The Truth About Cats & Dogs (12 page)

“I
T
'
S NOT TOTALED
,” Jess told him after he put his cell phone down. “Not exactly.”

“How much is it going to cost to fix?”

She told him the estimate. Even saying the figure aloud was painful and she watched Sam wince, which was exactly what she had done when she'd heard the price.

“It's not worth it,” he replied. “It's how old? Twelve years? Ten?”

“Twelve.”

“With how many miles on it?”

“Almost one-eighty.”

He looked at her as if she was mentally incompetent, but Jess knew she couldn't afford to fix the van, not even if it was the best financial decision possible. The van was old, her checking account small, and her Visa spending limit wouldn't cover the cost of parts, never mind the labor involved. The mechanic had offered to buy it for his teenaged son to fix up, and she'd accepted.

“I'll take you to a car dealer—there are plenty to
choose from along this stretch of road. You can buy something else and be on your way in an hour.”

“I can't,” she said. “My best friend's husband sells cars and if I bought a car from anyone but him—They're expecting a baby,” she added, as if that made any difference to a stranger. “He'll give me a good deal,” she added. “Better than I'd get here.”

“I'll buy you a plane ticket,” Sam Grogan said as if he actually thought she would accept such an offer.

“Thank you,” she said. “But that's not the problem. It's what to do with the Pekes. I can take one on the plane with me, but I can't ship the others as cargo. It's too cold and besides, it's too risky.”

She watched as he finished his coffee and looked at the snowflakes hitting the windshield. He didn't say anything. “I'll get a motel room and wait for someone from Peke rescue to rescue
me
,” she said. “Someone will call back soon and we'll figure it out. If you'll give us a ride to an Econo Lodge, that would be great.” She dug her cell phone from her purse. “I'll call them and find out the closest location.”

“My father wanted to know if you like meatballs.”

“Why?”

“I'm heading to Connecticut this weekend,” he said. “And my parents—nice people but full of ad vice—suggested I give you a ride.” He peered at the snow and frowned. “It could take quite a while to get
there. I usually can do it in six, six and a half hours, if the weather and the traffic aren't bad.”

“You're offering to take us with you?” She wondered if he'd been tackled too many times during his football career.

“I've had a change of plans for the weekend. My mother is recovering from the flu. My parents were supposed to be visiting me, but they had to cancel when she got sick.”

“They were coming to the wedding?”

“Yes.” He crushed the empty cup. “But it turns out they didn't miss anything.”

“Oh.” It must have been an important wedding. Someone in the family, she assumed. It had been cancelled at the last minute or Sam Grogan wouldn't be wearing a tuxedo. It was more than a little surreal, going from her leaking van to a shiny Escalade, being driven by a handsome sportscaster in a black tux. The tie was missing, the shirt collar undone, but it only added to the disheveled charm of a handsome man. And, oh, was he handsome. Not her type at all, of course. Tuxedoed men didn't show up on her doorstep and whisk her off to formal balls. Sportscasters and football players were as close—and as far away—as her television screen. They didn't drive her around town. Until today. Today was the most bizarre day she'd had in a long, long time.

The mastiff rested his enormous head on her shoulder.

“He won't stop until you pet him,” Sam said. “But he won't go away if you do pet him.”

“Kind of a catch-22 situation.” She rubbed the dog's ears and he leaned closer, touching her cheek with his nose.

“So, Jess Hall, what do you want to do? I have to stop at my place for some clothes, but we can be on our way right after that.”

“Well…” She hesitated. Every horrible story she'd ever heard about serial killers, rapists, murderers and psychopaths flashed through her head. “I don't know.”

“I've been approved by the state police,” he reminded her. “You're welcome to call my parents and keep them talking on my phone until we get there.” He handed her his phone.

“Give me their names and address.” She took a piece of paper from her purse and wrote down what he told her, then she called home and left the message on Mary's machine. She copied his car registration from the glove compartment, checked his driver's license and left another detailed message with the transport coordinator.

“Do you want to call the newsroom, too?”

He didn't look at all upset by her precautions. In fact, he seemed curious as to what she would do next.

“No. I'm used to following my instincts about people. And you do seem perfectly safe.”

“I'm the height of respectability,” Sam Grogan
declared. “But you probably shouldn't go around accepting rides from strange men.”

“You're not strange,” she pointed out. “The policeman knew you and so did the tow truck driver. By the way, the mechanic told me to tell you that you were all wrong with your game predictions for Sunday.” He'd also asked her if this was the weekend that Grogan was getting married. “You had no intention of going to Connecticut this weekend, though, did you?”

