Читать книгу The Money Man - Carolyn McSparren - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

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“MARK’S LETTING YOU get away with this?” Mabel said as she hefted the bag of kibble and a few cans of dog food. “And here, I thought he was such a hard-nose.”

“I sandbagged him,” Sarah said happily as she checked the plastic animal carrier at her feet. “Yeah, this is the right size. She should be happy to have her little den to crawl into when she’s frightened. Tomorrow we can get her a regular wire kennel to keep in his office here, and whatever else I can figure out to spend his money on.”

“Dr. Marsdon, you are a devil,” Mabel said, grinning.

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “I was hoping to keep that a secret for a couple of days.” She glanced around the now empty waiting room. “Here are my car keys,” Sarah said, and tossed them to Mabel. “Stick that stuff on the back seat of my truck, if you don’t mind, while I brief Eleanor on what’s going on in ICU. You have my new cell phone number if you need me, don’t you?”

“Sure, but Dr. Eleanor’s able to handle most things— she’s as good with the large animals as she is with the small.”

Sarah glanced up at Mabel. “Why is she only working part-time? Seems as if she’d be a partner in her own clinic by this time.”

Mabel sighed. “Long story. Lost her husband, lost her confidence, I think. She’s finally coming out of her funk, though.”

“She doesn’t seem to lack confidence now. I watched her work with Dr. Thorn. At any rate, I need to brief her on what’s happening with the animals. Then I’ll pick up our new dog owner and his pup. And off we go to her new life.” Sarah laughed. “And his.”

THE RAIN HAD STOPPED and a watery new moon hung high, barely bright enough to reflect in the pools that rimmed the parking lot at the clinic. Mark felt the little dog quiver in his arms when he tried to put her down on the asphalt.

“She’s afraid you’re going to throw her away,” Sarah said.

“I ought to. Little scrap of ratty fur like this,” he said, but the softness in his voice belied his words.

“I don’t know where you live, so I’ll follow you again,” Sarah said. “I’ve got your stuff in my truck.”

Before he could shift his car out of park, the little dog had scooted across the seat so that her read rested on his knee. “You’re going to have to learn to ride in one of those carrier things,” he said as he caressed her head. “But not tonight. How the hell did I get conned into this?” He glanced in his rearview mirror at the headlights of Sarah’s truck. He knew damn well. He’d been suckered by a better con artist that he’d met in some time. Considerably better than some of the manipulative subcontractors he dealt with.

He hated to admit it, but it was those darn blue eyes of hers. And those darn black eyes of the pup in his lap. An unbeatable combination.

Well, he’d keep the pup tonight, and tomorrow the clinic could start searching for a permanent home for her. He obviously couldn’t spend the time with her that would be necessary to get her over her fear. She needed someone who could be with her all the time, give her a fenced yard to play in. Maybe a couple of kids to play fetch with.

He realized he was driving one-handed while he scratched the pup’s ears with his other hand. Okay, so he did have a fenced yard, small though it was. But no kids, no time, no experience, and absolutely no desire to take this creature into his life.

He poked the remote garage door opener, waited while the door swung silently up, and then pulled into his two-car garage. Sarah’s truck pulled into the empty space beside him. He shut the garage and opened his car door.

“I should have known you’d be one of those people who never stores stuff in their garages,” Sarah said as she climbed out of her truck. “Neat freaks always give me the willies.”

“Not a neat freak. I don’t have stuff,” Mark said. The pup began exploring the corners of the garage.

“I think she needs to go out,” Sarah said.

Mark opened the side door that led to the yard, and a motion sensor light came on. As he walked out, a stream of water from the gutters ran down his neck. He jumped and cursed. Instantly the little dog dropped and flattened herself against the paving stones.

“Hey, you scared her—don’t do that,” Sarah admonished.

He picked up the dog gently and took her to the backyard, where he let her off her leash and watched her investigate the interesting smells until she finally did her business. It was like having a baby, except that the pup could walk on its own and didn’t use diapers. He definitely was not used to scooping poop, and he doubted the expensive yard crew that did his gardening would appreciate stepping in it. He wondered whether he could pay them extra for the service.

“Come on, sweetie,” Sarah said, dropping to her haunches and clapping softly. “Let’s go see your new home.”

Twenty minutes later Sarah knelt on the quarry tiles of Mark’s largely unused gourmet kitchen and watched the pup nibble at her dry dog food. The lights overhead reflected on Sarah’s still-damp hair and turned it to antique gold. Mark longed to reach down and touch it, to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

“What’s her name?” Sarah asked.

He drew back his hand without touching her. “How should I know?”

“She’s your dog.”

“She is not.”

“Sure, she is. What are you going to call her? Dow Jones?”

“How about Merrill Lynch?”

“Yukk.”

“Ameritrade? Paine Webber?”

“None of the above. She’s not a stock certificate.”

“How about Phoenix? She’s definitely been reincarnated.”

Sarah sat back on her heels. “Better, but I always see the Phoenix as this huge, ugly bird with a really loud voice and big claws.” She touched the pup, who moved over to lean against her knee.

“The way she slides along the ground, I ought to call her Lava.”

This time Sarah laughed. “Not Lava. How about Pudding?”

Mark hunkered down beside her. “Here in the south, that would be Puddin.”

“Oh, brother. I can hear it now. ‘Isn’t ’um the sweetest ole puddin?”’

“I refuse to have a dog called Pudding. How about Nasdaq?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Suddenly the little dog shook the entire length of her body in sheer delight and let out the faintest hint of a bark.

