by Ash Harlow
“You like that?”
“Very much. It’s way better than what I usually drink.”
“Me, too.” He leaned forward a little. “What’s the final plan for the Sanctuary?”
Marlo paused when the waiter arrived with their dinner. Once he’d left, she asked, “Are you sure you really want to start me on this? I can be difficult to stop once I get going.”
Yeah, he was certain. He enjoyed hearing about her plans, watching her drop her guard as she spoke about the dogs. Around these subjects, she stayed calm. He could move into her space without spooking her. He longed to step in and take control so that together they could dispel her fears and make her feel safe. But he knew that kind of move would see her rabbit-run to the nearest and deepest burrow.
Her amber eyes flashed with tiny specks of gold as she described the community initiative she and Lulah were working on, dog care and training classes for the people who couldn’t afford it. Doing it for the dogs, but for the people, too, so that the skills they gained, the harmony and compassion, would have a flow-on effect to other areas of their life.
He’d love to show her what he was seeing, this beautiful, compassionate woman who still needed to learn that she was one of those broken people, too. And he’d really love to get his hands around the neck of whoever was responsible for damaging her.
“There’s a small amount of trickery involved in all of this.” Marlo added.
“No free lunch, huh?”
“Exactly. The only rule we have is that before attending classes the dogs must be spayed or neutered. It’s a bit of a hobby horse of mine. Most can’t afford it, so CRAR has a fund to help out with that. A spay op is cheaper than dealing with a litter of puppies further down the track. So Adam, what about you?”
“I’m not neutered.”
“Ha!” She laughed, shaking her head and the rich coffee-brown hair that tumbled past her shoulders in casual curls, swayed like a backing group. “Aren’t you the funny guy? I meant, what brings you to this line of work?”
This bit he would approach with caution. “I come from a farming background, I’ve done police work, and I have an interest in animal welfare. This contract came up when I was between projects, and it seemed the perfect opportunity to take a break from police work. I need to see if there are other areas I’d like to pursue.”
“Between projects, huh? Tell me, what are ‘projects’ when you’re a policeman?”
He chuckled. “You don’t miss much, do you, Marlo?”
“And…?”
“And you’re very attractive.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but that’s not what I meant. You haven’t answered my question.”
“For now.”
One shoulder lifted in a dismissive oh, well gesture before she returned to chasing the last piece of calamari around her plate. He could feel her disappointment, as if she’d traded too much for so little.
Making her feel cheated was no way to gain her trust. He had to give something back. What could he share that wouldn’t have her hailing a cab? The undercover job to bust open a dog fighting operation had been a spectacular failure with deadly consequences. At least the next project fared a little better. Helping close down the nasty little gang that was bringing teenaged Thai girls into the country to be used as sex slaves was terrific.
He placed his knife and fork down and pushed his plate away. “I worked undercover. Most of the stuff is unpleasant, living on the fringe, infiltrating gangs, that sort of thing. I can’t talk about it, but I’m not deliberately hiding anything from you.”
“That’s fine.” She finally trapped the calamari between the tines of her fork but instead of eating the seafood she lay the fork down and mirrored his move with her plate.
“‘Fine’ has to be the most ambiguous word in a woman’s arsenal. Mostly it sends a chill down a man’s spine.”
She widened her eyes. “Very powerful, if used wisely.” Her lips curved into a vivid smile.
Almost as powerful as that smile, he thought, as he tried to apply his recent resolve to the visceral reaction he’d just experienced. Her left hand rested back on the table, only inches from his. He fought the urge to reach for it and run his thumb across the back of her fingers so he could feel the tiny shudder he was sure she’d make. She would drop her eyes and he’d insist she looked at him. The battle to win her gaze would be shorter this time. As he held it, he would stroke one finger across the inside of her wrist, press it to her pulse point and feel the beat quicken. Taking charge.
“Can I bring you dessert, sir?”
Saved by the waiter. He took a long, slow breath and nodded to Marlo. “You first.”
She placed one hand on her stomach. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’m full.”
“We have a panna cotta, madam, which is served with marinated grapes,” the waiter recommended. “It is delicate and light.” He bent closer. “Ideal for sharing,” he added in a low Italian accent.
“That sounds perfect.”
Marlo nodded. “Yes.”
The waiter returned with their dessert and two sets of silverware.
“You try it,” Adam said.
She placed a spoonful in her mouth, tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she tasted the dessert. “Oh, God, if heaven was edible this would be it.” When she opened her eyes she found him watching her. “What?”
A tiny smear of cream smudged her bottom lip and he battled to stop himself reaching for it with his finger, taking it into her mouth, pressing down. He wanted to slip his thumb beneath her chin, the finger in her mouth, three fingers splayed across her cheek. He got hard thinking about it.
She got such pleasure from a simple thing as dessert. He could happily watch her eat the entire thing then hang around for the night so he could watch her eat breakfast, too.
A faint flush crept up her neck. “What is it?” she asked again.
Oh, boy, it’s you. “It makes me happy to see you enjoying this meal.”
