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is sexy.”
    She uncapped her bottle and took a long drink. The cold water rushing down her throat did nothing to ease the sexual charge.
    â€œSo, date a lot of those women?”
    â€œMy fair share,” he admitted as strong fingers tore his sandwich in half. “Then I wised up. Told my mother I’d find my own dates.”
    Kat laughed. “Your mother fixes you up?”
    â€œShe’s the neighborhood matchmaker. She fixes everyone up. She claims I’m a lost cause, but she refuses to quit.”
    He inserted a finger into his mouth and licked off the residual sauce. Kat tore her gaze from those sensual lips. “This is so good,” he said.
    â€œIt is,” she agreed, taking her own bite.
    He grinned, and she could feel his charm as if it were a hand pulling her close. “Well I’m glad I made the right choice.”
    â€œMe, too. Better than my salad.” She took another bite and moaned with pleasure. “I should go there more often.”
    â€œYou should,” Jack replied, his attention fully on Kat’s enjoyment. He hadn’t lied about those women. Julie had always complained she’d be fat if she ate so and so or such and such. Once they’d broken up, he’d dated now and then, but had easily found deal breakers every time.
    But Kat … she dug into the sandwich with gusto. No, he thought, that wasn’t the right term. She wasn’t slovenly or sloppy like those cops in his division who could wolf down a sandwich or burger in seconds flat. Clearly she enjoyed the experience of eating. He’d grown up in a household where mealtimes were family events, the food savored and appreciated.
    She licked her lips, and Jack’s libido roared to life as he imagined what it would be like to kiss her again, to taste her mouth fully. … He tore himself from those dangerous thoughts. The erotic dreams already teased his memory. “I appreciate good food. My mom is a terrific cook. She makes enough for an army every Sunday, and if I’m free, I go over. Lately, though, it’s all about my sister—well, stepsister. She’s getting married in December. Even though it’s a delicious home-cooked meal, it’s all wedding this, wedding that. … Sorry, I’m probably boring you.”
    â€œNo, you’re not. It sounds wonderful. My parents were the kings of takeout. Still are, actually. My mom works full time—she’s a doctor—so she never cooked much. She did bake, though.” Kat set the sandwich down, taking a momentary break. “Again, excellent choice. This is so good.”
    Her lips puckered as she drew out the O in
so,
and a warm, fuzzy—and strange—feeling bloomed in his chest. “Then I’m glad I took a risk. It was that or the King and I on Grand, but last night you said you were going to do Thai.”
    â€œThis is perfect.”
    He took another bite and swallowed, struck by the thought that she was pretty perfect herself. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t yet broached the complaint letter in his pocket. “So you said Jingle needs intensive care, but can you be more specific?”
    â€œHe’s sedated but not out of the woods. I’m watching for fever, shock, infection …” She opened the bag of chips that had come with her sandwich. “A lot of his recovery comes down to fate and his own will to live.”
    â€œI hope it’s strong.”
    She nodded. “Me, too.”
    â€œI’d like to see him.”
    â€œI’ll take you back.”
    â€œPerfect. I do need to take a few more pictures. I also want to see your shel— Hey!” Jack jumped up as a ball of oversize gray fluff landed on the chair arm. “What the?”
    A wide pair of green cat eyes held his gaze without blinking. “Hey cat.” He settled back into his seat, feeling a bit sheepish. “You scared me.”
    Kat was trying hard not to laugh.