Deadly Deception by Alexa Grace

for Frankie's bedroom.
     
    Knocking wildly on her door, he shouted, "Frankie!  Let me in!"  He saw the cat crouched and ready to spring from the end of the hallway.  Lane twisted the doorknob to her door and jumped in, slamming the door behind him.
     
    "Oh my God, Lane.  Can't you get through the first night without trying to break Rule #1?"  She slid up to a sitting position, and then turned on the lamp on her small bedside table.  “What’s going on?  Why are you pressed against the door like that?  Do we have a burglar?”
     
    "Frankie, something's very wrong with your cat.  I think he may have flipped out or something if cats do that.  He may be completely insane.  He was throwing himself against your front door so I let him in.  He raced to the kitchen so I thought he was hungry so I went in there to get him some food.  That's when it happened."
     
    "Lane, there's something I need to tell..."
     
    "Not now.  You've got to hear this," he interrupted.  "I was in the kitchen when suddenly he launched himself at me like an orange fur ball missile!  I think he was aiming for my eyes.  I could’ve been blinded!"
     
     
     
    "Lane..."  She got out of bed and moved toward him.  His eyes were wild.  She watched him as he turned and locked the door.
     
    "No, it gets worse. I tried to find him in the living room.  Like a flying ninja, he shot out from behind the couch and nailed himself onto my crotch.  Once I fought him off, I ran to your door and started knocking.  I looked down the hall.  There he was, in a crouched position, ready to launch at me again.  That's when I came in here.  Like I said, something is very wrong with your cat."
     
    Standing directly in front of him, Frankie gently rested her hands on his arms and said, "Lane, I don't have a cat."
     
    "Then whose maniac did I let in?"
     
    "I don't know."  She examined his face. "Your face is really scratched up and bleeding.  Sit down on my bed while I find my first aid kit."
     
    "I don't need first aid.  I need your Glock."
     
    "No way.  You are not shooting a cat in my house."  She found a small first aid kit in a dresser drawer and opened it on the bed.  She took out a couple of foil wrapped alcohol swabs."
     
    "Frankie, I don't need you to do this."
     
    "You don't want to get cat scratch fever, do you?"
     
    "What's cat scratch fever?"
     
    "I'm not sure, but every time I got scratched as a kid, my mom would talk about cat scratch fever as if it were the plague."  As gently as she could, she swabbed the scratches on his face.  "Are there any more scratches?"
     
    "Check my chest.  He landed there first,"  Lane said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
     
    "Damn.  He really scratched you."  She opened up another alcohol swab and dotted each scratch.  "Any more?"
     
    He started to unzip his pants and she slapped his hand.  "Seriously?  You're hell-bent on breaking Rule #1, aren't you?"
     
    A mischievous grin sliced across his face as he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.  "Just kidding, sweetheart."
     
    Her brain told her to break away, but her body refused.  She loved the feel of his strong arms holding her against the warmth of his body and a brief shiver rippled through her.  She ran her hands up his back loving the feel of his hard muscles and the indentation of his spine.  His closeness was so male and the scent of him, musk and man drove her crazy with need.  She looked up into his eyes to see a flicker of desire as he bent to claim her lips in a kiss that was so hot and driving it took her breath away.  He pulled way far too soon.
     
    "I just had an ugly thought," Lane said.
     
    "What?"
     
    "Rabies."  Yes, that was a word that could dampen the libido.  "We've got to trap that cat."
     
    With a blanket in hand, Frankie crept softly out of her bedroom with Lane close behind, moving toward the living room.  They heard movement under the chair, and then the cat bounded toward the