“Well, I’ve never had anything like this. It’s stunning. You keep watching, and I’ll keep eating,” she teased.
With pleasure, he thought.
He ordered coffee and Marlo had tea. He watched, hiding his smile as she lifted the teapot lid, checking the aroma of the tea every minute until it satisfied her. Once the brew had steeped she took hold of the teapot’s handle, and carefully circled the pot a few times before pouring. She opened the small pot of honey she’d asked for, and using the handle end of a teaspoon, removed a dab of honey which she swirled over the surface of the tea before quickly laying a slice of lemon on top.
He couldn’t help his smile at her colored cheeks when she caught him watching her ritual. “It calms me,” she murmured, before he had a chance to ask.
She took a sip and nodded before replacing her cup. “It’s very good.”
Sure, it calms you. Barely hidden was something in her that simmered like the vigilant caution of a prey animal. When they’d arrived, he’d noticed her scan the restaurant. She had checked who else was dining; her glance ricocheted from table to table. When they were seated in the courtyard, he saw her check the exit that took you directly to the street rather than having to leave through the restaurant. She’d noticed that and relaxed.
“This forensic thing sounds gruesome,” Marlo said.
“I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but it will in many ways be interesting. Veterinary forensics is a reasonably new field.”
“Will you return to Halo Peak when it’s done?” Her slender fingers twirled the honey spoon. It looked oddly seductive. In fact, everything about her looked seductive—particularly the swell of her breasts beneath the low neckline of her dress he’d been at pains to ignore all night. It plunged in direct conflict with the height of the emotional wall she’d built around herself. He had to remember he had nothing to offer her. He’d be returning to New Zealand once the investigation was complete. It was time to harness that resolve.
“Yes, I’
ll come back here. I want to follow Justice through his rehab. The police in town have given me a desk and the support of their admin staff. I’m lucky; CRAR seem to be able to pull strings all over the place.”
Later on, as they walked to the car, Marlo shivered. The night was clear but had gained a slight chill.
“Here.” Adam draped his jacket around her shoulders so that with each breath she took she caught his scent. He drew her against his body, gave her a quick squeeze then released her, leaving his hand to rest on her shoulder. She liked how he made her feel secure.
The drive home passed mostly in comfortable silence, and, after parking the car up at the house, Adam was quick to assist her out. She shrugged his jacket from her shoulders, placed it on the passenger seat of the car, and immediately was chilled again. For a second time, Adam’s protective arm pulled her against him as he walked her to her door.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked.
Adam reached a finger under her chin and tilted her head up toward him. “You have no idea how much I’d like to.” His voice was gruff. “But mostly I’d like to take you to dinner again.” Still holding her chin, he bent and kissed her. His mouth was gentle and soft and gave her no desire or instinct to pull away. Adam broke the kiss. “Nice,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Marlo went through her pre-bed routine. Tonight she didn’t feel a trace of tiredness. She released Fala into the yard for her evening pee knowing she’d need to go out again in a few hours, thanks to the calling card of aged, failing kidneys.
She was honestly surprised how much she’d enjoyed the evening. There had been so many worries and a constant urge to cancel, yet not a single thing she feared had manifested. Even when a couple of quirks surfaced, like when she’d jerked away from the touch of his hand, Adam hadn’t seemed troubled. Concerned, maybe, but not rattled. Perhaps he would give her time, teach her how to face and conquer her fears so that they wouldn’t maintain such control over her life.
Who was she kidding? Why would he want to be bothered? Anyway, he would be gone soon. If her past attempts at dating were anything to go by, she would have him running for the exit well before he was due to leave. It would be best to stay friends. That way everyone remained unscathed.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Marlo put an hour aside to prepare for a magazine interview she’d been asked to give. This was a part of the job she wasn’t comfortable with, but CRAR was always in need of publicity to assist with their fundraising efforts and right now, dog rescue appeared to be a hot topic. Normally these interviews were for pet-based magazines and blogs, but this particular story was for a lifestyle magazine with a very large circulation. She still couldn’t get her head around how rescuing dogs was going to be a good editorial fit, but that wasn’t her concern.
Keeping her private life, well, private was paramount. She found it easy to gloss over any difficult questions with a mundane sort of bio. Being the person who rescued her, Mae knew the truth about her upbringing and teenage years, and Marlo suspected some of the hierarchy in CRAR also knew. A reason she was so well-respected with CRAR was her knack for discretion, particularly for cases like Justice’s. The CRAR board, she knew, reciprocated accordingly.
There was that pull of a smile. She’d had dinner with a policeman. Wow. That was a large demon she’d beat down. He hadn’t tried to manipulate her or coerce her. Her seventeen-year-old self had allowed that to happen and no policeman, no other man would do that to her again. So now she had to think of Adam as a person, not a policeman.
Illogical as it seemed, the deep-set fear caged within her was the basis of her life’s motivation, the thing upon which all her decisions were made. Mostly she kept it smothered beneath a dense pillow of hard work. That was the problem with damaged people. They survived by being emotional liars because it was impossible to build an honest façade. That was why she understood how to break and cure a damaged dog. One day, someone might break and cure her.
