The Money Man

Mark’s attitude might be fixable. Once she was settled and knew her way around, she would try to convince him to come with her when she went to the local old folks’ home with one of the visitation dogs, or to a Special Cargo class, in which developmentally delayed children rode horses. Simply watching a sheepdog herd sheep wouldn’t do it. He’d be impressed with the dog’s skills, but not with its ability to provide emotional support.

She’d lay out her strategy carefully. It might take a few months, but before she was through, she’d have Mark as passionately committed as she was to Creature Comfort and its clients.

As she finished her soda, Bill came in, got himself a drink, opened it and drank deeply. Then he plopped his body down in the chair opposite Sarah’s.

“So he’s screwed you, too.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Scott. I’ve been out supervising the workmen finishing up my flight cage. He cut back the dimensions. He told me we’ll enlarge it when there’s more money, but I know he’s hiding money that we could use right this minute.” He sounded on the verge of angry tears.

“What makes you think he’s hiding money?”

“He’s noted for it. He’s overcautious, and in this case, he’s not really committed to the clinic.”

“He doesn’t want it to fail, surely.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s got his own agenda. We go under, he and Buchanan sell this place to a medical group or bulldoze it and put up apartments.”

“Bill, that doesn’t make any sense. I’m just as annoyed about his tightfistedness as you are, but I don’t think he has any deep and sinister plot. He probably thinks he’s doing the right thing. I don’t agree with him, and I intend to change his mind, but he does have a right to his opinion.”

“Oh God. I can’t believe he’s conned you, too.” Bill threw his empty can in the general area of the trash can and stomped out.

She finished her soda, picked up Bill’s can, and tossed both into the trash container. Then she went to find her next appointment.

A monumental woman in a flowered print dress stood behind the examining table with a gigantic black-and-white Maine coon cat, who began to yowl the instant Sarah walked in the door. The cat sounded hoarse. “Mrs. Pulaski, the desk says that Sweetums has a cold.”

BY THE TIME Mark worked through the telephone messages, his stomach was rumbling.

So was the weather, as it turned out. His cubicle was so insulated that he didn’t hear the thunder until he walked into the hall. The yaps and meows seemed to have increased in volume to vie with the cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning—although the waiting room was nearly empty.

Alva Jean on the desk had been replaced by Mabel Halliburton, fiftyish and comfortable. She cocked a motherly eye at Mark and said, “You look like you been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I was hoping it didn’t show.”

“Well, it does. Go home, have a nice glass of wine and a decent dinner. Can you cook?”

“Can but don’t. My idea of a gourmet feast is takeout Chinese.”

“Then take out. You need a good woman, Mark. Somebody to look after you.”

Mark laughed. “My mother gives me a decent dinner most Sundays when she’s not traveling. That’s as close to a good woman as I’m likely to get.”

Mabel shook her head and picked up the ringing telephone. “Creature Comfort Veterinary Clinic,” she trilled as she waved her fingers at Mark.

Damn! He’d forgotten to order that headset. He’d call Beth first thing tomorrow.

He stood for a moment in the doorway of the clinic and watched the rain sluice down. The wind drove it against the building and the cars. He looked at the flapping tarps that covered the remaining piles of building materials and fence posts, and hoped that whatever was underneath stayed dry.

The temperature had dropped about thirty degrees since he’d arrived at the clinic several hours ago. A night for neither man nor beast, as his grandfather would have said.

He took a deep breath and raced toward his car, clicking the button on his remote door lock as he went. As he yanked the door open, he saw a flash of dirty gray that looked like the head of an old mop skitter behind his front wheel.

“What the—”

The mop slid farther forward, flattened under the car. Some damn animal must have gotten loose from its owner. The last thing he needed was to drive over somebody’s pet tabby.

Rain ran down under the collar of his coat and dripped off his eyelashes. He was about as wet as he could possibly get. He hunkered down, and saw only the end of a matted behind. Didn’t look like anybody’s pet anything. But whatever it was, was shivering and soaked, much like Mark, himself.

He moved around to the front of the car and squatted to look under the bumper—and came nose to nose with a small, wet, gray face with shoe-button eyes rimmed in white.

