Stray Hearts

by Jane Graves

  The moment it left her hand, Buddy exploded from beside Matt and shot into the open field as if his tail had suddenly caught fire. She watched in awe as he raced beneath the spinning disk, then leaped off the ground with all four feet. As the Frisbee descended, he met it in midair and snapped his jaws around it. The moment his feet hit the ground he spun around and raced back to Kay. To her complete disbelief, he sat down, the Frisbee between his teeth, his eyes meeting hers with an expectant twinkle.

  Kay looked at Matt, dumbfounded, then back to Buddy. “How did you teach him to do that?”

  “I think he was born knowing how.”

  “Will he do it again?”

  “He’ll drop dead doing it.”

  She reached down gingerly, took the Frisbee from between his teeth and wiped the dog spit off on her jeans. She threw it again, and Buddy took off. Almost immediately a gust of wind caught the Frisbee and caused it to veer sharply to the left and hurtle toward earth.

  “Oh no!” Kay said. “He can’t—”

  “Watch.”

  Buddy screeched to a halt and doubled back. He zeroed in on the falling Frisbee, and with a huge horizontal leap he plucked it out of the air before it hit the ground. He brought it back to her. She took it from his mouth and reared back to throw it again.

  “Uh-oh,” Matt said.

  “What?”

  “You forgot to wipe off the dog spit.”

  She waved the Frisbee at him in a gesture of feigned disgust, then wound up and threw it again. Later, Kay couldn’t have said whether she remembered to wipe off the dog spit every time or not. But as she threw the Frisbee again and again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.

  When it looked as if Buddy was indeed going to drop dead, Matt motioned to a park bench. He and Kay sat down, while Buddy collapsed at Matt’s feet. The warm evening breeze swirled around them, containing only a hint of the oppressive heat they’d endured that day. A feeling of contentment settled over Kay like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

  She glanced down at Matt’s hands, and for a long, unguarded moment she imagined lacing her fingers through his, then inching over to rest her head against his chest, feeling its rise and fall and listening to the beat of his heart. He looked so strong and solid and comfortable that the thought of lying in his arms went from passing fancy to near-compulsion, until finally she had to force her gaze away. If she stared at him one moment more she might forget that looking might be permitted, but touching wasn’t.

  “Think you could do it again?” Matt asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Get some more donations.”

  Kay hadn’t considered that, but how difficult could it be? She shrugged. “Sure. If one company would donate, why wouldn’t others?” She said it nonchalantly, but she felt a little shiver of delight at the thought of doing more to help him.

  She glanced down at Buddy, who had rolled to his side and lay motionless, as if he’d gotten mowed down by an eighteen-wheeler. All in all, as dogs went, he wasn’t that bad to be around.

  “Uh-oh. I think I killed him.”

  Matt smiled. “Don’t worry. He’ll come back to life by tomorrow night.”

  Tomorrow night. The prospect of spending her evenings with Matt sent something warm and wonderful flowing through her. It was also probably the dumbest feeling she could possibly have. He’d spelled out quite clearly what the boundaries of their relationship were the day she moved in, but the concept of Matt as just a friend was growing harder for her to hold on to. And the more time she spent with him, the farther that concept was likely to slip from her grasp.

  A few minutes later they got up to go home, walking side by side across the park as evening edged into night. Matt noticed that Buddy was trailing at Kay’s heels now, probably because she was the one holding the Frisbee. The little dog was a sucker for good time. It looked as if Kay was, too.

  He thought back to how she’d reacted in the kitchen when Marilyn had jumped onto the counter, as if a monstrous spider had crawled up her leg or a snake had slithered across her shoe. That was when it dawned on him. Kay didn’t just dislike animals. She was afraid of them. For some reason, though, she seemed determined to hide that fact. So instead of confronting her with it, he’d decided to show her a side to pet ownership she might not have experienced before. A fun side. And judging from the smile on her face when Buddy brought that Frisbee back to her again and again, he’d succeeded.

  Now he’d like to take Hollinger apart, limb by limb.

