Touch of Evil by C. T. Adams, Cathy Clamp Page A

really hope you hurry. I'm really enjoying talking to you."
    I didn't bolt up the stairs, but damned close. Before I forgot in all the excitement of actually putting food in my rumbling stomach—with
    Tom—I dug for a moment in my desk and tucked a copy of the lease form into my purse.
    I tried to figure out what to wear before I went in the shower, and finally decided to keep it semiprofessional. He was going to be my tenant, after all. I managed to find a scoop-necked silk shell in soft yellow that was ironed. The white and green embroidered roses went well with the dark green slacks. I opted for my black flats because it was sort of nice to be able to look a guy in the eyes for a change. The hair and arm took some work to remove the latex paint. I finally had to resort to a green kitchen scrubber, leaving the side of my face a little pink. By the time I'd finished that, there was only time to blow-dry my hair, spritz myself with some cologne, and throw on enough makeup that I didn't look dead. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. After grabbing my purse, checking the elevator once more and then locking my front door, I nearly skipped down the stairs to the second floor. I had to admit, the result was more than I could have hoped for. Tom was crouched down, busily measuring walls and writing figures on the back of an envelope when I walked into the empty
    apartment. He heard me arrive, and turned his head back and up so he could look at me. His eyes got wide and his jaw dropped and then he actually fell over. Yeah, I know he was off balance to begin with, so it shouldn't make me so freaking happy. But it did and I smiled.
    "Wow!" he exclaimed as he quickly got to his feet and dusted off his pants. "You look amazing! " I shrugged. "Thanks. It's nothing special, but it's clean. I just got back from a long trip and haven't had time to run the laundry."
    He walked past me and held open the door.
    "Boy, I can't wait to see your 'first-string' clothes then." As I turned to leave, he put his head close to my neck and sniffed. It made my stomach lurch pleasantly. "Mmm. I like your perfume and shampoo, too. Most people don't consider picking complementary scents."
    When he saw my surprised expression, he smiled lightly and shrugged. "Hey, when you have as good a nose as we wolves do, it's a big deal."
    "Ah," I replied in a nicely noncommittal way. I followed him down the stairs and made sure that the entry door was locked before we exited into the garage. Our footfalls echoed against the low ceiling.
    "So, where would you like to go? It's still pretty early." It was only 3:38 according to my honking big diver's watch. It's not particularly ladylike, but it has a nice big lighted dial that I can actually see while flying at night and changes automatically to whatever time zone I'm in. Very cool feature. He waggled his head and thought for a moment.
    "Well, if we walked slow, we'd get to the Old Spaghetti Factory just about opening time."
    "Wow! What a terrific idea. I haven't eaten there for ages!"
    His eyes were twinkling and he started to open his mouth to say something, but then stopped and shook his head with a chuckle.
    " What? " I asked suspiciously. "What were you going to say?"
    "Promise you won't hit me?" He was grinning fully now and holding up his hands as if to ward off a blow.
    I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, well—we'll see when you tell me."
    He chortled, low and inviting. "I was going to ask if we were going to have dinner in bed. That could be a lot of fun."
    I managed to close my dropped jaw before a big bug flew into it. Bed? Huh? My mind searched for whatever the double entendre might have been. He was obviously teasing by the rolling laughter that was almost bending him double. I liked the sound of his laugh. It was deep, genuine and, well, happy. I hadn't heard happy in a really long time. I missed it.
    Wait—bed! Yay, I finally got the joke! The Old Spaghetti Factory is famous both