Stray (10 page)

“Megan, are there any appointments scheduled for today?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Yes, one at four. One of Mrs. P’s cats.”

“Okay. I don’t feel well. I’m going home for the morning, but I’ll be back in time to relieve you for lunch. If there are any walk-ins, schedule them for afternoon, unless it’s an emergency. In that case, you can call me.”

I walked out without waiting for Megan’s answer, knowing it would only provoke me more. By the time I crawled back into my bed, the migraine that had been hovering in the background had hit in earnest. This was a time for my prescription, but I was too blind to find it. Instead, I downed a handful of aspirin and hoped for the best.

The phone woke me with its obnoxious ringtone mere moments after my head hit the pillow. Except that the clock said it was two p.m. Oh, shit! As I realized I’d slept far longer than I intended, the ringing took on the angry tone that I knew would match the voice on the other end. Megan. I was in deep shit. So deep that letting the call go to voice mail was my only option. I dragged my body out of bed with my head reluctantly following and got into the shower.

Forty-five minutes later, with my wet hair in a French braid and no makeup, I bustled into the clinic as if I’d been hurrying all along. Megan glared at me, but didn’t say a word, for which I was profoundly grateful.

“Who’s next?” I said. Megan called out a name and the older gentleman sitting with a cute pug in his lap picked up the dog and followed me back. For the next few hours, I worked steadily without going to the front. Megan may or may not have gone to lunch; all I knew was that as soon as one patient left, another appeared like clockwork.

My headache forgotten, I lost myself in the pleasure of helping the animals until finally Mrs. P appeared with Minerva. I loved Minerva. The old Burmese was more personable than any of the cats of the other two breeds Mrs. P kept, in my opinion. Her dark brown fur was beginning to be shot through with gray, but the old dear was as loving as ever.

“Good afternoon, your majesty,” I teased, holding my hand for her to bump her head against as she purred. “Are you here for your regular checkup?”

“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. P said, her mournful tone alerting me that all was not well. “She’s been bumping into things, and missing the litter box. Can you look at her eyes?”

Sadly, Mrs. P was right. A film of milky blue covered Minerva’s left eye. “How long since we saw her last, Mrs. P? Here at the clinic, I mean.” I had to clarify, because as a frequent visitor to my apartment, Minerva had been around recently, or so I thought. But maybe I hadn’t looked into her eyes. I hadn’t seen this before.

“I think maybe six months ago? Is there anything you can do?”

“Mrs. P, even if this were the type of cataract that can be corrected, I’m not qualified to do it. I’d recommend you take her to Boulder, to a specialist. Megan may have a referral for you, if you want to do that.”

“Of course I want to do it!”

“I want you to know that most of the time, this bluish haze in an older cat’s eye doesn’t interfere with vision. If this is a true cataract, the most likely cause is injury, and it may not make sense to operate. The specialist will be able to make a determination.”

“Thank you, dear, I’ll remember that. Come, Minerva, let’s go home.” The elderly cat jumped into her arms and stretched to rub her cheek on Mrs. P’s wrinkled chin. “How much do I owe you, dear?”

“No charge, Mrs. P. You’re one of our best clients, so this one’s on the house.”

“Erin, I meant to ask, how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. P. Thank you for asking, though.”

Half an hour to closing time on this fucked-up day, and the clinic was empty except for Megan and myself. I asked Megan if she’d like to knock off early, since she’d been there alone most of the day. She narrowed her eyes at me, as if I were trying to pull a fast one on her, and shook her head. When Jon walked in the front door just then, the joy that welled up in me was an utter shock. Still, I couldn’t help giving him my most brilliant smile. He looked stunned.

Erin
’s smile nearly knocked me off my feet, while at the same time I wondered what had happened to her. She looked...done in. I glanced at Megan to see if they’d been having a fight again, but her usual sullen face gave no evidence of a recent blow-up, just her normal attitude. I glanced back at Erin, then took her elbow and guided her back to the boarding area, where Max was pacing in his kennel.

“Erin, what the hell? What’s wrong?” I knew instantly that it was the wrong thing to say, but then I’d never been subtle. Her face crumpled.

“Nothing. Long day, is all. I must look like the wrath of God.”

“Oh, I’d say that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Maybe his mild annoyance.” Thank the aforementioned deity, that brought a huff that I thought was a laugh. She made no move to release Max, so I opened the kennel and knelt to receive his enthusiastic greeting. “Walk outside with me, Erin, I want to know what’s going on.”

