Beauty & the Beasts (20 page)

Once inside the house, Madeline felt reasonably secure. The garage had no windows looking out toward the front, so she couldn’t watch for Eric, but it wasn’t as though he’d hunt her down. He probably despised her, she thought, which lowered her mood another notch.

She and Joan briefly discussed where they’d put the new cages and how they’d manage while the tile was laid and the grout cured and sealed.

Finally Joan glanced at her watch. “Listen, I’ve
got to run. Can you take Sassafras out to the feral building before Eric goes and have him check her ears? She’s been scratching, and the drops for mites don’t seem to have helped.”

“Joan—”

Already bustling out, the older woman gave her a starchy look. Joan had once been a third-grade teacher and it showed. “I’m going to be late to work if I don’t go. Caroline is the only other one here, and she’s out giving him a hand.”

“I don’t want—”

“Don’t whine. You’ve got to see him sooner or later. Today is as good a time as any. See you.”

“Joan…”

She was gone. Madeline muttered a word she rarely used. Then reluctantly she grabbed a carrier and went in hunt of the elderly black-and-white cat Maybe she’d get lucky and Caroline would meet her at the door of the feral building. She might not have to set eyes on Eric.

Sassafras proved elusive. Mudhen, the homely shelter “manager” strolled importantly ahead of Madeline through the house, growling at cats who dared attempt to distract her from her mission. Warier ones scattered once they saw the carrier. Caroline, a volunteer in her fifties, came in once and released two cats.

From down the hall Madeline called, “Tell Dr. Bergstrom I have one last cat for him to look at”

“Will do!” Caroline said. The front door closed a moment later.

Having failed on the first pass through the house,
Madeline started all over. This time she found her quarry tucked in a fleece bed on top of a cage. The old cat grumbled but didn’t struggle as Madeline popped her into the carrier.

Fastening the carrier door, Madeline peered inside. “He’s not going to hurt you, Sassafras, my sweet.” All the
S
’s hissed soothingly off her tongue.

Carrier in hand, she stepped out the front door but stopped on the doorstep, her heart sinking. The parking lot had emptied; not only was Joan’s station wagon gone, so was Caroline’s small blue Honda. The only two vehicles left were Eric’s pickup and Madeline’s car. Why hadn’t Caroline said she was leaving?

Feeling light-headed, Madeline kept going. The gravel crunched underfoot. The door to the feral building opened easily. Inside was the admitting area, well organized and spotless. She carefully closed the door behind her. It was either very quiet in here, or her heartbeat was drowning out all other sound. Did Eric hear her coming? Did he know it was her?

Did he
care
if it was her?

She turned down the hall. The door to the surgery room stood ajar. Now his voice, low and husky, came to her.

“Are you waking up there, guy? Come on, take deep breaths. You’ll feel better before you know it And just think, Madeline can find you a home now.” Pause, then another, “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

To hell with Joan. Panic rising, Madeline stood
stock-still a few feet from the door. She couldn’t do this.

She eased one foot back. Sassafras let out a piercing meow.

Even bigger and broader-shouldered than she remembered, Eric filled the doorway. To her hungry eyes, he looked wonderful, face lean, lines carved deep from nose to mouth, lab coat rumpled. Pure male, with those big hands that she knew were so gentle with the animals—and with her.

“Come on in,” he said quietly.

She drew a shaky breath. “Hello, Eric.”

“Caroline said you were coming.” His voice was like one of those touches: calluses just a little scratchy, banked strength, incredible restraint.

Her own came out in a squeak. “I thought she’d still be here.”

“I told her not to wait.”

“Oh.” She stood there, everything she should say to him crowding her tongue, tangling it so nothing got said. “I…I have Sassafras here.”

“Let’s take a look.” He backed into the surgery room.

She followed. The stainless-steel table gleamed; in cages along one wall, two older kittens were lifting groggy heads.

Eric’s hand brushed hers as he took the carrier. “Madeline…”

“Eric…” she said at the same exact moment.

His clear light eyes took in her face with the intensity of a surgical laser. “You first.”

She squeezed her fingers together. What if he
planned to say,
I’m dating someone else now.
Or,
Let’s not let the fact that we dated for a while get in the way of our working together here.
What if he was just trying to smooth the awkwardness? “No. You, please.”

