When every nook and cranny had been examined and the kitten hadn’t turned up, Kate sat down at the bottom of her stairs and burst into tears. A camera pod had fallen through her roof, she’d broken her leg, she’d laid waste a concert, she’d witnessed a chicken being held at knifepoint, and she’d been kidnapped. Somehow she’d been able to get through it. But neglecting a kitten was more than she could bear. All her worst fears about herself were true.

Chapter 10

“I’m an airhead,” she wailed. “All I know is music. I haven’t a scrap of common sense. And I’m totally self-centered. Like Anatole. I should have stayed married to him. We make the perfect pair.”

“You’re not an airhead. You’re intense, and you’re dedicated to your music. That doesn’t make you an airhead. And you’re certainly not like Anatole. You’re the precise opposite of Anatole. You’re full of life and enthusiasm and joy. You’re passionate and spontaneous and loving.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I lost my kitten.”

“The house across the street exploded! We all ran out to see what was happening. It was as much my fault as yours. Probably more. I don’t have a cast to slow me down. I should have checked on the door.”

She was inconsolable. “It was my kitten. I was responsible for it.”

He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Everything will work out all right. We haven’t looked outside yet. Kittens have a way of turning up when they get hungry.”

She hiccuped and went in search of a tissue. “That’s true. We haven’t looked outside.” She blew her nose and slowly moved toward the front door on her crutches.

Dave watched the effort she had to exert to keep going. She was out on her feet, and from the way she gingerly carried her broken leg, he suspected she was in pain. “Kate, why don’t you let me look for the kitten?”

“I can’t. This is something I have to do.”

Damn stubborn redhead, he thought. She was going to make a hell of a wife. He ran next door to get a flashlight and followed her around the neighborhood, calling ”kitty, kitty, kitty” and shining the light in front yards, under cars, into porch corners.

Finally, she admitted defeat. Her leg throbbed unmercifully, and she was bone-tired. They’d traveled three blocks in every direction, but there was no kitten. She hadn’t even named it, she thought miserably. She’d brought it home and immediately forgotten about it. Now it was lost, or worse. She thought of all the emergency vehicles that had roared up and down her street for the better part of the evening, and a chill shook her. It would have been so easy for a kitten to get caught under one of those huge tires.