His sweatshirt rasped against her cheek. The scent of him—a wonderful blend of male muskiness, aftershave, and faint traces of soap—filled her senses. All the starch went out of Laura’s spine. Isaiah. Oh, how she yearned to simply lean into him. But those warning bells were jangling again. This man could have any woman he wanted. She was mad to wish for things that would never happen.
Bracing the heels of her hands against his broad chest, Laura tried to lever herself away from him, only to come up short against the circle of his arm. Heat rose to her cheeks when she met his gaze. His gaze searched hers questioningly—and perhaps wonderingly. His firm mouth, shimmering like polished silk in the fluorescent light, tipped into a slow, off-center grin. For just an instant she thought he might kiss her, and she felt sure her heart would stop beating if he did. Instead he curled his hands over her shoulders and gently set her away from him.
Retreating a step, he said, “As much as it gripes me, I guess ‘stupid’ will work as a password. I’ll call the security company and ask them to put it in our file as an alternate.”
“They’ll do that?”
“Sure. As long as we don’t get carried away, they don’t care how many passwords we have. A lot of businesses have more than one. Some people can’t remember a password unless it has a personal meaning for them.”
Laura followed him from the kennel into the storage room and watched as he programmed the system to accept her user code. After going over the steps with her several times, he went up front to call the security company. With a longing so intense it was almost an ache, Laura gazed after him.
Stupid. In that moment, she was more certain than ever that the word suited her perfectly. She was falling in love with Isaiah Coulter. If that wasn’t stupid, she didn’t know what was.
After working nights only twice, Laura was counting the hours until she could go back to days. Little wonder all the kennel keepers hated working the late shift. Being alone in such a huge building would have been spooky in broad daylight, but it was downright eerie at night. The rooms, which never appeared that large during the day, seemed cavernous without people in them. The dark hallways and shadowy alcoves made Laura’s skin prickle. Just the sound of a door swinging closed behind her seemed deafening.
She had never been afraid of the dark or uncomfortable with solitude, but working the third shift alone was enough to make even her imagination run wild. Several times a night, she found herself looking over her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. At certain times she could have sworn she heard movement in another part of the building as well—the stealthy whisper of footsteps or the muted click of a door swinging closed.
She might not have felt quite so uneasy if only the dogs had stayed awake to keep her company, but even their inner clocks seemed to be set for the daylight hours. They barely stirred when she entered their cages to collect the soiled bedding and wash their dishes. She missed their insistent nudging for pats and scratches, the excited barking when she walked up the center aisle, and the sense of purpose that interacting with them always gave her.
She also sorely missed the camaraderie with her coworkers. At night she couldn’t look forward to coffee breaks with Lena, Jeri, and Tina. Sally wasn’t there to tell her funny jokes. James never sneaked into the kennels to slip the dogs a treat. In short, night shift was downright boring.
Boredom in the wee hours of the morning made each minute seem like a small eternity. Laura was bleary-eyed, exhausted, and ready to go home by midnight. The last two hours of the shift seemed to last forever.
By Wednesday Laura missed everyone at the clinic so much that she decided to drop in for a visit. After sleeping in late that morning, she grabbed a quick shower, threw on some old grubbies, bagged a bunch of frozen cookies left over from Halloween, and drove to her workplace. Before exiting the car, she allowed herself only one brief glance in the visor mirror to check her appearance. No makeup, she realized, and almost dug in her purse for a lipstick. But no. Isaiah was probably finished making his ranch calls by now, and she’d undoubtedly see him, but that didn’t mean she should primp. They were friends, nothing more. She had to keep that foremost in her mind.
The women at the front desk were delighted when they saw that Laura had brought them treats.
“Oh, yum!” Jennifer exclaimed. Hair caught at the crown of her head with a green clasp to match her tinted contacts, the redhead bounced up from her chair. “I think they should put you on days full-time. No one else brings goodies in to work.”
As much as Laura would have loved working only the day shift, she knew that would be unfair to the other kennel keepers.
