“Thanks, Doc Webber. I owe you. Bye.”
Mac backed out through the door into the vet’s waiting room, using her hip to hold it open because her arms were full of Pomeranian, a plastic bag containing her filthy clothing, and her purse. Wookie smelled of the herbal peppermint shampoo she’d borrowed from the vet’s on-site grooming center. While Mac’s main job consisted of pet detective, she also taught dog behavior classes out of Dr. Webber’s veterinary office, and occasionally sat in to do some grooming if they needed an extra pair of hands.
Transformed from a stray, Wookie looked dog-show-ready, groomed and blow-dried to pampered pet perfection. He seemed to know he looked, and smelled, good. His head was held high, ears forward, and he kept flicking his furry tail as if to draw attention to himself.
“There he is! Wookie!” A woman in floral stretch capris and a rose sequined T-shirt shot out of one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room and came toward Mac.
“Come to Mommy, sweetums!” She clapped her hands twice and then held out her arms.
Wookie erupted in high squeaky barks as he launched himself from Mac’s into his owner’s arms. She immediately buried her face in his immaculate fur as she hugged him to her. “You smell wonderful.”
She glanced up at Mac with tears in her eyes. “I never thought— Well, you did it. You found him. Where?”
“Not far from where he disappeared. St. Petersburg Beach.”
“He’s okay, isn’t he?”
Mac nodded. “I had the vet check him over. No serious problems, though we did have to trim him up a bit to get some of the goop out of his fur. He was flea-dipped and checked for injuries. Since we don’t know what he ate while he was missing, you might want your vet to check for digestive tract parasites. The desk will have the details for you.” She pointed to reception only to realize that there was no one behind the desk.
“You’re a genius! What do I owe you?”
“Check with Tampa/St. Pete Recon. They’ll have a tally for you.”
“And that’s what we call a didgeridoo.”
Mac recognized the reason for the appreciative female laughter that followed that rough masculine exclamation even before she turned and looked down the long length of the waiting room filled with animals and their owners. Near the main door stood the epitome of male sex on two legs, Oliver Kelly. Just looking at him made her want to suck her stomach in.
He was chatting with several women who’d formed a semicircle around him. They didn’t seem to realize, or care, that they had been loosely laced together below the knees by the intertwined leashes of their meandering pets. Whatever they were chatting about seemed to be the most absorbing topic ever.
He looked up, saw her, and a smile broke over his face. That smile curled up like a soft warm kitten and nestled in her middle. He followed it up with, “There you are.” He said it as if he’d found a prize.
Immediately four female heads twisted her way to see whom he had greeted so warmly.
Why that recognition from him made her feel special she didn’t want to think about. Any tall, gorgeously built male with a killer smile would have had the same effect on her, she was sure. Pretty sure. She hadn’t had a lot of experience with men who could set fire to a room simply by walking into it.
He said something low she didn’t catch to his ad hoc harem, and then he was striding toward her, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her very conscious of being female. “You changed.”
Mac shrugged. She didn’t share Wookie’s sartorial perfection. She’d had to make do with a quick shower in the vet’s lavatory and a change into a pair of jean shorts and a gauzy crop top borrowed from Karen in reception. The top was made for a willowy woman with small breasts, like Karen. Macayla was very much on the other end of the spectrum and usually wore a bra everywhere but in bed. However, beggars didn’t get to be choosy. Her bra, as smelly as the rest of her clothing, was in the bag she carried.
It was a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by him. It wasn’t a pervy stare, but Oliver’s sea-blue gaze got stuck a second too long in the region of her chest for her to miss that he had registered the non-bra issue. “You clean up nicely.”
“It wasn’t much of a reach to improve from horror. But thanks. How’s your eye?”
“All patched up.” He touched the place that had been raw and oozing blood an hour ago. Now it was a clean two-inch-long seam neatly held closed by almost invisible Steri-Strips. “Doc glued me shut. She says I have free clinic privileges as long as I’m in town.”
Mac didn’t doubt it. As she suspected, now that his injury was tended to, the bruised purple eye didn’t detract one bit from his manly appeal. In fact, it made him a little more appealing. He practically oozed sex. No wonder he stripped for a living. It wasn’t much of a leap to imagine his G-string bulging with dollar bills. Not to mention—No! So not going there.
She gave herself a mental shake as Karen, the receptionist, walked up.
Karen touched Oliver’s arm lightly, drawing his attention. “Your poor eye. St. Pete’s usually a very friendly place. Love to show you around sometime. If only to make up for the poor impression you got of us this morning.”
She sent an accusatory glance at Mac, as if she knew Mac was personally responsible for his “poor eye.” “Glad the clothes mostly fit, Mac.”
Mac grimaced a smile. “Yeah.” Mostly. “Thanks.”
“You take care.” After a last pat on his biceps, Karen moved toward reception where Wookie’s owner stood waiting for service.
Oliver grinned at Mac. “Nice girl. Friend of yours?”
“Yeah.” Except for the territorial daggers she was aiming Mac’s way at the moment, they were good friends who shared a love of animals.
She watched as Oliver reached up and gathered his hair off his shoulders into a bun he slipped through a tie; with a twist of his wrist, the sexy mess was done. As his hands moved lower one touched his wound, and he winced.
Mac winced, too, in sympathy. What was it about women and injured men? Because, dammit, she was feeling that protective tug, too. She had to hold back the question, Do you need anything? Ice? Water? Coffee? A shoulder to lean your battered head on?
Oh no. The man tested positive for awesome. Now she’d caught the virus.
Shifting her gaze away from his injury, she noticed another change in him.
