A Little Christmas Jingle (5 page)

“Smaller hips?”

“Well, whatever the reason, those types of women annoy me. A woman with an appetite is sexy.”

She uncapped her bottle and took a long drink. The cold water rushing down her throat did nothing to ease the sexual charge.

“So, date a lot of those women?”

“My fair share,” he admitted as strong fingers tore his sandwich in half. “Then I wised up. Told my mother I'd find my own dates.”

Kat laughed. “Your mother fixes you up?”

“She's the neighborhood matchmaker. She fixes everyone up. She claims I'm a lost cause, but she refuses to quit.”

He inserted a finger into his mouth and licked off the residual sauce. Kat tore her gaze from those sensual lips. “This is so good,” he said.

“It is,” she agreed, taking her own bite.

He grinned, and she could feel his charm as if it were a hand pulling her close. “Well I'm glad I made the right choice.”

“Me, too. Better than my salad.” She took another bite and moaned with pleasure. “I should go there more often.”

“You should,” Jack replied, his attention fully on Kat's enjoyment. He hadn't lied about those women. Julie had always complained she'd be fat if she ate so and so or such and such. Once they'd broken up, he'd dated now and then, but had easily found deal breakers every time.

But Kat … she dug into the sandwich with gusto. No, he thought, that wasn't the right term. She wasn't slovenly or sloppy like those cops in his division who could wolf down a sandwich or burger in seconds flat. Clearly she enjoyed the experience of eating. He'd grown up in a household where mealtimes were family events, the food savored and appreciated.

She licked her lips, and Jack's libido roared to life as he imagined what it would be like to kiss her again, to taste her mouth fully. … He tore himself from those dangerous thoughts. The erotic dreams already teased his memory. “I appreciate good food. My mom is a terrific cook. She makes enough for an army every Sunday, and if I'm free, I go over. Lately, though, it's all about my sister—well, stepsister. She's getting married in December. Even though it's a delicious home-cooked meal, it's all wedding this, wedding that. … Sorry, I'm probably boring you.”

“No, you're not. It sounds wonderful. My parents were the kings of takeout. Still are, actually. My mom works full time—she's a doctor—so she never cooked much. She did bake, though.” Kat set the sandwich down, taking a momentary break. “Again, excellent choice. This is so good.”

Her lips puckered as she drew out the O in
so,
and a warm, fuzzy—and strange—feeling bloomed in his chest. “Then I'm glad I took a risk. It was that or the King and I on Grand, but last night you said you were going to do Thai.”

“This is perfect.”

He took another bite and swallowed, struck by the thought that she was pretty perfect herself. Perhaps that's why he hadn't yet broached the complaint letter in his pocket. “So you said Jingle needs intensive care, but can you be more specific?”

“He's sedated but not out of the woods. I'm watching for fever, shock, infection …” She opened the bag of chips that had come with her sandwich. “A lot of his recovery comes down to fate and his own will to live.”

“I hope it's strong.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

“I'd like to see him.”

“I'll take you back.”

“Perfect. I do need to take a few more pictures. I also want to see your shel— Hey!” Jack jumped up as a ball of oversize gray fluff landed on the chair arm. “What the?”

A wide pair of green cat eyes held his gaze without blinking. “Hey cat.” He settled back into his seat, feeling a bit sheepish. “You scared me.”

Kat was trying hard not to laugh. “Just stop,” he told her as he picked up his napkin from the floor. “I can hear your thoughts. Mr. Big Bad Police Officer got scared by a cat.”

“Never,” Kat said, but her brown eyes twinkled. “That's Crystal. You're in her spot.”

“Sorry cat.” The cat licked its paw as if Jack wasn't even there.

“She knows she's being bad, so just nudge her a bit. She won't mind.”

The soft gray feline leaned closer, nose twitching as she investigated the sandwich Jack had placed on Kat's desk. He moved his lunch into his left hand, and the cat leaned across his lap, all four paws perfectly balanced on the three-inch edge of the chair.

