by Foster, Lori
Madeleine looked at Dickens who promptly rolled on his back with all four feet stuck in the air and said, “No, we don’t always have to come.” He muttered, “Save the dogs. Walk the woman.”
When Simon got up to leave, Rose didn’t want him to go. She also couldn’t tell him that.
He scooped up Clawdia and draped her around his neck. The cat looked smug and comfortable there. She would feel much the same in the cat’s position, Rose thought.
Simon opened the kitchen door to the side yard and stood, silhouetted against the darkness outside.
Rose held the door handle. “That was really nice,” she said. “Think of the lengths I went to, getting you over here.” She laughed softly.
“That’s what you think,” Simon told her. “How do you know I didn’t carry Clawdia over here to make the dogs bark, just to get close to you?”
“You didn’t, but it’s a nice thought.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, softly, gently. “Every thought I have about you is really nice, Rose. See you at six.”
Rising to her toes, she slipped a hand between his neck and Clawdia and quickly pressed her mouth to his. She stepped away and said, “See you at six.”
NORAH’S ARC
Kate Angell
CHAPTER ONE
“Get your goat off the hood of my Corvette!”
Mike Kraft’s voice carried into Norah Archer’s office on a gust of wind. His arrival fluttered and shuffled the papers on her desk. So much for her orderly paying of bills.
Norah pushed to her feet, faced off with the six-foot contractor with the dark hair and eyes and steam shooting out of his ears. “Don’t blame Houdini for escaping.” She shifted the blame. “Your bulldozer operator keeps clipping my fence posts and loosening the chain link.”
“There’s no room for a petting zoo in an industrial park,” Kraft shot back. “You should have moved your animals when Tampa Feed and Seed went out of business.”
Norah rounded her desk, met him sneaker to steel-toed boot. The man was tall, and she hated talking to his chest. A very thick and solid chest covered in a white button-down, the sleeves shoved to his elbows. His forearms were tan and dusted with dark hair. A TAG Heuer wrapped his wrist. No wedding band.
She angled her head just as he dipped his chin, and their lips nearly brushed. His aftershave hinted of sunshine and sandalwood. He had a masculine mouth and a morning’s worth of stubble. She’d never seen him smile.
Confrontation was not her style, yet when it came to her animals, she’d go down fighting. “Norah’s Arc was on the outskirts of town long before you spread your cement and asphalt. So back off, Kraft.”
A tendon in his jaw jumped and a snarl broke as he jabbed a finger toward the door. “One hoof dent in my fiberglass and your ass is mine.”
Her ass would never be his, thought Norah. She didn’t, however, want Houdini in the parking lot, jumping from car to car. The pygmy goat would cause a ruckus.
Norah pushed past the contractor, cleared the office door, and took the wooden steps two at a time. The summer day proved overcast, the roll of thunder deep in the distance. Hurricane season was upon them. It rained every single day.
She walked briskly along the brick path toward the side lot. Mike Kraft kept pace, his stride long and purposeful. His scowl was as dark as the gathering storm.
The goat’s bleat drew her to Kraft’s Corvette. Houdini stood two feet tall and weighed twenty pounds. He had a mischievous streak a mile long.
The little buck pranced on the hood as if he owned the sleek black sports car. Dust and dirt collected on the fiberglass, but Norah didn’t see any dents from his hooves.
Relief sank bone-deep. She didn’t need a lawsuit.
Nor a call to Animal Control.
She prided herself on the upkeep and security at Norah’s Arc. Twelve years and she’d never had an escapee. Not until Kraft Construction tore up the land around her petting zoo, damaging the fences and scaring the animals.
“Houdini, down,” she ordered.
The goat’s return bleat proved an outright refusal as he shot from the hood onto the sunroof.
“He’s climbing.” Mike ground the words out.
“Goats are cliff-dwellers,” she quickly explained. “The boulders for his pen have yet to arrive. His pen mate Hermes doesn’t mind the grass and dirt, but Houdini is going through puberty and wanting to show his muscle. He likes to climb and be king of his mountain.”
She turned a wistful look in his direction, asked, “Got boulders?”