A dog. Something resembling a dog. A terror-stricken little creature. Mark called to it. It stayed flat. He could see the water pouring under its belly. He couldn’t drive off with the thing under his car.

“Come on out of there,” he said.

The button eyes held his. The shivering continued. Damn thing must be half frozen. No way could that matted coat provide any protection.

Lightning flashed, and the dog whimpered, turning its head slightly in the direction of the flash.

It was wearing a collar. Oh God, it was somebody’s lost pet. Long lost, judging from the condition it was in. He’d heard that abandoned dogs tended to go feral, became frightened of human beings. Maybe this one was too cold and too wet and too frightened to run.

But probably not too frightened to bite Mark’s hand if he reached out for it. And it might be rabid.

For a moment he considered going back into the clinic and hunting up Jack Renfro or one of the kennel cleaners to capture the pup. But it might disappear in the meantime. The animal might not be Mark’s problem, but he couldn’t leave the poor thing to suffer.

He took a deep breath and reached out a tentative hand. “Come on, boy,” he whispered. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

He expected the dog to snarl or back away. For a moment nothing happened, then it began to wriggle its body forward toward Mark’s outstretched hand.

Mark ignored the water streaming into his eyes. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was that he win this creature over. He kept talking.

The dog kept inching.

Mark was afraid that if he made a grab for the dog, it would spook, so he kept up his soft patter, kept his hand out there while the rain ran down his arm.

“We’ll both wind up with pneumonia,” he whispered. The rear end of the small body gave an answering wriggle—as though the dog were trying to wag a tail that was no longer there.

The small triangular head had almost touched Mark’s knee. He reached down and touched the wet fur between the ears. The little dog sighed softly and came all the way out to lean against Mark’s leg.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” he asked as he stroked the pitiful body. His hand felt lumps under the matted fur.

Ticks. The dog was covered with them, buried deep in his fur. Mark hated ticks. He’d had to pull them off Mickey after they’d spent an afternoon in the woods. Pulled them off himself, as well. Fat, bloated, disgusting things. He closed his eyes.

“Okay, up you go,” he said. “But if one of those things comes off on me, you’re in big trouble.”

The animal couldn’t have weighed more than eight or nine pounds. When Mark lifted it, he felt its ribs and heard its heart fluttering. Mark held it against his chest.

He walked back to the clinic, pushed the door open with his hip and walked in.

“Car won’t start?” Mabel asked as she looked up from her registration sheet. “Oh my God, what on earth…?” She came around the counter at a run.

“Stray, found him under my car. Can you take him?”

He held the dog out, but it struggled to remain in his arms.

“Wait, I’ll call Dr. Marsdon.”

Two minutes later, when Sarah reached across the steel examining table to take the dog, he whimpered again and buried his head under the shoulder of Mark’s jacket.

Mark cupped him possessively. “You’re scaring him.”

“I know,” Sarah said. She came around the table. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay.” She stroked the small body.

Her gentle voice, the soft hand that touched his chest as she reached for the dog, made Mark’s whole body tense.

She took the dog and set it carefully on the table. “Hand me some of those towels over there,” she said, pointing to the corner of the room.

Mark complied. She began to dry the dog gently. It cowered on its belly, eyes never leaving Mark’s face.

“We’ve got to get these ticks off,” Sarah said. “Lord knows how much blood she’s lost.”

“She?”

“She. Didn’t you check?”

“Who could tell under all that matted hair?”

“Well, she’s a she, and…” Sarah raised the corner of the dog’s mouth. “Her gums are pretty red. That’s a good sign. It means she’s not as anemic as I thought she might be, with all the fleas and ticks.”

“Fleas?” Mark began to feel itchy at the very suggestion.

Sarah glanced up. “Don’t worry. They prefer dogs when there’s one available. Just hold her, while I take some blood and fecal samples for a workup.”

The dog cowered deeper against him. He put a hand protectively around her head.

Sarah sighed. “I won’t hurt her, I promise. But we need to see whether or not she has heartworm.”

She picked up a needle and syringe. Mark tensed.

“Oh, come on,” Sarah said as she stuck the needle into the flesh of the dog’s neck and drew a vial of dark blood. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She disappeared from the room for a moment with the vial.

