by Ann Cristy
"If you interfere with what Yanos is doing with the dog, he won't have as good a chance of getting well," Zen told them.
Yanos nodded in agreement and assured the boys that they could come down to the barn and visit the dog when they had eaten. Finally they took Zen's hand and went with her to the house.
"He's big, isn't he, Aunt Zeno," Daniel said. "I've never seen a dog with curly brown hair before."
"I'm not sure, but I think he might be a Chesapeake Bay retriever." Zen paused. "When I was in college I worked for a vet, and he had big charts on the wall with pictures of dogs. This one looks like one of the retrievers."
"I'll call him Curly," David decided. "I'll call him Curly, too," Daniel echoed. "The dog may have an owner," Zen warned them, even though she had seen no collar.
Dinner that evening was a noisy affair. The boys related the story of Curly's rescue over and over again, from the salad through the dessert. Since they had already told Sophie and Pythagoras most of the story during the cocktail hour, as they devoured apples and oranges to appease their hunger, Zen was sure Sophie must be growing irritated.
But she replied patiently to all their observations. "I see," she said when the boys told her the dog had no collar.
"He could sleep in the house... maybe," David offered.
"David," Zen remonstrated.
"In our bedroom," Daniel suggested, beaming.
Damon had the last word. "Let's see if Yanos can make him well first. And then we'll see if he's a good dog, and not a rogue."
"He is a good dog." David scowled.
"Yes, he is," parroted his twin.
"Yanos knows all about animals," Thag commented. "I'm sure he will be able to tell us much about the dog." He smiled at the boys. "Every dog needs a boy, I think."
"No, my friend, every boy needs a dog," Sophie amended.
"Either way is good," David assured his grandmother, making her smile.
Zen looked at Sophie Aristides, stunned by the doting expression on her face as she regarded the twins. Zen cleared her throat to reprimand David for assuming that he could bring the dog into the house, when Sophie surprised her further by saying, "When the dog is well, we will see where in the house he can sleep." She smiled serenely as the boys whooped with glee.
After dinner, Thag and Sophie accompanied the boys to the stable to check on the progress of their patient.
Zen was pleasantly surprised when the huge brown head rose from the bed of cloths and the thick tail wagged once. "He does look better," she whispered to Damon, who was standing next to her.
He nodded. "But I don't think we'll say too much to the boys about keeping him until I run an ad to see if he belongs to someone."
Zen nodded, watching Daniel and David. "No, wait," she admonished them when they tried to mover closer, concerned for their safety.
Yanos appeared with a bottle of dark liquid and a chamois cloth. "I'm going to rub him down with liniment. His muscles must be sore."
The two boys watched with absorbed concentration as Yanos brought the wet cloth down the dog's legs.
"He's a good one, Kyrie." Yanos looked up at Damon. "He knows that I try to help him, and he is still. Even when I give him his food, he lets me touch his dish while he eats. I think the boys can touch him."
"Damon." Zen gripped his-arm.
"It's all right, Zen. I'll watch them. Come here, you two." Damon squatted down near the dog's head, talking quietly to the animal, who watched him soulfully, then gazed at David and Daniel as they moved to touch him. The dog's eyes closed once; then he pushed his head at the boys' hands, startling them, making them laugh breathlessly.
"Look at me, Aunt Zen," Daniel called. "Do you want to pet him, too?"
The boys weren't satisfied until both Thag and Sophie had also bent to stroke the dog.
Finally Zen was able to urge them back to the house, the two of them chattering all the way through the kitchen and up the back stairs to their room.
It was past ten o'clock by the time Zen had returned to her own room and prepared for bed. She intended to read before going to sleep.
A noise out in the hall caught her attention. Thinking the boys might be sneaking outside to see the dog, she opened the door quietly. Seeing nothing, she checked on the boys and found them sleeping. She was on her way back to her room when she noticed that the double doors leading to Damon's suite were open. A light shone from the interior.
