Luke sneaked into his own apartment like a thief in the night. He'd seen that foreign film so many times he swore he could now speak fluent German. He frowned. All the lights in the spotless living room were on. Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulled it free of his pants and felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Cat to do the cleanup. Then he considered how he'd have felt if he'd stuck around. Hell, he'd done the right thing.

He almost had a seizure when he saw Cat sprawled out on the leather sofa. She wore one of his favorite ratty T-shirts and a disreputable pair of pajama bottoms he swore she'd had since she was a kid. Her cheeks were pink; her eyes glittered.

"Nice of you to drop by, Van Buren. Pleasant evening?"