A rebellious expression flashed in her eyes, but she did as I asked and walked outside with Max and me. “Come on, Erin, talk to Dr. Miles,” I teased with a wink.

“It’s nothing, really. Well, Megan’s wearing me down, but nothing else.” It was a lie. The truth wouldn’t have required that disclaimer. Suddenly, I was angry with whomever had put that miserable look in her eyes, caused the sallow cast to her skin and the slumped shoulders. Even though she looked ill and wore no makeup, she was still beautiful, but smaller somehow. I hated that her usual feisty demeanor was missing, that she’d shrunk, as if she needed someone to protect her. Could I be that someone? Didn’t I have enough on my plate? But, the more I resisted, the more that white knight inside me pushed back.
Find out what’s really wrong, and fix it
, he insisted.

Somewhere I’d read that when women talk about what’s bothering them, they really just want to vent, while the men they talk to want to make it all better. Maybe it would be all right if I just gave her an ear to bend, and didn’t get involved otherwise. She’d shot me down twice already, but what the hell, I could try again, couldn’t I?

“Erin, have dinner with me. Please.” Crap, that sounded like I was begging, but I couldn’t think of anything to add that wouldn’t just make it worse, and I couldn’t take it back. I waited for her answer.

“Okay.” The small sound almost didn’t reach my ears, and when it did, I almost didn’t believe it. Third time’s a charm, they say. It was all I could do to suppress the fist pump and ‘yes’ that wanted to acknowledge my victory. I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted from Erin, but this was a first step toward getting it, of that I was certain.

“Jon, I’m a mess. I need to go home and fix my face, change. Can you give me a couple of hours? I could meet you…”

“I can give you a couple of hours if you want, but I’ll pick you up. What kind of a gentleman makes his date meet him somewhere? What’s your address?”

When she told me she lived in Mrs. Padgett’s garage apartment, I almost blew it and laughed. That was a place for a college student if there had been a college here, or a gardener; not a professional woman like Erin. But, maybe she had her reasons.

“Just honk and I’ll come down.” I’d argued with her enough, so I nodded. But I was damned if I was going to pull up into Mrs. P’s driveway and honk like a kid. I would knock at the door, like a proper date.

Now that I thought about it, I did feel like a kid. A nervous high school boy, anticipating picking up my date for the prom for the first time. Would flowers be too much? Could I even find flowers in Sunshine this time of year? Of course I could, at the resort. Two hours would be plenty of time to shower myself, grab a vase of flowers, and get to Erin’s apartment.

I said my goodbyes to Erin and Max, practically skipped out of the clinic, and raced the BMW’s engine all the way to my hotel, forgetting that Ashleigh was still there and my stuff had been taken back to our suite. Fortunately, by the time I remembered, she wasn’t in the room.

I couldn
’t decide whether I was insane or just giddy with anticipation. Somehow the news about my ex, as devastating as it had been, had released me from a prison I hadn’t even known I was in. All the rules and constraints I put on myself, whether they related to my career or my self-image seemed stupid and pointless.

So what if Jon was resort and the townies might object to my seeing him? What business was it of theirs? I was my own woman, this clinic wasn’t my only option, and I deserved to have some fun, even if it was just for the evening. Jon was hot and apparently thought I was, too, if his asking me out while I looked like the ‘mild annoyance’ of God was any clue. That had been so funny!

Of all his many positive attributes, most having to do with physical beauty and a hot body, that had humanized him even more than his apparently genuine concern for the dog. I was beginning to decide I could like him, though I wished that first impression of him would leave my mind.

A flash of the memory of him standing in the clinic after dumping Max in my arms, arrogant, angry, and worst of all, at fault, flitted through, but I pushed it away. I didn’t want it to spoil what promised to be a fun evening if I could keep my head on straight.

And what about the girlfriend? Well, what about her? She wasn’t
my
girlfriend, so the girlfriend code didn’t apply. I didn’t even have faith in that anymore, since it had been shattered beyond repair by the betrayal of my bestie and the rest of them. She could take care of herself, as far as I was concerned. Besides, a hot guy like Jon probably had a string of girlfriends, not just the one. ‘Babe’ probably knew it, too. I didn’t particularly want to join a harem, but a night of fun wasn’t a commitment, was it?

I talked myself into wearing sexy underwear, just in case. Over it, I slipped a slinky little black dress, suitable for dining in style. If he took me to Papa’s, I’d be overdressed, but if that happened I’d just live with it. My faux-fur lined leather dress-length coat would have to do as a wrap. Otherwise, I’d have to wear the puffy purple down jacket that I’d bought just a few days before, and if anything would kill the sexy vibe for me, that would. Thigh-high boots would have been a better choice to keep me warm, but I chose pumps with four-inch heels instead. It would give me a good excuse to cling to his arm.

