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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Listen To Your Heart
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“My God!” the giant exclaimed. “There are two of you!”
“What's he talking about, Josie? What's going on? Somebody tell me something.”
“Later,” Josie said, scooping up the little dog, who only wanted to get in the backseat of the car with the big dog.
Thanks to Zip's huge paws, the horn of the Mercedes sedan blasted again and again as the giant backed the car out of the driveway. The picture of the giant and his big dog driving the fancy Mercedes would stay with Josie for a long time. She grinned as Rosie whined all the way back to the cottage.
“Don't panic now, Kitty. I'll clean it all up. It's a good thing it's Monday. What are you doing out of bed?”
“Who was that? He looks familiar. Oh, my God! What happened?”
“His dog got loose, and Rosie went for his throat—the guy, not the dog. I don't know what he wanted, and I don't even know what his name was . . . is. Go back to bed, and I'll clean this up. The dog got Rosie's Beanie Baby. I have to find the beans. Maybe I can sew it up. I don't even want to think about tonight if she doesn't have it to sleep with. By the way, what
are
you doing out of bed?”
“When you didn't pick up the phone in the cottage, I answered it in the house. It was Mrs. Lobelia. She wants to know if she can come over to talk to you this afternoon. Something about that big party she's planning for Mother's Day. I told her yes since we have nothing scheduled for today. Older people like to do things right away. They don't like to wait around. Okay, okay, I'm going back inside.”
Josie stared at her twin. It was the same as staring at herself in the mirror. They had the same dark brown eyes, the same dimples, the same jawline, and identical noses. Their hair was brown and curly, with no options for style, and it left little for people to tell them apart. Even the giant had recognized that they were identical.
Kitty had been her best friend from the moment their mother had placed them together in the same crib. It was them against the world, or so it had seemed at the time. Two voices were always better as well as louder. At least they got to be heard. They had played all the standard twin tricks, and for a time in their teens they were able to fool their parents a time or two.
Kitty was the serious, stable one. Kitty was the one who thought things through and always came up with the right answer, and it was Kitty who loved to cook. Unlike Josie, who couldn't boil water. Josie was what Kitty called a loose cannon, flying off the handle, plowing ahead and reading directions after she broke whatever it was she was trying to put together. She had a head for business, unlike Kitty, who said it bored her to tears. They were a natural, as Kitty put it, to take over their parents' catering firm. She would do the cooking, and Josie would handle the business end of it. Now, three years later, their books were solidly in the black. “The American dream,” Kitty had said back in Baton Rouge when she wanted Josie to agree to take over the business. “We answer to no one but ourselves. We give ourselves the best health insurance, the best pension plan, and we don't have to worry about anyone downsizing or snatching it away from us.” Josie had agreed because it made sense. She liked being her own boss. She'd hated the bank she worked in just the way Kitty hated the insurance company she worked for.
She loved N'awlins, or the Big Easy, as people called the city. She adored the Garden District, with its wonderful old homes like their own, as well as the exciting French Quarter. When she missed Baton Rouge, the city where she and Kitty first achieved their independence, she hopped in the car and drove there, sometimes at a moment's notice. As Kitty said, the past was prologue. N'awlins was her home again just the way it had been her home growing up.
“Get to bed,” she ordered her sister. “I'll meet with Mrs. Lobelia, but first I have to clean up the porch and see about fixing Rosie's baby.”
“Why don't you go to the store, buy another Beanie Baby, take out the beans, and sew it up again? I'll take Rosie in the house with me so she won't see you doing it.”
“That's a thought, but only if I can't find the beans. I want to fix it for her just the way it was. I'll be in to fix lunch in a little while.”
“The guy was a hunk. A real pity you didn't get his name. Bet he works out or runs. His muscles positively rippled when he was carrying that big dog.” Kitty grinned.
“You saw all that through his suit?”
“Yep. Those eyes are to drown in. Very kissable mouth. His teeth positively
glistened.”
“I didn't notice,” Josie muttered.
“Get off it, Josie. You noticed. No good-looking man gets by that eagle eye of yours. By the way, how'd the date go last night?”
“First and last. He was just too full of himself. Get that matchmaking look out of your eye. I'd never date a man who has hair longer than my own. Cajun, Choctaw maybe. What do you think?”
“Maybe a combination. Whatever it is, it works. He was one handsome guy. I've seen him somewhere. It will come to me sooner or later. That was no off-the-rack suit he was wearing either, and that car isn't exactly a puddle-jumper. Big bucks. Pity you let him get away,” Kitty said as she flounced her way up the steps.
Was it a pity? Josie wondered as she made her way to the cottage, where she worked industriously gathering up as many of the tiny beans as she could find. Two hours later she had the soft little toy sewn together. She bent over Rosie, who was curled into a ball in her little bed. “Here you go, baby, good as new.” She wanted to cry when the Maltese made no effort to reach for it to cuddle with as she always did. “I think I got all the beans. See, it's just as fat and wiggly as before. C'mere.” The little dog made no effort to move but buried her head in her paws.
Damn, if she could get her hands around the giant's throat, she would squeeze the life out of him. And his monster dog. Her best hope was that Kitty would remember where she'd seen him so she could then go and wring his big neck. Like that was really going to happen.
The ferns looked a little sparse when she rehung them, but with more potting soil and a good spritzing they looked almost as good as new. She did her best with the geraniums and petunias, but most of the stems were broken and bent. She needed new ones. How bare and impersonal the little porch looked without the colorful blooms. She was going to have to remove the screen door and take it to be repaired. She might as well do that now and pick up some new flowers on the way back. She had plenty of time before her meeting with Mrs. Lobelia. She could also pick up a couple of po'boys for lunch for her and Kitty.
