The Deal

by Holly Hart

  The same is true for the company that trained Helium and paired the dog with the sandy-haired human.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Evelyn’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “I’m afraid that’s all we have on the schedule for tonight, but I urge you to stay longer. Mingle, enjoy some of the refreshments we’ve put out. Have a good time.”

  Beside Evelyn, Caitlin lifts her head, scanning the room until her huge green eyes collide with mine. She jerks her head to the left, indicating that she’ll meet me in the hallway.

  I waste no time following her out.

  She hasn’t gone far. I find her standing just a few feet away from the auditorium, studying a painting of the solar system.

  “Hey,” I say softly. Smiling, I walk toward her. “Are you ready to get out of here, ‘cause Findlay is waiting in the car. I’m thinking of having him drive us to this little coffee shop I know of at the edge of town that makes the most amazing hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, then we can swing back to your place and-”

  Before I can finish my sentence, Caitlin’s hand snakes out and she grabs my tie, using it to haul me into a small room that smells of cleaners. I have just enough time to make out the dark images of a mop bucket and a vacuum cleaner before the door swings closed behind me, encasing us in total darkness.

  Caitlin maintains her hold on my tie, using it as a guide that leads upwards to my mouth, which she covers with her own. Startled, I gasp, providing her with the perfect opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth with a slow, demanding stroke that shoots from my mouth directly to my cock.

  This isn’t the place for this. The thought flashes through my mind even as my cock leaps to attention and presses painfully against my fly. She deserves something better, or at the very least, an actual bed.

  I untangle my mouth from hers and gasp for breath. “We should …” Unable to speak anymore, I wave my hand weakly, indicating the bedroom.

  Caitlin shakes her head, the movement causing her braided hair to sway. Her big eyes are solemn as they meet mine. “No,” she whispers, her voice confident despite the soft tone. Her hands settle on my hips, her fingertips pressing through my clothing until they curl into my flesh. She pulls me forward until it’s impossible to tell where she ends and I begin. Her hips shimmy, gyrating against my cock. “Right here. Right now.”

  I groan. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but I like it.

  I skim my fingers along her collarbone, loving the satiny smoothness of her skin and the way that even my lightest touch causes her pulse to jump. I cup my fingers around the gentle curve of her shoulder, delighting in the sexy moans that slide past her parted lips.

  My head falls onto her shoulder as I fight for self-control.

  If that’s what the woman wants, who am I to argue?

  75

  Caitlin

  I gasp as Jeremy’s fingers close around my upper arm and he spins me around in a pivot that presses my back against the storage room door. I have just enough time to raise my hand so that it splays across his chest before our bodies collide and he pins me in place with his bigger powerful body. Before I can get my bearings, he drops his head, taking my mouth in a kiss that leaves no doubt about how he feels about me. This might have been my idea, but he’s just as turned on as I am.

  I lose all track of time as his hands slide up and down my spine. I lift my own hands, twining my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.

  I shiver as his lips slide downward, gliding over the top of my shoulder until they encounter the scooped neckline of my sweater. My head falls backward, allowing him greater access as he places feather-light kisses along my collarbone. My fingers curl into his evening jacket as I squirm against him. Unmistakable proof that he’s as turned on as I am presses against my thigh, the feel sending my own raging desire into the stratosphere. His lips find the curve of my breast and I moan. I want him, right here, right now, propriety be damned.

  Time stands still as our tongues clash and duel in an ancient dance that sets our hearts pounding. My hands wander over his shoulders and down his chest, leaving no hill or valley undiscovered until my hands encounter his belt buckle.

  This wasn’t something I planned. Having sex in a maintenance closet while a crowd of people I like, people who respect me, are just a few feet away is the last thing I ever thought I would do, but … It’s Jeremy’s fault. I don’t know exactly how, but he’s managed to get under my skin, so now, when he’s not near me, I crave him the way an addict craves heroin.

  His hands slide down, pushing my leggings down and my sweater up as he finds brand new ways to torment and tease my body, his touch driving me into a frenzy that’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  I draw a deep breath, ready to shout my pleasure, but Jeremy covers my mouth with his, swallowing the sounds of my desire.

  “Quiet,” he whispers against his lips as his hands continue driving me insane. “If we get caught …”

  He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I’ve been so caught up in his touch, I completely forgot where we were.

  Jeremy adjusts our positions, pushing me higher up against the door as he angles his body between my thighs. I feel his bulbous member pressing against me, the only warning I have before he enters me in one long, smooth stroke.

  He gives me a second to adjust to his girth before rolling his hips, the action sending him deeper with each thrust. Bright white starbursts of pleasure erupt before my eyes, distracting me from the unrelenting darkness in the closet as I lean forward and sink my teeth into the top of Jeremy’s shoulder, using his body as a muffler as we both get caught up in a tidal wave of unbridled pleasure.

  76

  Caitlin

  “Ready?” Jeremy says in a low undertone that still sounds loud as a shotgun blast in the closet.

