Love Gone to the Dogs

by Margaret Daley

  "Shane, we've got to do something about the new neighbors. Poor Betsy couldn't sleep last night after that scare she had. Can you do something about it?"

  "I suggest a glass of warm milk before bedtime tonight."

  "No! I mean them."

  The way Ned had said them made Leah and her family sound as if they were the stars in some horror movie. "It's a free country," Shane replied, not believing he had actually muttered that cliché.

  "Yeah, well, if you don't I will."

  Shane gripped the receiver, his jaw clenched. "Ned, as mayor I must warn you not to do anything illegal."

  "The town will thank me when I get through," was all Ned said before hanging up.

  Shane held the phone, listening to the dial tone, for a minute. He fought the urge to call Leah and caution her about Ned. The man was a bit of an eccentric. But he had never done anything to harm anyone. He was just angry and would cool off when his daughter stopped yakking about her life-threatening experience.

  Shane carefully replaced the receiver in its cradle and went to stand in front of the picture window that provided a view of Leah's house, as well as the Shiplocks'. Fifteen minutes later, he felt better when Ned hadn't stormed out of his house to take care of the "problem." As usual, his nosy neighbor was all talk and no action, Shane decided, and headed back into the kitchen to check on Princess. He had refereed many of Ned's fights with various townspeople.

  The fluffy white dog lay on her bed, sound asleep looking like any female who had been thoroughly loved. That thought brought a frown to Shane's face. Arnold had ruined all his plans. In fact, his well-ordered life was slowly eroding around him ever since he had met Leah Taylor. He would stay away from her if it killed him, he declared to himself, desperate to get his life back under his control. And he would make sure Arnold stayed away from Princess.

  * * *

  Several days later, Leah raced to answer the phone and snatched up the receiver on the third ring. "Hello."

  "Do you know where your dog is?"

  "He's in the back—"

  "Try again," Shane clipped out.

  "Your house."

  "Bingo."

  "Brutus has him trapped on the picnic table."

  "Brutus—your part Great Dane, part German shepherd, part no telling what?"

  "The one and the same."

  "I'm coming," she said, not waiting for a reply. She practically dropped the phone back in its cradle as she whirled about and rushed for the front door, glad for Arnold's sake that her twisted ankle was a lot better.

  She hurried across the street and up the driveway to his Victorian style house, having not seen in Shane in a few days. She bypassed the front, wondering what his place looked like inside. She had no time to appease her curiosity, since in all probability Arnold had gotten himself in over his head with this last escape. She had seen Brutus once, when Shane had walked him the other evening. The dog was huge. Arnold could be part of the mixed breed's lunch—probably just the appetizer.

  Leah charged into the backyard. The deep barking coming from Brutus that drowned out her dog's frantic yelping propelled her forward at breakneck speed. What she saw when she arrived at the scene stunned her. Arnold had Brutus cornered. Princess was behind her beagle. Shane stood on his patio, a shocked expression on his face.

  "You should have seen him leap off that table and go after Brutus. Either your dog is very stupid, or too brave for his own good."

  "Maybe your dog is just a big old scaredy-cat"

  "Don't say that word around him." Shane started forward.

  "What word? Cat?" Leah asked, confused.

  For a few seconds she didn't realize Brutus had stopped barking. When all she heard was her beagle, she glanced at the huge dog. His ears were alert, his stance even more tense, if possible. Then, as if he were a projectile being shot from a cannon, Brutus lunged toward her. She froze, visions of her life passing in front of her eyes. When the huge dog sped past her and out the open gate behind her, her heart began to beat again, this time as rapidly as the mixed breed racing down the street.

  Shane followed his dog out the gate. Leah took this opportunity to grab Arnold and make a hasty retreat before the pair returned. But as she headed for the gate, Princess came after them.

  While holding Arnold in one arm, she waved the other toward the white fluffy dog. "Shoo." Princess stopped for a second and cocked her head to the side, one of her pink ribbons dangling loose down over her ear, then proceeded again toward Leah, a female on a mission.