When she came back, she said, “We can get quick results on the heartworm test. In the meantime, give me a hand bathing her. She trusts you. After that, we’ll get the vermin off, trim off all that hair, then we’ll give her another bath—and by that time we may see what kind of a pup we’ve got here.”

“Pup?”

“Probably less than a year old. Mostly Jack Russell terrier would be my guess, but with something furry mixed in. Maybe Lhasa apso or shih tzu. Whatever gave her all this hair, it’s got to go.”

“So do I,” Mark said. “She’s in good hands.”

“No, you don’t,” Sarah said. “She’s your responsibility. Some idiot abandoned her or lost her, and she’s found you. You try to walk out that door, buster, and I will personally lock it and throw away the key.”

“All I did was find her.”

“That’s all it takes. Give me those scissors—we need to cut this collar off her and start cutting some of the worst stuff off before we stick her in the washtub.”

“If she’s lost, we can call her owners.”

“No address on the collar. I’ve got Mabel checking the want ads we keep on the computer—but the dog doesn’t have a registration tag, and I can’t feel a microchip under her skin. There may not be owners looking for her. Somebody may have simply tossed her out with the garbage. People do it all the time.” Sarah’s voice was suddenly hard.

Over the next hour, the pup had a flea and tick bath, and was personally deloused by Sarah—and Mark, at Sarah’s insistence. Then the matted hair was snipped, clipped and shaved. Finally the little dog had another bath, but this time the bathwater was clean and not crimson from her blood.

Jack Renfro stuck his head in the door, as they were toweling the dog off for the second time. “The test says no heartworm. Lucky.”

“Thank God,” Sarah said. “But we’ll give her her shots and start her on dewormer and flea stuff and everything else she needs. Bring me a couple of cans of dog food and a water dish. She’s been damn patient with us, but I suspect she’s starving, and I know she’s dehydrated.”

“Shouldn’t we have fed her first?” Mark asked, rubbing the small head with the towel.

“Judgment call. I wanted to see what we had to work with.”

Mark guessed that Sarah wanted to see whether the little dog was too sick to be saved. He gave a small prayer of thanks that apparently the tiny dog wasn’t.

She was, however, hungry. She devoured a can of food and drank half a bowl of water, while Sarah and Mark looked on, smiling like happy parents.

“She’s really a precious little thing,” Sarah said as she stroked the newly fluffy white head, with its black circles around the eyes and over one ear. “How could anyone toss her out to die like that?”

She glanced up at Mark, who saw tears in her eyes.

“She would have died, you know. If not tonight, then tomorrow or the next day. Run over by a car, eaten by a coyote or a bigger dog. Or she’d have starved to death eventually. It makes me so angry!” Sarah said.

“If the people who owned her couldn’t look after her any longer and couldn’t find a home for her, why wouldn’t they take her to the Humane Society?”

“Because people have this crazy idea that letting an animal, a pet animal like this, out into the world to fend for itself is all right. I would love to throw those people out into a totally unfamiliar environment and see how well they do.”

“Harsh.”

“Not really. We understand what we’re doing. They—” she touched the pup “—don’t.”

“So what happens now? You put her up for adoption?”

Sarah stared at him. “Why? She already has an owner—you.”

“Oh—no, you don’t. I do not have time or room in my life for a dog. She’s probably not housebroken, she’s probably sick, and I’m away all the time.”

“Take her with you. She can stay here during the day if you like, then you take her home at night.”

“Why not let her stay here all the time, and find somebody else to take her?”

As though she understood that her fate was being discussed, the pup wriggled over, sighed, and laid her head on Mark’s gloved hand. Her ragged little rear wagged gently as she closed her eyes.

“There, you see—” Sarah said. “She is your dog. Besides, somebody has to pay for all the treatment we’ve given her—isn’t that what you say, Mr. Scott? If she’s your dog, she’s your responsibility, and you get the bills.”

“Whoa.”

“No whoa. You brought her, you worked with me, you saw what we did. It all costs money—isn’t that what you say? That we have to make money? Well, Mark, you have just spent about two hundred bucks, and by the time I get through loading you up with all the things you’re going to need for her when she goes home with you tonight, you will have spent a bunch more.” She rubbed the pup’s ears. “Sweet baby, Mommy loves a paying client.”

