Arthur had figured that she was getting the paper towels for herself, because she was a lot less accustomed to dry air than he was. He had even replied to her cat joke, and the reply had had nothing to do with his tussle with the cat woman in that apartment. "Maybe I should just leave a dish of tuna out," he had said. And then he had lifted the pan off of the stove.
Cling! The pan dropped the few inches back onto the stove, and a bit of egg went rogue. "Lorena," he somehow managed to get out in a strangled, surprised whisper. There were drops of water rolling under his shirt and down his back. His face was hot.