“Sugar cookies?” Debbie, normally the reserved and quiet one, smiled impishly and grabbed a cookie before Jennifer could beat her to the draw. “Mm, and they’re frosted! Thanks, Laura.”
Tucker and his crew were equally pleased to receive cookies. Tucker had just finished a surgery and was rummaging through the north-wing refrigerator for something to eat when Laura appeared. His blue eyes, so very like Isaiah’s, twinkled with interest when he saw the bags in her hands.
“Food?”
Laura laughed. Unlike Isaiah, Tucker never forgot to eat.
“Just some cookies left over from Hallo-ween.” She extended a bag to him. “Enjoy.”
He’d taken a bite of cookie and was already chewing when he said, “What are you doing here? You’re working nights this week.”
“Just stopping in for a visit.”
“Any more trouble with the alarm?”
“No, thank goodness.”
“That’s good.” He looked at the partially eaten cookie in his hand. “Wow, these are good. You missed your calling, Laura. You should open a bakery.”
“There’s a thought.”
“Speaking of callings.” He held up a finger to keep her from leaving. “There’s something I need to talk with you about. On Monday night you got your wires a little crossed when you fed the dogs. It wouldn’t have been any big deal, but the golden retriever in kennel four was on a special diet. Eating the wrong food made him a little sick.”
Laura knew the dog. A raid of a neighbor’s garbage can had thrown him into acute gastric and intestinal distress, necessitating intravenous feedings the first twenty four hours and temporary hospitalization. The animal had a hypothyroid disorder of long standing that required medication and a bland, low-fat diet to keep it under control. He’d be going back home soon.
“I gave him the wrong food?” she echoed incredulously.
Tucker shrugged. “It was your first time working nights alone, and with the alarm going off and everything, I know it was a tough shift. Fortunately Susan caught the mistake when she got here at six, so the mixup was corrected before too much damage was done. It’s just . . .” He smiled kindly. “Last night you did everything perfectly. I’m sure you will from now on. Just don’t become too relaxed again. All right? Other mistakes might not be so easily fixed.”
Laura’s stomach felt as if it had dropped to her knees. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten the cages confused. She was always so careful. A person like her had to be. That being the case, how on earth had she managed to get the food mixed up?
“I’m sorry,” she said thinly. “It won’t happen again.”
Tucker nodded. “Good.” His smile faded. “Because we can’t let it happen again. You understand?”
Laura swallowed and bobbed her head. Oh, yes, she understood. As nicely as possible, he was telling her that she’d be fired the next time.
Laura was frowning as she made her way along the short connecting hall to Isaiah’s surgery. A second later, when she entered the large chamber and saw all the familiar faces, it was like coming home after a long absence.
Trish, standing at the sink and washing her hands, began wailing like a siren the moment she spotted Laura. Shaking off the sense of impending doom brought on by Tucker’s reprimand, Laura laughed and rolled her eyes. “So you heard about that.”
/> Trish grinned broadly. “When I first came here, I tripped the alarm, too. It’s a tradition around here, a rite of passage, if you will.” Drying her hands, she turned from the counter. “What brings you in so early?”
“I miss my babies,” Laura confessed. “The stinkers sleep all night. I’d like to spend a little time with them while their eyes are open.”
“Ah.”
“Hi, Laura.” Belinda closed a cupboard door and smiled over her shoulder. “We’ve missed you around here. The yogurt’s all gone, we’re down to one kind of pop, the sandwich stuff’s all gone, and the soup’s running low.”
Laura grinned and held up the remaining bag of cookies. “Emer-gency rations.”
“Ooh!” Belinda grabbed the package, opened the seal, and sank her teeth into a sugar cookie frosted with orange. “Chewy ones. I love them this way.”
“Don’t eat them all.” Trish tossed the paper towel into the trash. “I want my share.”
Isaiah and Angela stood at an operating table at the far end of the surgery. A sheet concealed the patient, making it impossible for Laura to tell what kind of animal was under the knife. She waved and started for the door that opened into the kennels.
“Laura!” Isaiah called.
She turned to look questioningly at him. “Yes?”
