“But I like that.”
“Not. Another. Word.”
She sighed. “Will you quit hiding long enough to call whoever keeps track of stolen donkeys?”
His hands fell to his sides. “Surely, even you can’t really think there is such a list?”
“No?”
He shook his head.
“So…Donkeys are just listed with the thefts of material things? But that’s terrible. He’s a living, breathing, sensitive creature. Why, just look at him.”
In disgust, Osbourne peered at the donkey.
Lowering his ears, his big brown eyes going soulful, the donkey peered back, and then he brayed again.
“Shhh.” Marci patted him while frowning at Osbourne. “You need to reassure him.”
He stared at her, blank-faced, then, very forlorn, he muttered, “If only you weren’t so hot.”
Joy blossomed inside her. “Why, thank you.” Marci beamed at him. “You’re hot, too. And, I agree, it would be so much easier if you weren’t.”
His blank look continued.
In explanation, Marci said, “I don’t particularly care for wanting a man who thinks I’m daft.”
“I never said—”
“Oh, please. You look at me like I need to be committed.” She rolled her eyes. “See, you’re doing it right now.”
He tried to wipe all expression from his face, but it only made him look ridiculous.
“Osbourne, would you please just call whoever you need to call, check to find out about a stolen donkey with a scar on his flank and collar buttons, and that’ll prove his ownership.”
“Collar buttons?”
Marci stroked the donkey’s throatlatch. “Yes, these small dark spots right here. They’re called collar buttons.”
For a moment there, Marci thought Osbourne would refuse, and she didn’t know what she would do without his help. It was difficult enough stealing the donkey from the Nativity scene. Getting him back to his home would be nearly impossible on her own.
Osbourne’s eyes sort of glazed over, then he shook his head as if to clear it. “Fine. I’ll call and check on it. But while I do that, will you go put on some clothes?”
“If you want.”
“I don’t. Not really. I’d much rather you strip down to your birthday suit and that we…Well, forget that. If I don’t find any information on a stolen donkey, I’ll have to return him to the Nativity scene. You do understand that, right?”
She licked her lips, thinking it through. What if he couldn’t find what he needed to be convinced? That didn’t mean the donkey was wrong about his situation, only that Osbourne hadn’t uncovered the proper information.
The donkey trusted her, and she supposed she’d have to trust Osbourne. What else could she do?
“If you’re sincere, and you actually do all you can, follow every lead to find out if he’s been stolen, then yes, I suppose we can take him back there.”
“All right, then.” He chewed his upper lip and, with blatant regret, dragged his gaze off her. He went to her phone.
Marci patted the donkey. “Wait here, darling. I’ll be right back.”
Ozzie gripped the phone a little tighter. “Come again?” Surely he hadn’t heard Sanderson right.
“It was reported a few weeks ago. Actually, the owners have hired people to find him. He was a beloved family pet or something.” Sanderson added, voice low, “If you’ve got him, there’s a reward of five grand.”
Five thousand dollars? “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Yeah, but that’s what the bulletin says.”
From behind him, Marci replied, “Told you so.”
He whirled around, and though she had covered herself from neck to toes in a pair of skinny faded jeans, thick white socks, and an oversized hooded white sweatshirt, she still turned his crank in the most sizzling way.
Remembering the taste and texture of her nipples caused his jaw to tighten. He thought of her smooth belly, and his heart thundered. He recalled her gasp as he’d pushed his finger into her, and his palms went damp.
He had to have her, no matter what. Just once. Maybe. Or twice. But not enough to get involved. Not enough to make her think she had claims. He never, ever wanted to deal with another irrational broad bent on revenge.
First, though, before anything else, he had to deal with a pilfered donkey.
Oblivious to his suffering, Marci smiled brightly. “Your truck is full of SWAT gear, I know, but I still have the truck I rented to steal him from those unscrupulous donkey thieves.”
