Nobody's Princess. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ Scarlett O’Haira bolted off her lap and aimed in the direction of the kitchen. Regan followed, considering that the cat, like her namesake, was pretty but dumb. She invariably fell for the wrong men without ever considering the consequences.

      Regan couldn’t scold. She’d once suffered the same problem.

      Dusk was just falling, making the teal-and-cream kitchen shadowy and gloomy. Still, she refrained from turning on the light and carefully tiptoed across the room as soundlessly as Scarlett. The newest litter of kittens was snoozing in a pillow-lined box in the corner. None of them had a good-looking daddy—and for damn sure, they wouldn’t stay sleeping long.

      “You’re getting fixed as soon as you wean these,” Regan whispered to Scarlett, who’d heard the warning before and was more interested in gourmet food and cat treats. Silent as a ghost, Regan crouched down and lifted the ten-pound sack of cat food to the counter.

      One kitten stirred. The two adult females froze in unison. Both knew there would be no peace once the hellions woke up. And then the telephone jangled, obliterating all hope. The noise made four pairs of kitten eyes pop open—every one of them full of the devil and instantly looking for trouble. Regan grabbed the wall receiver before the second ring, but already knew it was too late. “Hello—”

      “Regan? This is Alex Brennan.”

      She dropped the cat food bag with a thump on the counter.

      “Are you there?”

      “Yes, I’m here—”

      “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

      “No, not at all...I’d just finished correcting papers and was relaxing for the evening.” So to speak. One orange fuzzball had already pounced on her bare foot with razor claws. Regan hiked up onto the counter and drew up her legs. Scarlett was simply going to have to take care of her wayward children on her own for a bit.

      Three days had passed since she’d met Alex in the library. He’d been on her mind, but she’d positively never expected to hear his rich, dark baritone again.

      “Maybe I shouldn’t have called. Don’t hesitate to say if it’s a problem. There’s no reason you should want to hear from me—”

      “I enjoyed our conversation the other day. And I’m glad to hear from you. You just took me a little by surprise—Scartett, cut that out!”

      “Scarlett?”

      Regan scooped the cat off the counter, feeling more flustered by the minute. “I have a mama cat, who’s trying to hide behind me rather than tend to her offspring. I don’t suppose you need a kitten? Or a pair? Or, say, four of them in a package deal?”

      “Uh, no.”

      “Now, don’t rush into that no. We’re talking literary legends with fur—a range of choices from Casanova to Don Juan to Henry VIII to Cleopatra. Not that you couldn’t rename them, but their personalities seemed fairly obvious—two lovers, a glutton and a vamp. I’d throw in a year’s supply of cat food out of the goodness of my heart—”

      He chuckled. “That’s quite an irresistible sales pitch—and I’m impressed with your choice of names.”

      “Not enough to sucker you in, though, huh?”

      “Afraid not. I live with an older brother.”

      “He’s allergic to cats?”

      “No, he’s just more trouble than ten pets now.”

      She laughed. “I have older brothers, too. Believe me, I understand. They’re tougher to make behave than a pet any day.”

      “You’re not kidding.”

      For a few seconds there, Regan thought her chattering was working to make him relax. But then an awkward silence fell between them, and she just wasn’t sure how to fill it.

      She rubbed a hand on the back of her neck, thinking of their meeting in the library—and that she never should have kissed him.

      It wasn’t as if she normally went around kissing strange men. And at any other time, her red-alert buttons would have been flashing special warnings around Alex.

      One look at him had aroused an instant carnal lust attack. Maybe Regan was a tad cynical about legendary heroes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t mightily appreciate the look of one. Images of picture-book knights on white chargers flew into her mind and clung there like glue. Never mind his contemporary Dockers and sandals, Alex had that Sean Connery look—the striking dark hair, the searing blue eyes, the proud posture and lean build. The trimmed, silvery-black beard just added to the packaging. Alex just happened to have all the equipment that revved her personal hormone engines.

      At thirty-three, though, Regan was old enough to thoroughly enjoy a lust attack—and then jettison those feelings faster than bad meat. She’d once sold herself all the fairy tales about happily-ever-afters, and none of the frogs she’d kissed had ever turned into a prince. She’d successfully broken her bad habit of falling for the wrong men the easiest way—by galloping at Olympic speeds away from any guy who aroused her irresponsible hormones.

      She’d have run from Alex the same way. Except that she’d seen right off that he was down in the dumps, and once she realized a broken love affair was the cause, she’d felt safe. Alex wasn’t on the prowl. He seemed so hung up on his Gwen that Regan doubted he even noticed her in a personal way.

      Kissing him had been a natural impulse. The story about his ex-fiancée had inevitably aroused her compassion. It was the dreadful Camelot tale all over again—a vulnerably idealistic man dumped by a damn fool numbskull of a woman who didn’t appreciate a good man when she had one. Regan did. Her previous experience with frogs made her outstandingly aware of how rare good men were, and Alex’s confidence had seemed so low, about life, about himself. Regan could well remember all the crippling self-doubts after she’d been shafted, and he’d just seemed to need a kiss. A gesture of compassion and support. Something.

      Damned if she was going to regret the impulse. Possibly the texture of that warm, mobile mouth had haunted her mind, but that was like handling chicken pox. Regan was an old pro at enduring—and ignoring—her wayward fantasies. He was just a good man who’d temporarily needed someone to listen. And maybe he still did. So far she didn’t have a clue why he’d called.

      Neither, apparently, did Alex. He was the one to break the sudden, awkward silence by gruffly clearing his throat. “I think I should be coming up with some brilliant reason why I called. The truth is, I don’t have one. I just kept remembering our conversation in the library, and I guess...well, I just wanted to thank you. I never meant to vent my problems on a stranger, and you were really kind, made me feel a lot better.”

      “No problem on the venting. I think everyone needs that sometimes.” Regan hesitated. If that was all he’d wanted to say, she could easily end the call. But she recalled too well those aching weeks after Ty had split for another woman. She’d felt humiliated and undesirable and painfully alone. And suddenly she twisted the phone cord around her wrist. “Besides, I really enjoyed our conversation. And it just occurred to me that we never really finished our argument about heroes.”

      “No, I guess we didn’t—”

      It wasn’t the first СКАЧАТЬ