“All right.” Eric backed away from the table where he’d set the cat carrier, then leaned against the windowsill and rubbed his hands over his thighs. “I, uh…I wanted to apologize.” He grimaced. “I knew you were sensitive about your looks—you’ve made that plain enough—and what do I do but ignore your feelings. The truth is, it’s easy to compliment someone. It’s a hell of a lot harder to tell someone how you feel. Madeline—”

“No!” The word burst out. “Please! I’m the one who should apologize! I…I led you on and then I turned coward at the last minute. Nothing I can say is adequate, but…I’m sorry.” Tears burned in her eyes.

Eric made a guttural sound and crossed the tiny room in two long strides.

“No!” she cried again, backing away. “Let me explain. Please.”

He stopped abruptly right in front of her and held up his hands. “All right,” he said roughly. “Explain.”

Poor Sassafras was blessedly quiet Madeline bowed her head. “The thing is, I started acting and modeling when I was only five. Well, my mother entered me in a beauty pageant first. I won. An agent approached her…” She didn’t even remember her first assignment. Those early years were a blur: hot
lights, adults giving overly simple orders in saccharine tones, dumb clothes. “It must have been too tempting for her. My dad was nowhere around, and Mom was an LPN—a licensed practicing nurse. Surviving financially had to have been a struggle. Here people started offering all this money if I’d just work for a day, a week…” She let out a long breath.

“But you kept working.”

She peeked upward and saw anger darkening his eyes. “Constantly. I never went to public school. My mother tutored me for the first five or six years, then I attended a performing-arts school in L.A. Of course, I was hardly ever actually there.”

“Didn’t you tell your mother you hated it?”

“Not until I was a teenager.” She made a face. “Before I got rebellious at about fifteen, it was just…life.”

“And your money?”

“As my manager, Mom took a cut. That’s what we lived on. The rest she invested. I used some to start my business. I still have quite a bit. My mother wouldn’t steal from me. She has too many… principles.” Oh, how dry that sounded!

He searched her face. “You hate her, don’t you?”

“No.” Although there’d been times she wondered. “I wanted her to love me for myself, not for my face and what it could earn.” There. She’d said what she hardly acknowledged even to herself.

She still wanted her mother to love her. How pathetic, she thought, disgusted at herself. Did nobody ever completely grow up? Or was she the only one still mired in childhood?

Eric lifted his hands as though to grip her shoulders, but stopped short of touching her. Instead, his fingers flexed, then curled into fists before he shoved them into his pockets.

“And now,” he said emotionlessly, “you want someone else to love you for yourself. Not your face. Or your breasts.”

“Is that so unreasonable?” she begged.

He uttered a raw profanity. “No. God almighty, no!” His head went back, and he rubbed his neck. “I’m a cretin.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I knew.”

“Eric, I’m the one apologizing, remember?” In-explicably she felt steadier. “I’m the one with the problem. It’s…okay to think I’m beautiful. I guess,” she admitted, “I want you to.”

He focused on her face again, his eyes glittering, his mouth a taut line. “Are you telling me it’s not too late?”

“If—” she had to clear her throat “—if you haven’t decided I’m a flake.”

“Oh, God.” Voice pure grit, he closed his eyes. “Do you know how jealous I’ve been of my own son?”

“No,” Madeline whispered.

“I saw you talking to him. You laughed, and touched his shoulder.”

“I thought…you wouldn’t mind if I kept bringing him here.”

“I was glad. For him. But for myself—” now at last he gripped her shoulders, and she felt a tremor
in his hands “—I wanted it to be me, even if we were nothing more than friends.”

She’d flattened her hands on his chest, but at that she pulled back in alarm. “Is that…what you want? To be friends?”

“What do you think?” he asked, and then he kissed her.

She
couldn’t
think. Her mind was incapable of any activity beyond simple dizzy awareness that his mouth was heaven. Hard, sensuous, skillful. And more—this kiss had a desperate edge that shook her as deliberate seduction never could. She whimpered, and her arms slid up around his neck. His hands moved to her back, her hips, lifting her, pressing her against his length. His teeth closed on her lip.