His blue eyes were uncharacteristically solemn above the surgical mask that covered the lower half of his dark face. “Have you seen Tucker?”
Laura nodded. “Yes, just now.” That awful sinking sensation attacked her stomach again. “We talked.”
Isaiah nodded, looking relieved. The familiar twinkle slowly returned to his eyes. “Good cop, bad cop. We take turns. I hope he didn’t come down too hard on you.”
Silence had fallen over the room. Belinda and Trish had become unaccountably busy. Laura’s cheeks went fiery hot with embarrassment. For an instant she deeply resented Isaiah’s lack of tact. Maybe she had screwed up, but he could at least discuss it with her privately.
Before the anger could get a good foothold, Laura’s sense of fairness came into play. There were no secrets at the clinic. Everyone in the room undoubtedly knew about the food mishap already.
“No,” she said. “Tucker was very nice. And I’m really sorry I made a mistake.”
“Two mistakes,” Belinda inserted even as she smiled to soften the comment. “You got kennels three and four mixed up somehow, so two dogs got the wrong food, not just one. That’s why we’re all so careful around here. It could happen to anyone.”
No, not to just anyone, Laura thought bitterly, only to a retard like me. It was still difficult for Laura to believe she’d gotten the cages confused, but if two dogs had received the wrong food, there was no other explanation. She had been misreading numbers that night. The alarm fiasco bore testimony to that. Normally she never confused threes with fours, though. They looked nothing alike, no matter how you turned them.
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” Laura promised. She glanced uneasily at Isaiah, whose eyes had gone solemn again. “Really,” she assured him. “It won’t happen again.”
Laura let herself out into the kennels. Almost instantly the dogs began to bark joyously. She hauled in a deep breath, slowly released it, and gave herself over to the pleasure of eager nudges, wet noses, and dog breath. As she moved from one cage to the next and finally came to kennel three, she stared hard at the number, painted in bold black, high on the rear wall of the cement-block enclosure. Some numbers were extremely difficult for her to read correctly each and every time, but a three wasn’t one of them.
An hour later, when it came time for Laura to go, she reentered the surgery to get her coat and purse. Belinda had just lifted a huge Angora cat from a cage by the scruff of its neck. Evidently the feline didn’t appreciate the manner in which Belinda had picked him up, for he immediately began hissing and swatting at the air.
“Got a live one!” Belinda cried.
“Bring him over,” Isaiah ordered.
Belinda hurried to deposit the cat on the stainless-steel table. The instant the feline’s paws touched down on the metal surface, he began frantically fighting to escape, twisting, scratching, yowling, and trying his best to bite. Startled by the animal’s ferocity, Belinda released the feline and leaped clear. Only Isaiah’s quick reaction kept the cat from jumping from the table. He snaked out a hand, caught the Angora by its scruff again, and lifted him high in the air.
“Hey, buddy,” he said soothingly. “Let’s be friends. Okay?”
In Laura’s opinion, Belinda was responsible for the cat’s misbehavior. The poor thing was in a strange place. He’d been locked in a cage as well, which was probably something he wasn’t used to. Then, to make matters worse, the tech had made no attempt whatsoever to befriend the animal before she picked him up.
Hissing and spitting, the feline took a swipe at Isaiah’s face. Isaiah jerked his head back in the nick of time. “Has he been declawed?” he asked Belinda.
“He’s a first-timer, and we don’t have his records yet.” Belinda grabbed the cat’s front leg, pressed a thumb to the back of his toes, and said, “Yeah, I think he’s clawless.”
“I need a muzzle!” Isaiah called over his shoulder to Trish. To the cat he said, “Look, Cuddles, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
Rhhaa! was Cuddles’s reply, quickly followed by vicious but futile swipes at Isaiah’s face and chest.
“What’s his owner smoking?” James asked from across the room. “Cuddles isn’t a good name for him. How about Terminator?”
Laura smiled and approached the table. Belinda’s blue smock was covered with so much white fur that Laura was surprised Cuddles had any left on his fat body. Before Isaiah could guess what Laura meant to do, she curled her hands around the feline’s belly, tugged gently to loosen Isaiah’s hold, and drew the terrified kitty to her chest.