  The guy had to know that Kay was actually afraid of animals, yet he’d gleefully sent her to her own personal hell so he could soak up a little revenge. How much lower could one man sink?

  Then he remembered. He was doing a little sinking of his own.

  He glanced at Kay, feeling a ripple of apprehension that somehow she was going to find out about the deal he’d made with Hollinger. And he was surprised at how desperately he wanted to keep that from happening.

  All at once Buddy reached up and snatched the Frisbee from Kay’s hand. She swung around, her fists on her hips, glaring at him. She lunged for the Frisbee, but Buddy backed away.

  “You goofy little dog! Give that back to me!”

  She took off after him, but he managed to stay one step ahead of her, his little doggy smile curling around the Frisbee. Thinking Kay might be getting a little angry at Buddy’s antics, Matt started to intervene. Then he heard the most beautiful sound.

  Kay’s laughter.

  It filled the twilight like a soft, lilting melody, chasing away every memory he had of the wary, confrontational woman who’d first shown up at the shelter. And he had a feeling that from now on, whenever he thought of Kay, this was what he would remember.

  “You got a dozen what?”

  Matt had caught the last few seconds of the phone conversation Kay had been carrying on at the reception desk at the shelter, the umpteenth one she’d made in the past few weeks, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he had heard. She spun around from the phone with a big smile.

  ‘‘Kitty- Tees.”

  Matt grimaced. “What in the world is a Kitty-Tee?”

  Kay rolled her eyes. “Don’t you keep up? They’re what the well-dressed cat is wearing this season, of course. They’re from Pet Palace. They come in long-sleeved, short-sleeved, small, medium and large, and they’re fifty- fifty poly-cotton so they won’t shrink up to nothing in the dryer. They’re sending over three lime green, three electric blue—”

  “Wait a minute! You seem to be telling me you’re going to dress the cats up in T-shirts. Is that right?”

  Kay smiled dreamily. “Won’t they just be the cutest things?”

  Good God, he’d created a monster. For the past couple of weeks Kay had been like a human vacuum cleaner run amok, sucking up all the pet-related items she could get her hands on. Up to now he’d approved wholeheartedly. But cats wearing T-shirts?

  “The Super Scoop was great,” he told her. “And the Tasty Cat. And the grooming brushes and the Kitty Yum-Yams—”

  “And the Port-a-Pets. Don’t forget those.”

  “They’re great, Kay. Really. I’m glad you found them. I’m glad you found them for free. But just because something’s free doesn’t mean we ought to take it. Cats in T-shirts—”

  “Oh, will you hush a minute? I swear your sense of humor is melting away before my very eyes.” Kay pointed toward the Cat Room. “Look. You’ve got two cats back there who’ve had part of their coats clipped— one because of a skin problem and the other because of mats. Nobody will look at them right now, even though their hair will eventually grow back in and they’ll be good as new. But don’t you think if I put them in cute little T-shirts it’ll cover up the problem until someone can get to know them a little? They might find out there’s a potential pet under those bad haircuts.”

  Matt was astonished, and not just because of the irony of a dog shaver catering to cats with raggedy coats. This seemed to be a step above basic nece
ssities. After spending forty hours at the shelter, had her feelings changed? Was Kay actually going out of her way to help a few unfortunate animals find a decent home?

  “After all,” Kay added, “that’s the point, isn’t it? Moving some of these creatures out of here before the next ones show up?”

  Matt felt a flush of disappointment. Kay saw the shelter as a conveyor belt moving a product through a warehouse. He realized now that just because she’d grown less fearful of the animals didn’t mean she’d suddenly started loving them. She was scrounging donations only because it beat cleaning cat boxes. It was nothing more than a game to her, a fun little exercise in negotiation to see just how much free stuff she could come up with and how many deals she could make. Still, he’d liked thinking, if only for a moment, that maybe she’d done it for the animals.

  And for him.

