, then lowered it enough to peer at Cat. "So?"

Cat glanced at her. "So? What?"

"So, he turned up at a convenient time."

"Convenient is one word," Cat muttered.

Debra turned a page. "Well, you know what they say, friends make the best lovers."

Cat clicked on "send," then spun her chair around. "Do they now? Just who is 'they,' Debra? And how do they know so much?"

"'They' is everybody who's anybody, and my guess is they know because they've tried it and it works." She picked up a newspaper folded to reveal the classified ads. "Are you looking for an apartment?"

"Yes." Cat indicated the newspaper in Deb's hands. "I've got to find one, soon. Could I have my newspaper, please?"

"Ouch. A tad touchy, are we?"