Sarah raised her blue eyes, and batted her eyelashes at him in a parody of sweet innocence.

For a moment he hesitated, then he began to laugh. The pup woke up for a moment to stare at him, then obviously assumed everything was fine and went back to sleep.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll pay the freight. But I still can’t manage a dog.”

“Didn’t you ever have a dog?”

He glanced away. “Yeah, once.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I’m off in about—” Sarah glanced at her watch “—twenty minutes. Good thing it’s been quiet tonight. Dr. Grayson can take over from here. If she needs me, she can page me. I think it’s stopped raining, so we’ll get the pup a new collar and leash. You can take her out to go to the bathroom, while I collect what you’ll need for her. Then I’ll follow you home and help you get set up.”

“What about food? I just realized I haven’t had anything to eat.”

“Me, neither. We can order a pizza. Deal?”

“You, Doctor, are a monster, you know that?”

“Where animals are concerned, you bet. Deal?”

“Yeah, at least for tonight. Deal. And you can order your clippers. After tonight, I realize you do need them. But I’m not agreeing to keep this thing.”

“Thanks. Stay here. I’ll send Mabel in with a collar and leash.” Sarah walked out of the examining room and softly shut the door behind her. “But you will, Mr. Mark Scott,” she murmured to herself smugly. “You will. You’re the proud owner of a dog.” She pumped her arm up and down. “Yes!”

CHAPTER FOUR

“MARK’S LETTING YOU get away with this?” Mabel said as she hefted the bag of kibble and a few cans of dog food. “And here, I thought he was such a hard-nose.”

“I sandbagged him,” Sarah said happily as she checked the plastic animal carrier at her feet. “Yeah, this is the right size. She should be happy to have her little den to crawl into when she’s frightened. Tomorrow we can get her a regular wire kennel to keep in his office here, and whatever else I can figure out to spend his money on.”

“Dr. Marsdon, you are a devil,” Mabel said, grinning.

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. “I was hoping to keep that a secret for a couple of days.” She glanced around the now empty waiting room. “Here are my car keys,” Sarah said, and tossed them to Mabel. “Stick that stuff on the back seat of my truck, if you don’t mind, while I brief Eleanor on what’s going on in ICU. You have my new cell phone number if you need me, don’t you?”

“Sure, but Dr. Eleanor’s able to handle most things— she’s as good with the large animals as she is with the small.”

Sarah glanced up at Mabel. “Why is she only working part-time? Seems as if she’d be a partner in her own clinic by this time.”

Mabel sighed. “Long story. Lost her husband, lost her confidence, I think. She’s finally coming out of her funk, though.”

“She doesn’t seem to lack confidence now. I watched her work with Dr. Thorn. At any rate, I need to brief her on what’s happening with the animals. Then I’ll pick up our new dog owner and his pup. And off we go to her new life.” Sarah laughed. “And his.”

THE RAIN HAD STOPPED and a watery new moon hung high, barely bright enough to reflect in the pools that rimmed the parking lot at the clinic. Mark felt the little dog quiver in his arms when he tried to put her down on the asphalt.

“She’s afraid you’re going to throw her away,” Sarah said.

“I ought to. Little scrap of ratty fur like this,” he said, but the softness in his voice belied his words.

“I don’t know where you live, so I’ll follow you again,” Sarah said. “I’ve got your stuff in my truck.”

Before he could shift his car out of park, the little dog had scooted across the seat so that her read rested on his knee. “You’re going to have to learn to ride in one of those carrier things,” he said as he caressed her head. “But not tonight. How the hell did I get conned into this?” He glanced in his rearview mirror at the headlights of Sarah’s truck. He knew damn well. He’d been suckered by a better con artist that he’d met in some time. Considerably better than some of the manipulative subcontractors he dealt with.

He hated to admit it, but it was those darn blue eyes of hers. And those darn black eyes of the pup in his lap. An unbeatable combination.

Well, he’d keep the pup tonight, and tomorrow the clinic could start searching for a permanent home for her. He obviously couldn’t spend the time with her that would be necessary to get her over her fear. She needed someone who could be with her all the time, give her a fenced yard to play in. Maybe a couple of kids to play fetch with.