“Crystal!” Kat admonished. The cat straightened, flicked its tail, and jumped down. “I'm so sorry about that. She's being nosy and rude. She won't eat people food.”

“I thought all animals did.”

“No. That's a myth. Had you torn off a piece of meat or cheese, she would have just sniffed it and then ignored it. The idea is that she made you give it to her. That makes her dominant cat.”

“So I lost to a cat?”

Kat started to giggle; the sound amused him. “You did. Sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

She shook her head, laughed. “No, I'm not.”

“So much for me being an animal genius.” Because her smile lit up her whole face, he couldn't help but laugh, too, even though the jest was on him. Joking with her created warm, happy feelings, the kind he'd been missing for two years. The letter burned a hole in his pocket; he'd broach the shelter topic again, but later. “Learn something every day. So do you take her back and forth?”

“She lives here. I have three of them wandering around, and Crystal's the boss. They have the run of the place but we cage them at night for safety reasons. I'd have more but the city … Do you have pets?”

A wave of blond hair fell into his face. He brushed it back, the gesture rote. He should cut it, but as he'd hated the buzz cut of the academy, he'd sworn he'd never, ever, go that direction again and never had. “No. No pets.”

A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows, and he itched to smooth it. “That's a surprise.”

He tore off some of the bread. “I love pets. But I'm not around enough to care for them. I deal all day with neglected animals. I can't sit in judgment over another if I'm irresponsible myself.”

“Not even a cat? Those are pretty self-sufficient, especially if you have two that get along. They entertain each other. You do like cats, don't you?”

“I do.” He opened his bag of chips, which rustled as he withdrew some. Crystal put up a paw, touched his arm. “You don't get any,” he told her.

“Crystal,” Kat commanded, but it was clear to Jack that Crystal was dominant where Kat was concerned, too. Now he didn't feel so bad.

“There are days I'm gone almost twenty-four hours. Last winter, remember that foot of snow and the subzero temperatures we got? What was it, the polar vortex or something?”

“I remember that.” The windchill had been negative twenty degrees, a huge anomaly for a city whose temps never really went below zero. “I treated far too many animals for frostbite.” Her shelter had also been overflowing with rescues. “The mayor made an announcement that any dogs and cats left outside would be confiscated and the owners cited for animal cruelty.”

Suddenly it all fell together. That storm had been the catalyst for change, and by June, the mayor had formed the Animal Cruelty Task Force with its one officer—Jack. She watched as he ate another bite; as he popped a morsel in his mouth, hers dried. She struggled for composure. This was just lunch, not a date.

“Along with the rescue groups, I was out in that snow and those temps. I didn't go home for over forty-eight hours, maybe closer to seventy-two. I only slept an hour or two here or there. I would not make a good pet parent. I can't commit to providing attention. Work comes first.”

She ripped open her package of thinly sliced cheddar and sour-cream flavored potato chips. “Still, I have cats and my neighbor—”

He reached for his water. “I can't ask a neighbor to care for them. That's not fair to anyone.” She watched as those beautiful lips took a long draught, his throat constricting as he swallowed. He set the bottle down and wiped his mouth, getting the drop that had caught the edge of his lip.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She fibbed, hating that she'd been caught staring. Worse, like when someone yawned and someone repeated, she'd also swallowed. Hard. She grabbed her water and took a sip that failed to quench the heat she was feeling. Chemistry. Human magnetism. That's all this was. Nothing she couldn't squelch.

“You're really into Christmas, aren't you?”

His question caught her off guard, but it was a safe topic. “Love it. Can you tell?” Like the waiting room, she'd decorated here as well: a tiny Christmas tree on a table, some garland around the doorframe, and a porcelain Santa Claus collection on her desk. Fake poinsettias lined one wall. “Wouldn't you agree? Isn't it the best time of the year?”

Despite how cheery she'd made her office, he answered, “Debatable.”

That wrinkle pinched the skin above her nose again, and she rubbed it with a finger. “Then how come you're Mr. December?”

