Animal Attraction: Buckhorn Ever AfterImagine Me and YouGimme ShelterPartner in Crime

by Lori Foster

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, why didn’t you say something?” Hopping up, she headed for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’m sure I can do better than popcorn.”

  “Don’t go to any bother,” he said, and she was surprised to find him right behind her. “I like popcorn.”

  Hoping she had the right ingredients to back up the offer, she said, “How about a sandwich while it pops, then?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of teeth as he smiled. “Deal.”

  One by one, she passed items to him. Cheese, some deli meat, a tomato, lettuce, bread, and both mustard and mayonnaise after she asked which he preferred. He started opening packages while she collected a plate and knife, and within minutes they had a sandwich built to rival that of any delicatessen. Then, because his looked so good, Erica made another half that size for herself.

  “The popcorn is microwavable, so it will only take five minutes,” she told him. “Do you want it now, or would you rather wait?”

  “I’m good,” he said with a grunt of approval, one hip resting against the edge of the counter while he chewed a giant bite from the corner of his sandwich.

  Erica shook her head. It was so odd to have a man in her house. Well, other than a plumber or cable technician or somebody there to do a job and leave again.

  Dean was...staying. Filling up all the space and sucking up all the air. But in a good way. She liked the low timbre of his voice and the easy comfort he seemed to feel, even in a stranger’s home, when dropped into an unfamiliar situation.

  Clinking ice cubes into a couple of glasses from the cupboard, she filled them both with soda, then grabbed up as much as she could carry and tipped her head toward the living room. “Did you really want to finish watching the movie, or do you want to stay in here?”

  “Movie’s good.” One corner of his mouth curled up, and he gave her a wink. “Even if it is a chick flick.”

  She felt herself start to blush. Yeah—an extremely sexually suggestive chick flick. And that dinner scene coming up, too—the one that was fall-down funny, but not necessarily appropriate to watch in mixed company.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to finish watching this particular movie, after all. Not with him sitting right next to her.

  “I have other DVDs,” she suggested, suddenly desperate to talk him into something else.

  “Nah. This one looks interesting. And I’ve disrupted your plans enough for one night. The least I can do is find out if Katherine Heigl lands Prince Charming.”

  A flutter of something warm yet indefinable skittered through her belly. Speaking of charming... Whatever pumped through Dean Maxwell’s veins, it should be bottled.

  After checking on the still-dozing kittens, they lowered themselves to the floor in front of the sofa, with their plates and glasses set on the coffee table only a couple feet away.

  “What’s the extra turkey for?” Dean asked, even as Lola and Murphy popped up from where they’d been curled up on the floor, noses in the air.

  Knowing her brood and what was coming, Erica opened the pack of meat, then drew out a slice to tear it into smaller pieces on her plate. Murphy and Lola were dancing at her side, so she gifted them each with a nibble before responding to Dean’s question.

  “Because if I don’t bring a little something extra for them, they’ll either drive us crazy begging or stealing the meat right out of our sandwiches.” She took a bite, chewing slowly, making the dogs wait a little while before she treated them again. They were working on patience and not scarfing food and keeping the begging to a minimum.

  “That’s actually pretty smart,” Dean remarked, reaching for his own sandwich again.

  The dogs’ gazes followed the movement in perfect synchronization, and Erica waited a moment before offering them each another bit of turkey.

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling slightly self-conscious at the sparkle in his eye and the way he was looking at her.

  “So are we going to finish this movie or what?”

  With a sigh, she reached for the remote, resigning herself to an evening that was going to be both uncomfortable...and exhilarating.

  * * *

  Dean couldn’t figure out if he was awake or dreaming. On his one side, he heard panting. On the other, soft, high-pitched mewls. And on top of him was a heavy, but not entirely unpleasant weight.

  He also thought he smelled dog. It wasn’t awful, just...different, since he didn’t actually have a dog.

  Cracking one eye open, he found a big furry dog hovering over him, tongue wagging. Perched on his shoulder were two tiny Chihuahua paws, and the entire evening before flashed back to him.

  Murphy and Lola—Erica’s two friendly mutts. Which meant he was still at her place.

  Opening his other eye and tipping his chin toward his chest, he found Erica’s brown hair falling across his chest and felt the heat of her cheek through his T-shirt. The rest of her was sprawled over him like a blanket, warming him even more.

  Not entirely unexpectedly, he found himself stirring, and not in the waking-up-from-a-good-night’s-sleep sort of way.

  No, it had much more to do with her soft curves molding against him. Plus the subtle scent of her apple shampoo, which he could smell much better now, even over Murphy’s questionable doggie breath. And the fact that he hadn’t realized until last night just how attracted he actually was to this woman.

  All this time, living just a couple of doors down from her. Seeing her come and go...doing the friendly but unobtrusive neighbor-to-neighbor wave on a semidaily basis...acknowledging that she was cute, but never taking the time to do anything about it.

  Now he found himself wanting to do something about it. A lot of things, rather badly.