Mike actually nodded. “We set water lines this morning. My bulldozer operator hit a lot of rock. Get his goat butt down and I’ll deliver the granite and gravel.”
Norah patted her thigh. “Houdini, want to play?”
Mike Kraft watched as the crazy zookeeper trotted away from the goat.
Houdini gave a bellowing bleat, then stomped his hooves. Hooves that were still on the roof of Mike’s Corvette.
Bleat, prance, leap. The goat jumped from the roof to the hood and onto the asphalt parking lot. A playful bleat and Houdini chased after Norah Archer.
Mike couldn’t believe his eyes. Norah’s laughter rent the air as Houdini ran up behind her and butted her with his tiny horns. She grabbed the goat by one horn and used it as a handle to gently control him, then slowly walked Houdini back toward Mike.
They made a picture, the woman with the wild auburn hair, light blue eyes, and slight build walking her caramel-colored, coarse-haired goat. Norah was a small woman for the big job of zookeeper. Maybe not so big, Mike recanted. From what he’d seen, every animal at the petting zoo was miniature. From the horse, donkey, zebu cow, potbelly pig to the zebra, all came pint-sized.
Two by two, they came in pairs. Each had a mate.
Mike caught Houdini nipping the back pocket on Norah’s jeans. Distressed jeans with more tears than denim. He noted the long rip at her knee, as well as the shorter one at the top of her thigh. Lady had nice legs.
“Any dents?” Norah interrupted him checking her out. Together they crossed to his Corvette.
Mike ran a practiced eye over the fiberglass. Outside of the dirty hoof prints there were no dents or scrapes. “Goat is cleared to go back to his pen,” he stated.
He noted her relief, the deep sigh as she blew out a breath that fluttered her bangs. She dug into the front pocket of her jeans, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. The sparkle returned to her eyes and her smile broke. “A deluxe wash and wax on Houdini.” She offered him the money.
Which Mike refused. “Keep the twenty. No damage done.”
Houdini sniffed and bit at the bill between Norah’s fingers. She jerked her hand back before the buck ate Andrew Jackson.
Mike watched them walk away. His daily confrontations with Norah had become routine. From the first shovel of dirt at the ground-breaking ceremony, he and the zookeeper had faced off over property lines, parking spaces, and where she dumped manure.
She was feisty and argued with him as no other woman had dared. Her high color and determined fight for her animals both frustrated him and held his respect. He was under contract to build Cambridge Square and didn’t have time to pacify a pygmy goat.
Houdini’s interference had cost him an hour. An hour better spent pulling permits at the courthouse. He scratched his jaw, shook his head. The government center would have to wait. All because he’d gone soft and offered to haul boulders so Houdini could be king of his mountain.
Mike crossed the parking lot and circled the freshly cemented foundation for the industrial center. Sidewalks would be formed tomorrow. He located the bulldozer operator, pushing dirt over the water pipes. He instructed the man to load and haul the boulders to the back gate of Norah’s Arc.
He then took the return path to the main office. Ancient banyan trees shadowed the brick walkway and yellow hibiscus bordered the sides. The scent of rain hung heavy on the air. A storm cell brewed over the Gulf, now edging the shore. Most of the petting
zoo’s visitors had headed for their vehicles.
He knocked on the office door, only to find it locked. After several inquiries of the employees, he located Norah inside a pen with two babydoll sheep. The zookeeper was on her knees, bottle-feeding the smallest of the two.
He opened the gate and entered without her permission. Her lips parted in surprise. “Boulders are at your back gate,” he told her as the chug and rumble of the bulldozer broke the calm before the storm.
Norah pushed to her feet, pressed her walkie-talkie, and called for assistance. She then left the tiny sheep and headed toward the goat pen. She trapped Houdini and Hermes in their little red barn while Mike, the bulldozer operator, and six staff members hauled and arranged a granite mountain. They built the base wide, stacking to a ten-foot plateau.
Mike then went on to straighten the corner post and secure the fencing that contributed to Houdini’s earlier escape. He made a mental note to remind his heavy equipment operators not to cut so close to the property line.
