His Ballerina Bride. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ the life of me, I don’t know why you won’t just adopt her. Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate your help around here. But I have a sneaky suspicion that the reason you came by tonight has more to do with visiting your fluffy friend than with feeding our hungry little monsters. You’re besotted with that cat.”

      “And you’re exaggerating.” The orange kitten in Ophelia’s hand mewed at a volume that belied its tiny size. Ophelia nestled the poor thing against her chest, and it began suckling on the bottle at once. “Besides, I told you. I can’t have a pet. My apartment doesn’t allow them.”

      It was a shameless lie. But how else was she supposed to explain her reluctance to adopt an animal she so clearly adored?

      The truth was that she’d love to adopt the white Persian mix. She’d love coming home to the sound of its dainty feet pattering across the floor of her empty apartment. If the cat could come live with her, Ophelia would let it sleep at the foot of her bed, and feed it gourmet food from a can. If...

      But she couldn’t do it. She was in no condition to let anyone depend on her for their survival. Not even an animal. She was a ticking time bomb with an unknown deadline for detonation.

      Ophelia braced herself for an ardent sales pitch. Beth obviously wasn’t buying the excuses she’d manufactured. Fortunately, before Beth went into full-on lecture mode, they were interrupted by none other than the adorable white cat they’d been discussing. The snow-white feline entered the room in the arms of a statuesque woman dressed in a glittering, sequined floor-length dress.

      Ophelia was so momentarily confused to see a woman wearing an evening gown at the animal shelter that at first she didn’t seem to notice that the sequin-clad Barbie was also on the arm of a companion. And that companion was none other than Artem Drake.

      Him.

      Again? Seriously?

      She could hardly believe her eyes. What on earth was he doing here?

      For some ridiculous reason, Ophelia’s first instinct was to hide. She didn’t want to see him again. Especially here. Now. When he had a glamorous supermodel draped all over him and Ophelia was sitting in a plastic chair, chest covered in stained terry cloth while she bottle-fed a yelping orange tabby. And, oh, God, he was dressed in another perfect tuxedo. Had the man come strutting out of the womb in black tie?

      She wondered what he’d look like in something more casual, a pair of soft faded jeans, maybe. Shirtless. Heck, as long as she was fantasizing, bottomless. Then she wondered why, exactly, she was wondering about such things.

      “My, my, who do we have here?” Artem tilted his head.

      Ophelia had been so busy dreaming of what he had going on beneath all that sleek Armani wool that she’d neglected to make herself invisible. Super.

      “Um...” She struggled for something to say as his gaze dropped to her chest. Her nipples went tingly under his inspection, until she realized he was looking at the kitten, not her. Of course.

      Why, oh, why hadn’t she gone straight home after work?

      He lifted his gaze so that he was once again looking her directly in the eyes. “Miss Rose, we meet again.”

      “You two know each other?” Beth asked, head swiveling back and forth between Ophelia and Artem.

      Ophelia shook her head and centered all her concentration on not being attracted to him, while the orange kitten squirmed against her chest. “No, not really,” she said.

      “Why, yes. Yes, we do,” Artem said at that exact instant.

      The grin on his face was nothing short of suggestive. Or maybe that was just his default expression. Resting playboy face.

      Heat pooled in her center, much to her mortification and surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced anything remotely resembling desire. Unless this morning in the kitchen of Drake Diamonds counted. Which, if she was being honest, it most definitely did.

      Beth frowned. Artem’s date lifted an agitated brow.

      Ophelia clarified the matter before Ms. Supermodel got the wrong idea and thought she was one of his sexual conquests, which no doubt were plentiful. “We’ve met. But we don’t actually know one another.” Not at all.

      Artem directed his attention toward Beth and, by way of explanation, said, “Miss Rose works for me.”

      Worked, past tense, since he’d resigned from his family’s business. Who did that, anyway?

      “Drake Diamonds.” Beth nodded. “Of course. Ophelia’s told me all about it. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what a treasure you’ve found in her. She’s one of our best volunteers. Such a hard worker.”

      “A hard worker,” Artem echoed, with only a subtle hint of sarcasm in his smoky voice. Then, presumably to ensure that Ophelia knew he hadn’t forgotten about her indiscretion in the kitchen, he flashed a wink in her direction. “Quite.”

      The wink floated through her in a riot of awareness. He’s not flirting with you. He’s goading you. There was a difference. Right?

      Beth continued gushing, oblivious to Artem’s sarcastic undertones. “I don’t know what we’d do without her. She’s such a cat lover, here almost every night of the week. Weekends, too.”

      So now she sounded like a lonely cat lady. Perfect. “Beth, I’m sure Mr. Drake isn’t here to hear about my volunteer work.” Again, why exactly was he here?

      “Oh, sorry. Of course he isn’t. Mr. Drake, thank you so much for the generous donation on behalf of your family, as well as for being photographed with one of our charges. Having your picture in the newspaper with one of the animals will definitely bring attention to our cause.” Beth beamed at Artem.

      So he’d given a donation to the shelter. A generous donation...and right when Ophelia had been wishing for something that would make him seem less appealing. Thank goodness she’d no longer be running into him at work. He was too...too much.

      “My pleasure,” Artem said smoothly, and ran a manly hand over the white kitty still nestled in his date’s arms.

      Ophelia’s kitty.

      Not hers, technically. Not hers at all. But that didn’t stop the sting of possessiveness she felt as she watched the cat being cuddled by someone else. And not just anyone else. Someone who was clearly on a date with Artem Drake.

      It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Very much.

      “That’s actually Ophelia’s favorite cat you have there.” Beth smiled.

      “She’s awfully sweet,” Artem’s date cooed.

      Ophelia felt sick all of a sudden. What if Artem’s companion adopted it? Her cat? She took a deep breath and fought against the image that sprang to her mind of the woman and Artem in the back of a stretch limo with the white kitten nestled between them. Did everything in life have to be so unfair?

      “Is it now?” Artem slid his gaze toward Ophelia. “Your favorite?”

      She nodded. There was no sense denying it, especially since СКАЧАТЬ