SBC Fighter: Tails Of Love Part 7

"Me, too."

They had decided on coffee once the adrenaline stopped pumping and their combined energy hit around zero.

"I think you should think about having Madeleine and d.i.c.kens in the house when you're at home," Simon said.

"Not that it's my business."

"No, no, I agree with you. I never had pets before and the run was there so I used it. Look at them-they're so cute."

The two dogs lay, side-by-side, on the mat inside the kitchen door, with their heads resting on crossed paws.

Their brows had shot up as if they knew they were the topic of discussion.

"Nice dogs," Simon agreed. He had returned al of his attention to Rose, who felt warm under his gaze.

"Clawdia's amazing," she said. The cat sat at a distance with an expression of serene disdain on her haughty face.

"Real y beautiful."

"Real y beautiful," Simon murmured.

"Real y beautiful," Simon murmured.

Rose got up and piled oatmeal cookies on a plate.

"These were only made last night," she said, setting them on the table in front of him.

"I've lived up here for six months," he said. He took a cookie and ate it in three bites. "That means we've known each other for six months."

She didn't know where he was heading with that remark but she thought she liked it. "I guess so."

"Would you let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night?" He looked at his watch and grinned. "Make that tonight?"

Fl.u.s.tered, Rose turned her coffee mug around and around. "You don't need to do that. You're feeling bad about what happened out there."

"Yes, I am. But that's not why I need to have dinner with you. I just need to-and want to. Wil you?"

Both dogs got up, walked to sit at her feet, and stared up into her face. They almost looked as if they were trying to tel her something.

"Look at them," she said and scratched each one between the ears. She got licks from rough tongues.

"You're not answering me."

"I'l cook for you," Rose said in a rush. She didn't want him to go out of his way. "You don't seem to like going out much."

"You've noticed," he said. "I like knowing that."

Rose rubbed her forehead. "Sorry, I shouldn't tel you how you feel about things."

"Why not? I don't go anywhere, or not often. But that's because I haven't had a reason to. I'd like to take you into town if you'l let me."

She looked back into his blue eyes. "Thank you, then.

Yes."

"Great!"

He looked too happy to be putting on an act.

Impulsively, Rose touched the back of his hand and said, "I read your cartoons. Your drawings are wonderful."

Simon stared at her. "I know when you get home each day."

"What?" She leaned closer. "What do you mean?"

"I listen for your car. I like to know you're back safely."

She swal owed.

"Does that feel threatening to you?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "Look at this." She got up and pul ed a sc.r.a.pbook from the top of the refrigerator.

Simon took it from her and set it on the table. Slowly, he turned pages, although she could tel he wasn't real y seeing the cartoon strips she continued to clip and paste each day.

"I scared you badly tonight, didn't I?" he said, resting a hand on top of the book.

"I could have kil ed you." She laughed and heard a touch of hysteria in the sound.

"We could cal it a weird beginning, only we'd already begun, hadn't we?"

She thought about him listening for her car, and her daily sessions with the sc.r.a.pbook. "Looks like it."

"I'l come over for you around six, if that's okay."

"Perfect. I was going to go walking again but I'd rather go to dinner with you."

"We could walk together tomorrow," Simon told her. "I do a lot of climbing around out there on my own."

d.i.c.kens spoke from the side of his mouth, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not in here," Madeleine said sharply. "Go to the door and whine. Now."

"Not real y, sil y," d.i.c.kens said. "It's these two. They're soppy over each other."

"Mmm. " Madeleine sighed. "It's lovely."

"Sometimes we have to suffer irritation for the good of al ," Clawdia said from her spot not far away. "The end justifies the means."

Simon wanted to touch Rose. Just touch her, feel the softness of her skin, her warmth, but he figured he'd better take it slowly.

"It's kind of nice to have some routine," he told her. "If you're serious about the exercise we could make it a standing date. Not that you need it for anything but keeping fit. You're perfect."

He closed his fool mouth. What was he thinking, going on like this?

Rose smiled. "Thank you." She turned pink again. "I've got to be a responsible pet owner and get these guys out regularly."

Simon had to work at not trying to take her in his arms.

