Final Score

A purely feminine smile was her response. “No. He did not. Then Max went to Alaska and fell for that bush pilot who, let’s just say, took him down in flames.”

“Which leaves Dylan.”

“Yep. Undisputed winner of the contest, which I like to call Last Guy to Grow Up.”

Cassie could hear banging and sawing coming from the bathroom so she knew they couldn’t be overheard. “Is he proud of this so-called accomplishment?”

“He brags about it every time the guys get together.”

She glanced up at the bathroom window. “Sometimes I think it’s a wonder our species survives.”

“Speaking of survival,” Serena said, regarding the rescue cat, “what are you going to do about this little stray?”

The kitten was purring loudly in her arms, but she could feel that the animal was skin and bone. “I guess I’ll meet my new neighbors, see if anyone claims it.”

“It might belong to the last people who lived here. Sometimes cats find their way home.”

Cassie dumped the rest of the can of tuna into the saucer. Then she said to Serena, “Come on in. I’ll show you the progress so far, as promised. And you can help me choose paint colors.”

“As promised. Where do you want to start?”

“My bedroom. I cannot stand waking up every morning surrounded by walls the color of already chewed bubblegum.”

“Let’s go.”

But first she had to stop and admire the hardwood floors. “These are going to be so beautiful when they’re refinished.”

“I know. I can’t believe the difference already.”

As they walked upstairs she described the bedroom of her imagination. “I want something very feminine. I work with fish and marine mammals and scientists all day. I want my bedroom to be a woman’s retreat.”

They entered the room and she immediately saw what she wanted. “I’ve seen a yellow-and-blue duvet cover that I love, and I’ll have chintz cushions in the window seat in a coordinating fabric.”

Serena nodded. “The window seat really is pretty, with that view out into the garden. I love those multipaned windows. So country cottage.”

“I think that window seat might have sold me this house,” she admitted.

“What about a chandelier for a light fixture?” The one crouching over a single lightbulb in the ceiling was a square of etched glass that must have been ugly even in the ’60s.

“Ooh, I like it. And I’m looking for an antique headboard. I haven’t found one yet, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Nice. And you’ve got an en-suite bathroom, which is such a great feature.”

“But what color for the walls?”

Serena took a few moments to walk right into the bedroom. She sat on the window seat. Looked into the room. “I am seeing a French blue. Something soft, but the color of lavender.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” Cassie picked up the fan of paint colors she’d bought to help her choose and began to flip. There were so many shades they made her eyes hurt, but Serena helped her and they finally decided on a color that both agreed would be wonderful. For the bathroom they decided on a darker shade of the same lavender color. The color would go well with the dark wood cabinet she’d scored for half price in a high-end decorating store that was changing its stock.

Cassie added two different colors of paint to her growing list of supplies to purchase, then added a chandelier because the idea pleased her so much. She knew that if she could get even this one room finished, she’d feel more settled.

When she turned to leave she found that the cat had followed them and had settled herself on the window seat, nestled among the cushions she’d put there temporarily.

Since she was sound asleep after her ordeal in the tree, Cassie decided to leave her to sleep.

Tomorrow she’d find her home. And if she turned out to be a stray, she supposed she’d have to find the nearest animal shelter.

A ray of late-afternoon sun shone on the kitten’s tortoiseshell coat and as she dreamed, her whiskers twitched.

* * *

SERENA ALSO HAD some good ideas for other rooms, including sophisticated neutrals for the main downstairs rooms. When Cassie had jotted down a list of colors, she offered Serena a drink, but her friend shook her head. “Can’t. I’ve got to run. I’ve got an appointment to view a hotel ballroom for the wedding reception.” She flapped a hand to her chest and her engagement ring flashed. “Booking a wedding without a year’s lead time is crazy. Everything decent is already booked.” She sighed. “Fortunately, I have connections and I’m very persuasive.”

“If it was me, I’d want to get married outside.”

“Me, too. And good luck with that. My advice? When you get married, give yourself plenty of planning time.”

“I should probably start by actually going out on a date.”

Serena nodded. She understood. In the past they’d bonded over being single professional women and laughed about their bad dates. Now Serena had found the love of her life. Cassie still seemed to be stuck in single mode.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married,” Serena suddenly said, looking uncertain.

“I can. It suits you.” It did, too. Serena had always possessed the most amazing confidence but now that she’d found love there was a deeper calmness that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps it was contentment.

After Serena left, Cassie walked toward the main-floor bathroom—soon to be a magazine-inspired transformation—to check on progress. And found the cat seeming to do the same. She sat, tail curled around her paws, watching Dylan manhandle the tub. He was sweating and his muscles bulged. A wave of lust, as unexpected as it was unwelcome, crashed over Cassie as she watched him.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“I’ll get a buddy to help me heft the tub out of here,” he grunted.

“I can do it,” she insisted. “Give me two seconds to change my clothes.”

“It’s heavy,” he warned.

“I heft all the time at work.”

In not much more than two seconds she’d shoved herself into a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt she’d gotten somewhere for free and should never have accepted.

“Take the other pair of work gloves from my toolbox,” he said, “and let me know if it’s too heavy.”

The tub was heavy, all right, but she worked out, and as a diver she was used to carrying heavy equipment. She’d manage.

The tub was not only ugly and heavy but the edges she had to hold dug into her hands even through the gloves. No way could she simply drop it halfway to the door, so she gritted her teeth, tightened every core muscle she could locate and slowly, step by step, they got the beast down the hall then out the front door. He’d already put down the back of his truck, so they walked it right over and wedged and heaved until the hulk of metal humped in the truck bed like a beached gray whale.

The cat followed them, watching the operation with interest.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Dylan said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, running his gaze down her body in a way that made her tingle.