  I slide my hand down my sides and conduct a swift inventory. Sweater: pulled down. Leggings: pulled up. Panties: on. Hair: a mess.

  I reach up and quickly undo what remains of my braid. Let people assume my hairband broke or that I got it caught on something.

  “All set,” I whisper back. “You?”

  “Good to go.”

  I press my ear against the door and listen. I hear the sound of people in the auditorium, but the hallway sounds quiet.

  “I’ll go first,” I tell Jeremy. He grunts a soft response.

  I slide my hand down the maintenance closet door until I find the knob and wrap my fingers around it. Holding tightly, I start muttering a quick prayer that we’ll somehow manage to get out of this unscathed, only to change my mind. Jeremy just took me to places I never imagined my mind and body were capable of reaching, and if the price of that means a few people looking down their noses at me and whispering behind my back, then so what, let them whisper. Chances are they’d be more jealous than scandalized anyway.

  I slip out of the maintenance room and smooth a hand over my dress, removing a few wrinkles. When I look up, I’m staring directly into the surprised eyes of Sheila Murdoch.

  “Sheila,” I squeal as heat floods my face. “Evelyn’s been worried about you. She was talking about sending out a search party when you didn’t show up.’

  Sheila’s glance flicks to the supply room door. “And you decided to see if I was being held hostage in the supply room?”

  “Um, no. Funny story there.” I bite my lip, trying to think of how to proceed. Before I reach a conclusion, the door opens and Jeremy emerges. I decide to go for honesty.

  I grab Jeremy’s hand and pull him close to my side. “Sheila, I’d like you to meet my fiancé.” The word feels both strange and delightful. “Jeremy Caldwell.”

  Before I can think of an excuse for us to be in the supply closet that’s not X-rated, Sheila’s eyes go wide and her jaw drops. Her left hand slams over her chest and for a second I wonder if she’s having a heart attack.

  “Sheila?” I drop Jeremy’s hand and move closer to her. “Are you okay?”

  She nods,
even though she looks like a fish that’s out of water and gasping for air. “I’m fine. I just…” Her wild eyes dart up and down the hallway before returning to Jeremy’s face. She shudders. “I need to go. I left something on at home.”

  Before either Jeremy or I can say a word, she spins and runs for the exit.

  Jeremy wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as we stare in the direction Sheila bolted. “Is she always like that?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know her very well, and she always seems a little stressed. I think it’s because her kid has all sorts of medical problems and she’s a single mom. But for the most part she seems level headed and pleasant. I’ve always liked her.” I cock my head and shoot him a side eye. “What about you? Is she one of your ex-girlfriends?”

  “I’ve never seen that woman in my life,” Jeremy says, giving my shoulder an extra squeeze. “But then again, she really didn’t stick around long enough for me to get a good look.”

  “It’s weird though. She seemed okay right up until she saw you. Then it was like she had some sort of nervous breakdown.’

  “Evan.” Jeremy says the name like a curse.

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve never dated her, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a fling with her. She might have thought I was him. Other than our eyes, we’re identical.”

  I shake my head. “That doesn’t track. She moved here four years ago from, I think it was central Texas. She’s divorced now, but at the time she was married and her husband’s company transferred him here. Evan was already in prison at the time.”

  “Maybe she knows him somehow. What does she do?”

  I rack my brain. “She’s a nurse. I think she provides in-house care to invalids.”

  “Then maybe she’s just having a bad day and I was more than she could deal with.”

  “Maybe,” I say as I let him guide me back to the auditorium, “but it was still really strange.”

  77

  Jeremy

  Normally, the few hours I get to spend at the animal shelter represent the happiest time period of my week. I don’t care if they need me to clean kennels, treat ear mites, or walk dogs. I’m always ready and willing, loving the sensation of using my hands almost as much as I enjoy working with the dogs and cats that find their way into the shelter.

  Today is the exception.

  Today I’m sequestered in one of the small quarantine rooms with a large mixed-breed dog. I sit cross-legged on the floor, the emaciated dog curled up in a tight, scared ball in front of me. I probe at its body, the gentleness of my hands masking the anger simmering under my skin as I carefully cleanse one open wound after another. The dog lies perfectly still as I work on him. The only sign he gives that he’s in any discomfort at all is when I have to dig into his abraded skin for another piece of gravel and he lets out a low, mournful whine that drives arrows through my heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmur over and over again, apologizing for all of humankind even as I wish there was a way to track down the assholes that thought that after trying and failing to starve the creature to death, they threw it out of a moving car onto a busy highway, assuming that either another motorist or the fall would be the final blow.

  They hadn’t counted on a good Samaritan seeing the act and stopping to pull the dog out of danger. The good-hearted motorist wasn’t a pet person and didn’t know where any of the local verts were located, but they drove past this shelter every day, so they brought him here.

  Due to my background in veterinary medicine, I was assigned the task of cleaning and treating the wounds and keeping the dog calm until the real veterinarian finally gets here.