“No.” His smile faded and he looked away from her and turned on the engine. Darcy whined. “Up until a couple of hours ago, I had other plans.”

She knew not to ask what they were. It made sense now. He was supposed to be at a wedding. His wedding. And he'd gotten cold feet and run away to Krispy Kreme for coffee and a place to hide. She'd seen a show on
Oprah
last spring about jilted brides and wedding disasters.

“Okay,” Jess said. “I'm really grateful for the help. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Can we get going now, before the snow gets worse?”

“Sure.” She fastened her seat belt and shoved her possessions back into her purse. “I'll walk the dogs when we stop at your place.”

There was still the stop to make outside of D.C., where Hazel waited with the boxes of old fabric to exchange for the stockings. Somehow Jess didn't think this was the right time to mention it.

D
ARCY DIDN'T MEAN
to cause problems for Sam. And he wasn't sure he liked the idea of sharing his car with three noisy little dogs with their flat noses, black faces and snuffling sounds. They snorted like pigs, in his opinion. And they looked stupid with their tongues sticking out. At first he thought they were doing it on purpose, to make him laugh, but now he figured they just did it because they didn't know any better. Maybe it felt good.

He opened his mouth and let his tongue fall out, but aside from panting and drooling, normal stuff, not much happened. The darn flat faces looked at him but didn't say anything. The male didn't even blink and the two females looked sleepy. Darcy put his tongue back in his mouth and considered his company. They smelled nice and doggy, like they'd come from a place with lots of other animals. He could sniff them for days and not run out of new scents.

But he wished they had a little more conversation. Heck, it wasn't easy being the only dog in the house. And as much as he liked riding around in the car, it would be more fun if there was another dog to share it with.

Poor Sam. He was a little stressed at the moment, driving through the snowflakes. Darcy wished he'd roll down the windows so he could have a taste of that snow. Sure would be good after those doughnuts.

The Flat Faces didn't look like they would know what to do with snow. Probably stick their heads into
it and suffocate. Darcy whined, but none of the dogs responded except to snort again.

At least Sam wasn't playing Johnny Cash anymore.

 

A
T LEAST THE WOMAN
didn't chatter. Despite the traffic around Richmond and the snow alternating with periods of rain, Sam felt himself begin to relax for the first time in weeks.

Maybe he should have stayed in town and talked to Susan, but he really didn't have anything to say to her. Oh, if he was the kind of guy who liked scenes, he would have gone to the hotel, pounded on her door and demanded an explanation.

But he was tired of arguing with Susan. And he didn't want to have to talk a woman into marrying him. One's bride was supposed to be radiant and enthusiastic.

So instead of attending his wedding reception, he was spending a miserable afternoon heading toward Washington, D.C., and north, to comfort his parents. And he was with a pretty woman sprinkled liberally with dog hair and suffering from hot coffee burns. This whole thing was insane. At least he'd changed out of his tuxedo and into something less bizarre.

Sam peered through the windshield. At this rate they'd be lucky to get to Westport by nine tonight—

“Would you mind if we stopped in Fredericksburg for
a few minutes?” Her low voice broke into his thoughts.

“I thought we'd try to get past D.C. before we had lunch.” He glanced over to see that she was holding a map on her lap again.

“I can wait for lunch,” the woman said, “but I have to deliver the stockings. Hazel—that's the woman who runs a shelter there—is expecting them for their annual fund-raiser next weekend. And we're only a few miles outside of Fredericksburg now.”

Which meant he couldn't say no, not without sounding as if he didn't care about fund-raisers for homeless animals. He had the overwhelming urge to buy all of the stockings himself and keep driving, but he doubted that she'd believe he was serious if he actually offered. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I have the directions,” she said, lifting a yellow piece of paper from the road atlas.

“Read them to me.” With any luck they could be in and out in ten minutes.

He should have known that nothing today would go as he expected it to. They got lost, of course. Hazel, a widow with a pillared colonial home the size of a small hotel, traded Jess boxes of musty old fabric for boxes of fancy Christmas stockings, all of which Sam carted back and forth while the snow pelted down. Hazel insisted on them staying for lunch, presented Darcy with a steak bone and immediately fell in love with one of Jess Hall's snorting
passengers, the dog that Jess placed in the woman's arms to hold “for just a minute.”

Yeah, he could see Jess had another reason to stop at this house.

“The little sweetheart. The darling. Oh, look at that little face and those big eyes.” Hazel, a sturdy woman with graying hair and sensible shoes, held the homeless Pekes and hugged it to her ample bosom.

“She needs a bath,” Jess said, “but she is awfully cute.”

