The Nine Lives of Christmas by Sheila Roberts Read Free Book Online Page A

it.”
    Merilee gave her a feral smile and pulled fresh cans out of the carton she was emptying, slamming them on the shelf. Jealousy is not attractive, she scolded herself. If only she was better looking she wouldn’t have to fight the green-eyed monster.
    But even if she transformed herself on the outside, she’d still probably find it impossible to untie her tongue and manage the art of flirting. Why, whenever she was around hunky men, did her confidence fade like the Cheshire cat?
    Ha! Years of practice, that was why. The cool guys had never seen her, either in high school or college. They still didn’t.
    These days just being nice wasn’t enough for a girl. You had to have pizzazz. You had to connect.
    Sadly, Merilee connected better with animals than she did with men. Animals loved you whether or not you wore makeup. Animals didn’t need you to be sexy or witty and clever and entertaining. All they wanted was love and acceptance, and Merilee was good at that. She cared about helpless beings. She cared about anyone in need of help or a shoulder to cry on, which was why she had never lacked for girlfriends. In high school all her friends came to her with their boy problems. Looking back it was easy to see why. They knew they’d get plenty of empathy and no competition.
    She slammed down another can of cat food. Men didn’t want nice, they wanted hot, and she was never going to be hot. She wasn’t sure she could even achieve lukewarm. Why were people (especially male people) so shallow? It was what was inside that counted.
    The last time she’d said something like that around her sisters Liz had informed her that most people would rather look inside a nicely wrapped gift box with a pretty bow than take a chance on a dirty paper sack.
    She frowned at the memory. “I am not a dirty paper sack.”
    “Thanks for the update,” said Dennis the floor manager as he walked by, proving that a girl could, indeed, get noticed no matter how she dressed.
    *   *   *
    Cat carriers were nothing more than portable cages, humiliating modes of transport for an animal. And in all Ambrose’s lives not one of those contraptions had ever carried him someplace he wanted to go.
    He watched through slitted eyes as Zach stowed the ugly gray thing in the downstairs closet. So Zach and the cat-killing cougar thought they were going to stuff him in that thing to go see the Santa monster, did they? Well, they could try.
    Zach disappeared upstairs but Ambrose remained in the living room under the couch, ever vigilant. Today must not have been the day for the visit to the Santa monster because a few minutes later Zach appeared in his tattered clothes. That meant … sure enough, soon he was in the eating room, pounding and banging.
    Ambrose bolted up the stairs and hid under the bed. All that noise! It was enough to shatter a guy’s nerves. Why oh why did he have to end up here? Why couldn’t his mission have involved bringing comfort to another nice old lady like Adelaide? Of course, he knew the answer and it was the only reason he was still hanging around. He owed Zach. And Zach definitely needed help.
    Later that evening, when they were settled in on the couch with the TV on, Ambrose decided this mission wasn’t so bad after all. Zach was a nice enough human. Easily led, though, which obviously was why he needed to be with someone other than the cougar, someone who would be a good influence on him and teach him how to consider the feelings of others, like his cat.
    They had a cozy sleep that night—Zach under the bedcovers, Ambrose curled up on top of them. Beds were wonderful things, soft and warm, and lying on one next to a human (even if he wasn’t the brightest one on the block) gave a guy a sense of security—a sense of community, too. Contrary to popular belief, cats weren’t snobs. They liked to belong. And Ambrose could see himself with Zach for a long time. Once he got the boy whipped into shape.
    He was still on the