  The familiar sound of screaming hinges signals that someone has stepped into the front lobby area. I assume it’s the vet who was called as soon as this thin, shivering mess of a dog was brought to the shelter. Dr. DeWitt was busy at the time, but had promised to stop in as soon as her office closed for the day.

  “Hi.”

  My ears perk up at the sound of Caitlin’s familiar voice and my heart beats just a little faster, the same way it always does whenever she’s near. My mind and body find her more exhilarating than a shot of caffeine poured directly into my bloodstream.

  In the three weeks that have passed since we signed the contract, we’ve spent every spare moment together. We’ve been doing the kind of things conventional couples do, like heading over to Aspen for an afternoon of skiing, going to the antique arcade in Manitou Springs, visiting a debut exhibition of an up-and-coming local artist Caitlin knows, meeting her parents, and planning our wedding. And making love whenever – and wherever – possible. It seems like the more I touch her, the more I want her.

  I’ve grown so accustomed to her, need her so badly, that I can’t figure out how I managed to get by without her. She’s made the world a better, brighter place.

  “I’m looking for Jeremy Caldwell,” I hear her tell whomever is manning the front desk. “He said he was coming here. That it’s his day to volunteer?”

  “You must be Jeremy’s fiancée,” Sharilyn Byers, the shelter’s director, replies.

  Caitlin hums a confirmation.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you.” Sharilyn’s voice brims with enthusiasm. “He’s told me so much about you. C’mon, I’ll take you to see him, though I should warn you that he’s with a dog and it’s a bit grisly right now. So if you have a sensitive stomach, you might want to stay here until he’s ready to go.”

  Despite straining my ears, I don’t catch Caitlin’s response, but a second later I hear the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway just before the door swings open.

  Sharilyn pokes her head in. “Jeremy, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Before I can respond, Sharilyn steps to the side and Caitlin enters the room. Her big green eyes widen with shock and she quickly closes the space between us and falls to her knees beside me.

  “Oh my God,” she breathes out. “What happened to it?”

  “Humanity,” Sharilyn says darkly. “That’s what happens to most of the animals that find their way into this place. The very people they love and trust do horrible things to them and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” She runs an experienced eye over the dog. “You’re doing a good job, Jeremy.” She reaches down and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll wait outside. Dr. DeWitt should be getting here soon to look at its leg.”

  Caitlin waits until the door clicks closed behind Sharilyn before speaking.

  “What’s wrong with its leg?” Her voice is thick with tears.

  “Broken,” I tell her. “But I don’t know how badly, and we’re not sure if there are any internal injuries.”

  “And if there are, then what happens?”

  “It depends on how bad the injuries are. If Doc DeWitt doesn’t think anything can be done, she’ll put the dog to sleep, but if there’s any hope at all, he’ll be taken to the emergency vet and patched up.”

  What I don’t tell her is that rather than forcing the shelter to dip into its limited funds to handle the dog’s medical bills, I’ll pay for everything, just like I have every other time one of the shelter animals needed more help than the shelter could readily afford.

  “What happened to it?”

  I quickly tell the story about the dog getting thrown out onto the highway as I pick gravel and bits of asphalt from yet another wound—At least I think it’s another wound; it’s hard to tell what is a new wound and what are just long, continual ones.

  By the time I finish the dog’s heartbreaking tale, tears are streaming down Caitlin’s face. As much as I hate seeing her cry, the tears act as balm for my soul. They’re proof that not only are there good people in the world, but that I’ve beaten the odds and managed to find one for my very own.

  Caitlin reaches out, gently touching the dog’s brow. To my surprise, he lifts his massive head only to lay it on her lap.

  “Wow,” I breathe out. “He must really like you. That’s th
e first time he’s moved since he was brought in. I was afraid that the lack of movement meant that something was really wrong inside of him.”

  Caitlin bends low over the animal’s head, her tears falling onto its battered skin as she comforts him. A large, pale pink tongue slips out of his mouth and licks her hand.

  The sight gives me courage to put words to the thoughts that have been dancing around my head since the dog was brought to the shelter.

  “Can we keep him?” I say, refusing to look at Caitlin after asking the question, fearing that she’ll tell me no. That he’s too big, or that he will take too much care, that given the weird nature of our upcoming marriage, it isn’t fair to bring a dog home. “Like, adopt him. Giving Sasha a little brother.”

  I look down at the dog. Even more than half starved and covered in road rash and gashes, it is easy to see that this dog is a mixture of several large breed dogs. I see some bull mastiff, great Dane, and Bernese mountain dog in its frame and the shape of its head.

  “More like a big brother,” I tell Caitlin.

  Caitlin purses her lips and strokes the dog’s floppy ear, not noticing how the gesture leaves fresh blood stains on her fingertips. She bites her lower lip. I can all but see the wheels turning in her head as she mulls over the pros and cons of the various options before her.

  “Please,” I urge. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. We don’t even know if he’ll make it through the night, and even if he does, it’ll be weeks before he’s healed up enough to live anywhere else. I’d just, I guess I’d appreciate it if you’d consider it. “