  Afraid she was going to wake up and notice the proof of that any minute, he let his head fall back to the floor. The same mewling sound he’d heard when he’d thought he was dreaming caught his attention again, and he looked to find two tiny kitten faces and one equally tiny kitten butt staring down at him from the sofa.

  Holy crap, they were cute. Dry now, their fur was extra fluffy and sticking out everywhere. They had big eyes and long whiskers, and when they opened their mouths to cry, it was nothing but pink tongue and teeny-tiny baby teeth. He’d never considered himself much of a cat person, but damn.

  And he’d saved them. Well, Erica had helped, but they would be dead for sure if he hadn’t scooped them out from behind the Dumpster and below that rain gutter when he did. It made his heart swell with pride.

  The little gray one squealed again, and he knew he’d have to wake Erica, no matter how cozy it might be to have her snuggled on top of him. He wouldn’t mind a repeat of waking up this way, though.

  With luck, maybe they could do it again soon...and with a bit of sweaty boot-knockin’ activity beforehand.

  As carefully as he could, Dean started to sit up, wanting to wake her, yet hating to disturb her rest. The more vertical they got, the more she began to stir, but he kept his arms around her, anyway.

  To keep her from falling or being startled, was all. Not because she felt so nice and soft, or because her breasts were pressed against him in a most delicious way.

  As she took a deep stuttering breath, she popped open her eyes, and he knew she was finally awake.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She blinked, then blinked again. “What are you...? How did I...?”

  The kittens meowed again, making her turn her head. “Oh, my goodness, I forgot.”

  In a scramble, she climbed off him and ended up on her knees a foot or so away, leaning on the couch for support.

  He followed suit, reaching out to pet one of the tiny felines, who bumped its head into his palm, seeking even more attention.

  “I can’t believe they’re up and around like thi
s. I thought for sure they were half-dead.”

  “I think they were mostly cold and hungry and scared. Some TLC and a good night’s sleep was all they needed. Although...” She leaned in to pet each of the kittens, taking extra time to examine their faces. “They should probably see a veterinarian first thing Monday. I think they might have the sniffles. Most kittens do when not properly cared for from the beginning.”

  “The sniffles?” Dean asked. They didn’t look sniffly to him.

  She offered him a lopsided smile. “Most likely upper respiratory issues and a bit of conjunctivitis.”

  “Conjuncti-what?”

  Her smile was full-blown this time, and if they hadn’t been talking about feline maladies...if that grin had been aimed at him instead, he was pretty sure he’d be tempted to drag her back down to the floor. To hell with their animal audience.

  “See how dirty their eyes and noses are? It’s a sign they have a cold. But a cold that will require antibiotics rather than passing on its own.”

  “Will they be okay through the weekend?” he wanted to know, suddenly concerned. He hadn’t rescued them from certain death, helped Erica nurse them back to healthier only to have them get sick and die from “the sniffles.”

  “I think so.”

  Pushing to her feet, she started shifting the pillows on the couch, rearranging the towel and heating pad and all the rest that had kept them safe during the night.

  “There’s always an emergency vet if things get bad, but for now, I think they’re probably just hungry.”

  “You think?” he asked, ending on a chuckle when the little black-and-white one crawled up his arm and onto his shoulder, rubbing like crazy against his neck and the side of his face.

  Erica laughed at its antics, too. “I hope you’re not allergic.”

  “I don’t think I am,” he said, as his new little buddy broke into a loud, staccato purr and began nudging his nose. “But I guess we’ll find out.”

  “You keep them occupied,” she told him, hopping to her feet, “while I fix their food.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  The gray one, and then the black, followed their sibling’s lead and started climbing him like monkeys in a mango tree. Erica snickered at his predicament, tossing “I don’t think so” over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

  Funny, Dean thought as the trio of kittens turned him into their personal playground. He never would have thought he’d tolerate something like this. Or would allow it willingly, at any rate.

  But sitting here, with kittens climbing all over him and two dogs sitting nearby, wagging their tails in amusement, he found he didn’t mind all that much. It was the first Saturday in as long as he could remember when he hadn’t either been working at the garage or home alone, watching a game on TV and pretending he wasn’t...bored? Lonely? Both?

  The prospect of spending the weekend with Erica, even if it meant nursing and playing with a roomful of animals, sounded downright entertaining. And now that he’d admitted an attraction to her, he wouldn’t mind getting to know her a little better. He wondered if they might even consider this experience a first date.

  He could hear dishes clanking a few yards away, and then she was back, crouching down beside him in front of the sofa. Once again, they divvied up the food and eye droppers and began the slow task of getting the kittens fed.

  “They’re doing really well,” she said. “Next time, let’s try using spoons. We’ll see if they can lap the food off themselves. If they can, it won’t be long before they can eat right out of the bowl.”

  “They grow up so fast,” he quipped with mock forlornness.

  She laughed. “Yes, they do. Which is good in some respects, but you’ll miss their antics when they aren’t climbing all over you anymore. They’re so darn cute when they’re babies,” she added, pressing a kiss to the head of the kitten in her hand.

  “What do we do with them after this?” he asked her. “You know, until we can call a vet on Monday?”