She hesitated, but finally decided to go to bed. Then she heard a bump and a muttered imprecation. She paused, peering down the corridor. She knocked and waited. When no one replied, she knocked again, then tiptoed down the hallway and entered a spacious foyer. The living room was on her left and a small office or library on her right. Directly in front of her was a stairway leading to a balcony that overlooked the living room and foyer. She stopped there when she heard more bumping sounds and then a curse. The noise was coming from upstairs.
"Damon? Damon, are you all right?" She stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up, her hand on the banister.
"Who is it?" he demanded striding from the room onto the balcony, naked except for a towel wrapped around his middle. He scratched with both hands at the reddened welts on his chest.
"Don't itch," Zen said, going up the steps, her eyes riveted on his male form, his breadth of shoulder, the silken ripple of muscle across his chest, the narrow black hair that... She shook her head and repeated, "Don't itch."
"I damn well can't help it," Damon barked down at her, scowling fiercely.
"Here," Zen gathered her silk robe in one hand and hurried up the rest of the stairs. She followed him into his room, unable to take her eyes from his back. "Let me put some lotion on you," she offered.
"Not yet. I'm going to take a baking soda bath first. Damn it, this itching is driving me mad." He scratched his shoulders, grimacing at Zen, then disappeared into the bathroom. "The tub will run over," he mumbled.
Zen heard a splash and a groan, then more cursing. She took a deep breath. "Damon, can I help?" Taking her courage in both hands, she walked into the room.
For a moment she was struck mute by the dimly lit interior. "Glory," she breathed. "Trust you to have a real Roman bath. This is the biggest bathroom I've ever seen. Lord, a sauna... hot tub... whirlpool bath... and all in peach-colored tile." Zen stared up at the mirrored ceiling, which hadn't clouded over in the steamy room.
"Salmon color." Damon, lying up to his chest in hot water, opened one eye to glare at her. "Not peach, salmon. Are you color-blind?"
"I'm not color-blind. Are you? God, what a testimonial to old movies." Zen chuckled, then sobered immediately when her eyes fell on Damon. She could see very little of him in the dim light, but just the thought that he was naked left her feeling weak in the knees.
"If you came in my bath just to insult my color scheme... owww!" He closed his eyes and began rubbing his back against the smooth tub. "This is torture," he moaned.
As if in a dream, Zen walked forward, pulled up her silk robe, and knelt down on the carpet. She leaned over the rim of the circular tub, which was recessed into the floor. "Turn around and I'll scratch your back for you... even though I don't believe—wait! What are you doing? I'll get wet. Ohhh, damn you!"
Damon had caught her under the arms and pulled her, robe and all, into the tub. "Give me poison ivy, will you?" he said. "Then you come up here and laugh at my apartment! Well, how do you like this, my girl?"
"You fool," Zen sputtered. Water tasting of baking soda splashed into her mouth. Her arms and legs became tangled in her robe. "This is silk, Damon. It will be ruined." She flailed wildly at him, but the sodden material hampered her movements.
"Relax and enjoy it, darling," Damon soothed, laughing. "Baking soda is good for your skin."
"I do not have poison ivy." She pushed a clump of wet hair off her face. "I just showered." She spat water from her mouth and sneezed.
"Don't worry." Damon reached up to a shelf near his head and brought do
wn several plastic containers. "All the soap you could need or want... any kind." He grinned at her, seeming to have forgotten his discomfort. "Gotcha," he mumbled, her arms tightening around her and his eyes roving possessively over her.
"What do you mean?" Suspicion warred with reason, and won. "You aren't in pain," she exclaimed. "This was a ruse to get me in here!"
"Well, I was in discomfort—at first anyway."
"You lured me in here," she sputtered, splashing more water into her mouth in an effort to free herself from his iron grip.
"You're so dramatic." Damon chuckled and clamped her to his body.
"You're taking a terrible revenge on me, is that it? Infecting me with your poison ivy?" Zen was furious.
"My physician tells me that, unless people are hyperallergic, they're highly unlikely to get poison ivy except from direct exposure to the plant." Damon bent forward, his tongue coming out to tease the corner of her mouth.
"Your doctor is a quack. Besides, how do you know I'm not one of those hyperallergic people?" Zen arched her neck, trying to get away from him.
Damon lifted her slightly away from him, his eyes burning into hers. "Are you?"
