Cute. Zach couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a woman blush. That probably had a lot to do with the kind of women he hung out with.

"I always buy the top of the line and alternate it with canned cat food."

"Top of the line, huh?" Well, he supposed he could do that for old Tom. "Which brand do you buy?"

She showed him, and then she led him straight to what she said was her favorite (and, naturally, most expensive) brand of canned food.

"Thanks," he said. "You're a real expert. Are you a vet or something?"

The blush returned. She shook her head, making the curls bounce. "No. I work at Pet Palace."

His girlfriend's family owned Pet Palace. Zach almost shared this information. Almost.

"Cats are my specialty," the elfette added.

"I'll remember that if I need some expert advice," Zach said. They were starting to get pretty friendly here in the pet food aisle. It was time for him to get back to Ray and pizza and the safety of his own home. "Uh, thanks."

"My pleasure," she said.

Pleasure. The word conjured some naughty images of himself and the elfette that were bound to earn Zach a lump of coal in his stocking. If you're going to think pleasure, d.i.c.khead, think about Blair. Good old Blair, who always preferred being naughty to being nice. She'd done the marriage thing and gotten it out of her system, which made her and Zach a perfect match.

With his thoughts properly realigned, he gave the girl next door a pleasant nod and then got out of there. Nice girls were a heartbreak waiting to happen. He knew from personal experience.

"Hey, about time you got back," Ray greeted him as he walked in the door with a giant sized sack of cat food slung over his shoulder. "The pizza got here five minutes ago. Let's break open the beer."

Beer? s.h.i.t. "Oh, man, I forgot the beer."

"Well, if that don't beat all. We come over and bust our chops all afternoon and who does he remember?" Ray asked Tacky, who was camped out on his lap. "The d.a.m.ned cat. Never send a boy to do a man's job." He stuffed the last of a pizza slice in his mouth, set Tacky aside and started to get up.

Zach propped the bag by the door, along with the plastic sack full of canned cat food. "I'm on it. Don't get your Jockeys in a knot. And don't eat all the pizza before I get back," he added before shutting the door.

He'd run over to the Gas 'N Go and pick up some overpriced cheap beer. No way was he going back to the grocery store. If he saw the elfette again he might just suffer a moment of insanity and get her name and number.

Merilee White stood in line at the checkout flipping through a copy of People and trying to find her holiday spirit. Darn. For a moment there she thought she'd connected with that gorgeous man on the pet food aisle. He'd looked like a modern-day Viking, blond and big. His face had been almost perfect, the only flaw a slightly crooked nose that looked like it might have gotten broken at some point. And those eyes! Blue as a fjord. He'd seemed so nice, and he was an animal lover, too, which, as far as Merilee was concerned, made him a perfect man.

From the way he'd looked at her she could have sworn he was interested. But then he'd gotten skittish and bolted. What the heck had she said? What had gone wrong?

She sighed. So much for the grocery store being a great place to meet men. Where had she heard that, anyway?

Oh, yes, her sisters. It seemed they were always meeting men in the grocery store. They also met men at the gym, at the mall, the coffee shop, business conventions, the women's lingerie department. Sheesh. Why couldn't she have been a s.e.xy fashion diva like her successful older sister or a bubbly blonde like her baby sister?

She sighed. Her sisters always told her she didn't send out the right vibes.

What did they expect? Her pheromone broadcast tower was broken. She frowned at her down coat, which was now way too big for her, and could almost hear her older sister's scolding voice.

"Advertise," said Gloria (nickname Glorious). "Who can even find you buried under those ugly clothes? Men are lazy. You have to make it easy for them."

Gloria's idea of advertising was wearing low-cut tops and b.u.t.t-hugging jeans, but outfits like that weren't for Merilee. She'd never worn clothes like that. Of course, she'd never had the figure for clothes like that. Maybe now she did, but she sure didn't have the confidence for them.

"What exactly would I be advertising?" she'd muttered. "In those kind of clothes men are going to ask me how much I charge." Even as she'd said it she'd thought, You should be so lucky.

She'd turned down Gloria's offer to take her shopping and Gloria had given up in disgust.

"Guys don't like to take risks," said Merliee's younger sister, Liz. "You've got to send out a clear signal that you're interested so they know they've got a green light."