Lord help him. Giving Marci his back, Ozzie said into the phone, “What’s the address? I’ll take him back to the owners right now.”
After reciting the directions, Sanderson asked, “You want me to run this through the legal channels?”
“Not yet.” If it turned out to be the wrong donkey, he didn’t want Marci arrested for stealing the beast. He’d rather just return it quietly, and hope no one would be the wiser. “Keep this to yourself for now, will ya?”
“You got it, Oz. No problem. But I’m curious now, so let me know how it turns out.”
“Will do.”
After hanging up, Ozzie turned and found Marci seated on the couch, snow boots on her feet, with her coat, mittens, and scarf beside her. “Are you ready?”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Do not—“What made you think he was stolen and that he lived in Kentucky?”
“He told me.”
Eyes closing, Ozzie cursed himself. He knew better, damn it. But oh, no, he had to go and quiz her.
“I’m not bonkers, you know.” Marci tipped her head, sending that long, baby-fine brown hair tumbling over her shoulder and curling around a breast. “It’s just, well…I’m a pet psychic.”
No. He’d just keep looking at her chest, the way it filled out the front of that thick sweatshirt, and he’d pretend she hadn’t just said that.
“Did you hear me, Osbourne?” She stood and started toward him and Ozzie wanted to jump her, to drag her to the ground and pick up where they’d left off. Although maybe he’d be smarter to get the hell out of Dodge. But if he made a run for it, would Lucius find out and tell everyone else on the team that a slip of a woman had chased him off? Would the other guys volunteer to finish what he’d started, would—
The donkey nibbled on his butt.
“What the hell!” Leaping a foot, Ozzie jerked around. The donkey was right there, not two inches from him, his ears laid back and his big brown eyes soulful.
How had the damned thing moved so silently?
“He’s just being friendly.” Marci shared that special smile that felt like a caress. “He likes you.”
Appalled, Ozzie said, “He likes my ass.” And he backed out of the donkey’s reach.
“I do, too.”
No, no, no. He wasn’t about to touch that one. “It’d help if you’d just be quiet, Marci.”
Unaffected by his dark mood, she laughed. “Lighten up, Osbourne. It’s not my fault, or the donkey’s, that you have such an irresistible bod.”
“Can we talk about something else, damn it?”
“Okay.” Her lips curled. “What would you like to talk about?”
Ozzie shook his head. With her again so close, he noticed that she was just the right height to tuck in close. And built just right to align all her female parts with his male parts, if he bent his knees the tiniest bit. And she smelled good enough to eat. Whoa. Totally bad image to get in his head. Bad. Bad.
He started to back away again, but the donkey didn’t budge. Hemmed in by a donkey and a doll-face, both of them hazardous to his health.
“Tell me about this pet psychic business.”
“All right.” Oblivious to his internal struggle concerning sexual positions that made him sweat, Marci said, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a special ability with animals.”
“An ability, huh?” Ozzie edged out from between the two of them.
“I’m sorry that it ma
kes you uncomfortable. I’m sorrier that you think I’m a flake.”
His head shot up and he looked at her face. She appeared so earnest, and so wounded, that he frowned.
Damn it, he did not want to hurt her. And he had promised Lucius that he wouldn’t.
But she patted his chest as if forgiving him, then went on with her explanation. “It’s okay. Most people think I’m unhinged. Back when you first asked me out, I had hoped you’d be different, but…you’re not.” Her narrow shoulders lifted. “And that’s okay. I understand. I’d have a hard time believing it, too.”
Maybe if she explained, it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. “What exactly is it that you do, Marci?”
“I know when animals are upset and why. I understand them. I hear their thoughts and fears and worries.”
“Oh-kay.”
“It’s easy, really.” She caught his hand and pressed it beneath her breast, over her lightly bumping heartbeat. “When you bother to listen with your heart. But few people do. They arrogantly go around as if being human makes us supreme.”
Ozzie snatched his hand back, but he still felt burned.