"I...I guess not," she answered.
Damon stared at her for a longer moment, then released her abruptly, pushing her to her feet in the tub but staying seated himself. "I've just decided that I can't take the chance with you." He studied her wet body. The silk robe clung like a second skin. She stared back, baffled, swamped by an illogical disappointment with her sudden freedom. "The thought of all that pinky whiteness becoming red and covered with welts is repellent to me," Damon went on. He closed his eyes. "I think I've finally gone around the bend," he added as though to himself. "Having a lovely woman almost naked beside me and not making love to her! I must be crazy!"
Zen's temper burst. How many women had taken baths with Damon. She wouldn't stay with him a moment longer. Rising to her full height, she lifted the hem of her robe and squeezed it over his head. "How dare you try to give me poison ivy?" she lashed out producing the first argument that came to mind. Then she lifted three bottles of shampoo from the shelf, uncorked them, and dumped the contents on Damon. She threw down the empty containers, grabbed a bath sheet, and stormed out of the room.
"Zen... what the hell did you do that for? Damn, the bubbles. What's the matter with you? Come back here. We have to talk. We're getting married."
"I'll see you in hell first," Zen called over her shoulder as she dripped down the stairs to the foyer, the oversized towel trailing after her like a train. "Womanizer. Charlatan." She stomped down the hall. "Svengali." She struggled to suppress the feelings that urged her to rush back to him and throw herself into his arms. Part of her longed to be held by him, yearned to forget the rest of the world. "No... no, I won't be part of his harem," she mumbled.
Back in her own bathroom Zen dried herself, and climbed into bed. She tried to sleep, but images of her and Damon making love in the tub kept surfacing in her mind.
Chapter 4
Zen kept a wary eye on Damon for the next two weeks as his poison ivy slowly healed. He stayed home for much of that time but kept in close contact with his New York office. Sometimes Zen took his calls. There was an emergency with Venus Airlines, another with one of his shipping interests. Meetings were called that he must attend. She began to see that Damon Aristides was, indeed, an important industrialist and a shrewd businessman.
One day a man named Desmond came to see Damon. He explained that he was sure the dog they were calling Curly had belonged to a friend whose fishing boat had sunk in the Sound. The man's body had been washed ashore a few days previously.
"That's why I came over today, Mr. Aristides. I thought this might be Jocko, old Jim's dog. The sheriff said Jim had teeth marks in his shoulder, as though the dog had tried to tow him for a while after the boat capsized. Then they surmise the current took them farther out. Old Jim died, and the dog tried to save himself." Mr. Desmond knocked his pipe against the bottom of his shoe, nodding to Zen as she stood listening. He turned to watch Curly cavort with the two boys, fetching the ball they threw for him.
"Jim Enright had no family," he went on, "but kids were always coming around to play with Jocko and get fishing lessons from Jim." He shook his head. "My wife and I will miss him, but you're welcome to keep the dog. We can't take him, and I'd hate to see him put down."
"Thank you, Mr. Desmond." Damon accompanied the man to his car.
Zen saw the man shake his head, but Damon insisted that he take the bills he pressed into his hand.
"You did us a favor by coming, Mr. Desmond, and you and your wife are welcome to come by and visit the dog any time."
Zen waited until the car had disappeared from sight before joining Damon on the lawn. "It was kind of him to come," she said.
Damon turned, regarding her through narrowed lids. "Are you speaking to me again?" His eyes made a lazy survey of her, from her breasts to her ankles.
"Stop doing that... and I never stopped speaking to you," Zen said angrily.
"Ah, yes, those poignant phrases like, 'No, I don't care for a roll, thank you,' and 'Yes, the weather is fine,'" Damon touched a finger to her lips. "We're getting married."
"What about Melissa?" Zen's mouth felt dry as hope and despair warred within her. Tell me you love me, damn you, she pleaded silently.
"Melissa and I have had a long talk. We've decided we don't suit. She has interests elsewhere."
