Free And Then He Kissed Her by Laura Lee Guhrke Page A

a typewriting machine. The parlor was separated from a small alcove by a painted wooden screen. Though the flat was small, the effect was one of almost sumptuous comfort, not at all the sort of living quarters he would have imagined for the no-nonsense Miss Dove.
    Something brushed his leg and he looked down to find an enormous cat at his feet. Too chubby to walk between his ankles, it twined around him, rubbing its body against his legs, no doubt depositing quantities of orange cat hair all over his gray wool trousers.
    Harry eyed it with dismay. “You have a cat.”
    “That’s Mr. Pigeon.” She sat down on one ofthe settees and gestured for him to sit opposite her.
    The moment he sat down and put aside his hat, the animal jumped into his lap. Rather amazed that such a huge cat could jump anywhere, he watched as it curled up in his lap and began to purr with gusto.
    “He likes you,” Miss Dove said, sounding surprised.
    “Yes,” Harry answered with an unhappy sigh. He had long ago accepted the fact that cats adored him. The reason, of course, was because both God and cats had the same perverse sense of humor. When the animal buried its claws in his thigh and began to knead with happy abandon, he set his jaw and bore it. “Mr. Pigeon? Rather fitting for you to choose that name, Miss Dove. Both birds, you know.”
    “Oh, that isn’t why I named him Mr. Pigeon. It’s because he stalks the pigeons on the roof. Always has, even when he was a tiny kitten. Whenever he catches one, he brings it down the fire escape for me.”
    “How sweet.” What bloodthirsty creatures cats were, really. He tried to adopt a jovial attitude. “Eats quite a few of those pigeons, too, by the look of him.”
    “Are you saying my cat is fat?”
    “Not at all,” he lied and decided a change of subject was in order. “Miss Dove,” he said, pushing the terror of the rooftop pigeons off his lap as gently as possible, “I have come to offer the olive branch, as it were. I know you must be upset bymy rejection of your manuscript, but you know I have to be true to my instincts in matters of this kind.”
    “Of course.”
    “I cannot publish what I do not believe will make a profit.” He smiled gently. “I would be a sad man of business indeed, if I made such unwise decisions.”
    “Certainly.”
    There was a long silence, and Harry began to feel as if he were pushing a boulder uphill, but he persevered. “I appreciate that you are upset in your feelings and perhaps discouraged by my response to your writing, but surely that does not warrant resigning your post.”
    “Amazing that you possess such an intimate knowledge of my feelings.”
    Harry decided to change tactics. “What will you do now? Where will you go? Respectable employment, particularly for women, is not easy to come by nowadays.” He gestured to their surroundings. “It is certain no other employer in London will pay you enough to afford you a parlor flat like this one.”
    “My lord—”
    “But even should you find another post at a wage that does not force you to move, what if you are unhappy with your next situation? Or your employer does not treat you well?” He put on an air of gentlemanly concern. “The world can be a hard place for a woman alone, Miss Dove. What will happen to you? Without me, your future is very uncertain, you know.”
    “How kind you are to be so concerned about my future.” The inflection of sarcasm in her voice was becoming more pronounced.
    “I am concerned for both of us if you do not come back,” he replied. “And I am concerned for my staff. They value you as much as I.”
    She smiled at him. “There is no need for you or anyone else at Marlowe Publishing to worry about me or my future. You see, I have already secured a new position.”
    Harry sat up straighter on the settee. “What? Already?”
    “Yes. I am now working for Lord Barringer.”
    “Barringer?” He was appalled. “That pompous, self-righteous