So far very few men had seen the green light. (It worked about as well as the old pheromone broadcast tower.) She was now twenty-six and she'd had only a handful of relationships-a very small handful at that. Okay, it was more like two fingers' worth, and neither had been a keeper. Of course, the prime time for finding keepers was in college. In college, just as in high school, she hadn't been the kind of girl who keepers looked at. Even now, although she'd lost fifty-two pounds in the last three years, the insecurity that had ridden her since middle school, right along with the extra weight, refused to budge.

"You've just got to put yourself out there a little more," Liz insisted.

Easier said than done. Merilee had always been quiet. Her embarra.s.sment over her weight had made her painfully shy around guys. On top of that she'd gotten lost in the giant shadow of her overachieving siblings. Not only were her sisters magnificent, her younger brother was a star. Literally, on a television soap. Then there was her older brother who had his successful business, his perfect wife, and his two gorgeous children. Well, so what? She had ...

She slapped the magazine shut and put it back in the rack. The last thing she needed was to read about beautiful people.

You are not a failure, she told herself firmly. Dropping out of veterinary college didn't make a girl a failure. It simply made her broke. She'd go back and finish when she got more money. And meanwhile there was nothing wrong with working in a pet supply store and volunteering at the local animal shelter. Animals needed love, too. And animals appreciated a girl no matter what she looked like. Animals saw into a person's soul.

Merilee paid for her groceries-cottage cheese, salad makings, and a candy cane (a girl needed to live it up once in a while)-and left the store with a stoical smile. But as soon as she was in her car she let out a sigh.

"Oh, stop already," she scolded herself. "Your life is not so bad." And to prove it she flipped on the radio to a station that was playing Christmas music and began to sing along. 'Tis the season to be jolly. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-LA!

There. She felt better already. Life was good. She had food and shelter and people in her life who loved her. Christmas was right around the corner, which meant lots of family fun and time-honored traditions. So what if she didn't have a man. Did a woman need a man to be happy?

Some little voice at the back of her mind whispered: No, but it sure helps.

THREE.

The cat stayed hidden the entire time Ray and Taquito were over. "Just as well," said Ray.

"Oh, that's right," sneered Zach. "Killer there would have hurt him."

"Dogs hurt cats," said Ray, scowling.

"Big dogs, yeah, but I've seen rats bigger than that mutt of yours," Zach teased, making Ray frown. "And, judging from the looks of him, old Tom's survived a few fights."

"A real beauty, huh?" Ray shook his head and took a swig of beer as the action movie they were watching boomed its way across Zach's TV screen. "That seals the deal. You won't be finding anyone who wants him. Looks like you've got yourself a cat."

"Oh, no. I'll find a home for him." Somewhere, someplace, somehow.

There had to be someone he knew who'd want a mangy orange tomcat with a torn ear. "Anyway, what was I supposed to do, let the little guy get the needle?"

Ray shook his head. "Man, you are a pushover."

"The h.e.l.l I am," Zach retorted. "I'm just not a cat killer."

"You don't know that they'd have killed him," Ray observed.

"Trust me," said Zach. "They would have. They have too many cats at the pound already."

"How do you know that?"

"Someone told me," Zach hedged.

"Someone? Who?"

"Just someone I met in the store," Zach said, keeping his eyes trained on the TV. But he could feel his friend studying him. He turned to see a grin growing on Ray's face.

"Like a chick someone?"

Zach shifted on the couch.

Ray nodded knowingly and pointed a finger at him. "So that's why you forgot the beer." He gave a snort. "Well, well. My man is going domestic. Got himself a cat and next he's gonna get a woman and find the old husband collar slipped on his neck same as what happens to all the rest of us."

"No, not going there," Zach a.s.sured both Ray and himself. "She wasn't my type."

"Had her s.h.i.t together, huh?" Ray teased.

"Hey, are we going to watch this movie or not?" Zach snapped.

"Yeah. Sure," said Ray, and he sat there on the couch the rest of the night with a smirk on his face.

Crab-in-the-pot syndrome, Zach thought irritably. There was nothing a guy who'd been burned liked better than to know his buddies were suffering right along with him. Just let a man try to climb out of the pot, or, in Zach's case, not fall in, and they were reaching out to pull him down into the hot water with the rest of them. But Zach wasn't going to end up like Ray, led around by his zipper, taken for a ride, and then tossed and left living in a ratty apartment, using garage sale pots and pans because he'd lost his shirt somewhere in divorce court. Oh, no. Not him. And having a cat didn't make a man domestic.

