Cate Madigan 1 - Hot Stuff by Janet Evanovich

Author:Janet Evanovich
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2007-04-19T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter ELEVEN

“This is not a good idea,” Cate said.

“Do you have a better one?” Kellen asked.

“No.”

“Then I’m staying. We’ll stop at my place, so I can pick up some clothes, and I’ll move in with you and Beast for a couple days.” It was a little after eleven, and Kellen was holding hands with Cate, gently tugging her past her condo building. “I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“What will I tell Marty if he comes home?”

“You’ll tell him you love me more than life itself and can’t bear to be separated from me.”

“That’s why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“I won’t be sleeping on the couch. I’ll be in bed with you, acting like I have self-control.”

Yes, but what about me? Cate thought. What if I don’t have any self-control?

Kellen stopped at a brownstone and plugged his key into the door.

“This is a whole house,” Cate said. “Three floors. On one of the nicest streets in the South End.”

“I’m good at my job,” Kellen said. “I get paid well for looking, and I get paid even better for finding. This is a little bare. I just closed on it last month, and I haven’t had much time for interior decorating.”

The front door opened to a small foyer. Living room to the left. Dining room to the right. Stairs with a graceful wood banister led to the second floor. Floors were polished mahogany. Kellen had a large flat-screen television hung over the elaborate fireplace in the living room. An Oriental rug had been placed in front of the fireplace, and a large glass coffee table and comfy leather couch sat on the rug, facing the television. The dining room was unfurnished.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Kellen said. “Make yourself at home while I go upstairs and throw a few things into a gym bag.”

Cate prowled through the dining room and into the kitchen. It was twice the size of Marty’s condo kitchen, with new granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. It looked completely untouched. Pristine oven. No splatters on the cooktop. Over the counter, cabinets were empty. No dishes. No glasses. No silverware. She looked in the side-by-side refrigerator. Beer, orange juice, bread, peanut butter. There was a butter knife in the refrigerator alongside the peanut butter.

Kellen came into the kitchen carrying his gym bag. “It turns out I’m not especially domestic,” he said. “I’d like this place to look like a home with cookies and a coffeemaker and a drawer filled with clean socks, but I don’t know where to begin. I’ve been building my business, living on the road wherever the job took me for so long, I only own one butter knife.”

“Will you have a chance to spend any amount of time here?”

“Yes. My business is changing. I’m now able to do all the preliminary investigation by computer and phone from the office upstairs. And I have two investigators who do the legwork. So hopefully my days on the road are a thing of the past. Or at least they’ll be limited.

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