  “Well...” She hesitated, refusing to meet his gaze. “I hate to do this to you, but I actually have to ask you to take them to your place.”

  His eyes flared, a jolt of panic hitting him midchest. She was kicking him out? With the three kittens he knew nothing about taking care of?

  “I’ve got my cats locked in the bedroom, but I can’t leave them in there all day. And not only would they probably have a hissy fit—literally—over the new additions, but the kittens really need to be checked out and tested for a couple of things before they can be around other cats, or they could make them sick.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to beg her to change her mind. They could take the kittens into the bedroom and let her older cats have the rest of the house. Or they could stick the kittens in a laundry basket or something and spend the weekend waving off the older cats.

  Then an idea popped into his head, and he thought it might possibly verge on genius.

  “You’re not going to abandon me, are you?” he asked, letting his very real anxiety seep into his voice. “I’m not sure I’ll know what to do if I’m left alone with them.”

  “Of course not,” she rushed to assure him, and he silently thought Yes!

  “So if I take them back to my house, and you get your pets taken care of over here, is there any chance you’d come spend the day with us?”

  He tipped his head to the side, doing his best to look needy, which wasn’t exactly difficult. He considered lifting the kitten he was feeding up to his cheek and doing sad-puppy-dog eyes to seal the deal, but was afraid that might be overkill.

  Though she hesitated for a second or two, finally she gave in. “Sure. I doubt you’ll need me once you get them settled, but I’ll come over for a bit and make sure you’re all right.”

  Score one for kittens as matchmakers.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Now he just had to make sure his place was moderately clean and woman-friendly before she showed up. No dirty dishes in the sink or dirty underwear on the floor.

  And then he had to figure out what he’d need to do to convince her to spend the night.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Dean was back at his place, and the kittens were—blessedly—sleeping. He didn’t expect it to last long, though.

  They’d been sleeping when he’d first carried them home from Erica’s in a blanket-lined laundry basket, complete with some food, dishes and other supplies she thought he might need before her arrival. It had given him a chance to clean up a little...wipe the counter, get the dishes out of the sink, pick up dirty laundry off the bathroom floor. But before he could jump in the shower and get cleaned up himself, the kittens had woken up, started crying and climbed right out of their makeshift crib.

  He’d thought to leave them to their own devices. After all, how much trouble could three tiny kittens get into in the amount of time it took him to shower?

  Before he’d even stripped out of his pants, he’d discovered it was quite a lot. Plaintive cries had led him half-naked into the living room to find the black-and-white one climbing the curtains, the gray one stuck between the wall and the back of the sofa, and the black one trying to crawl under the sofa.

  Not knowing what else to do, he’d rescued them all, stuck them back in the laundry basket and hauled them into the bathroom with him. They hadn’t stayed in the basket long and had continued their reign of mewling terror on the small enclosed space, but at least he’d been able to get in the shower, scrub down and get out without any major mishaps.

  The minute he stepped out of the tub, though, they were on him again, rubbing against his ankles, nibbling on his toes and even mistaking his legs for tree trunks a time or two. The scratches their tiny claws left still stung.

  But he’d tolerated it all, knowing it was what Erica wou
ld do, and also because he was in a rush to get ready. He shaved, afterward slapped on some cologne, combed his hair and then moved back into the bedroom to get dressed with the kittens trailing behind.

  Normally, he’d slouch around in a T-shirt and jeans or even sweats over the weekend, but he didn’t want to look a mess when Erica came over. Sure, he’d already seen her in her jammies, but she’d looked sexy and adorable, and his “comfortable clothes” tended to lean more toward couch-potato chic.

  And while he wasn’t exactly trying to impress her, he spent most of his days covered in motor oil and axle grease, so he wanted to at least look (and smell) presentable for what he considered their first date.

  He wondered if she would be willing to consider it their first date.

  Feeling like the Pied Piper, he padded to the kitchen in his socks with Larry, Curly and Moe tripping him every other step. Now that he no longer smelled like a day-old gutter and no longer wore slept-in wrinkled clothes, he needed to make sure he had the ingredients for a decent home-cooked meal. If not, he might have to make a supply run, and lord knew what he’d do with The Three Stooges while he was gone.

  While they circled around his feet and explored the insides of his cupboards, Dean found enough to make do. He just hoped Erica liked pasta.

  But because she’d warned him he might need to feed the little monsters every few hours, just like a newborn, he stopped, got their food ready then gathered them all together with him on the sofa and got down to business.

  She’d been right—they were hungry. She’d also been right about them being ready to eat on their own, as long as the food was watered down a bit, and he held the tip of the spoon right up to their noses. They were also feeling well enough to get impatient and all try to eat at once.

  And she’d been totally right in warning him to lay down a towel before he got started, because the three tiny famished little rug rats didn’t exactly have decent table manners. By the time they finished, they had bits of wet food clinging to their mouths and whiskers, his fingers, and even a couple of paws and ears. The good news was, they were self-cleaning. They settled in to lick their feet and faces, giving him a couple of minutes to clean up the rest of the area.