And, oh, the magic words he murmured as he strung kisses along her jaw, down her throat, over her T-shirt to the swell of her breasts.

“You’re not just beautiful on the outside, you know. You talk to those damn cats, in that husky little voice, as though you’ve got enough love to make up for the rest of their wretched lives, and I want some of it. When you laugh, it makes me smile the rest of the day. And you listen to me. God! do you know how long it’s been since anybody really listened?”

Her bones dissolved and she arched her back as his hands slid up under her shirt. “No,” she croaked.

“No?” His head lifted, and sudden sharp awareness returned to his eyes. “Oh, my God,” he said, straightening. His fingers clenched on her shirt, and then he released her, spreading his hands wide as he
backed away. “Here I go again. You give me a reprieve, and I’m on you like those poor lonely damn cats in the house. Madeline, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She felt stupid. And bereft.

“No. I don’t want to be friends.” A muscle jumped in his cheek. “But I have
some
self-control, believe it or not. Let’s start over. You weren’t ready for sex. Fine. I want you, but not until you’re sure, really sure, I’m not just lusting over your body.”

“I’m sure.” Was she?

“No.” He gave a wry smile. “This isn’t exactly the time and place, anyway.”

Sassafras chose that moment to utter a plaintive meow.

“I guess not,” Madeline said. Although it would be easy not to care where they were.

“Can we go to dinner?”

“My mother has probably already got ours in the oven.”

He swore. “Lunch tomorrow?”

Madeline nodded.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and then failed. “I missed you.”

She swallowed and blinked to forestall tears. “I missed you, too.”

“Good.” Eric gave her a quick hard kiss. “Okay, let’s take a look at this cat.”

C
OMING IN THE DOOR
from work on Friday, Eric scooped up Hannah, who, as always, was waiting to meet him. Early or late, she never missed. At first he’d worried that she sat there all day staring patiently
at the closed door. But Garth swore she didn’t; apparently she just had good hearing.

“Hey, Dad.” Garth lounged on the living-room couch with a black kitten on his shoulder. “Look, Ron’s checking out the house. I don’t think he’s scared at all.”

Mannequin slept on an ottoman only a few feet away, no more interested in this kitten than she was in anything else. Eric couldn’t decide if she was brain-dead or just placid. As long as she didn’t need life support to keep breathing, he supposed it didn’t matter. Lord knew she wasn’t any trouble.

“Good,” Eric said. He ran his fingernails down the little guy’s spine. “Now why don’t you put him back. Teresa invited you over for dinner. Says Mark would be happy to have you spend the night, too, if you’d like.”

A scowl immediately clouded the boy’s open expression. “I won’t spend the night. And I don’t want to have dinner there.”

“Tough,” Eric said unsympathetically. “I’m going out, and I don’t want to leave you alone all evening.”

Garth didn’t move. “I don’t need a baby-sitter. I’ll just stay here.”

“No, you’ll go to Teresa’s.” Eric tried hard to keep his voice level and pleasant. No point in letting this escalate to a major confrontation. Nonetheless, he wasn’t caving in. He and Garth got along better these days, but his son was spending entirely too much time alone. They still had half the summer to go; it was time he hung out with some other boys.
And, dammit, he and Mark had been friends in the past!

“Why?” Garth burst out. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“Dinner with Madeline.” He hadn’t told Garth about yesterday’s lunch; somehow his renewed relationship with Madeline still felt insubstantial, unreal. He needed to know they were going somewhere with this before he put up with anyone else’s scrutiny.

If he expected any emotion from Garth, it was delight. He didn’t get it

His son’s face flushed. “But you’re not seeing her anymore!”

“We had a talk and decided to give it another shot,” Eric said mildly. “That okay?”

“No, it’s not okay!” Garth shot to his feet and had to grab Ron, who tried to leap to safety. For once, the boy didn’t think about the kitten first. “I don’t want you to date her!”

Eric shook his head in hopes of clearing it. This couldn’t be happening. But no. His son still stood there, bristling.

“You like her!” Eric exclaimed. “I don’t get it.”

“She’s my friend! Not yours anymore!”

“But she was your friend before…”

“She hasn’t called in days and days!” Garth spit out. “Now I know why! All she can think about is you! She was probably just friendly so I’d talk about
you.”