She sighed. “What other creatures feel doesn’t concern most people, or at least not enough to be bothered with it.”
“So…” What the hell was he supposed to say to all that? “The donkey asked for your help?”
“It doesn’t really work like that. Obviously, he’s not a talking donkey.”
Well, thank God for small favors.
“But when I passed the funeral home, I felt his unhappiness.”
“His unhappiness? Huh. Imagine that.”
“Yes. The other animals are content. They like the attention, if not the exposure to the cold. But the donkey was so miserable, and so lonesome, I got a lump in my throat and a pain in my chest. I felt everything he felt and it nearly broke my heart. So I stopped.”
He couldn’t bear to think of her that upset, so he focused on something else she’d said. “Lonesome? But didn’t you just say there were other animals there with him?”
“He wasn’t alone, Osbourne, he was lonely. There’s a difference.”
His guts cramped. Maybe that was the crux of her problems. “You’re alone,” he pointed out. And then softly, with caution, “Are you lonely?”
For once, she seemed evasive, waving away his question. “I stroked the donkey, petted him, and I opened myself to him—”
“Opened yourself to him?”
Propping her hands on her hips, Marci huffed. “Are you going to repeat everything I say? Because if you are, we should sit down and get comfortable. But if that’s the case, I’m going to take the donkey out first so he can, uh, take his constitutional in the snow instead of on my floors.”
Ozzie sighed. There’d be no help for it. He put his coat back on. “Let’s talk in the truck on the way. Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
She frowned in disapproval. “Didn’t you just get off work?”
“Yeah, but I’m fine.”
“You haven’t been to bed yet. You must be tired.”
Tired, no. Exasperated, yes. Confused, yes. Horny as hell, yes, yes, yes. But he’d manage. “The keys?”
“Fine.” She lifted them off a peg on the wall and handed them over to him. “But don’t make any sudden or jarring turns or anything. I don’t want the donkey to fall down.”
Ozzie ran his hand over his head. He pictured the donkey toppling sideways and had to roll his eyes.
But he didn’t want the donkey to fall down, either.
Marci pulled on a down-filled coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, put on her hat and mittens, and then she leashed the donkey.
“Don’t be nervous, darling.” She briefly pressed her cheek to the donkey’s head. “I’m taking you home. You’ll see. It’ll be okay.”
And like a contented puppy, the beast followed her out the apartment door and out the building, into the snow, to take his constitutional.
And like the bigger ass, Ozzie trailed along.
As if the foot of snow they’d already gotten wasn’t enough, the sky softened with flurries. As the sun struggled to peek above the horizon, an awful glare reflected off the white landscape.
“We’re in for a two-hour drive.” Ozzie watched as Marci opened the back of the big truck. The bottom half of the door unfolded like a loading hatch. “Will he need water or anything along the way?”
Smiling at him over her shoulder, she said, “No, he’ll be okay. Before I swiped him, I put some hay inside. It’s still there. Generally, donkeys need to eat less than a horse does of the same size. Two hours will be like nothing to him. But it’s very sweet of you to be concerned.”
Ozzie felt like a jerk. “It’s not sweet. It’s just that I don’t want him…suffering.”
“Or unhappy?”
A sharp quip concerning sensitive donkey-feelings tripped to the end of Ozzie’s tongue, but before he could give them voice, the donkey rushed up the ramp and into the truck.
And damn if he didn’t look anxious to be on his way.
Surely, the animal didn’t realize…No, of course he didn’t. Odds were, he’d been trained to get into a truck. Ozzie couldn’t let Marci’s cockeyed perceptions affect him.
Disgruntled, he stepped around her and closed up the truck bed securely. “Come on.” Taking Marci’s arm, he led her to the passenger’s side door. Their feet crunched through frozen snow, wind whistled against them, ice crystals formed on their faces—and Marci kept smiling.