Standing back, Mike watched as Norah released the pygmy goats. Hermes circled the boulders, the tiny doe curious but cautious. Houdini scaled the granite, bleating his superiority on the top rock. The goat ruled his world.
There was a round of applause and everyone dispersed. Norah came to stand by Mike. She thanked him with a light touch to his forearm and a few soft words. “You’ve made Houdini one very happy boy.”
“If your goat’s happy, then you’re happy?”
“My animals are my life.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, looked down on her. “Lady, you need to get out more.”
“I date.” Norah met Mike’s gaze. “When I have time.”
“Time isn’t always on your side, is it?”
“The petting zoo keeps me busy.”
“Which means no man in your life?”
“No man at the moment,” she confessed. Her animals held top priority. Second place didn’t settle well with most men.
Overhead, thunder rolled and storm clouds skidded across the sky. The wind broke like hot breath against Norah’s skin, creating an intimacy born of heat, lightning, dark shadows, and Mike Kraft’s proximity.
The man stood close, very, very close.
She studied his face, deeply tanned, angular, and cut with character. His body was honed from physical labor. He was a good-looking man, even if he wasn’t fond of goats.
Lightning jagged off to the east. Thunder soon popped, and Houdini bleated. A steady drizzle forewarned the wrath the storm was about to unleash.
Hermes trotted toward the red barn in the corner of the pen. Houdini was less bothered by the rain. He came down from his granite mountain, circled behind Norah, and butted the back of her right knee.
He butted her hard enough that her leg bent. She tipped forward, right into Mike Kraft’s chest. A thickly corded chest that flexed and felt hot against her palms.
Mike’s broad hands secured her hips, steadying her. His touch was as warm as the shower of rain.
There was a faint but visible loosening to the set of his shoulders as Mike widened his stance and Norah eased between his thighs. The wet denim of her jeans outlined her hip bones and flat stomach. His erection strained behind his zipper.
The wind blew in her ear, and the rain sluiced between them like slippery hands. Water pooled at their feet. Yet neither sought shelter.
“This is crazy,” she breathed, embraced by both man and the sexual hum of their bodies. His scent was rich and sexual.
“Beyond crazy,” he agreed as he looked at her through narrowed eyes inked by dark lashes. There was a curious hunger and heat in his gaze. He appeared about to kiss her.
His kiss came on an inland clap of thunder. Driving his hands into her hair, he drew her up on tiptoe for a kiss that turned as wild as the elements. He tasted of desire and promised satisfaction.
They kissed until the storm passed. Until the Florida sun broke through the clouds and the hiss of steam drying on the brick sidewalks turned the petting zoo into a sauna.
It was Houdini’s bleat that reset reality.
Slipping his hands past her wet and wildly curling hair, Mike Kraft stroked the vulnerable length of her neck, the fine line of her jaw. He was acutely aware of how small she seemed against his big body. Lady was tiny.
Her white “Norah’s Arc” T-shirt clung to her teacup breasts, the cotton transparent and telling as her nipples poked against the satin cups and into his ribs. The dip at her navel was visible as well.
Soaking wet, her jeans stretched and slipped, riding low on her hips. Narrow, fragile hips, a hand-span wide.
Ever so slowly he released her, this woman who both aggravated and aroused him. Her face glistened, and her blue eyes were wide, her expression dazed. A blush heated her cheeks, as much from embarrassment as from his whisker burn.
She backed away from him, only to land ankle-deep in a puddle. Her sneakers got a second soaking as water crested the shoe laces. She looked down at her feet. “Some storm.”
Mike glanced to Houdini. “You’ve got one wet goat.”
A goat now shaking off like a dog.
Norah collected herself. “I need to towel him down.” She moved toward the small barn where Hermes now stuck her head out into the sunshine.
Mike watched as Norah retrieved two brown towels. She tossed him one, then moved to pat down the little buck. Houdini allowed her several swipes before he grabbed one end and started chewing on the border. Norah lightly tapped him on the nose, but he ignored her.
