He glanced up, surprised. “Yes. How’d you know?”

“Your mother mentioned it.” She swallowed tightly, still unable to turn and face him. “She told me what a prickly, ungrateful cat she was.”

Sam chuckled. “She came around in time.”

“Like I did,” Marjorie said in a wobbly but controlled voice.

“You?” Sam asked, surprised. “I thought we were talking about Kitten.”

“We are!” She whirled around to face him, her hands braced against the counter behind her. “Me. I’m Kitten.”

Sam looked stunned. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Tell me, Sam, why did you buy the Mercedes? You didn’t need another car.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “No, but my other one’s a couple years old now and…”

“And you wanted me to collect the commission from the sale.”

“All right,” he said, struggling not to respond to the anger in her voice. “That’s true, but I was looking for a way to see you again, and buying the car seemed a perfect solution.”

“It was an expensive one, too, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t care.”

“This may surprise you, Sam Bretton, but I care. In fact, I care a great deal. I don’t want your charity. The next time you want to throw money away, give it to cancer research.”

“It wasn’t charity!” he shouted.

Marjorie ignored him, clenching her hands into tight fists at her sides. “What was it about me that attracted you in the first place?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she hurried on. “There’s nothing that makes me any different than a thousand other women who parade through your office.”

Drawing a calming breath, Sam waited a moment before answering. “This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere. I suggest—”

“You can’t answer me, can you, Sam?”

“I think it would be best if I left and gave you a chance to calm down.”

“I don’t need any time!” she shouted, and to her horror, her voice cracked.

Unable to see her cry and not do something to ease the pain, Sam took a step toward her and held out his arms. “Kitten, listen…”

“Don’t call me that!” she cried, pointing at him and retreating several steps. “Or I’ll…I’ll…” She couldn’t think of anything to threaten him with. “Or I’ll scream,” she said finally.

“Or worse yet, you might cook for me.”

Marjorie’s eyes widened with the pain his words inflicted. “Just leave, Sam. The next time I need someone to rescue me, I’ll give you a call. But don’t wait around for me to phone. It might astonish you to learn that I’m a capable human being.”

His frustration was nearly overwhelming, and Sam paused to rub his hand along the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean that wisecrack about your cooking.”