Isabel was practically bouncing in her chair in anticipation as the managing editor walked away. She looked positively conservative, the funky color rinsed out of her hair, her floral dress decidedly feminine. “Can I come?”
“Nope, there won’t be much there,” Mitch said, pulling out his keys again without even making it to his desk. Thank goodness he had driven in today.
There might not be much to see, but either way, he wasn’t going to take Isabel to a crime scene. She really didn’t need to be exposed to that kind of gritty reality just yet. “Call that accountant again and hit him hard at lunch. Someone’s dead and he can save the world, something like that.”
Isabel pouted. “Bill will spout professional standards again.”
Bill? Well, she had laid it on. “Then let him be an anonymous source. He liked you, Isabel, go get him.”
Isabel suddenly showed great interest in the papers on her desk, her change of manner catching Mitch’s attention. “What?” she demanded when he didn’t leave. “Bill’s kind of cute.”
“What about your bike courier? The one with the legs?”
Isabel waved dismissively. “He was way too much trouble.”
Mitch shook his head in amazement. “And you’re done with him” – he snapped his fingers – “just like that.”
“Well, yeah. It’s not a crime to know what you want.”
Mitch marveled that there should be two people in his life who thought members of the opposite sex were disposable accessories. He could have argued whether Isabel really did know what she wanted, but he’d had that argument too many times with Kurt not to know the ending.
“Nice choice of dress, by the way,” he teased instead, guessing the reason for the intern’s choice.
Isabel turned scarlet, then wadded up a sheet of computer paper and flung it at Mitch. “So, I was going to call Bill anyway.”
Mitch ducked and ran.
“Davison, you be careful out there!”
Oh, yeah, he was going to be. Mitch had an awful lot to live for these days.
*
On Wednesday afternoon, Lilith was in her yard. The sunlight was golden, the butterflies were flitting, the humidity that had filled the air for all of August was gone. She could smell the tang of autumn in the air, and already see the change in the shade of green in every leaf. The nights had become suddenly cool and sleep was easier.
Everything should have been perfect. But Lilith edged her beds and weeded the garden, oblivious to the peace around her. She hadn’t seen Mitch since Sunday and acknowledged that his absence was disappointing. With that stubborn grandmother persistently poking her nose into Lilith’s thoughts – and Lilith shoving her out again – the few weeds in the garden didn’t have a chance.
Quite suddenly, Lilith heard a scraping. It wasn’t a sound that belonged in her yard. When she heard a sniffling, she looked for D’Artagnan, but he was nowhere in sight.
And neither was anything else. The garden suddenly seemed to be very still.
Then came the unmistakable sound of scratching. Something was digging in the dirt.
Something was digging a hole in her garden!
Lilith turned slowly, looking for the rodent responsible and determined to take action. Her survey was half complete when a whole lot of dog wriggled under the fence, bounded into her yard, and shook several buckets worth of topsoil out of his fur.
Cooley froze when he spotted Lilith.
She stared back at him, realizing a little too late the mission she had forgotten.
The wolfhound’s nose and paws were encrusted with dirt, his gaze locked on Lilith. She suddenly had a very bad feeling and took a cautious step back. Cooley’s lip curled, and Lilith saw just how very big his canine teeth were. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He snarled.
Oh, her antidote had worked very well. Maybe too well.
At this inopportune moment, Lilith remembered reading somewhere that a wolfhound’s jaw was strong enough to snap a man’s neck.
The dog growled.
Lilith backed away carefully, trying desperately to hide her fear but not coming anywhere near to doing so.
Cooley took a step forward, and Lilith took one back. The dog hunkered low as though preparing to lunge and Lilith didn’t care whether he saw her fear or not.
She turned and ran. Cooley barked and pounced after her, covering the length of the yard more quickly than she would have believed possible. Lilith made the porch, but her muddy boots slipped and she grabbed the door handle. Cooley barked wildly – he sounded like he was going to gobble her right up.
It seemed his breath was hot on her heels.
And Lilith was afraid. That was a lot of dog. She leapt into the house and slammed the inner door just as the dog made the porch with a bound. Lilith leaned her back against the door in relief. Her breath came in hasty puffs and her heart was hammering.
She locked the door, even though she knew it was dumb. D’Artagnan watched her with cool amusement from his perch on the dining room table.
Before Lilith could chide the cat, Cooley landed against the door with a resounding thump. His bark made the wood vibrate, and the impact of his weight against the door was enough to bounce Lilith off it. She backed across the room, half-afraid the dog would come right through the wood. At the proximity of his nemesis, D’Artagnan disappeared with lightning speed.
But the inner door was made of sterner stuff than the storm door had been.
Cooley barked in a frenzy, scratching at the door as if he would dig his way through it, too. He was snarling and growling. It was as though he couldn’t stop himself, as though he couldn’t get the idea of attacking her out of his doggy mind.
When it became clear that he couldn’t force his way through the door, Lilith let out a shaking breath. She pushed up her sleeves, shed her boots, and turned to her cauldron, determined to see this solved.
And the sooner the better.