  Chapter 8

  Kay The next morning, Kay raced toward the elevator in the lobby of the Cauthron Building, wedging her hand between the closing doors until they popped open again. She wiggled her way onto the elevator, breathing heavily, then punched the button for the fourteenth floor. When the doors opened, she ran through the elevator lobby, flung open the glass doors of Breckenridge, Davis, Hill, Scott & Wooster, then sprinted to her desk.

  She checked her watch and breathed a sigh of relief. It was eight o’clock straight up. If there was one thing Mr. Breckenridge insisted on, it was punctuality.

  That’s when she saw the red rose.

  Kay’s heart fluttered a little as she sat down, eased the rose aside and opened the card that accompanied it. She saw only two words written there: Dinner tonight?

  She turned the card over. Nothing else.

  “I made reservations at Rodolpho’s.”

  At the sound of the deep male voice, she looked up to see Jason Bradley, a high-flying junior associate in the firm, leaning against the doorway. Disappointment oozed through her. For a fleeting moment she’d hoped that somehow Matt had found his way into her office, come to her desk—

  “They have the best Italian food in town,” Jason said.

  Kay shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Jason’s smile dimmed. “You don’t like Italian?”

  “I love Italian.”

  “Too short notice, then. Maybe this weekend—”

  “No. I’m sorry, Jason. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”

  “Ah. I see.” He had a look on his face that said, Girls line up around the block to go out with me, so what’s the matter with you? He walked over to her desk, placed his palms against it and fixed his gaze on hers. “Did you know I’ve never lost a court case?”

  “As I understand it, you’ve only tried two.”

  Kay knew her barb hit home, but he recovered admirably. “That’s right. And both times I got what I wanted.” He gave her a calculating smile which was intended, she knew, to warn her of his considerable male prowess. “Keep that in mind.”

  As Jason sauntered out the door, Kay shook her head and tossed the note card into the trash. Truthfully, Jason really wasn’t such a bad guy—yet. He was blessed with good looks, a privileged background and a knack for playing the game of law. But his complete inability to process the word no pretty much put him at the bottom of her list of men she wanted to date.

  Actually, she’d told Jason the truth. She didn’t want to see any other men right now. What would be the point, when all she’d be thinking about was Matt?

  With a regretful sigh, Kay loaded more legal-size paper into her printer, trying to put her mind where it belonged right now—on her job. She’d assumed that working six weeks at Breckenridge, Davis, Hill, Scott & Wooster would be sheer torture, and at first it had been. Mr. Breckenridge was stern and demanding, and though he never actually said it, Kay always felt as if he disapproved of everything she did. Still, once she learned to read his moods, to give him what he wanted instead of what he asked for, and to yield to his stone-age idea that it was her responsibility to insure he had his two cups of Colombian decaf every morning, things ran pretty smoothly.

  Now, with her six-week assignment nearly up, she’d been surprised when he’d asked her to continue for two more weeks while his assistant took a longer maternity leave. She’d said yes immediately. The temporary pay was pretty good, and her savings were starting to mount up. In fact, it wouldn’t be long before she could start looking for an apartment.

  An apartment. A permanent place to live. By herself.

  She rested her chin on her hands, staring mindlessly at her pencil cup. She couldn’t stay with Matt forever. Once she was out of the shelter and out of his house, she’d be out of his life. And the thought of that was almost intolerable.

  “Miss Ramsey?”

  Kay spun around to find Mr. Breckenridge staring at her over the tops of his bifocals.

  “I was told that you volunteer some of your free time at an animal shelter. Is that correct?”

  “Uh—yes, sir. I do.”

  “Perhaps you can help me. I’m considering getting a dog. My wife died a few months ago, and I was thinking perhaps a dog—” He stopped, looking a little flustered, then cleared his throat. “Do you find this shelter of yours to be a quality place to obtain a pet?”

  “Oh, yes! Absolutely! We have at least a dozen dogs over there right now. Some puppies, too. Any one of them would make a great pet.” She held up her finger. “Just a moment.”

