Pretty Kitty by Desiree Holt

Chapter One
     
     
     
    The Litter Box was rocking. The band was ramped up to high energy tonight, every seat and square foot of standing space was taken, and the rumble of conversation vied with the band for volume. A familiar hangout for cat shifters, the place was usually full even during the week. Tonight being Friday, it was more jammed than usual. People working off the stress of the week. Letting loosely all their inhibitions.
    Everyone seemed to be connecting with someone except her. Aisha McClellan took a sip of her vodka stinger and tried not to feel sorry for herself . She’d been in San Antonio for six months now and except that this job paid better than the others she’d had, nothing was much different. Same impersonal apartment. Same lack of friends. Same absence of social life. She wondered if she had a sign tattooed on her forehead that shouted, “Keep Away”.
    She took another sip of her drink, letting the chilled liquid slide down her throat.
    No one wanted damaged goods. It was as simple as that. And she was about as damaged as one could get. A full-blooded snow leopard shifter, she had never recovered from an assault when she was eighteen and just coming into her first shift. Since then she’d been stuck in a half-life, unable to fully transform into a leopard and unable to derive any pleasure at all from sex. She was sure the vibes she gave off were unpleasant no matter how hard she tried.
    She drained her glass and thumped it on the bar.
    “Fill ’ er up,” she told the bartender.
    Max Rogan looked up from where he was rinsing glasses.
    Gods, she loved looking at him. A lean six feet of hot male, his black hair hung like silk to his shoulders and was usually tied back with a leather thong. Thick black lashes almost too pretty for a man framed eyes that could only be called electric blue. A strong jaw called attention to his very masculine face, with its brackets on either side of his sensual mouth and his high almost exotic cheekbones. Defined muscles moved smoothly beneath the black tee and the dark jeans he wore, hinting at great strength.
    Oh, yeah. Max Rogan was a dream and a half. Unfortunately she didn’t think she was on his radar except as someone who hung out at The Litter Box, drank too much and went home with strange men she never talked to again. If she did that much longer, she’d run out of men to take home with her. Not that any of them had ever done her any good.
    He’d become a friend. Probably her only friend. Someone who’d got under her defences and wormed the whole ugly story of her assault from her one rainy night. The good thing about Max was he’d listened quietly, nodded his head in the right places and didn’t offer either criticism or advice. And he was always there when she wanted to talk on nights the bar was quiet.
    Yes, a good friend. Damn it. Recently she’d realised her feelings for him went beyond that, but she didn’t know how to pursue them. Him. What would he want with her anyway, when he probably had women hanging on him like fleas on a dog?
    So he had become someone who now watched out for her, giving her a safety net if she ever needed it. It was great except for the disapproval he sometimes expressed. Like right now.
    “Drinking a little fast tonight, aren’t you, princess?” Max set a fresh drink in front of her. His voice was so low and deep it sent shivers skating over her spine.
    “Just occupying my time,” she told him, looking as nonchalant as possible.
    “Maybe you should occupy it with some coffee for a change.”
    In order for her to hear him, he had to lean over the bar so his mouth was close to her ear. Heat washed over her, fingers of flame that set her pulses throbbing. Oh, great. The only man to get her sexual juices flowing was the only one who didn’t seem to have any interest in her beyond being a good friend. She had much more than friendship in mind if they could ever get to it.
    “I’m fine, Max. Take care of the real