“Poor baby,” she crooned.
Cuddles snarled and hissed, attempted to claw his way up and over Laura’s shoulder without success, and then gave up the fight.
“Shh-hh,” Laura soothed, lightly stroking the cat’s fur. “Such a pretty kitty. Yes, you are. It’s okay.” Responding to her gentle tone, Cuddles ceased his struggles. “There, you see?” she whispered. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Brushing fur from his green shirt, Isaiah shook his head. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe he isn’t biting you.”
The cat pressed close to Laura’s chest and nuzzled his nose under her collar. “He’s scared,” she explained. “You can’t just take him from the cage and start doing mean things to him. Someone should hold him for a little while first.”
Belinda huffed under her breath. “Unlike some people, we have a schedule to keep.”
Isaiah held up a hand. “No, Belinda, she’s right.” He reached out and touched a fingertip to the cat’s head. “I’m not much of a cat person, I’m afraid.” He, too, began stroking the cat’s fur. “But I treat a lot of them. I need to develop a better rapport with them.”
“He’s a sweetie.” Laura rubbed her cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “I can see why they named him Cuddles. He’s very loving when he’s not scared.”
Isaiah chuckled. “He is with you, at any rate.”
Laura shifted the huge cat to hold him more easily. Cuddles began to purr, which made Isaiah grin. “What’s the matter with him?” Laura asked.
“Something with his ear,” Isaiah said. “So far I haven’t gotten close enough to tell what the problem is.”
Laura kept stroking the cat and turned so Isaiah could see one side of the animal’s head. “You can have a look now.”
“Come on,” Belinda said impatiently. “He’s liable to go ballistic. Obviously you’ve never dealt with cats or experienced a feline bite. I prefer to keep all my fingers, if it’s all the same to you.”
Trish arrived just then with the cat muzzle, an awful-looking contraption that fit over a feline’s entire face and was anch
ored with crisscrossed straps behind the head. Laura couldn’t see how a kitty could even breathe wearing one. She gave Isaiah a pleading look.
“I’ll hold him while you look,” she offered. “If we’re careful not to scare him, I don’t think he’ll bite.”
Isaiah narrowed his eyes at her even as he plucked a penlight from his pocket. Leaning in close, he peered in the cat’s ear. Laura gently turned Cuddles’s head so Isaiah could get a better look.
“Foxtail,” he murmured.
“Uh-oh.” Belinda stepped around to look. “How deep is it?”
Laura knew firsthand how treacherous foxtails could be. The arrow-shaped stickers grew on tall grassy stalks that dried to a yellow-brown over the summer. The foxtails came away from the parent plant with the slightest touch or breath of wind and stuck to clothing and animal fur. Once attached, their sharpness and shape enabled them to burrow. Animals often got them in their feet, ears, mouths, and eyes. Many horses in the area wore eye guards while out in the pasture to protect them from foxtails.
“It’s not bad, actually,” Isaiah replied.
“She brought him in as soon as he started shaking his head,” Trish inserted.
“Good thing,” Isaiah replied. “The little bugger would just keep going deeper.”
“Must be a field near her house,” Belinda observed.
Isaiah went for some long-nosed tweezers. When he returned a moment later, he slanted a look at Laura. “If you can keep him still, I think I can pluck it out easily enough.”
Laura nodded, and soon Cuddles’s ordeal was over. Laura held the cat awhile longer before she returned him to the cage. Behind her, she heard Isaiah giving orders for follow-up care. When Laura turned, she saw that Trish was taking notes while Isaiah cleaned his hands. Laura went to get her purse. Just as she drew the strap over her shoulder, Isaiah glanced around.
“Are you sure you want to be a kennel keeper? Your talents are wasted back there.”
“Yeah!” Trish seconded. “You’d be a fabulous tech assistant.”
“Oh, no.” Laura shook her head vehemently. “I’m not cut out for it. Remem-ber me, the lady who got the dog food mixed up?”
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