He wore a T-shirt with the slogan GOT STRESS? PISS ON IT AND WALK AWAY. On the back was an illustration of a dog watering a hydrant. It was one of several novelty tees the vet’s office sold. “Nice shirt.”
He patted the front. “My hoodie had blood on it. Karen gave this to me.” He waved at the young woman now behind reception.
Gave it to him. Yep, a man in distress definitely brought out the nurturer in women.
But she had a life, thank you very much.
Mac hoisted up her bag. “Glad you’re okay. Got to go.”
She really didn’t expect him to follow her. It was Jackeroo who, though leashed to a chair near the door, came to his feet and stepped into her path, tail wagging in greeting. Ah. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to love on the animal.
She squatted down and ran a hand through his fur. “Hey, Jackeroo. Just wanted to thank you for your help with Wookie. Good dog. You saved my bacon.”
The dog barked brightly and licked her face. She wasn’t sure which word he was responding to, but she was pretty certain it was bacon.
“Don’t I rate a reward? I got injured on the job.”
Mac scanned up the long way past hairy legs and neon-yellow board shorts, to the bearded man staring down at her. And said the first words that came to mind. “Jackeroo’s full of sand and needs a bath. I can take care of that.”
Before she could change her mind, she had scooped up the Australian shepherd and was carrying him into the back.
Half an hour later she returned, sweaty-faced and with pieces of her messy French braid sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Jackeroo was on a lead, practically prancing with pride. His coat, once stiff with seawater and encrusted with sand, was once again free flowing and silky.
Oliver put away the cell phone he’d been using and came forward. “Is that Jack? Is that my Jackeroo?” he cried in a falsetto tone that brought glances of surprise from other clients his way. “It is. Come here, you big beautiful pup!”
Jackeroo responded like a puppy, leaping up into the arms of his owner and poking him repeatedly in the chin with his nose.
Holding fifty pounds of body-wagging dog, Oliver looked down at her and said, “What do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
Mac glanced back over her shoulder at Karen behind the counter, who shrugged and continued to make eyes at Oliver.
Whatever.
Mac turned back. “So, both handler and dog are back in prime shape. I’m glad everything worked out. And now I think it’s time we ended this on a high note.”
She moved quickly out the front door, leaving behind what she could swear was a trail of sighs. Let him entertain someone else for a while. She was halfway across the parking lot before she realized she had nowhere to go until she made a call or two.
She whipped her phone from her pocket. Before she could push in a number a long arm with a hand attached reached over her shoulder and plucked the phone from her grasp. She spun around in exasperation.
“I don’t have time for games,” she said.
* * *
“Me either.” Oliver took a step toward her. He was so close she could see the green shoals in his sea-blue irises. So close she had to tilt her head back to keep from staring at his shirt, or his Adam’s apple, or his red-gold beard. She wasn’t even surprised when he dropped a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she started to overbalance. And then very gently lifted a stray finger of hair back from her brow with the crook of one finger. “It’s been real. But there’s something I need to know before I walk away.”
Had he moved in even closer? She could swear there was an invisible cord drawing her in toward his body. She stiffened her spine. “What is that?”
“Your name.”
“I told you.”
“Your whole name.”
Deep sigh. “Macayla Evangeline Burkett.”
“That’s a lot of name, Macayla Evangeline Burkett.” He grinned.
“Everyone shortens it to Mac.”
“You might be small but like you, your name’s got curves in all the right places. Macayla. Gives the tongue a workout.”
He was flirting! She didn’t know why his being so close made her nervous. But something about this man seemed wrong for her world flow.
Suddenly his gaze was serious. The warm blue sea turning a chill iceberg green. “You were attacked today.”
“That’s not news to me.”
“It might not be safe for you to be running around in the open until the authorities find out why.”
“I disagree. It was my car, not me, that was attacked.”
“It could be that accosting your car was a way to lure you out into the open.”
“I was already in the open. Chasing a dog, remember? Why not just find me at the dumpsters the way you did?” She flinched at the mental image of two men with baseball bats cornering her by the dumpsters. “Anyway, that’s not why they were there.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I think I know who’s responsible.”
“Did you tell that to the deputy?”
“I didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone.”
“So what now? You’re going to wait until they make a second visit so you can make a positive ID?”
“You’re annoying, you know that?”
He grinned. “Ta. But seriously, Macayla. Those weren’t amateurs. They’d had some experience with violence.”
That was the same conclusion Sam had come to. Mac willed that thought away. If her theory was the right one, it was amateur night. And she so needed it to be the work of an amateur in the art of intimidation. “I need to talk to someone.”
“Who would that be?”
“The person I think was behind the attack.”
He studied her for a long moment, assessing the truth of her answer. He wanted to ask her a few more questions, but he didn’t. He heaved a sigh. “I’ll take you.”
“Aren’t you in town for a job? Don’t you need to practice or something?”
Grinning like a madman, Oliver pulled up his shirt and did a hip roll and pelvis thrust then python-rolled abdominal muscles in a move that a Magic Mike star might envy. “Some of us are just naturally gifted.”
Mac did a palm plant on her forehead. Note to self: Stop encouraging this man. He was beyond embarrassing.
If possible, he drew in a little closer, his warm minty breath caressing her forehead with his words. “Look at it this way. I have a car. You don’t. I have time. You need a lift. I’ll drive you to see this person. It never hurts to have a bodyguard around for these kinds of discussions. I’m already battle-tested.” He pointed to his bandaged eye.
He knew how to get to her. She really did want to follow up on her hunch before she faced her boss Jefferina with the tale of her morning. And she was unlikely to make a creditable entrance if she arrived alone on a bus.
“Okay. But just this one stop. Then we’re done.”
He grinned. “We’ll see. Where are we going?”
“To talk to my number one fan.” So not!