Suddenly Zen felt as light as air. Happiness bubbled up inside her, followed swiftly by horror. Had she lost complete control of her emotions? She glanced at Damon briefly, then away. "Will that happen to me after a while? Will we talk, then decide we don't suit?" She swallowed past the lump in her throat, fearing she had exposed too much of her feelings to him.
"No," Damon answered tersely.
She tried to find words to prove that she was as cool as he was. "The boys want me to see Curly's new trick," she said, heading across the lawn. But, to her dismay, Damon's long strides kept easy pace with hers.
Daniel ran to meet them. "Aunt Zeno, Curly can catch the ball and bring it back to us." His bright smile made Zen's heart turn over with love.
"Is that the trick you were going to show me?" she asked.
"Not exactly," David said, coming up to them, a panting Curly at his side. The dog dwarfed both boys, yet he was so gentle and playful that Zen's initial worry had all but vanished. "C'mon, Uncle Damon, you come, too. We want to show you something." David looked up at his uncle. "I know it hurt to have poison ivy, but I liked it when you were home all the time, not just on Saturday." Running after his twin and the dog toward the stable, David didn't see his uncle's face flush with embarrassed pleasure.
Zen knew Damon was deeply touched by what David had said. He'd spent his first days at home constantly on the phone discussing his fishing boats on the West Coast, his computer stores in the Chicago area, his consulting firms in New York, and the airline based in Athens. But the boys had vied for his attention at every turn. More and more, Damon had given in to them. Zen sensed that he felt very close to the twins.
He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind, and instead took Zen's arm and followed the boys to the stable in silence.
The sudden darkness of the interior momentarily blinded them. They called out to David.
"Up here, Uncle Damon," he shouted. "Up in the loft."
"I thought I told you not to climb up there unless Yanos was with you," Zen scolded. She stepped purposefully over the ladder and began to climb, stopping when she was able to rest both arms on the floor of the loft and see where the boys were huddled in a corner. Pushing away a little, she shook her finger at them and took a deep breath to berate them—then unexpectedly lost her balance. She grabbed frantically for a handhold, knocking some loose hay off the shelf.
"Zen, for God's sake! Are you trying to bury me in hay?"
She looked over her shoulder down at Damon, who was picking
pieces of straw off himself and shaking his head ruefully. "I didn't drop much hay," she replied.
"No? I'm just glad the pitchfork was down here."
"Very funny."
"Aunt Zeno, will you come over here?" Daniel called impatiently. "Look."
Zen hesitated. She wasn't fond of heights and she didn't relish climbing back down once she was up there. But both boys were calling for her. "Oh, all right. I'll be right down, Damon." She climbed the rest of the way into the loft and went over to the boys.
David pointed to a patient mama cat suckling four kittens. "Aren't they nice? Yanos said we're not to touch them for a few days yet." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Aren't they small?"
"Yes, they are." Zen sat cross-legged in the hay and listened to the faint mewing of the tiny creatures.
"I hope Curly doesn't try to come up here," David said.
"I'm sure he's smarter than that," Damon answered as he dropped down next to Zen and smiled at the boys. "So, you're a mother, are you, Zaza?" He reached out and petted the silver tabby. She pushed her head against his hand. "She's a very good mother, too."
As the boys sat entranced, Damon told them stories about other animals on the estate. Zen leaned comfortably against a bale of hay, unable to take her eyes off Damon. Her heart thudded as she studied his dark head and broad shoulders. When he reached out to tousle David's head with a large hand, her face flushed with warmth. He seemed to radiate a sense of care and protection, and deep inside she yearned to have him touch her in the same familiar way. But in her imagination his touch soon turned hot and possessive... She shifted restlessly and lowered her eyes.
When they climbed down from the loft some time later, Damon went first, Daniel and David following. Zen took a deep breath, slid over the edge on her stomach, and felt for a rung. An iron hand grasped her ankle and positioned her foot on it.
"There, you're set now, darling. Just come ahead. I'm here." Damon's voice seemed to vibrate through her. She felt his body behind hers as they descended the rest of the way together.
Once on the ground, she brushed the straw from her clothes and watched the boys as they talked to Yanos, the horses, and the dog. She looked up at Damon. "How did you know I was leery about coming down the ladder?"