He sighed. In a year, she'd be staring at him half naked for thirty-one days. Strange that thought didn't bother him as much as it should have. Maybe it was because he'd like to see her naked, her brown hair framed out on his white pillowcase. He'd never considered white lab coats sexy, but on Kat … he wondered what was underneath. He jolted to the present, focused on her question.

“They didn't ask us our favorite month. We just arrived and did what they told us to do.”

“Oh.” She seemed a little disappointed.

“Each of us got to pick where our portion of the proceeds went. As the task force is new and can use any publicity, and my lieutenant told me it would be good PR to do the calendar. I never considered all the consequences.”

“Like?”

“Well, I'm the only cop permanently assigned to the task force, which means I'm the media darling. It's made me a bit of a target, and now that that calendar is out …”

Brown eyes reflected mischievousness tempered with a side of doubt. “Oh, please. You mean to tell me you weren't flattered by all those women vying for your attention at the ball?”

“You mean my stalkers?”

“Fan club?”

“Stalkers. Or overzealous attention seekers? Calendar groupies? Those better terms?”

She had cheddar crumbs on her lips. He gestured, and she wiped with her forefinger. He clenched his hands, putting them safely in his lap before he did something stupid, like clean her lips with his tongue. “Surely the calendar fallout can't be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say. I'm a blue-collar guy, and that shot turned me into a calendar stud. My work e-mail is public, and since the calendar debuted, the majority of my inbox is women asking me on dates. I had one or two file abuse claims, but those ended up being excuses to get me to stop by their residence—where at least two opened the door wearing nothing but smiles. It's hard to talk when looking at someone's feet.”

“Sorry,” Kat said, trying to contain her laughter.

“It's not funny,” he argued.

“No, it's not,” she agreed, shaking her head to stop from giggling. “But I'm picturing you trying to cover your eyes and—

“I have a year of this!”

She crumpled the chip in half and dropped it onto the white wrap paper of her sandwich. “I know. I'm being insensitive.” She gave a wave, as if brushing off a fly. “Worse, you had to kiss me after that lady trapped us. Who knows what you thought when I said I wanted to be involved.” She dissolved into laughter again. “No wonder why you ran away.”

His expression was incredulous. “Away? You're the one who vanished. After the photo, you were gone. I looked for you.”

She sat back in her chair with a hard thump, surprised. “You did?”

A cheeky grin made more butterflies take flight. “Heck, a man would be foolish not to go back after a kiss like that, and Kat, I'm no fool.”

“Oh. Well.” Frankly, she didn't know what to say. They were locked in a staring contest again, neither of them looking away.

“Kat?” Angela stood in the doorway. “Media is here again.”

Saved by the bell. “We'll be out in a minute.” She faced Jack. “I approached you because I wanted to help. Every pet deserves a good home. That's why I do this, spend so much time on my …”

“Shelter?” Jack filled in helpfully.

“Yes.” She shouldn't be surprised he knew.

“That reminds me, I need to see your shelter. I have this letter.”

The expression of hurt warped to anger. “Are you saying I'm not caring for Jingle?”

“No. I'm very impressed. You will continue to care for him.”

Butterflies had been replaced with dread. She considered Jingle as her dog. She'd saved him. “What are your plans for Jingle?”

“Billy's heartbroken about his dog, but Jingle's not going back there, and I've convinced his parents he should not get another dog for a very long time.”

That pacified her slightly. “Good idea.”

“Besides, Jingle's evidence. When he's well and ready, Jeff at Pet Rescue will make sure he finds a good home.”

“Jingle's not going to be ready for a while.”

“Which is fine. But people are going to want to adopt him. He's something of a celebrity. They'll line up to adopt him. Remember Trooper, the dog pulled behind the car? Over a thousand people applied to be his new owner.”

“I can find him a new owner when it's time.”

“Let's see how your legal problems pan out. Jingle just brought me here earlier. You and I would have been meeting Monday anyway. I'm going to need to inspect you. I received a complaint.”

Disbelief bubbled. She gestured to the food. “So this was all just to butter me up? You're toying with me?”