"They don't always have to come," he told her quietly.

Madeleine looked at d.i.c.kens who promptly rol ed on his back with al four feet stuck in the air and said, "No, we don't always have to come." He muttered, "Save the dogs.

don't always have to come." He muttered, "Save the dogs.

Walk the woman."

When Simon got up to leave, Rose didn't want him to go.

She also couldn't tel him that.

He scooped up Clawdia and draped her around his neck. The cat looked smug and comfortable there. She would feel much the same in the cat's position, Rose thought.

Simon opened the kitchen door to the side yard and stood, silhouetted against the darkness outside.

Rose held the door handle. "That was real y nice," she said. "Think of the lengths I went to, getting you over here."

She laughed softly.

"That's what you think," Simon told her. "How do you know I didn't carry Clawdia over here to make the dogs bark, just to get close to you?"

"You didn't, but it's a nice thought."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, softly, gently. "Every thought I have about you is real y nice, Rose. See you at six."

Rising to her toes, she slipped a hand between his neck and Clawdia and quickly pressed her mouth to his. She stepped away and said, "See you at six."

NORAH'S ARC.

Kate Angel.

CHAPTER ONE.

"Get your goat off the hood of my Corvette!"

Mike Kraft's voice carried into Norah Archer's office on a gust of wind. His arrival fluttered and shuffled the papers on her desk. So much for her orderly paying of bil s.

Norah pushed to her feet, faced off with the six-foot contractor with the dark hair and eyes and steam shooting out of his ears. "Don't blame Houdini for escaping." She shifted the blame. "Your bul dozer operator keeps clipping my fence posts and loosening the chain link."

"There's no room for a petting zoo in an industrial park,"

Kraft shot back. "You should have moved your animals when Tampa Feed and Seed went out of business."

Norah rounded her desk, met him sneaker to steel-toed boot. The man was tal , and she hated talking to his chest.

A very thick and solid chest covered in a white b.u.t.ton-down, the sleeves shoved to his elbows. His forearms were tan and dusted with dark hair. A TAG Heuer wrapped his wrist.

No wedding band.

She angled her head just as he dipped his chin, and their lips nearly brushed. His aftershave hinted of sunshine and sandalwood. He had a masculine mouth and a morning's worth of stubble. She'd never seen him smile.

Confrontation was not her style, yet when it came to her animals, she'd go down fighting. "Norah's Arc was on the outskirts of town long before you spread your cement and asphalt. So back off, Kraft."

A tendon in his jaw jumped and a snarl broke as he jabbed a finger toward the door. "One hoof dent in my fibergla.s.s and your a.s.s is mine."

Her a.s.s would never be his, thought Norah. She didn't, however, want Houdini in the parking lot, jumping from car to car. The pygmy goat would cause a ruckus.

Norah pushed past the contractor, cleared the office door, and took the wooden steps two at a time. The summer day proved overcast, the rol of thunder deep in the distance. Hurricane season was upon them. It rained every single day.

She walked briskly along the brick path toward the side lot. Mike Kraft kept pace, his stride long and purposeful.

His scowl was as dark as the gathering storm.

The goat's bleat drew her to Kraft's Corvette. Houdini stood two feet tal and weighed twenty pounds. He had a mischievous streak a mile long.

The little buck pranced on the hood as if he owned the sleek black sports car. Dust and dirt col ected on the fibergla.s.s, but Norah didn't see any dents from his hooves.

Relief sank bone-deep. She didn't need a lawsuit.

Nor a cal to Animal Control.

She prided herself on the upkeep and security at Norah's Arc. Twelve years and she'd never had an escapee. Not until Kraft Construction tore up the land around her petting zoo, damaging the fences and scaring the animals.

"Houdini, down," she ordered.

The goat's return bleat proved an outright refusal as he shot from the hood onto the sunroof.

"He's climbing." Mike ground the words out.

"Goats are cliff-dwel ers," she quickly explained. "The boulders for his pen have yet to arrive. His pen mate Hermes doesn't mind the gra.s.s and dirt, but Houdini is going through p.u.b.erty and wanting to show his muscle. He likes to climb and be king of his mountain."