The dog wagged her tail and gazed up at the older woman as if she was hanging on to every adoring word. A few snorts, which Hazel pronounced as highly entertaining, made the Peke appear as if she was trying to communicate with her new friend.

“Do you have someone to adopt her?” Hazel blinked back tears.

“No, not yet. I pulled these three out of a kill shelter this morning—they were going to be put to sleep if I didn't get them this weekend. I'm going to keep her myself until I can find a foster home and put her picture on Petfinder.”

“Petfinder?” Sam finished his last forkful of pecan pie. He could see the writing on the wall. Hazel was going to have a companion.

“It's a Web site that shelters use to list animals up for adoption,” Jess explained, but she wasn't looking at Sam when she spoke. “Her name is Harriet,” she told the older woman.

“I could be her foster mommy,” Hazel said. “Or I could adopt her, don't you think?” Darcy lumbered over and rested his head on the mahogany table. Hazel absently patted his large head, but her attention was on the Pekingese relaxing in her arms. “My Wookie died last year and I never thought I'd want another dog. Until now.”

Sam helped himself to another sugar cookie, this one in the shape of a reindeer, and waited for his traveling companion to see the wisdom of placing a homeless dog with their tenderhearted hostess. Not that she hadn't planned it this way. He suspected Dog Woman was sneakier than she looked.

“She hasn't had a complete vet check yet,” Jess said. “She seems healthy enough, but—”

“I'll take her to my nice Dr. Otis first thing Monday morning. Do say yes, Jessica dear. There's no need for her to travel all the way to Rhode Island when she can have a perfectly good home here.”

“You'll have to fill out an adoption application.” Jess leaned over and lifted the male Pekingese from underneath her chair just as he was sniffing it. Sam looked around for the other one, but she was hiding in her crate with the door open, her dark face peering out at the strange new world she'd been moved to. “And there's an adoption fee and a contract to sign.”

“I'll get my checkbook,” Hazel said, giving the black-faced Pekingese another kiss before handing
her to Jess. “She'll be my own little Christmas present to myself.”

“Well, that's a happy ending,” Jess said, after their hostess had left the dining room.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “First one today.”

“Y
OU PLANNED THAT
, didn't you?”

“I didn't exactly
plan
it. I
hoped
that Hazel would take to one of the Pekes.” She studied the map again, wanting to discover that they'd covered more miles than they actually had. They were only twenty miles past Fredericksburg, but it felt like they'd been on the road for an hour since stopping for lunch.

“Had you ever met her before?”

“No. We e-mailed about fund-raising and one thing led to another. She said she had old fabric for me, but I can't believe how much she gave me.” Christmas had come early, for her and for Hazel. She couldn't wait to get home and wash all the drapes that Hazel had collected from various people in Fredericksburg. She suspected most of the fabric came from the woman's own attic. “I won't have to buy fabric on eBay for next year's stockings.”

“Is that your business, making those things?”

“No, it's just part of the fund-raising for my shelter that a friend and I run. The dogs—
small
dogs,” she added, giving Darcy an ear scratch, “are in foster care.”

“That dog of Hazel's has got it made now.”

“Yes.” She smiled and hugged her coat closer to her. “Harriet needs some pampering and Hazel's the perfect person to do it.”

“I'm glad you're happy. That little stop cost us the day.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she knew perfectly well that the weather had worsened, adding the complication of slippery roads to the bad visibility of the late afternoon.

“We'll be lucky if we make it to Baltimore before the roads ice up. Move, you mutt.” Darcy, who should have been wearing a canine seat belt, rested his head on his owner's shoulder and sighed. “I sure can't drive many more miles in this.”

“Where do you want to stop?”

“We'll see if we can get past D.C. first,” he said, peering through the windshield being pounded by icy snowflakes.

She had enough money for a motel room. Econo Lodge hotels accepted pets. They could get dinner at a fast-food restaurant and take it back to the rooms. She would pay for Sam's room, of course. It was the least she could do after begging a ride. She'd give the Pekes much-needed baths tonight, make all her phone calls, go to bed early.

And try not to worry about how she was going to afford a new car.

She wondered what Sam's bride was doing right
now. The poor woman must be drowning in tears. He was a handsome man, and a kind one. But running out on his wedding? What kind of man would do that? Jess studied his profile and wondered what had made him run away. Fear of commitment? Possibly. In love with someone else? Not likely, or he'd be with the other woman right now instead of driving to visit his parents.

“What?” He glanced at her before turning back to the road.

“Hmm?”

“You were staring at me.”

“I was just thinking,” she said. Of course
he
could be the one who was deserted at the church. She almost smiled at how ridiculous that idea was.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I am not going to adopt one of those hairy little dogs.”

