Free Pleasure for Pleasure by Jamie Sobrato Page A

around, and she imagined him sitting up in bed. He was probably naked from the waist up and the sheet probably pooled in his lap, barely covering his—
    â€œWhat are you calling for?” he asked, sounding both concerned and annoyed.
    â€œI need to get into the center immediately, and I don’t have a key. Can I come by and get yours?”
    â€œIs something wrong?”
    â€œIt’s my mother’s cat. He’s staying there at the center, but I just realized I haven’t seen him in almost two days. I need to look for him.”
    A frustrated sigh came across the line. “He’s a cat. They wander. It’s no cause for an early morning search and rescue mission.”
    â€œEros always shows up for meals, and he’s not even supposed to be going outside while my mother is gone. She’s afraid he’ll wander off and not come back without her around.”
    â€œAnd you let him out anyway?”
    â€œWell, no. But sometimes he darts outside when people come in and out the door. He always comes back, though, but I haven’t seen him, I just realized.”
    â€œYou were up at three in the morning thinking about your mother’s cat?”
    No, I was in bed dreaming of making love to you.
    Josie felt her cheeks burning. “Rafaela called and woke me up. She doesn’t get this whole different-time-zones concept.” She heard his breathing on the other end of the line and somehow it felt intimate, as if he were right there. Suddenly the thought of the two of them, on the phone while the rest of the city slept, was turning her thighs to jelly. She crossed her legs, but the friction of the denim against her crotch was too much so she uncrossed them and stood.
    â€œGive me directions to your place. I’ll come by and pick you up.”
    â€œTrent, that’s not necessary. I can come get the key.”
    â€œOut of the question. It’s not safe to be out looking for a cat at this time of night. If you want my key, you get my help, too.”
    His offer was generous, but he sounded none too thrilled about the proposition. Still, he was right. She wouldn’t feel safe in the neighborhood around the center this late.
    After giving him directions to her apartment, she hung up the phone and paced the living room floor. Then a glimpse of her disheveled appearance in the entryway mirror gave her pause. Her wavy hair had been transformed into its usual nighttime bushy do by sleep, and her eyes were puffy and tired. Oh, dear. She couldn’t greet Trent looking like one of the Muppets.
    Josie hurried to the bathroom and winced as she switched on the bright light. Egad. It would take him fifteen minutes, twenty tops, to get to her place from where he lived. And in the mirror she saw an hour’s worth of work. She dumped her makeup bag on the counter and grabbed the lipstick. She had turned her lips halfway Passionate Pink when she realized the absurdity of putting on makeup for Trent at this hour.
    If he arrived to find her made up, he’d know she’d done it to impress him, and that wouldn’t do. Trent would laugh at such obvious tactics. No, this situation called for the subtle approach.
    She scowled and grabbed a tissue to wipe off the lipstick. A little concealer under the eyes, the ever-so-slightest remnant of lipstick to color her lips, a few strokes of mascara to darken the lashes, and she could look a little more like she’d just rolled out of bed, without looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.
    That left her hair to contend with. She picked up the nearest brush, but then thought better of it. Instead sheran her fingers through her mop of curls until they tumbled in a more desirable manner than every which way, and she could almost envision herself as a slightly nerdy version of one of those just-awakened catalog models, showing off the latest summer pajamas.
    Uh-oh. Speaking of pajamas, her own PJ top was a little more revealing