  "Stay. I'm in enough trouble with your master," Leah said in a stern, no-nonsense voice that was supposed to work. It didn't. Princess trotted at Leah's heel, eager to follow her home.

  Arnold started to squirm in her arms. Exasperated, Leah plucked Princess up, walked toward the back door, and tried to open it. "Leave it to the man to lock up," she muttered. Then she saw the doggie door.

  Leah knelt down to push Princess inside. Arnold shot forward after his girlfriend, faster than Brutus had toward the gate. Leah was left on her knees, staring at the flap her dog had just disappeared through. She heard a crash on the other side and closed her eyes, burying her face in her hands. She was in big trouble when Shane came back.

  "Where's Princess? Better yet, where's your hound?"

  Leah leaped to her feet, as if she were guilty and had been caught red-handed. She was, and she had. "Inside," she squeaked, her gaze sliding from Shane's face to Brutus, secured at his side.

  Another sound of something hitting the floor pierced the sudden silence. Leah swallowed hard and chanced a look at Shane as he reached around her to unlock the door. A fierce expression greeted her inspection.

  She didn't wait for his invitation to come inside. She went in right behind him. Wincing, when she spied a small table on its side, with a shattered plant pot and soil scattered all over the kitchen floor. She hoped that wasn't some kind of family heirloom.

  Any other time she would have taken pleasure in studying his home. She knew a person's personality was reflected in his surroundings. But at the moment she was too busy dashing after Shane to see much. He ran up the stairs, checking each bedroom until he came to the last one.

  There in the middle of the king-size bed lay Princess, with Arnold curled around her. He was licking her face. Leah could have sworn lustful thoughts were behind those big brown eyes as the beagle looked up at her.

  "This is the third time he's gotten out this week, and the second time he has ended up in bed with her." Shane gestured toward the amorous animals. "Can't you do something?"

  "I had him tied up by his doghouse. I don't know how he got out." She walked to where Arnold lay and grabbed her pet. "He's never been this way before."

  "You mean obsessed with a female?"

  Shane's gaze linked with hers as she cradled Arnold to her. "Yes. I didn't know dogs could have such one-track minds, except where food is concerned."

  "Obviously, Arnold is like every other male."

  "Oh?" Leah arched a brow.

  "Yeah. Some pretty thing waltzes into his life, and everything is turned upside down and inside out."

  Shane's expression changed. His eyes smoldered, and Leah was reminded why she should stay away from the man. He could make her care, and she didn't want to. "I know that feeling."

  "You do?" Shane asked as he picked up Princess and held her against his chest.

  Leah took a brief moment to scan the bedroom. This was obviously where Shane slept. The room, with its masculine decor of massive oak furniture, and navy and burgundy colors, radiated a warmth that fit the image of the man she was getting to know. "Relationships have a way of complicating a person's—I mean dog's—life."

  "Nothing's worse than becoming involved, only to have something happen."

  "Yes, exactly. Like being abandoned for someone younger."

  "Or, having the person die."

  "I'm glad we see eye to eye on this subject. Being left behind, no matter what the reason, isn't fun t
o experience." Leah started forward. "I'll try harder to keep Arnold in his own backyard."

  "You do that," Shane said, as she left his bedroom, hurriedly making her way toward his front door.

  She didn't bother even to look around. Escape dominated her thoughts. She should be ecstatic that they had agreed a relationship between them or their dogs wasn't a good idea. And she would be happy, just as soon as her heart stopped beating so painfully.

  "Well, Mrs. Taylor, I see you're visiting Shane again. You two are getting quite chummy, if I do say so myself. You've been in town less than two weeks and I've seen him coming from your house on three occasions, and now you from his." Madge Shiplock stood in her driveway with a broom in her hand, pretending to sweep three tiny leaves that had had the nerve to fall on her property.