“Maybe Darcy is lonely,” she couldn't help teasing.

“Not likely.” The mastiff licked his master's ear. “He goes everywhere with me.”

“Did he go to the wedding, too?”

Sam's smile faded. “There was no wedding,” he said, “but, yes, he was there. He put up such a fuss about going to the kennel—which is usually one of his favorite places because they specialize in caring for very large dogs—that I took him with me to the church. Lucky for Darcy the minister let him stay downstairs.”

“So you
went
to the church?” Why would he do that if he didn't want to get married? Why not call it off before everyone got dressed in wedding clothes and arrived at the church?

“Yeah.” He leaned forward and wiped the fogged windshield with his hand. “I went to the church.”

“It was your wedding,” she said. “The mechanic told me he heard it on television.”

He shrugged. “Susan never could make up her mind about anything. I shouldn't have been surprised.”

Susan was ten times an idiot, Jess decided. Or insane. Sam Grogan was a perfectly nice man with a set of shoulders that made a woman want to tackle him.

“But you were surprised.”

He didn't respond. One very large hand punched the defroster button, causing the fan to accelerate. Darcy moved away and stretched out on the back seat. The car slipped slightly, so Sam slowed down to little more than a crawl now that they were in worse traffic than before.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I never saw it coming. She's a designer, an artist, and she can be temperamental. It's part of her charm, I guess.”

Jess bit back a sigh. Temperamental women were charming? That's what was wrong with the world, all right. The nicest men usually panted after the bitchy girls, one of those mysteries of the universe that no one could ever figure out.

“But why—”

“Why did she call it off? I don't know.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing, not to me. Her father told me.”

“I'm sorry” was all she could come up with. This Susan woman hadn't had the decency to tell her own fiancé that the wedding was off?

“Thanks.”

“Maybe it's for the best,” she dared to say, hoping the man would show a little righteous anger toward the no-show bride.

“For the best?” He shook his head. “I wish people would stop saying that. I should be at my wedding reception. Tonight I would have been on a plane to San Francisco. And tomorrow? A private beach in Hawaii.”

With a bitchy artist with no manners, no class and no courage,
Jess would have liked to add.
Gee, what a loss.

 

“W
ELL, YOU KNOW MY SAD STORY
. What about you? Married, engaged, divorced, living with a significant other?” Sam felt almost lighthearted, an odd sensation he barely recognized. He figured it had something to do with getting off the icy highway and into a four-star hotel.

The Pekes were snoring in their crates, Darcy lay stretched out on the floor guarding them, the heat was blasting throughout the large beige and blue room, and Sam settled himself into a wing chair, with no
steering wheel in sight. The last hours on the road had crawled by at a thirty-mile-an-hour pace. Lunch at Hazel's seemed like yesterday.

“None of the above,” Jess Hall declared. She checked on the Pekes, gave Darcy a pat and crossed the room toward him.

“Children?” He could picture her with kids. She treated those dogs with a gentle, patient hand and she hadn't complained about standing behind the hotel while freezing snow pellets had rained down on three dogs determined to take their time doing their business. She looked better now, having towel-dried her hair and taken off her wet jacket and boots. This was her room, but he'd decided to make himself comfortable until she was ready to order dinner.

Asking for connecting rooms had been an act of genius. Paying for them without Jess's interference had been a downright miracle. The woman argued like an outraged coach.

“No children—” Her knockout smile reminded him that he was not so heartbroken that he couldn't appreciate a pretty woman.

“I don't have a very interesting past,” she added.

“Well,
your
disastrous wedding isn't going to make the Sunday paper tomorrow, but I'm sure you can come up with something.” He picked up the phone. “I'm calling room service. Have you decided what you want?”

“Yes. Chowder, a hamburger and fries, a pot of tea.”

“This is Maryland,” he reminded her. “You don't want crab cakes?”

“Forgive me.” She sat on the edge of the double bed closest to the table where he'd set the room service menu. “I've never been to Maryland.”

“Never? I thought you drove dogs all over the place.”

“In my old van? No. I don't usually venture this far.”

“So do you want the crab cakes?”

“Sure. But remember our agreement.”

The agreement had been that she would pay for dinner. And he would send her a copy of the hotel bill so she could pay him back. He had no intention of doing that, of course. He'd put down a large deposit so the dogs would be allowed in the room, he'd assured the receptionist that Darcy would not sleep on the bed and he'd promised that the dogs would never be left alone in the rooms.

“Chowder and the crab cakes dinner-for-two, hot tea, decaf coffee and two pieces of chocolate cake,” Sam announced, dialing room service. “Sound okay?”