“Come on, Rosie. Help me take off this screen door and then we'll go in the car. Hop to it, girl.” When the little dog didn't move, Josie bent down to pick her up. The dog didn't protest, but she didn't do her usual wiggle and squirm routine, either.
 
It was after the noon hour when Josie parked the van outside Franky and Johnny's on Arabella Street. She cracked the window and locked the doors while she went inside to order Kitty's favorite po'boy. She ordered two of the hefty sandwiches made with local French bread filled with roast beef, fried shrimp, oysters, ham, or meatballs, with cheese, and gravy or tomato sauce. She told them to “dress” it, which meant they would add lettuce, mayonnaise, and mustard with a slice of tomato. She knew they would butter the bread and heat it just the way she and her sister liked it.
She heard Rosie yapping and clawing at the window the minute she closed the door of the restaurant. She ran to the car and unlocked it. Normally the little dog would try to pry open the bag and sniff out the contents. Right now all she wanted was to get out of the Ford Explorer.
She saw it then as her gaze swept the street. Down the block, the sleek, expensive Mercedes was parked at the curb. In the blink of an eye, Rosie leaped over Josie's lap and jumped to the ground. She sprinted down the street, Josie in pursuit.
Josie watched in amazement as the little dog tried to scale the car door. On one of her jumps, Josie reached out and grabbed her in midair. In doing so she could see the interior of the car clearly. It was ripped to shreds, the fine leather hanging in strips, the rearview mirror half off its track. There was no sign of the owner or his dog. Obviously, Rosie was picking up the boxer's scent.
He came out of nowhere, the big dog dragging him forward. With one mighty lunge, the boxer tore loose of the giant's grip on his leash. He bounded over to the curb to where Josie was standing with Rosie, skidded to a stop, sat up on his hind legs, and whined for Josie to set the little dog down. Before Josie could make up her mind, Rosie wiggled free and leaped to the ground, where the boxer nuzzled and playfully prodded her with one of his big paws.
The giant cleared his throat. “It would seem we have a bit of a problem.”
Kitty was right. He is definitely a hunk.
“I'd certainly second that,” Josie said, pointing to the inside of the elegant car. “When did he do that?”
“He did the backseat on the way from your place and the front when I tried to take him to that dog school down the block. He almost chewed off the steering wheel,” the giant said in disgust. “He wants something. I don't know what the something is. Did you get your dog's toy fixed?”
“Yes, but she doesn't want it. She wouldn't even touch it. Ah . . . the reason I'm standing here is she must have picked up . . . his scent. That's the only thing I can figure out. I was in Franky and Johnny's to pick up some po'boys, and she was going wild. I came to see what it was she wanted. I guess it's your dog. I have to go now. Can you put your dog in your car so we can leave?”
“I'll try. He's not going to like it,” the giant said. “Maybe you should leave first.”
“He'll follow us. You go first. If the doors are closed, he can't get out. Can he?” Josie asked tartly.
“He'll probably go through the damn window. Is that fur ball in heat?” the giant asked suspiciously.
“No, the fur ball is not in heat. She's spayed. I resent you calling her a fur ball. She has a name, and it's Rosalie—Rosie for short. What about yours?”
“He's fixed, too. Maybe they like the way the other smells. Yours smells like coconut. I can't believe my dog likes that prissy smell.”
“Well your dog smells like a wet wool sweater a cat peed on. I can't believe my dog would be attracted to such a smell.”
“Enough!” the giant roared. “Get in the car, Zip. Don't make me pick you up again.” Zip continued to nuzzle Rosie. Josie watched in amusement.
“Pick yours up at the same time,” the giant ordered in an authoritative voice.
Josie bristled, but did as instructed.
“Now run like hell!” the giant roared.
Josie ran, the little dog barking and squirming to get out of her grasp. She wanted to look behind her but was afraid she would lose her momentum and somehow Rosie would get loose from her grasp. She was breathing like a long-distance runner when she finally plopped down in the driver's seat, the van securely locked. She turned to look at the huddled dog on the passenger seat next to her. “Listen, little girl. I don't know what the hell that was all about, but we aren't going to go through it again. That dog is just too big for you to play with. He's the one who tore your precious baby. I'm the one who fixed it, and now you don't even want it. Snap out of it. Zip went home. We're going home. This is the end of it.”
Josie put the Explorer in gear and turned around in the middle of the road. She sensed rather than saw the Mercedes doing the same thing.
Good, we're going in opposite directions.
She was almost to Jackson Square when she realized she still didn't know the giant's name. What difference did it make if she knew his name or not? Life would go on regardless. The sun would come up tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. He was a hunk, though. She laughed aloud when she remembered the interior of the luxury vehicle. Big dogs, big damage.
Josie turned left on Prytania Street continuing down until she crossed Washington Street and then Fourth Street. She turned right on Third Street and drove into her driveway. She was home.
As always, she was struck with the beauty of the old pillared house shrouded with live oaks. They'd had the house painted last October, and it gleamed now in the bright noonday sun. She heard rather than saw a tour bus with the guide shouting out tidbits about the Garden District and the people who lived inside the beautiful old buildings. He would take them past the home of Anne Rice of vampire fame. Everyone would ooh and aaah over the huge stone wolf on her second-floor balcony. Then the guide would tell them about the church she bought before he took them past Tulane and Loyola's campuses. Just another sight-seeing day in N'awlins.
The front porch was alive with plants and hanging ferns, all in need of watering. Perhaps later, after the sun went down. For now she had to go inside. With Rosie in one hand and the po'boys in the other, she somehow managed to fit the key into the lock of the majestic teakwood door. She slammed it shut immediately and then locked it, secure in the knowledge that Rosie couldn't get out.

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