1.7 The Mouse that Roared
Monday, August 7, 2006 at 15:31 
I came home to Mouse’s rage. When I walked in the doorway of the apartment, he slowly stood up from the couch and walked toward me with his head down. “Shut the door,” he said. Feeling cornered in the narrow hallway but also obligated to do his bidding, I swung the door shut behind me and dropped my gym bag on the hardwood floor. My cat Quentin jerked from his position on the windowsill. My other cat, Mangus, was nowhere to be seen.
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
His low voice sent chills up my spine even though I’d heard it a million times before. “Mouse, you know I had a lot of work to do today. I have to get the web site caught up from last weekend’s competition in D.C.” I was determined not to let him corner me. I turned my body toward the wall and brushed past him into the kitchen. Even in the midst of the tension between us, I sensed his body rising as I swept past, and I felt the presence of his dark, muscular chest and broad shoulders. click here to continue reading
Reader Comments (5)