by Meryl Sawyer
He kissed her hair, just a light brush of his lips so he wouldn’t wake her. “I’m still the one,” he whispered. “The only one for you.”
Kyle wasn’t sure how he was going to prove this to her or when he’d realized it himself. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try. The first thing he had to do was get her to talk about her feelings.
He eased back and tried to concentrate on the television. It was another weather update. Tropical depression Frances was heading up the middle of the Gulf of Mexico to their east. If the projections were correct, it would make landfall near Mobile on the Alabama coast.
He knew Key Westers were jittery about hurricanes. Georges had been the latest one to hit the town. Some buildings still hadn’t been rebuilt.
“Wh-what?” Jennifer jerked up, obviously surprised to find she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
“I don’t know what’s taking so long,” he said to distract her. “It’s been over three hours since the vet took Sadie.”
“It’s a good sign, don’t you think?”
Her voice sounded so hopeful that he couldn’t bear to disappoint her by telling her what he really thought. The dog’s injuries probably were much more serious than expected and that was why the surgery was taking so long.
Jennifer excused herself and found the restroom down the dark hall. She flipped on the light and winced at the sudden brightness. One quick look in the mirror on the way to the toilet told her no self-respecting alley cat would be desperate enough to drag her in from a garbage heap. She used the facilities, then splashed water on her face to rinse off the snake’s blood and muck.
She tried to finger-comb her hair, but it was hopeless. What did she care? The only thing that mattered was the little girl was safe with her mother. This time, fate had not cursed her.
Just as she emerged from the restroom, the veterinarian walked out of one of the back rooms and flicked on the lights in the waiting area. Jennifer rushed up to the woman.
“I-is Sadie going to be all right?”
The vet looked at Kyle, then at her as if making up her mind who to address. “Sadie is going to be fine.”
“Thank God.” She experienced a sinking sensation, then realized she was dropping to her knees. Kyle caught her in his strong arms and kept her on her feet.
“Let’s all sit down.” Kyle guided her over to the sofa where they’d waited. The bright lights were blinding Jennifer and making her dizzy. “Tell us about Sadie.”
“I’m Dr. Maria Bustos,” the woman told them as she extended her hand to Jennifer.
“Jennifer Whitmore,” she said, but she was so weak with relief that she was positive her hand felt boneless as they shook. “Miami-Dade Search and Rescue. Sadie belongs to me.”
The woman, who seemed to have Cuban ancestry typical of many in Key West, said, “Sadie’s a very courageous dog. She took a bullet to the right wattle.”
“The what?” Kyle wanted to know.
“The loose skin along her neck,” Jennifer told him. “The bullet must have hit a blood vessel. She was bleeding so much.”
“Yes, and she’d overexerted herself before she was shot,” the vet said, and Jennifer heard the gentle note of censure in the woman’s voice. “Many people don’t realize what the heat and humidity in a climate like this takes out of an animal.”
Rest your dog. Always rest your dog on schedule. The bywords of K-9 units everywhere. I didn’t rest her enough, Jennifer thought, silently cursing herself.
“Jennifer rested Sadie on schedule,” Kyle defended her. “You’ll see it on television. An alligator almost got Sadie. That’s how she was accidentally shot.”
The vet’s eyes widened. “Oh, that explains it. I didn’t have time to ask questions when you brought her in.”
“If her wound wasn’t serious, what took so long?” Kyle asked, and Jennifer had the distinct impression that he was steering the woman away from the subject of who actually shot Sadie.
“Her paw was badly broken.”
The relief Jennifer was experiencing began to ebb. Unless Sadie had full use of that leg, her career in the K-9 unit was over. Speed and agility were everything when someone’s life was at stake.
“There are more bones in the human hand than any other part of the body. It’s the same with a dog’s paw. I took great care to set each bone individually no matter how tiny they were.” Dr. Bustos stood up. “I can’t see straight. I need a bucce. Would you like some?”
Kyle glanced at Jennifer, saying, “Cuban espresso.”
They waited in silence while the doctor went for the coffee. She was conscious of Kyle’s arm around her and the solid strength of his bare torso propping her up. She should have scooted away, but she didn’t.
They had shared an intensely personal, harrowing experience. It seemed only right to receive the good news side by side.
“I believe Sadie’s paw will be as good as it was before,” Dr. Bustos told them when she returned with a small tray. “She will need physical rehabilitation just the way a person would.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jennifer cried. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
She handed them Styrofoam cups half full of a black liquid. Expecting American espresso, Jennifer downed the bucce in one gulp. She might as well have been drinking high-test octane. A rush of pure adrenaline shot through her veins. Suddenly, she was as awake as if she’d slept twenty-four hours straight.
“I knew Sadie was an S&R dog. I wanted to make certain she has every chance of fully recovering and going to work again.”
“Thank you so much. You have no idea what Sadie means to me. She’s all the family I have. May I see her?”
Dr. Bustos hesitated. “She’s still unconscious, and she looks worse than she is.”
“I don’t care.”