Within seconds it became a tug-of-war between the zookeeper and her goat. “Give me the towel.” Norah’s gentle order fell on deaf goat ears.
Houdini held fast. His ears flickered and his tail twitched. He bared more teeth as Norah dropped to her knees. The towel went taunt and ripping rent the air.
“Need help?” Mike asked as he slung the towel around his neck. “Maybe if you let go, Houdini would, too.”
Norah rolled her eyes at him. The second her gaze left the goat, Houdini released the towel. Caught off guard, she tumbled backward and straight into the mud.
The imprint of her bottom remained long after Mike offered his hand and tugged Norah to her feet. She felt soggy and squishy and in need of a shower.
“Houdini won,” Mike said as the pygmy goat snatched the mud-caked towel and took off for the barn with his prize.
“I’m a good loser where he’s concerned,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I purchased Houdini after two petting zoos had returned him to a local goat farm. He’d been called incorrigible and a menace. He bores easily, and is always on the lookout for a new adventure. He’s an escape artist. Here at the Arc he gets testy, but he’s also quite sweet.”
Mike had yet to see the sweet side of the goat.
Norah, on the other hand, had left him curious. They’d argued for weeks, neither giving ground. Yet amid the wind and rain, they’d come together and kissed until their lips went numb. She tasted of fresh rain and willing woman.
The lady could kiss.
She’d twisted him tight.
He took her in. Her hair was electric and her eyelashes spiked. Goose bumps rose on her arms. Her T-shirt and jeans stuck to her skin. Mud caked her ankles.
“You’re soaked to the bone,” he told her. “You need to change clothes.” And so did he. Yet he dragged his feet in leaving.
He had the unsettling urge to follow Norah Archer home, to strip her down, then work her up until they lay sated and smiling at the ceiling.
He shook his head. He didn’t do spontaneous.
His life was organized to the second most days.
Yet Norah proved a distraction. She played hell with his self-control. He’d put his life on hold to build a boulder mountain for Houdini and then stood in the middle of a goat pen exploring the zookeeper’s mouth.
Mike’s body buzzed.
His blood hummed.
He had Norah on the brain.
Yet dedication t
o his job had him hitting the road, when he’d rather spend an afternoon getting to know both her and her body better.
“Work calls,” he finally said.
“For me, too,” she reluctantly agreed. “Thanks for the boulders.”
“The mountain should keep Houdini occupied and off my job site.”
“We can only hope so.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Boss, you need to see this.” Mike Kraft’s foreman motioned him to the sidewalk. The man pointed to the front entrance to the main building. “Vandalism.”
Destruction on a job site wasn’t new nor was it pleasant. It did, however, prove damn costly. Over the years, Mike had faced graffiti, broken glass, and torn up shrubbery. What surprised him most was the vandals had struck at midday.
His gut clenched and the cheeseburger he’d eaten for lunch settled heavily on his stomach as he crossed to his foreman. What he saw set his teeth on edge.
“Guess we know the culprit,” the foreman said.
Every muscle in Mike’s body went tight. Allotted an hour for lunch, his crew had formed the walkway, poured the concrete, then dispersed while it set. Sixty minutes was just enough time for a deviant goat to do damage.
Houdini bores easily. Norah’s words hit him hard.
The goat was at it again. The little buck had broken from his pen and crossed the parking lot. Instead of a child’s handprints marking a special occasion, Houdini had set his front hooves in the cement and turned in circles. He’d then trotted down the full stretch of the sidewalk. The goat’s trail was warm and easy to track.
Mike stormed Norah’s Arc.
He found the zookeeper in Houdini’s pen, hosing off the buck’s hooves. Norah was on her knees, her wild auburn curls caught in a ponytail. His gaze swept the smooth curve of her shoulders, then lingered on her slim waist and sweet round bottom. Twenty-four hours, and the memory of her kiss seduced him. His jeans grew uncomfortably snug. He shifted his stance. Twice.
The pygmy goat’s bleat drew his thoughts off Norah and back to the sidewalk. There were no tourists in sight, so he swung open the gate and entered the pen. “Washing away the evidence?” He growled.