I’d washed my hair only that afternoon, so I settled for pulling it into a sleek chignon, though it was a bit wavy from being French-braided while wet. Then I applied every trick I knew with makeup to conceal the dark bags under my eyes and bring out as much of their green as I could. It was a pain in the ass having hazel eyes when I wanted to wear black. I didn’t think the gray-green was very interesting, but shading my lids with just the right colors to bring out the green required knowing what kind of lighting the restaurant had.

I settled for assuming it would be darkly-lit in warm amber tones to give the illusion of warmth, and maybe there would be Christmas lights. One of these days, maybe I’d get a set of colored contacts, so I wouldn’t have to go through this every time.

By seven, I was ready, and I’d tidied the apartment in case Jon came up for a cocktail, or whatever, after our date. I’d just sat down with a calming glass of wine when there was a knock at the door. My heart sank. Mrs. P was a dear, but her timing could have been better. I composed my face so she wouldn’t see my impatience, and went to the door with an excuse on my lips that would explain the way I was dressed without, I hoped, having to answer too many questions.

To my surprise, it wasn’t Mrs. P at the door, but Jon. How sweet of him to come up all those stairs for me, and the flowers in his left hand were gorgeous. Now my heart had bobbed back to the surface and was doing backflips. Flowers? This wasn’t just casual for him, then. Or maybe he brought flowers to all of his conquests. Well, he had a surprise coming. I didn’t need to be seduced; in fact, if he didn’t make a move sometime this evening, I would.

“Jon! I thought you were going to honk for me,” I said, mentally kicking myself for the lame remark.

“Couldn’t do that, could I? You’d have had to run back up the stairs with the flowers, and those shoes don’t look stair-worthy anyway,” he said, grinning at me. I grinned back.

“You’re right. Thank you.” I took the flowers, a lovely arrangement of roses, Asian lilies and something small and yellow to set off the variety of deep pinks in the other flowers. “These are beautiful, thanks!”

“They made me think of you,” he said, gallantly I thought.

“I just poured a glass of wine. Would you care for one?” Jon moved easily into the apartment, taking in its size and the fact that there was nowhere to put the flowers but on the bar that separated the kitchen from the tiny living room. I set them down, centering them, and then poured him a glass of the wine that I now regretted was a cheap table red, rather than something more sophisticated. Jon took it and sipped politely as I agonized over whether he would make a face at the inferior quality. I should have known he was smoother than that.

“You look amazing,” he said.

“Thanks! You clean up nicely yourself,” I teased. With that, the awkwardness slipped away, and we chatted as we finished our wine. After a few minutes, Jon said, “We have reservations, so we’d better get going. Shall I carry you down the stairs?”

Startled, I laughed. “I can manage, but maybe you’d lend me your arm?”

Jon took me to a restaurant on the top floor of one of the resort hotels, and the lighting was exactly as I’d imagined it, so my makeup was right. The menu was in French; my meager Spanish wasn’t going to help me order. I asked Jon to order for me, and told him I’d eat anything. He took me at my word, ordering an escargot appetizer that was surprisingly good. That was followed by a lobster dish, and when we’d polished off the dinner, he asked if I would like a dessert.

“Oh, no, thanks. I have to watch my girlish figure,” I said, comfortable now with him as we’d chatted all through dinner about why I’d become a vet and what he did for a living. To my surprise, he told me he worked for the holding company that owned the resort, something to do with stockholder relations. I’d thought he was just a guest for the week, but it turned out he was here often even though he owned a house in Boulder.

I didn’t want to hope that there would be more for us than this one night, but learning that he lived nearby sent a thrill through me. After that, we talked about what outdoor activities we enjoyed. Jon was horrified that I didn’t think I’d want to ski, and insisted that he take me sometime soon and teach me. By the time we got to the dessert question, we were like old friends, and I was delighted to learn that, far from being the arrogant player I’d assumed, Jon was down-to-earth and a fun conversationalist. And still hot as a firecracker.

“Come on, just a bite? I love the Death by Chocolate here, but I have to watch my girlish figure, too,” he teased. “Share one with me?”

“All right, but just a bite. You have to eat the rest.”

“Whatever. You take one bite and I’ll bet I have to fight for my half.”