This time both Sarah and Mark laughed out loud. Mark stood and reached a hand down to Sarah. “Nasdaq it is.”

She took his hand and came to her feet close to his chest. They grinned foolishly at one another for a moment. Slowly, the smiles subsided. Their eyes locked.

Mark could feel his heartbeat against his chest and see the answering pulse in Sarah’s slender throat. He felt as though he’d suddenly been struck dumb. Dumb and breathless. Sarah’s blue eyes were deep enough to drown in, and that’s what he longed to do.

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, bent his face to hers, felt the touch of her lips like flaming velvet against his mouth. She felt good in his arms—not soft and boneless but lean and supple. A woman who would bend to him only if she chose. Suddenly, fiercely, he wanted her to choose. He wanted her body beneath him, wanted to ignite the passion he sensed beneath that cool exterior. Wanted—

The doorbell buzzed—an ugly brap sound that went on until he couldn’t ignore it.

Neither could Nasdaq. She cowered between their feet, her body flattened against the tiles, her eyes staring up imploringly.

“Damn!” He released Sarah. “Must be the pizza.”

The instant he released her, Sarah sank to the floor again and gathered Nasdaq’s shivering body into her arms. “It’s all right, baby,” she crooned, knowing that it had very nearly not been all right. “Now, you listen to me, dog,” she continued, “I am starting a new life. I have sworn off males. I have just dumped one man who tried to run my life. I am not about to take on another.”

Nasdaq listened attentively with one ear perked, the other drooping slightly.

“I swear you understand. I don’t think you’ve had puppies yet, but I’ll bet you’ve done some fast running to escape the boys, haven’t you.”

She panted eagerly.

“Pizza,” Mark announced from behind her.

“Great, I’m starved.”

“You want a glass of wine?”

“Not when I’m officially still on call, and I do have to drive home.”

Mark wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to drive anywhere—not on his account, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to suggest she stay. The moment they had shared seemed forgotten, as she casually accepted her pizza.

Nasdaq sat at their feet expectantly, but when Mark pinched off a bit of pizza to offer it to her, Sarah put her hand over his. It felt incredibly warm. And insistent.

“No, you don’t. She’s probably had too much food for her stomach as it is.”

“So she’s going to throw up?”

“Possibly, but I doubt it.”

She was reaching for another piece of pizza when the telephone rang. “Oh, heck.” Sarah grabbed for her shoulder bag, dug into its depths and answered the phone. “Dr. Marsdon.”

She listened for a moment, then said, “Okay, I’m on my way.” She clicked off the phone. “Well, Mr. Scott, you got your wish. We’re going to see whether we can make do with what we’ve got. We just had a client roll in with a walking horse with a bad case of colic. Dr. Grayson thinks we may have to do an emergency bowel resection. God, I wish I had that ultrasound!” She grabbed her purse. “Open your garage for me.”

“Sure. But can’t Eleanor handle it?”

“It’s a very complicated and delicate surgery, and recovery rates aren’t that good at the best of times. We may even need to call in Mac Thorn.” She knelt to rub the dog’s head. “Look after our girl. See you tomorrow.”

Mark stood in the garage and watched her drive away. Nasdaq sat at his feet—no, on his feet. Rain had begun to spatter the road once more.

“Okay. One more bathroom run, and then you get in your nice new carrier and go to sleep. That’s what I’m going to do.”

As a precaution, he laid papers around the carrier in the corner of the kitchen, and put Nasdaq into it before he latched its door. He hadn’t taken two steps before she began to whine—softly at first, then with increasing insistence.

“Be quiet. That’s your new house. Get used to it.” The whining increased to a low wail.

He turned out the kitchen light. “Go to sleep,” he said in what he hoped was his authority-figure voice.

She didn’t seem to be impressed. He listened to her cry while he brushed his teeth and stripped for bed. Then he gave up. “How can one little dog be so much trouble?” he said as he opened her door. She trotted out in obvious triumph and followed him into the bedroom.

“I do not share my bed with nonhumans,” he said. “You stay down there on the carpet, or I’ll put you back into that carrier thing and put a pillow over my head to keep out the sound. You got that, dog?”

She wagged her tail and jumped up on the bed.

He removed her.

This time she stayed down. He turned off the light and cradled his pillow, wishing it were Sarah Marsdon. She’d probably be up all night. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be.

He rolled over onto his back. He hoped she wouldn’t need that fluoroscope.

Without warning, lightning flashed through the room. Two seconds later the thunder crashed. “Close,” Mark said, just as Nasdaq landed on his stomach in a quivering ball. He stroked her gently. “It’s okay, girl. You’re all right with me.”

He started to shove her off the bed. “Oh, what the hell,” he said, and rolled over with the little dog cradled against his stomach. “Maybe all I’m good for is to keep you from being frightened.”

She nestled against him and laid her head on his arm. She smelled of fancy flea shampoo and just the faintest aroma of Dr. Sarah Marsdon—a blend of disinfectant, hand lotion and newly ironed cotton. Hardly an expensive perfume, but its effect on him was the same. He found himself thinking of Sarah and recalling that kiss—even though it hadn’t even been much of a kiss. Given the chance, he could do much better.

He would do much better at the first opportunity.…

TO AVOID having to take Nasdaq into the offices of Buchanan Enterprises, Mark spent a good hour in the morning on his cell phone and his Internet connection at home, while the dog ran around the backyard. However, by the time she came inside, her paws were matted with mud, which she proceeded to deposit on the kitchen floor.

The Money Man

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