He realized he was driving one-handed while he scratched the pup’s ears with his other hand. Okay, so he did have a fenced yard, small though it was. But no kids, no time, no experience, and absolutely no desire to take this creature into his life.

He poked the remote garage door opener, waited while the door swung silently up, and then pulled into his two-car garage. Sarah’s truck pulled into the empty space beside him. He shut the garage and opened his car door.

“I should have known you’d be one of those people who never stores stuff in their garages,” Sarah said as she climbed out of her truck. “Neat freaks always give me the willies.”

“Not a neat freak. I don’t have stuff,” Mark said. The pup began exploring the corners of the garage.

“I think she needs to go out,” Sarah said.

Mark opened the side door that led to the yard, and a motion sensor light came on. As he walked out, a stream of water from the gutters ran down his neck. He jumped and cursed. Instantly the little dog dropped and flattened herself against the paving stones.

“Hey, you scared her—don’t do that,” Sarah admonished.

He picked up the dog gently and took her to the backyard, where he let her off her leash and watched her investigate the interesting smells until she finally did her business. It was like having a baby, except that the pup could walk on its own and didn’t use diapers. He definitely was not used to scooping poop, and he doubted the expensive yard crew that did his gardening would appreciate stepping in it. He wondered whether he could pay them extra for the service.

“Come on, sweetie,” Sarah said, dropping to her haunches and clapping softly. “Let’s go see your new home.”

Twenty minutes later Sarah knelt on the quarry tiles of Mark’s largely unused gourmet kitchen and watched the pup nibble at her dry dog food. The lights overhead reflected on Sarah’s still-damp hair and turned it to antique gold. Mark longed to reach down and touch it, to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

“What’s her name?” Sarah asked.

He drew back his hand without touching her. “How should I know?”

“She’s your dog.”

“She is not.”

“Sure, she is. What are you going to call her? Dow Jones?”

“How about Merrill Lynch?”

“Yukk.”

“Ameritrade? Paine Webber?”

“None of the above. She’s not a stock certificate.”

“How about Phoenix? She’s definitely been reincarnated.”

Sarah sat back on her heels. “Better, but I always see the Phoenix as this huge, ugly bird with a really loud voice and big claws.” She touched the pup, who moved over to lean against her knee.

“The way she slides along the ground, I ought to call her Lava.”

This time Sarah laughed. “Not Lava. How about Pudding?”

Mark hunkered down beside her. “Here in the south, that would be Puddin.”

“Oh, brother. I can hear it now. ‘Isn’t ’um the sweetest ole puddin?”’

“I refuse to have a dog called Pudding. How about Nasdaq?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Suddenly the little dog shook the entire length of her body in sheer delight and let out the faintest hint of a bark.

This time both Sarah and Mark laughed out loud. Mark stood and reached a hand down to Sarah. “Nasdaq it is.”

She took his hand and came to her feet close to his chest. They grinned foolishly at one another for a moment. Slowly, the smiles subsided. Their eyes locked.

Mark could feel his heartbeat against his chest and see the answering pulse in Sarah’s slender throat. He felt as though he’d suddenly been struck dumb. Dumb and breathless. Sarah’s blue eyes were deep enough to drown in, and that’s what he longed to do.

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, bent his face to hers, felt the touch of her lips like flaming velvet against his mouth. She felt good in his arms—not soft and boneless but lean and supple. A woman who would bend to him only if she chose. Suddenly, fiercely, he wanted her to choose. He wanted her body beneath him, wanted to ignite the passion he sensed beneath that cool exterior. Wanted—

The doorbell buzzed—an ugly brap sound that went on until he couldn’t ignore it.

Neither could Nasdaq. She cowered between their feet, her body flattened against the tiles, her eyes staring up imploringly.

“Damn!” He released Sarah. “Must be the pizza.”

The instant he released her, Sarah sank to the floor again and gathered Nasdaq’s shivering body into her arms. “It’s all right, baby,” she crooned, knowing that it had very nearly not been all right. “Now, you listen to me, dog,” she continued, “I am starting a new life. I have sworn off males. I have just dumped one man who tried to run my life. I am not about to take on another.”

Nasdaq listened attentively with one ear perked, the other drooping slightly.