Dr. Bustos reluctantly led them into one of the back rooms where Sadie was stretched out on a stainless steel table. Oxygen prongs were inserted in her nose. An IV shunt had been put into her good right paw and was dripping two solutions into her body from the bags suspended overhead, The fur on one side of her neck where the bullet had entered had been shaved. A bandage covered most of the area, but along the edges, pale skin contrasted sharply with dark fur.
“Oh, Sadie,” Jennifer heard herself cry. She was only vaguely conscious of Kyle’s arm around her, keeping her upright.
“She’s fine,” Dr. Bustos assured her. “My technician will stay with her all night to administer any necessary medication. I’m only two blocks away if there should be a problem.”
Jennifer bent over and gently stroked Sadie’s long, long ears. “You’re going to be all right, girl. Don’t worry about anything.”
She pulled back, striving to be rational. Sadie couldn’t understand her. She was alive but the dog had suffered and would continue to suffer because of her stupidity.
She looked up into Kyle’s eyes and had the disturbing sensation he’d followed her train of thought. When he pulled her closer, she realized his arm had never left her shoulders. She couldn’t help herself. She permitted her head to rest against his solid chest and his arms closed around her.
She leaned against his torso and sobbed, so relieved about Sadie that she couldn’t begrudge herself the comfort of his arms.
Chapter 14
Jennifer stared up at the ceiling fan in her room at Thunder Island, sleep eluding her. She should be exhausted, but the bucce and everything that had gone on today kept her awake. Horrible images paraded relentlessly through her mind.
Holly asleep near a deadly alligator. The coral snake’s headless body. Sadie in a pool of blood.
Another even more startlingly vivid image intruded from the past. A little girl floating face down in the lake, her soft blond hair rippling out like angel’s wings.
She shuddered, her breath catching with a sharp twinge, too deep, too intense to be a physical pain. She tamped down the unbidden memory before it dragged her down into the black hole of depression. She told herself
, “Concentrate on the present, not the past.”
“Thank you, God,” she whispered. “Bless you for saving little Holly and sparing my Sadie.”
She and Kyle had left Paws N Claws a short while ago. Jennifer had promised to return first thing in the morning to check on her dog. The close call with Sadie reminded Jennifer how badly she needed to improve her shooting. From now on, she planned to double her time on the firing range.
Favoring her sore ankle, she rose and wandered over to the French doors leading onto the balcony that wrapped around the second story. Outside the warm breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the fragrant scent of the tropics. From the side of the house, she heard splashing and knew several guests were cavorting in the pool despite Thunder Island’s late night rules prohibiting such activity.
She gazed at the starlit sea and wished she could talk to Chad. It had been so long since she’d heard from him. He’d understand how upset she was about Sadie, wouldn’t he?
She thought about it a moment and wasn’t sure. She’d never shared with him the story of her terrible experience years ago. He might not understand how important Sadie was to her. Why hadn’t she explained it to him?
Chad Roberts was charismatic and upbeat. He was not the sort of man who made anyone want to tell him about the most depressing time in her life. Now that she thought about it, they usually talked about Chad.
She planned to tell him all about herself, but there had always been a part of her that held back. She had never been one to share her feelings with friends, and because she hadn’t, she had never been close to anyone.
She was certain she loved Chad, but they hadn’t known each other very long. When he returned, they would have the chance to get to spend more time together. Then she would tell him all about herself. Including the past.
She hesitated a moment, trying to imagine herself actually discussing what had happened. She couldn’t imagine where to begin.
For a moment, she wondered if she had jumped into this relationship too soon. Had she been so lonely that she’d committed herself to a man without knowing him as well as she should? She contemplated this insight, then brushed the thought aside. Being with Chad again was what she needed, she assured herself.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts, and she went back inside her room. Kyle was at her door, dressed in Hawaiian print swimming trunks that emphasized his powerful body.
“I thought you might want to go for a swim. It’ll relax you.”
She opened her mouth to say no, then changed her mind. She needed to talk to Kyle. It might as well be now.
“I’ll meet you on the beach. I have to get into my suit.”
She closed the door and found her bikini draped over the shower rod where she’d left it. Kyle was hard to read, she decided as she changed clothes. He’d let her have it with both barrels in front of all the men, when she’d performed poorly at target practice. Yet, he hadn’t said a thing about her shooting Sadie.
If anything, Kyle had been silently … sympathetic. Sympathetic? Could she have misinterpreted his actions? She had permitted herself to enjoy the strength of his rocklike body, she thought, recalling how comforting it had felt.
She couldn’t afford to let down her guard with Kyle. She’d gone through hell once thanks to Kyle. She wasn’t giving him the chance to put her through hell again.
Even so, she needed to properly thank Kyle for what he’d done today. Without him, she wouldn’t have been able to save Holly and get Sadie to the veterinarian. She would have had to choose. No question about it, she would have left Sadie behind to be eaten alive by the alligator in order to save the child.
She tiptoed downstairs, then rushed across the lawn to the sandy beach, and found Kyle floating just beyond the surf line. She called softly, “How’s the water?”