  Leah wanted to ignore the woman but knew she couldn't. Madge was their neighbor, and Leah had even put the woman's obnoxious behavior to good use—she was to be the villainess in Leah's newest Freddie Filmore book.

  She stopped in the middle of her front yard and smiled as sweetly as humanly possible. "Actually, Arnold and Princess can't seem to keep their paws off each other. Shane and I have to pull them apart occasionally. Have a nice day. I know I'm going to."

  Leah waved good-bye as she walked toward the backyard.

  Later she would berate herself for stating that she would have a good day. She was sure that was the reason she found her grandfather slamming open the garage's side door and running toward the house, shouting, "Where's the fire extinguisher?"

  Chapter Five

  "You've starting smoking again!" Leah stood next to her grandfather while she waited for the firemen to finish. Her face felt about as red as one of their engines. Becoming the center of the whole neighborhood's attention was definitely on her list of things to do on a dull day. Somewhere between cleaning the toilets and having root canal work done.

  "Just a cigar, girl. I didn't realize it had rolled off the table and dropped into the trash can."

  "Remember what the last doctor said about cigars?" she said in the most patient voice she could muster. Her tone held a note of panic in it, however. Seeing smoke billowing from the garage wasn't conducive to her serenity. In fact, it felt sort of like being pushed from an airplane thirty thousand feet above the earth without the benefit of a parachute.

  "Yeah, yeah." He waved his hand in dismissal.

  "Gramps."

  Shane's hand settled reassuringly on her shoulder, and she wanted so desperately to lean into the man. She wouldn't. She couldn't afford to invest any more of her emotions in that relationship. She just hated the fact she had to keep reminding herself of that reality.

  Shane was the one who had called the fire department. Leah would rather have tried to put the fire out herself; she didn't want to call any more attention to her family. Even though Ned and Madge weren't out on their lawn, like the rest of the neighborhood, Leah saw the glint of their telescope lens as the pair spied on what was happening. Ned had moved it permanently to the window that faced her house on the day after Betsy's—as Ned so poetically put it—"near death" experience.

  "Look, Leah. I'm not giving up a habit I love because it might shorten my life. I'm too dang old for that. I've come too far to allow some doctor to tell me what to do."

  "Oh, no, we wouldn't want anyone to tell you what to do," Leah muttered, her patience gone. She felt as though she had been compressed into a space half her size, that at any moment she would explode outward. The only good thing about the incident was that Joey was nowhere around. At least he was obeying her about staying away from the garage. And as far as she knew, the kid hated cigars.

  Shane remained silent but his hands were speaking a language she could get used to. They massaged her shoulders, kneading the tautness with strong fingers that felt wonderful. Too much more of this and she would melt right there on the lawn and really give the neighbors something to gossip about.

  A fireman approached Leah, and all the relaxation she had felt vanished as she straightened. "Is everything okay?"

  "Ma'am, most of the damage was smoke related. Shane's promptness in calling saved your garage. The fire was still pretty much confined to the trash can when we arrived."

  "Thank you," was all she could say.

  Sam came running from behind the back of the house. "Mom, Arnold has escaped again."

  "I guess in all the confusion—" She sighed, realizing her life was one big roller coaster ride after another.

  Shane groaned. "My doggie door is locked, but he's probably in my backyard trying to figure out how to get into my house."

  Shane's hands slipped from her shoulders, leaving her feeling somewhat bereft. While he was gone she watched the neighbors finally grow bored with the unexpected entertainment the Taylor family had provided and drift toward their homes. Just when she thought she would have some peace, Shane walked across the street holding Princess in his arms with Arnold trotting along behind him. The scowl on Shane's face said it all.

  "I don't think I want to know. What did he do this time?"

  "Somehow Princess must have unlocked the doggie door to let this hound in. She's gone crazy." He shook his head. "And worse, he wouldn't let me pick him up. I had to coax Princess off the bed, which wasn't an easy task, and carry her over here in order to get him to follow me."