He’d noticed that about her early on, the way she took whatever life threw at her and stayed happy. She had the most optimistic outlook he’d ever known. Maybe because he was such a pessimist, he liked that about her.
The smile was enticement enough, but Ozzie also noticed how it nudged a little dimple in her rosy cheek. Snowflakes clung to her thick lashes and settled on the tip of her cute little nose. Now that she’d gotten her way and the donkey was ready for its journey, she positively glowed with pleasure.
He couldn’t help himself. He bent and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her cold lips. He could feel that smile of hers, and it fed something in his soul.
And that scared him.
He drew back and frowned at her.
Puzzled, she asked, “What?”
“Nothing.” Catching her around the waist, Ozzie hoisted her up into her seat, then, without thinking about it, he fastened her seatbelt. With her gaze glued to his face, Marci kept that crooked, endearing smile in place the entire time.
Their eyes met, and Ozzie couldn’t look away.
Would she wear that sweet smile while coming? Or would she clench her teeth and groan and…
When he realized he still loomed over her for no good reason at all, he cursed and stepped away, then slammed her door. On his way to his own seat, he lectured himself on the impropriety of lusting after a woman not based in reality. He knew the consequences and he knew, if he was smart, he’d satisfy his lust with a staid, no-nonsense woman.
Problem was, he’d never wanted another woman the way he wanted Marci.
He climbed into his own seat and Marci said, “That was a nice kiss.”
“Forget about it.”
“I don’t think so. I think I’ll cherish it, and remember it always.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“You’re sure you’re okay to drive?”
A safer topic. He grasped it like a lifeline. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve worked fourteen hours straight and still gotten myself home.”
“Fourteen hours?”
Ignoring the sexy, totally kooky broad beside him, Ozzie started the truck and eased it from the apartment parking lot out onto the road. “Sometimes standoffs take a hell of a long time. You don’t just up and leave in the middle of it.”
“I’d never be able to do that. I was up most of the night staking out the funeral home so I could sneak off with the donkey without anyone knowing.”
Ozzie refused to ask, but tha
t didn’t stop her.
“I parked the rental truck in the empty grocery lot and walked down that way, then hid in the bushes. It was so cold and I got so sleepy, and my feet and behind were wet from sitting in the snow.”
Do. Not. Ask.
“It wasn’t until this morning that the road quieted down enough for me to slip away with the donkey. I was so cold and stiff, and tired, I could barely move. I’d planned to sleep in this morning, then you showed up. But at least by then I’d showered and thawed out all my body parts.”
He couldn’t think about her thawing. “What would you have done with him if I hadn’t showed up?”
Marci shrugged. “I was going to try some sleuthing on my own, but I realize now that I probably wouldn’t have gotten very far with that.” She pulled off her hat and put it in her lap, then, staring down at her hands, said, “I’m glad you did show up. Thank you.” And with that, she turned on the static-riddled radio and found a station playing Christmas music.
Ozzie was glad he’d shown up, too. What if someone in her apartment building had called about the noise, and Marci had gotten arrested? Worse, what if someone had found her on that dark, cold road and…
That thought was so disturbing, he cut it short. Holidays or not, there were still bums and creeps hanging on every street corner.
Out of the blue, taking Ozzie by surprise, Marci said, “I’m used to ridicule and disbelief, you know.”
He did a double take. “What?”
“Everyone thinks what you think. That’s why I don’t let many people know about my gift. In fact, I moved here to hide it. I don’t tell anyone now, and when I help an animal, I do it anonymously, to avoid some of the mockery.” She turned to look out the window. “When I was younger, I used to talk about it. But I quickly learned that it’s not a good thing to admit being different. I got called names by the meanest people, and the others just kept their distance.”
The way he’d kept his distance.
What kind of childhood must she have had? Hell, what kind of adulthood was she having? He knew for a fact that she didn’t date much, and other than her sister, she didn’t seem close to anyone.
A Very Merry Christmas Page 3