“Warm, nice.” He stood up and rivulets of water rushed down his strong shoulders. His wet torso glistening in the light of the full moon, his damp hair slicked back, he waited for her to join him.
She poked her big toe into the foaming surf. The warm sea tickled the arch of her foot, then lapped the ankle she’d twisted. She took a few cautious steps before plunging in and taking a few strokes to reach Kyle.
Flipping onto her back, she arched her neck backward to thoroughly wet her hair. She righted herself and stood up, plowing her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to straighten some of the tangles.
Kyle was watching her in that intense way of his, and she managed a smile, saying, “There’s nothing like a dip in the ocean to refresh you.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Let’s swim out to the float.”
Without waiting for her consent, he turned and used the butterfly stroke to swim to Thunder Island’s offshore float, a wooden deck suspended by pontoons and anchored to the sea floor by concrete weights. No wonder he had such sturdy shoulders. Who but Olympic swimmers did the butterfly so effortlessly?
By the time she swam to the float, he was sitting on the deck, long legs dangling over the side, watching her. No doubt she looked clumsy, her hair a fright as she pulled herself out of the water and up the ladder onto the deck. She sat down beside him, then wrung out the hopeless tangle of sopping wet curls.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
She’d never mentioned tripping in the sinkhole, but Kyle was trained to observe, and he must have noticed her favoring one leg. “I just twisted it. My ankle’s not even swollen. It’ll be fine by morning.”
“Let’s see it.” His tone of voice told her he expected her to submit to an examination.
She almost protested, knowing how bad an idea it was for him to touch her, but she found herself slowly lifting her leg. He took her calf in one hand, supporting the weight of her leg while he looked closely at her ankle.
Letting him touch her was a big mistake. Even though his head was lowered as he examined her bad ankle in the dim light, the closeness of his body created some energy field that triggered a physical reaction.
“I-it’s okay, r-really,” she stammered, attempting to pull her leg away.
He didn’t release her. Instead, he looked up directly into her eyes, and a vaguely sensual light passed between them. She straightened her shoulders, determined to quell her body’s unwilling reaction.
She was grateful to him. Nothing more.
“It looks a little swollen to me,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Put ice on it tonight when you go to bed.”
Common sense said to quickly thank him, then swim back to shore, but no one had ever accused her of having an abundance of common sense. She felt his heat and smelled the sea salt coming from his tanned skin. Suddenly, she couldn’t move, so overwhelming was her emotional reaction to this man.
Without a word, he massaged her foot, his fingers strong yet surprisingly gentle. She experienced a rush simply because his hands were touching her, and she cursed herself for being so weak-willed. He worked his way upward, reaching her calf.
“Your muscles are awfully tight,” he remarked with a lazy drawl.
She realized her entire body was as taut as newly strung piano wire. Letting out her breath slowly, she told herself to relax. “It was a crazy day. I’m still on edge.”
“I understand,” he said with a smile that would test a nun’s vows.
The air between them crackled with sexual tension and something … more. The look in the depths of his eyes as they caught the moonlight was so galvanizing that she had trouble remembering why she’d come out in the first place.
Get it over with. Get out of here.
“I want to thank you for what you did today. Without you, I could never have gotten the little girl and Sadie out of the mangroves. Most certainly Sadie would have died.”
He shrugged it off.
“I appreciate you not saying ‘I told you so’ about my shooting ability.”
“What would be the point?”
Yesterday, she would have argued the importance of accurate sho
oting, but that was before she’d shot the dog she so dearly loved. Today, she was determined to become an expert shot.
“You’re punishing yourself enough. You don’t need me heaping it on.”
His sensitivity left her speechless. She’d assumed he was being a professional earlier and finishing their mission before giving it to her but good.
“You’re right. I blame myself. Nothing anyone could say would be worse than the way I’ve cursed myself for being such a lousy shot.”
“I understand now how much Sadie means to you.” He turned away for a moment, looking out over the water to the handful of lights still on at Thunder Island. “She’s your best friend … your only family.”
“True. I know it sounds unusual to be so close to a dog, but …” She stopped there, not wanting to go into the details of her past.
“I would have thought Chad Roberts was your best friend.”
“Chad?” His name came out in a shock-charged voice. She corrected her mistake immediately. “Of course, he is. When you plan to marry someone, he should be a friend and a lover.”
“If you’re so in love with Chad Roberts, what are you doing kissing another man?”
“You forced yourself on me.”
He positively smirked, a touch of triumph in his eyes. “You liked kissing me. You told me so.”
“You caught me in a weak moment,” she hedged. “I was so grateful to you that I couldn’t bear to hurt your feelings.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.” She started to jump back into the water and swim to shore, but he stopped her with one strong hand on her shoulder.
Without her realizing it, he’d moved so close that his bare skin touched hers from his thigh to his shoulder. He leaned even closer. Any second he would be kissing her.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Why? You’re crazy about the way I kiss.”
“In your dreams.”
He kissed her anyway, his lips touching hers, his arm circling her shoulders. No big deal, she thought. But she was lying to herself. The kiss shot straight through her, leaving every limb weak, yet yearning for more.