The Hang Up (First Impressions) by Tawna Fenske Page A

guy.”
    “Mrwow,” her cat said and nudged Jason’s hand with his head.
    “Phuzeei,” Jason said, shaking his head as he stood back up. “I can’t say I ever imagined myself stroking a froofy white Persian named ‘Fuzzy.’”
    “He may look froofy, but he’s kind of a badass.”
    Jason quirked an eyebrow. “You mean beyond his skills at opening bathroom doors like some sort of furry ninja spy?”
    “I taught him more skills than that one. Watch this.”
    Miriam set her plate down and reached for a notepad she’d been using to doodle sketches for an ad campaign. She tore off a sheet and crumpled it into a ball. Phuzeei whirled around and pricked his ears at attention.
    “You ready, boy?” Miriam asked, grinning. “Fetch!”
    She hurled the paper wad down the hall. In a blur of fur and paws, Phuzeei went tearing after it, his plumy tail streaking behind him. The cat skidded to a halt at the end of the hall, furry feet sliding across the polished wood floor. He picked up the paper in his teeth, turned around, and trotted back with his prize.
    “I’ll be damned,” Jason said as he bent down to take the paper Phuzeei deposited at his feet. “You taught your cat to fetch?”
    “I told you he’s got mad skills.”
    “Color me impressed.”
    “Color me starving,” she said. “You ready to move on to dinner?”
    “Anytime you are.”
    “I’ll take that,” she said, plucking the paper from his hand. “Feel free to wash up in the guest bath. I’ll put the finishing touches on dinner.”
    “Need any help?”
    “Nope, I’ve got it. I prepped most of it ahead of time, so we’re just about ready.”
    She turned and hurried into the kitchen where she lost herself in the last-minute bustle of sautéing and garnishing and sneaking little tastes of everything to make sure the meal had turned out okay.
    She’d almost forgotten about Jason until she heard his voice behind her.
    “Holy cow!” he said. “Are you some kind of gourmet cook?”
    She grinned and dusted a sprinkling of fresh chives over a side of roasted potatoes she’d just plated. “Sort of,” she said. “I love good food, and cooking’s a hobby of mine.”
    “This looks amazing. You weren’t kidding about replicating the restaurant experience. This looks better than any restaurant meal I’ve had.”
    “Thanks. I’ll stop short of getting out my silver cloches.”
    “Since I don’t know what a cloche is, that’s probably best. Unless it’s something sexy?”
    Miriam laughed. “A cloche is a bell-shaped cover the chef puts over the plate to keep things warm until the waiter removes it with a flourish.”
    “I think you’ve got plenty of flourish going on here. Can I help you carry something?”
    “Can you grab those salads right there?”
    She scooped up the dinner plates, admiring the presentation of dishes and the heady fragrance of herbs and caramelized onion. She led the way back out to the dining room and set the plates down. “You can put the salads right here,” she said and pointed to a spot at the top of her place mat.
    He obeyed, then stood waiting while she took her seat. “I see you’ve got some of the etiquette down pat,” she said. “Waiting for a lady to be seated is a nice touch.”
    Jason grinned and sat down next to her. “I may not be a gentleman in all regards, but I do my best. I’m also a pretty quick learner.”
    She wondered for an instant what that meant, her brain sauntering down a vivid path that left her pondering in what other capacity he exercised his gentlemanly tendencies and quick learning. What was Jason like in bed? Was he rough and wild, or gentle and slow? Was he the sort of guy to softly stroke a woman’s cheek as she unzipped his fly and dropped to her knees, or was he the sort to thread his fingers into her hair, gripping tightly as she sucked him deeply into her—
    Hiccup!
    Miriam clamped a hand to her mouth, horrified by her own faux pas at the dinner table. She was trying so