“We’ll see about that, mister.” As it turned out, he was right. The delectable, fudgy, cake infused with rich chocolate ganache and topped with whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings instantly became my favorite food in the world. I could have died happy with a bite of it in my mouth.

“Oh, my God! This is sinful, and thank you so much for making me have some,” I moaned. I knew the moment I said it that he would take what I said in a different context. His eyes, full of amber reflections from the lighting, darkened to almost black. I took one more bite of dessert and followed it with a swallow of aromatic coffee, gazing into his eyes that had captured mine completely.

“Shall we get out of here?” he asked, a husky growl lurking in the simple words. In answer, I took my napkin out of my lap and laid it on the table. He signaled our server as we left, and the man nodded. I assumed the meal would be added to Jon’s room account. His hand was at my elbow, guiding me to the elevator, and my senses were swimming. How could he have conveyed so much in a look?

I knew his intentions weren’t honorable, but then, neither were mine. I couldn’t wait to get him to my apartment and rip his clothes off him. We were alone in the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, he pinned me against the wall, kissing me as I’d known he would ever since that remark about sin. His tongue probed at my lips, opening them for a kiss that left me delirious and wanting more.

It was fortunate that no stray dogs stepped into Jon’s path on the way back to my apartment. He must have been doing eighty in a town that had a strict twenty-five speed limit. I didn’t even care. We couldn’t get there fast enough for me. I was already wet at my core, my nipples erect and aching. Glancing toward his lap, I could see a tell-tale bulge that told me we were on the same wave-length, as if the thick sexual tension in the air between us hadn’t already told me that. Jon slowed enough to take the corner into the driveway without squealing his tires, thank goodness. The last thing I needed right now was to bring Mrs. P to question what was going on.

Jon parked and came to my side of the car to open the door and sweep me into his arms for another passionate kiss. The next thing I knew, he had picked me up and was nearly running up the stairs with me. He must have been in superb physical condition, as I was no lightweight and the stairs were steep. He was breathing hard when we got to the door, but not from exertion.

“Hurry, Erin, open the door. God, I want you.”

My hands shook as I tried to insert the key, and he took it from me. “Always ask a man when you need to put something hard into a little hole,” he smirked. Oh, Lord, did I ever need something hard in
my
little hole.

We tumbled into the room, kissing wildly, hands busy pushing at each other’s coats. I’d gotten his coat and his suit jacket off him by the time he stripped me of my coat and shoes. Then he swept me up again and strode through the living room/kitchen area toward the back of the apartment where he would find my bedroom.

I expected him to toss me on the bed, but instead Jon put me gently on my feet. “Erin, I’m assuming…”

“You assume correctly, sir,” I teased, cutting him off with a swift kiss while my hands were busy undoing his tie. He groaned and captured me in his arms again, this time tossing me onto the bed as I’d expected and throwing himself down beside me.

“I don’t want to tear your dress. Turn over, so I can unzip it.”

I turned my back to him and felt the long zipper open slowly as he planted kisses every inch or so down my spine. When he got to the bra, he unhooked it before continuing with the zipper. Shivering with anticipation and experiencing a clench of my core every time he kissed me, I held my breath as the zipper neared the bottom. I didn’t think it would quite reveal that I was wearing a thong, but I knew it would be obvious that the panties were skimpy when he reached the bottom of the zipper without finding them.

Then, it was all the way down and his hands were turning me back toward him. He pulled each shoulder of the dress down my arms, leaving the bra straps in place, and then stripped the dress off from the bottom as I wriggled my hips out of it.

I’d never felt like this with a man before. To tell the truth, I hadn’t been with many. A boyfriend who got to second base in high school, a fumbling loss of my virginity as a freshman in college, to a boy I never saw again. A few short-term relationships throughout my undergraduate years, none of which was very memorable and most of which didn’t lead to sex at all.

And then Greg. I didn’t want to think about Greg, but I couldn’t help but compare his disdain to what Jon was expressing. Jon was either seriously into me or he was a consummate actor. I didn’t care which at the moment, I only wanted to feel something. Could he be using me? Sure, but I was definitely using him. I’d wait until later to feel guilty about that.

Jon was gazing at me, covered as I was in only in the tiny triangle of lace that was my thong and a matching bra, straps hanging loosely over my shoulders. He put a finger under one strap and slowly pulled it down until the breast was exposed. A hitch in his breath meant he liked what he saw, didn’t it? His eyes were drifting almost shut as he leaned down and took the nipple and aureole into his mouth. Electricity shot through me when I felt his tongue gently probe the nipple, and then lap in a lazy circle before his lips closed, sucking deeply.