Zach's new furry friend came out of hiding once Ray was gone and the television was off. Zach suddenly realized it had been hours since the animal had been outside. Cats went outside at night, right? That gave them a chance to do their business, hunt, cat around.

"It's time to do your thing, dude," he announced and walked to the front door.

The cat followed tentatively.

Zach swung the door wide, an invitation to freedom. A cold gust whooshed in. It was sleeting now and he suddenly felt like a Scrooge.

Well, it couldn't be helped. He didn't want to have to deal with getting the smell of cat pee out of his wood floors or the carpet. "Probably lots of mice out there for you to chase," he said, trying to put a good spin on the situation. "Come on."

The cat slinked to the door, stuck his head out and sniffed. He raised one tentative paw.

"Out you go," said Zach, using the door to nudge him onto the porch.

Instead of getting the message and going out, the cat whirled and started in the other direction.

Zach couldn't say he blamed the little guy, but he was sure Tom had to take a whiz after all this time. He grabbed the animal, saying, "Come on now, dude, you've got to go do your business."

He gave the cat a gentle toss and shut the door firmly.

And then felt like King Rat as he headed for his nice, warm bed.

He felt even worse in the morning when he opened the front door and Tom darted back into the house, his fur wet.

Zach put some canned cat food in a cottage cheese container and set it on the floor. The animal settled in front of it and started chowing down like it was his last meal.

"Sorry about sending you out in the cold last night, guy. That was a s.h.i.tty thing to do."

The cat ignored him, tossing back a mouthful of Tuna Surprise and giving it a vicious chew with his sharp little teeth. No leg-rubbing today.

Zach couldn't blame him. He heaved a sigh of resignation. The last thing he wanted to mess with was a litter box, but if he was going to do a good deed he might as well do it right. "I'll make it up to you, bud. No more cold nights stuck outside."

True to his promise, he hightailed it over to Pet Palace as soon as the place opened.

A huge warehouse of a store, it had everything for every kind of pet imaginable. Shoppers stood mesmerized in front of tropical fish tanks, compared prices on gerbil cages, and strolled up and down the aisles with their dogs on a leash, checking out chew toys and doggy sweaters.

Funny he'd never been in here before considering the fact that he was hanging out with the owner's daughter. And it hadn't occurred to him before now to wonder why Blair didn't have a pet when her family owned a pet supply store. What was that about? Probably, like him, she'd lost an animal she loved and decided she didn't want to go through such misery again.

Zach found the cat section and picked up the first litter box he saw. Then he snagged a couple of bags of litter and, what the heck, a cat toy, and started for the one open checkout stand.

There she was, standing at her cash register, ready for business, the little elf from the night before.

For a moment, his steps stalled. He should put the stuff back and go somewhere else. She'd think he was stalking her.

No she won't, he argued to himself. Why would she? Just be cool and casual.

Today she wore a brown polo shirt tucked into khaki slacks. The company logo, a mutt sitting in front of a castle, was emblazoned over her left b.o.o.b. The uniform was ugly, but it confirmed what Zach had suspected the night before. She did, indeed, have a nice body.

Her name tag (right b.o.o.b) showed that she had a nice name, too. Happily serving our pets: Merilee. It was the kind of name that made a guy think laughter and good times and a good life.

Zach quickly reminded himself that he already had all that.

At the sight of him she stared wide-eyed and blinked. Then she blushed. Then she stammered, "Good morning. Welcome to Pet Palace."

So, he fl.u.s.tered her. She thought he was hot. The ego stroke made him smile. Until he remembered he didn't want anything stroked by this kind of woman. "Hi Merilee. I forgot something important," he said, setting down Tom's toilet supplies.

The simple statement put her at ease and she smiled. "So, your new cat is an inside kitty."

"He wants to be. He wasn't real happy when I put him outside last night."

This bit of sharing produced a disapproving little frown. "They do like to go outside, but not in the cold and rain."

"Hey, who does?" Zach cracked, trying to make light of his heartless behavior of the night before.

"I do," she said brightly, then looked like she was reconsidering her confession. "I like to hike," she explained.

"Yeah?" He liked to hike. Most women he dated didn't, though. They were always worried about their hair or their clothes getting dirty.