Mad About You

"Denise, it's okay. You should have told me earlier."
    Her friend took a deep breath. "I didn't know how to tell you without you thinking that I've been your friend all this time because I had a crush on you or something."
    Surprise and embarrassment jolted Kat, stilling her movements. "That thought hasn't entered my mind."
    "Not that I don't think you're attractive," Denise added, "it’s just that I don't find you attractive."
    "Thanks...I think."
    Denise threw up her hands. "Now I've really made a mess of things—which is why I didn't tell you in the first place."
    "Relax," she urged her friend with a laugh. "I know what you meant. Are you going to help me sort these clothes or not?"
    Denise nodded and smiled.
    Kat sighed in relief, glad the awkwardness had passed. She certainly had no right to pass judgment on Denise's love life, considering the fact that her own was a case study in insanity. She inspected a dress two sizes too small that still had the tags on it—inspiration for the cabbage soup diet, January 2007. "One of these days, I'm going to lose weight."
    Her friend scoffed. "You have a big bone structure."
    "A big bone structure? Denise, bones do not spread across the front of a chair when you sit down."
    "So you've got curves—you look great." A naughty expression crossed Denise's face. "James Donovan seems to agree with me."
    Kat's heart contracted. "Don't go there." She'd managed to go nearly thirty seconds without thinking about him and the fact that he was leaving tonight.
    "I can't believe you're not spending every minute with him until he boards that plane."
    "He's spending the morning with Detective Tenner, and I had things to do here." Kat tried to force lightness into her voice. "He said he might stop by on his way to the airport."
    "Well," Denise said, adopting an innocent look, "that should give you time to recover from last night—or is he a morning man?"
    Kat shook her finger at her friend. "Nice try, but I neither confirm nor deny that I had relations with Mr. Donovan."
    "For heaven's sake, Kat, you're walking bowlegged."
    "Denise!"
    "So does he wear his holster to bed?"
    Kat laughed. "You're nuts."
    "Oh, come on, Pussy-Kat, what's he like?"
    Folding a T-shirt with slow, precise movements, Kat savored the images of James's lovemaking, all of them bundled tightly in her heart. She couldn't explain it, but she was afraid if she shared them with someone, the images might escape. The day would come when she would be eager to exorcise the memories, but for now, she wanted to keep them locked away. "Let's just say he's a perfect gentleman."
    Denise frowned. "Oh, that's too bad. Do you think you'll see him after he leaves San Francisco?"
    Kat shook her head, now accustomed to the pang of longing she felt every time she thought of the future. "No."
    Denise walked over and gave Kat's shoulders a comforting squeeze. "You never know—he could show up some day with roses and a ring." She frowned in thought. "So would that make you Mrs. Agent James Donovan?"
    Kat shook her head, smiling sadly. "Even if there were such a title, I don't think the position is available, and I'm not so sure I'd want it anyway."
    "Really? God, Kat, I can tell you're crazy about the man—you wouldn't marry him?"
    Pursing her lips, she struggled to put her jumbled feelings into words. "Being with James is so powerful, it's almost overwhelming, and a little scary."
    "Wow."
    "And as G-rated as it sounds, I want a stable man who is just as crazy about me and who could see himself being a father someday."
    Denise's eyes bulged. "You want kids?"
    Kat pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yeah, someday. I don't want to grow old alone, Denise. I want my own family."
    "Gee, Kat, you've got lots of time to think about that."
    She smiled at her friend and tilted her head. "Silly, I'm not talking about next week, I'm talking about someday. The point is, no matter how attractive, how dashing, or how rich the man is, I'm not sacrificing what I want, what I need, to play a bit part in his life. Especially since James probably goes through leading ladies like I go through Baskin-Robbins's flavor of the month."
    The doorbell rang, and Kat thankfully escaped the troubling conversation, although voicing her thoughts had reinforced them in her mind. She only hoped the logical side of her brain could comfort the emotional side in the coming months.
    "Who is it?" she yelled through the door as she glanced at her watch. Eleven o'clock—the