*
10
The Wheel of Fortune
It wasn’t the most satisfying chase of Cooley’s life.
His prey, after all, had gotten away.
Cooley barked and scratched at the door, but made absolutely no progress in getting inside the house. And eventually, in the notable absence of his quarry, his enthusiasm waned.
But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t make a point. Cooley stalked away from the house, then gave the garden a thorough sniff just in case the woman was hiding there somewhere. He didn’t find her, so he marked everything of any size, staking the yard out as an extension of his own territory.
Nature called after all his activity and Cooley hunkered down to make a deposit in the middle of the garden.
“Cooley!” the woman called sweetly before he could really begin.
Cooley’s head shot up. There was a porch directly over the door where she had disappeared and she was leaning over the rail.
The temptation was too much.
Cooley ran for the house, barking so that everyone would know the danger she posed to his family. He couldn’t get to the balcony, but he lunged against the house and braced his front paws against the brick. He was so busy barking and snarling that he didn’t notice her tipping something over the rail.
Until the chilly contents of the pot doused him from head to tail.
Cooley yelped in shock, he jumped away from the house. The liquid was icy cold, whatever it was, and smelled like nothing any respectable dog could stand to smell like. He shook himself, desperately trying to get rid of that stink, wondering whether he could find a dead fish somewhere to roll in. He shivered as cold trickled through to his flesh.
At the touch of the solution on Cooley’s skin, everything seemed to brighten for just a moment, like a flashlight was shining directly into his eyes. Then the world faded abruptly back to its usual look, as though nothing had happened at all.
But suddenly, the dog wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in the neighbor’s yard. Cool
ey just couldn’t remember anything other than his sense of urgency.
A sense of urgency that now seemed inexplicable, even to Cooley.
Cooley blinked. He looked at the garden, but there was no cat in sight. Not one of his people was here and it seemed there wasn’t a very good reason why he had needed to get into this yard so badly.
There was only a great big hole under the fence, and Cooley quite clearly remembered how it had gotten there.
The wolfhound had a sinking feeling that one of his people wasn’t going to like the look of that at all.
He skulked across the yard guiltily and slipped through the hole. He had no sooner begun to roll in the shorn dandelions of his own yard, in an effort to get that smell out of his fur, than the garage opened into the alleyway behind.
Cooley bounded to his feet. The familiar sound of a car hummed a moment later, doors slammed, a resolute step echoed inside the garage. Before the door from the garage opened, Cooley knew exactly who had come home. He sat up straight and tried to look innocent, the tentative thump of his tail a dead giveaway that he was anything but.
*
It was Wednesday night and real life was calling. Mitch’s feature was safely in production, after that mad last minute rush that had brought everything into question. Isabel had done a great job worming the lead they needed - albeit anonymously - out of the accountant. They hadn’t been able to link the suicide and the scam with definite proof, but Mitch had found a Mountie he knew and trusted at the scene Tuesday morning.
Clearly, Mitch wasn’t the only one who smelled things in the wind - the federal officer was awfully senior to be taking an interest. This morning, Mitch had faxed his notes to the Mountie, knowing dots would be connected and justice would be done.
And his article would be on the front of tomorrow’s morning edition. He’d put Isabel’s name on the byline without telling her and smiled in anticipation of her response. It would be her first, and she deserved it.
In a way, he enjoyed when things really hit the fan. He enjoyed the adrenalin rush of having to find another solution while the clock was ticking. But now it was done and gone - another story put to bed - and Mitch could relax.
And right now, he had a whole hour before it was time to pick up the kids. Mitch shoved work out of his mind on the drive home, reminding himself that he had a much more interesting investigation to continue - the one to which his intriguing neighbor held the key.
He rolled down his window and didn’t concern himself too much with the snarl of traffic. The sunshine was wonderful, the heat of it on his arm making him feel as though he’d spent too much time inside this week.
And not had nearly enough sleep.
Mitch cut through the university, circumnavigating the moving vans. In the next week, the campus would be crowded with first-time students moving in to the dorms, jaded undergrads moved into the apartments and sub-divided houses all around the university. In a week, it would be Labour Day weekend; in a week, Mitch would be in Kansas City; in a week, Andrea would be cruising the Caribbean.
In fact, she’d been delighted when he called this afternoon, declaring that she was going to rush right out and finish shopping for her cruise.
The thought of his stepmother led Mitch’s thinking back to Lilith as surely as if he followed a line of bread crumbs home. He thought about the typed summary he had compiled, safely tucked into his briefcase, and decided it was time he went for broke in one corner of his life.
It was unbelievably reassuring that Lilith wasn’t trying to hoodwink anyone. It left Mitch free to enjoy her company, instead of trying to unearth her subterfuge. It left Mitch free to make Lilith laugh, to talk to her, to help her fix whatever had gone so sadly wrong.
It let Mitch do his next best thing after investigative reporting. He could fix anything and he was going to fix this.
After all, you never knew what would be lurking around the next corner, never knew what kind of trouble would blindside you unexpectedly. If nothing else, this week had reminded Mitch that things couldn’t be taken for granted, that anything could change in the blink of an eye.
