The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

breasts. My pebbled nipples jutted out, and when he zeroed in on them, desire flared in his eyes.

Then he took a deep breath and licked his lips, making heat warm my cheeks and a dull ache throb between my legs.

Oh, yes.

It was silent in the room, but the way he brazenly lusted at me was deafening. It rumbled through my body just as the thunder outside reverberated through his big house.

But his wicked look slowly faded into a serious one. “I like . . . cats just fine. What I meant is, I can’t own a cat.”

“Why? Are you allergic?”

He pressed his lips together for a half-second. “No, but I have to travel for my job.”

“Really?” Confusion tugged my eyebrows together. “Seems like you’re home all the time to me.”

His expression shuttered. He didn’t like the idea I was keeping tabs on him, and his tone turned accusatory. “Oh, am I?”

I shrugged without shame. “You’re hot and mysterious, and I’m curious.”

A statement like that would fluster some guys, but not Clay. He simply blinked behind his glasses. “I’m not mysterious. I’m . . .” He searched for the right word. “Private.”

“Okay.” I stroked the cat. “Private guys can care for cats, you know.”

“So can nosy neighbors,” he fired back. “You work for a veterinarian. Don’t you think that makes you a better fit?”

“This cat didn’t pick me, dude, she picked you. And I think you owe it to her after slamming her tail in the door.” I slid down off the washing machine and was thrilled when he held his ground. It meant we were standing close enough to each other I could pick up the faint hint of his cologne. “Besides, as much as I’d like to, my landlords have a strict no-pets policy.”

He looked dubious. “Don’t you live with your parents?”

“No. I rent from them.”

Yes, I was twenty-six and resided on my parents’ property, but as far as I was concerned, I lived on my own. My parents’ guest house was a complete space, including a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and one-and-a-half baths. I paid my rent and utilities and came and went as I pleased.

But Clay continued to look at me like I was making it all up.

“If I didn’t live there,” I said, “they’d rent my place out to someone else, and they’d be the ones keeping up with the main house.” I pushed a swath of my dark brown hair back over my shoulder. “You know my folks are never home anymore, right? Last year my dad retired, and now they’re doing all the traveling they’ve been wanting to since they had kids.”

“Oh,” he said. “No, I didn’t know. Where are they now?”

“Vietnam.” Wait, was that right? “Or maybe Myanmar? I don’t remember their exact itinerary.” Just that they wouldn’t be home for another month, and they weren’t planning to stay home long. South America was booked for September and October. “Anyway, my dad’s allergic, and my mom’s always been super anti-pet, so me having a cat is a dealbreaker for them.” My mother’s aversion to pets had played a big role in why I worked with animals. “Honestly, I couldn’t afford a place half as nice on my salary, so I’m not about to risk it, even if this cat is adorable.”

I massaged the scruff of her neck, and she purred like a motor.

Clay sighed. “It’s not like I’m heartless. She is . . . kind of cute,” he admitted softly. “Look, I’d take her in if I could, but I’m heading to Florida tomorrow morning, and I’ll be gone the rest of the week. Maybe longer.”

“What is it you do?” I asked. “All my mom told me is you’re in tech.”

He cocked his head in confusion, then a half-smile tilted his lips. “I’m not in tech. Architect,” he corrected. “She must have misheard me.”

“Oh.” Well, the drafting table and blueprints in the study made a bit more sense now. “You’re building something in Florida?”

“We’re in phase two of a new hospital tower in Jacksonville, which, as you can imagine, is a big project. I’ll be back and forth all the time for the next six months.”

My gaze dropped to his tile floor while I contemplated what to say next. The one solution I came up with was crazy, and he probably wouldn’t go for it, but what was the harm in asking? I lifted my chest and flashed the biggest, most persuasive smile I owned.

“So . . . I have an idea,” I said. “You have pet-friendly space, but no time. I have the time, but no pet-friendly space. Let’s make a deal. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone. I mean, I’m right next door. It’d be easy for me to pop over and check in on her.”

Clay looked at me like I’d just offered to rotate his tires. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We’ll share the cat. I’ll even let you name her.”

His tone was dubious. “You want to . . . own a cat. With me.”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because I’m a stranger?”

I waved a hand, brushing off his silly statement. “No, you’re not.” I smiled widely. “I know where you live, Clay. Just think of it as joint custody. We both get something out of this arrangement. I get to own a cat, and you don’t even have to take care of it.”

He couldn’t have looked more conflicted if he’d tried. “We can’t do that. That idea is . . . crazy.” And yet, it was clear he hadn’t ruled it out. Was he actually considering it?

“Cats are easy,” I added.

His gaze shifted away from me as he thought long and hard about it. “I don’t have any stuff, like cat food, or—”

Hurried excitement crept into my voice. “I can go to the store right now. I’ll pay for everything.”

“It’s not a money thing.” He lifted a hand like he could pluck the answer out of thin air. “How would it even work?”

I tentatively placed a hand on his arm and fought the urge to squeeze the muscle that lurked beneath the damp cotton of his shirt. “I just need a