Wouldn’t that make Mae happy?
With Fala at her side she headed down to the kennels to check on the new interns. The old dog didn’t always come down to the office, preferring these days to spend her retirement in the yard, where she could shift from sunbathing to shade without being bothered by the noise and chaos at the kennels and barn.
“You know a journalist is coming today, don’t you? Little supermodel wannabe! One last magazine spread, is that what you’re after?”
Fala wagged her tail and broke into a run to prove she was still as spritely as the rest of them. She pulled up when they approached the kennels and went to lie in the dappled light beneath a large white oak.
Marlo found Lulah in the food preparation kitchen, addressing the interns. “Initially you’re going to spend so much time cleaning out kennels you’ll think you are on some sort of prison detail.”
Go Lulah!
“But we have fun, too. I hope you can all ride a bike…” She waited. “Can you all ride a bike? Hello? Did the mothership only drop off bodies today, or did they come with personalities, because I’m not hearing anything…”
Low murmurs seemed to indicate they were familiar with bikes.
“That’s better. Hope I don’t have to coax every response out of you because that could become a little bit tiresome. As I was saying, we have fun here, too, and most summer days around mid-afternoon we all grab a bike and head off with a bunch of dogs to the lake. If you want to bring your swim things, you’re most welcome to join the dogs.”
Marlo waited as the group disbanded to their duties. One of the guys held back then approached Lulah. When he’d finished, Lulah gave the guy a quick appraisal, a visual body sweep before saying something and turning away. The tightness of the guy’s shoulders suggested he was annoyed.
As Lulah joined her, Marlo asked, “Is someone not getting his own way?”
Lulah gave her a quick nudge on the arm. “Aw, you’re good, boss. Got it in one. That’s Jarrod. He’s an unusual character. Anyway, he says he doesn’t want to ride a bike so I told him he could jog to the dam instead.”
Marlo nearly choked. “Lulah, you’ve seen the shape of him. If you make him jog to the dam in this heat you’ll probably kill him.”
“The exercise will do him good.”
“It’s not boot camp.”
“Okay, he can walk. Quickly. It’s just…there’s something odd about him.”
“Odd? Like what?”
“I can’t quite put my finger on it yet. He’s inquisitive, asks lots of questions, but it’s weird. It’s more like he’s nosy rather than trying to learn. And he’s odd with the dogs. I almost get the feeling he doesn’t like them.” She shrugged and smiled. “It’s probably me.”
“Keep an eye on him.”
“Yes, boss!” Lulah saluted and clicked her heels.
Marlo laughed and watched Lulah set off to wrangle the interns. “Lulah?”
“Boss?”
“Remember, it’s not boot camp.”
Marlo walked away, smiling at what she imagined the interns would be thinking about a casual bike ride down to the dam. Lulah tended to ignore the simple track, choosing to take the less-groomed route that allowed her to practice her mountain biking skills. Perhaps Jarrod merely had well-honed clairvoyance when he said he didn’t want to use a bike.
She made a note to remind Lulah that she must show them the option of the easier bike track. One broken arm or concussion and they would be eating lawsuit-on-toast for breakfast. The problem with Lulah was that she was completely fearless.
As Marlo approached the office, she saw the journalist had arrived early and was poking about. Not only that, she’d brought a photographer with her, something which was usually pre-arranged. CRAR had its own contracted photographer for a very good reason. The usual form was to provide stock images for the re-hash stories or find out from a particular editorial department what their image requirements were and provide that for them.
&n
bsp; She startled the journalist when she approached and saw the photographer was rummaging in his bag on the floor by the filing cabinet. “Oh, hello, you’re early.”
The journalist gave a small laugh, stepping towards her with an extended hand. “Janine Stockton, pleased to meet you.”
Marlo took hold of the woman’s dry hand. Nerves had already dampened her own. “Marlo Croft,” she replied.
Releasing her grip, Janine continued, “If you’re not ready for us, Clarke here can get a few more photos, some background shots.”
“More photos?” Her stomach flipped. If they had come across Justice she was in big trouble. She turned to the photographer. “Can you show me what you’ve got, please?”
His glance flicked to the journalist before he flashed an easy grin at Marlo. “Sure, sweetie.”
The dislike was instant. With a skittering gaze that took in an inventory of the office he shuffled in close. Leaning against her shoulder he lifted the camera to let her view the images. Marlo could smell his stale breath and inclined her head away. He scrolled through the shots with rapid flicks and she was relieved to see that he did not appear to have captured anything controversial.
“If you’ve got something to hide, I haven’t found it.” His laugh was as insincere as his words.
Marlo ignored the comment. Give them the interview and get them off the property. From the filing cabinet, she drew out a spiral-bound book that gave a background on CRAR and her particular setup. “You’ll get all the background you want from this. Let me know if you need any photos and I’ll have them sent on.”