You had to take chances, risk going after what you really wanted or maybe lose the chance of never having it at all.
Lilith had awakened something in Mitch that he had put aside a long time ago; she had dredged up all those romantic notions of a good life and a good partnership that he was certain had nothing to do with him. Mitch didn’t whether he could have those dreams, whether he deserved them, whether he had earned them.
He was going to stretch out and reach for them.
And the first step on that path was seeing Lilith’s trauma healed.
In the afternoon sunlight, Mitch decided that he was going to ask Lilith for the whole story of her immortality. It would only be then, when she voiced what had to be an illogical story, that he would be able to persuade her of the fallacy of her memories. She had a sharp mind, after all, and he knew she would see the flaw in her thinking.
And then, Mitch would do his damnedest to convince Lilith to go to one of the psychologists he had found. He’d help her in any way he could - but first he had to persuade her to listen to his advice.
And that might not be very easy at all. Mitch guessed that people - especially bright people like Lilith - would not take well to being told that there was a fault in their wiring.
The discussion could go either way in Mitch’s estimation, but he didn’t think he had a lot of choice. It mattered a great deal to him that Lilith be healed - and that was more than worth taking a chance.
*
Opportunity presented itself sooner than expected. Mitch stepped out of the garage to find Cooley looking guilty and Lilith in the act of entering into his yard with a spade.
Mitch looked anxiously at the dog when Lilith smiled and waved. “Lilith, I don’t think you should come in here like that,” he said by way of greeting. “Not after Cooley growled at you last weekend.”
“Oh, he’s just fine now,” she said with a breezy confidence Mitch had a hard time matching.
He looked at the wolfhound whose expression immediately turned hopeful. That tail swept against the ground, but Mitch frowned.
“How can you be sure?”
“He’s had another potion,” Lilith confided. Mitch noticed suddenly that Cooley was looking quite damp. The dog stood up and shook himself, launching a volley of water.
Or something. The wolfhound smelled even worse than he usually did when Mitch finally hosed him down. “What happened?”
Lilith laughed. “Cooley came visiting. But he got an unexpected bath.” Her explanation didn’t exactly make everything crystal clear, but Lilith started shoveling dirt back into a hole that Mitch only just noticed.
Cooley wedged himself into the darkest shadow beside the garage and put his nose on his paws, his gaze fixed expectantly on Mitch.
Nothing like a couple of points getting together to make a line. Mitch suddenly had a very good idea how that hole had come to be.
He dropped his bag and crossed the yard with long steps to Lilith’s side. “Let me do that,” he insisted, taking the spade from her. “And you can explain all this to me again.”
Lilith stepped back slightly - not enough to stop her perfume from making Mitch’s toes curl - and eyed him carefully. “You look tired,” she said softly.
Mitch offered her a rueful smile. “Comes with the territory of putting a story to bed. Some of them wrestle like cranky three-year olds.”
She smiled, then watched Mitch shovel. “Do you do this often?”
Mitch glanced up and shrugged. “It happens.” Lilith’s eyes were shadowed with concern and Mitch’s heart took a little leap at the sight. It had been a while since anyone worried about him - that was his job - but Mitch liked the feeling just fine. He smiled, but Lilith didn’t look particularly reassured.
Mitch knew only that he had to make her smile again. He adopted his best Foghorn Leghorn accent. “Fortunately, I keep
my feathers numbered for just such an emergency.”
To his relief, Lilith chuckled. The sun shone down on them, the yard was filled with the lazy sounds of a summer afternoon, and Mitch didn’t want to go anywhere anytime soon. He realized that there was a tranquility to be found in Lilith’s presence, a respite from the world and all its woes.
And he liked that just fine.
“The good news is that I have more flexibility these days,” Mitch continued easily, enjoying the fact that he could discuss this with her. “I worked here the last couple of nights, after the kids were in bed. Thank God for laptops and modems.” He smiled. “And Andrea, my nearly-resident lifesaver.”
Lilith’s smile broadened. “You love it.”
Mitch grinned at her. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted. “As long as it doesn’t happen all the time.”
“I’ll bet you’re good at what you do,” she suggested with a confidence in that fact that made Mitch’s heart take off at a gallop. He stared at her, unable to remember when anyone other than his father had expressed such confidence in his abilities.
“You can judge for yourself in the morning,” he said, less lightly than he might have hoped. “First edition, front page. That’s my alibi for not cropping up over the last few days.”
And Lilith smiled. “I was concerned,” she confessed.
“Don’t be. I don’t take as many chances as I used to.” They smiled at each other for a long, sultry moment, then Mitch turned back to the task at hand.
He shoveled the last of the dirt into the hole, well aware of Lilith watching him. Mitch drove the spade into the ground, then rested his elbow on the handle to survey Lilith.
He wasn’t in a huge hurry to leave. “So, ’fess up,” he demanded with a smile. “What did happen here?”
Lilith turned to Cooley, who inched closer on his belly. The dog certainly didn’t seem to have the same animosity towards Lilith he had shown before.
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 121