She looked up from the menu. “Chocolate cake?”

“Don't look so innocent. You were at Krispy Kreme this morning.”

“I'll bet you would have eaten most of the wedding cake,” she said, then flushed. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't—”

Sam laughed. “You're right. I run five miles every morning so I can have dessert every night.”

“I'm glad to know you're not perfect.”

“My mother thinks I am,” he said, then gave the dinner order to the woman who answered on the other end of the line. He added a bottle of white wine at the last minute, figuring Jess may as well help him drown his jilted-at-the-altar sorrows.

She piled the pillows against the headboard and stretched out on the bed. “You should call her. She's expecting you tonight.”

“I will.”
Dog Woman and I are partying in an Econo Lodge outside of Baltimore, Mom. We're going to kill a bottle of wine, talk about my honeymoon and brush dog hair off each other's naked bodies.
“We have a minibar. Do you want anything?”

Jess closed her eyes. “I'll wait for dinner, thanks.”

“It could take an hour. They're backed up in the kitchen.”

“Mmm,” she said sleepily, and within minutes she had dozed off.

Well, she certainly wasn't nervous about being in a hotel room with him. The woman was practically unconscious. He helped himself to a mini-beer from the minibar, assured his parents over the phone that he would stay put as long as the roads were bad, and listened to the Pekes snore. He thought about turning on the TV and checking out the weather channel, but he didn't want to get up again. It felt pretty damn good to sit in the quiet and have a few minutes to relax. Between work and the
prewedding festivities, he hadn't had much time just to sit and think.

And he hadn't had much time to be alone with Susan, either. She'd been so tense last night, he'd worried that something more than wedding nerves was at fault, but she'd only frowned when he'd asked her what was wrong. As if he was supposed to know without her telling him. He was beginning to wonder why he'd ever thought that he and Susan would be happy together.

Jess rolled onto her side, giving Sam an enticing view of her nicely shaped bottom. Her worn blue jeans fit her well, her sweater hugged a tiny waist, and all those blond curls looked surprisingly appealing on the white pillow.

Jeez, what was the matter with him? Ogling a woman pale with exhaustion, admiring her tidy body curled up on a motel bed…Well, he was a man, wasn't he? Sleeping Beauty here didn't look too concerned. Neither did her two remaining companions, who were snoring like truckers while the wind whipped against the large window at Sam's back.

Darcy, sensing that he might be able to get away with something, lifted his head and stood to look at the woman in the bed. One small wag of his tail was the only warning he gave before climbing on the bed to join her.

“Darcy,” Sam hissed. “No!”

The dog hesitated, gave his owner an I-don't-hear-
you look and lay down beside Jess. He scooted his large hind end against her knees and attempted to put his head on her pillow before Sam could clamber across the mattress to grab his collar.

“Come.” Sam did his best to whisper, but he had the kind of voice that carried across football fields and into the bleachers. “Get off that bed.”

Darcy played dead, but Jess opened her eyes and yelped.

“Sorry.” Sam grabbed Darcy by the collar and tugged. “I was trying to get to him before he woke you.”

The dog suddenly rolled backward, tossing Sam off balance—and on top of Jess Hall's tempting curves.

This time it was Darcy's turn to protest, which he did with a loud whine that set the Pekes to barking their concern.

“Sorry,” Sam repeated as he attempted to move away from Jess and extricate his legs from Darcy's. Her breasts rose and fell beneath his chest and she began to laugh. Darcy nuzzled her ear and whined, which made her try to swat him away.

Which meant that her hand hit Sam's cheek—not that it hurt. No, the problem was suddenly finding his mouth so close to hers as he looked down into a pair of very wide, very beautiful blue eyes. She laughed up at him, and that was his undoing. Because of course he had to kiss her, despite the whining and yapping going on in the background.

Her lips were soft. And welcoming. And surprisingly arousing to a man who was supposed to have a broken heart. He would have moved his hand along her waist and higher, to touch those gorgeous breasts, if he wasn't pinned down by a mastiff. He might have deepened the kiss, tasting her and teasing, if Darcy had stopped wriggling. He could have swept his lips across her jaw to taste her neck…and lower, if only the knocking on the door would stop.

“I think,” Jess gasped, when he released her mouth, “I think our dinner is here.”

Dinner. Knocking. Room service. He forced himself to remember where he was and what he was doing—before kissing Jess, of course—and, with a superhuman show of strength, heaved himself off that delectable body, shoved Darcy to the other side of the bed and told the Pekes to be quiet.

“Room service,” a man's voice called.