Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

“Uh, hey, guys.” There went hanging out in the living room. “This is my friend Abe.”

Abe did that chin nod guys do. “Hey.”

My trio of roommates chorused a greeting back at him as I shot a look at my door. Well. It wasn’t like we’d never been in each other’s rooms before.

“This is my room,” I said, and we both stepped in. I felt incredible gratitude that I hadn’t left a heap of clothing on the floor and that no drying bras hung from the lamp. I wasn’t sure I’d go so far as calling the room clean, what with the haphazard stacks of books and papers on my desk and the edge of the room, and the number of scarves jockeying for space on the door hooks, but at least it was tidy-ish.

Abe’s face brightened when it landed on the stuffed elephant sitting atop my wardrobe. “You still have Ellie?”

I mock-scowled at him. Abe had teased me relentlessly about Ellie when he found out that at age thirteen I still slept with a stuffed animal. While it had been good-natured rather than malicious, it’d still embarrassed me. Now, I swept up the soft gray plush toy and squished her to my chest. “Of course I do.”

He reached out a hand, and with narrowed eyes I handed Ellie over. He stroked her tiny face and pulled gently on her trunk. “She’s kind of cute.”

“She’s kind of adorable,” I corrected.

He laughed and flew her through the air and back to her home. Then he turned and dropped onto my bed, lounging as though prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon there.

I licked my lips, heart thudding nervously. Should I bring up the kiss? Had it been a onetime thing? “Abe...”

He looked up inquisitively, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. He seemed to understand, and picked up a framed photo of my parents and me. “Tell me about what it’s like working at Sports Today.”

I took a cross-legged seat on the edge of my cheap IKEA foam chair and faced him. “What about it?”

He smiled slightly at the photo. “Do you talk about me?”

I shot him a glance. “You wish.”

He grinned and put the photo down. “You do.”

I wrinkled my nose in amusement. “Look at you, you vainglorious peacock. We talk about the team. Which, may I remind you, you’re only one-fifty-third of.”

“The most important fifty-third. And I don’t think my spirit animal’s a peacock, thank you.”

I smiled slightly. I’d gone to the Tampa Zoo last time I visited my grandparents in Florida, and while there I’d seen a snow leopard. It lay on a wooden platform in its leafy habitat, head lolling to the side. I couldn’t look away. Its fuzzy tail, much longer and rounder than I’d expected, hung down perfectly still through the air.

Eventually, it had raised its head in one quick, alert movement. Its small triangle head had rested against its soft-looking, deadly paws, and its dark eyes started through the bars at me, ears twitching.

There was something mesmerizing about big cats. They looked so familiar—especially snow leopards, with faces like anyone’s beloved pet. It was easy to imagine that they were your friend, a giant kitty that would understand you if you wanted it hard enough.

Then it sprang to the ground in an arched leap and began pacing back and forth. The sinuous wind of its leanly muscled body reminded everyone with senses that it was a predator, no matter how often it pretended to laze about. “I’ll admit, you wouldn’t make a bad leopard.”

His lips turned up. “Because I’m so good-looking?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head at him. “Not exactly what I was thinking.”

He smiled at the ceiling. “And how many of you are there at your work?”

He was unable to give things up. “Oh, not many. Mostly I work with these three guys.”

“Should I be jealous?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and decided to let that pass for now. “Tanya has plans, I think. She wants it to be serious journalism.”

First the first time since he’d arrived, his face shifted toward seriousness. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. Maybe I should have stayed on the jealousy track. Maybe we should be talking about that kiss. “She wants to blow stories wide open. Right now the news department gets to cover the really big stuff, like rape or murder.”

He arched a brow and straightened his back. “How complimentary.”