  Leah scooped Arnold into her arms. "I'll keep him indoors from now on. He won't like it, but I don't know what else to do."

  "I've never seen a dog so obsessed."

  There was a part of Leah that wished her life were as simple as Arnold's. He knew what he wanted, and he went after it with a vengeance, trusting everything would work out to his advantage. "Maybe to make our lives simpler I could buy Princess from you."

  "No."

  Shane said it so quickly and so fervently that Leah took a step back. Suddenly she saw Princess as a symbol of Shane's dead wife. If Leah had had any doubt about a relationship with him, his reply to her suggestion cemented her determination to stay away from the man. He was as good at building walls around his emotions as she was. He didn't want a commitment, and she had experienced too many men in her life who hadn't.

  "Surely we can outsmart two dogs," Shane said as though his earlier refusal hadn't twisted her heart.

  "Speak for yourself." She backed away another step from him. "Well, I hate to run, but I have—socks to sort. See you around." She pivoted and hurried into her house, feeling Shane's gaze on her back—hot, electric. It bored a hole into her that went straight for her heart, which was still contracted in a tight knot. Somehow she would find a way to keep Arnold away from Princess, and at the same time she would stay away from the bichon's master. He didn't want to get involved; she didn't want to get involved. What could be simpler than that?

  * * *

  Shane felt weariness in every bone as he left his office late for the fifth night in a row. He knew he was working long hours because he didn't want to face his empty house. He had spent several nights standing in the dark, staring out his front window at the place across the street. After the second night he swore he wouldn't do that anymore, but the only way he had found to keep the temptation in check was to work—long and hard—until all he wanted to do was fall into bed at night.

  He pulled into the driveway and glanced back at Leah's. Only one light was on. He wondered if she were already asleep. He wondered what she looked like while she slept, what she looked like aroused from a deep slumber by—

  He struck the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. Pain shot up his arm, and he welcomed the sensation, praying it diverted him from the path his thoughts always wanted to take lately.

  Trudging toward his house, he didn't see Leah sitting in the dark on his steps until he was almost on top of her. With some agile maneuvering, he stopped short of falling over her. The strong urge to shake her for scaring him warred with the equally strong urge to draw her into his arms and kiss her soundly until all his doubts and misgivings were wipe
d away.

  "Why are you here?" he asked, noting the frustrated rough edge to his question—put there from exhaustion he told himself. It had nothing to do with passion denied.

  She bolted to her feet and stood on the top stair, towering over him. "I'm here to admit defeat. I can't take this any longer."

  His heart paused in its beating. Neither could he. He clenched his black bag to keep from dropping it and dragging her to him. He barely got "What?" past his lips.

  "Arnold."

  "Oh." Disappointment invaded him like an insidious virus as he moved up the steps. "What has he done now?"

  "He's inside your house again. I've tried everything except barbed wire and bars on the doors and windows. My house will not become an armed prison camp because of a dog." Leah combed her fingers through her auburn strands. "I don't know what else to do."

  Her scent permeated the wall he was trying so desperately to erect. He watched the movement of her hand as she again raked it through her hair, and imagined its feel of silky fire. He stepped closer, picturing in his mind what she would do when he drew her to him. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Can we just accept the fact that they're a couple? After all, she is pregnant and carrying his children. In doggie years I'm sure they have satisfied the statute concerning common law marriage in this state."

  He wished he didn't have to breathe. Her particular feminine aroma did lustful things to his insides. He had to grip his bag even tighter, which kept one hand from caressing her. The other couldn't resist. He lifted it to touch her arm. "Come inside and let's talk about this before you take your hound home."

  "You make him sound like a criminal. He does have his papers."

  "Breaking and entering is a criminal offense."

  "Princess let him in, so there was no breaking, just entering. You need to control your dog, too."

  "Have you considered what these children, as you put it, will look like? Part bichon, part beagle. I don't relish trying to give those puppies away."