  Kay reached in her lower desk drawer, pulled out her purse and found one of Matt’s business cards. She handed it to him. “Come by anytime. I’ll introduce you to Dr. Forester. He’s the one who started the shelter.”

  Breckenridge eyed the card. “The Westwood Animal Shelter? I understand that it’s up for the Dorland Grant.”

  Dorland Grant? Robert had something to do with that. She had no idea Matt had applied for it.

  “The Dorland Grant? That’s a lot of money, isn’t it?”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  Wow. Why hadn’t Matt told her?

  “Well, I know Dr. Forester works hard to keep the doors open. He deserves all the help he can get.” She pointed to the card. “Be sure to come by sometime soon. I know you’ll be able to find a nice dog.”

  “Yes. Well. I’ll give it some thought.” He tucked the card into his coat pocket. “Oh, and Miss Ramsey?”

  Kay smiled. “Yes?”

  “There were grounds in the last pot of coffee you made. See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  Kay sighed. One of these days she was going to suggest he move into the 21st century and get a single-serving coffee maker with those little coffee pod thingies. Problem solved.

  She was surprised by his interest in the shelter. Unlike Robert, Mr. Breckenridge didn’t appear to want a dog as a status symbol. He wanted a pet. And he was actually considering coming to the Westwood Animal Shelter to find one.

  Kay smiled. In spite of the fact that he was a slave-driving perfectionist with antiquated ideas about boss-employee relationships, all at once he didn’t seem like such a bad guy.

  Matt sat at his kitchen table thumbing through a veterinary journal, hoping the aroma emanating from the bucket of chicken on the table beside him was enough to mask the smell of the hamburger-noodle casserole he’d just incinerated. He’d warned Kay what a lousy cook he was, and in the time she’d been living with him he’d demonstrated that fact more than once. She came through the back door a few moments later, crinkling her nose and glancing around anxiously as if searching for a fire extinguisher.

  “How bad was it this time?” she asked.

  “My casserole got a little singed around the edges.”

  “Did the smoke alarm go off?”

  “They probably heard it in Cleveland.”

  “Good. The wiring in this house looks like a plateful of spaghetti. At least now we know when it finally goes up in flames we have a shot at getting out alive.”

  She pulled the lid off the bucket of chicken, fis
hed out a wing and dropped it to one of the paper plates Matt had set out. “Just what I need—a few more clogged arteries.”

  Matt dug around for a chicken leg. “Then it’s a good thing I asked for extra cholesterol.”

  She put the cardboard top back on the bucket. “You didn’t tell me you’d applied for the Dorland Grant.”

  Matt almost choked on his chicken leg. Where had that come from?

  “Uh—yeah. About three months ago.” He gave her a shaky smile. “Who wouldn’t? It’s twenty-five thousand dollars. Have you looked around the shelter? I could use twenty-five thousand.”

  “Mr. Breckenridge, my temporary boss, told me about it I guess his firm is part of the Dorland Group, too, like Robert’s.”

  Matt’s throat tightened at the mention of Robert’s name. He was never going to get this chicken leg down. “It’s a long shot, Kay. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Well, I’d offer to use my influence with Robert to help you get that grant, but as you well know, I don’t have any.”

  Matt figured he had enough for both of them.

  He breathed a little easier as they ate, realizing Kay knew he’d applied for the grant, but that was all. What would she say if she knew he’d made a deal with Robert behind her back so he could pocket that twenty-five thousand?

  She hated Robert, and if she knew what he’d done, she’d hate him, too.

  As the days passed, Kay’s evenings with Matt took on a deliciously warm, comfortable tone. She soon discovered his social life rivaled hers for sheer boredom. He didn’t seem the least bit averse to spending time with her, whether they were goofing around in the park or just lounging in front of the TV.

  No matter what old movie she suggested they watch, he’d already seen it half a dozen times and didn’t mind seeing it again. If she cooked something barely identifiable for dinner, he told her he liked trying new things. If she flooded the basement with suds because she put too much detergent in the washer, he helped her clean it up and said the floor needed washing, anyway.