A Little Christmas Jingle (13 page)

Jack laughed. “So what did you do?”

“I called her back, told her what was going on. He wasn't eartipped, so maybe he was someone's pet before he found her. She said he was about three when he came to live at her house. He'd been outside about eight years.”

Jack shook his head. “That's crazy.”

“Explains why he wasn't off carousing or defending his territory. He just lived on her porch. So we cleaned his teeth, and now he's the happiest indoor lap cat ever. But I check all cats thoroughly now.”

“I've seen people think they have a girl kitten and it's a boy. Surprise.”

“That happens too, but really, you can tell if you know what to look for. At least that's a mistake I've never made. Knock wood.”

Their pizza finished, Kat rose and threw away the empty paper plates. “Can I get you something else? Might be some cookies around here, and I know there's chocolate.”

“I'm good,” Jack said. “Unless you want something.”

“It'd make me feel less guilty if you split a chocolate bar.” She stood, rummaged in a refrigerator drawer, came out with a Hershey bar. Solid from cold, it cracked easily and she handed him half.

“Thanks.” He broke the section into smaller portions and popped one into his mouth. “Even better than the cheesecake we ate tonight.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” she said. “Close second perhaps. That cheesecake was to die for.”

“I second that, and few things are worth dying for. At least not food.” He popped the last sliver into his mouth. “But it did hit the spot.”

“So speaking of, what's next on your side of the agenda? Your sister's wedding, right?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “Rehearsal Thursday and event on Friday. Two weekends from now.”

“And we have my adoption event next weekend.”

“I haven't forgotten.”

But she could tell he wasn't enthused and worked to convince him. “Many of the previous adopters come with their pets, sort of like a reunion. It's inspiring.”

“I wish it was that way all the time.” They rose to their feet. “You staying here tonight?”

She nodded. “I have some sweats.”

He touched her bare shoulder, the wispy silver stole long discarded. “Seems such a waste of a good dress.”

She glanced at the crumpled mess. No need for him to know how many others lay discarded on her bed.

He reached for her hands. “Perhaps we should have one last dance.”

“Here?”

“Why not? Didn't you say you were the romantic Hallmark movie type? Isn't that what the movie couple would be doing?”

She stammered, his touch short-circuiting. “Like you said, that is Hollywood magic.”

“Tonight let's make our own magic. I've never seen anyone as dedicated as you. I'm proud you're on my team.”

“Thanks,” she said, her breath catching as he drew her into his arms. Warm, firm hands found her bare backside, and her heart raced. Without heels, her head rested on his chest and they swayed, like earlier, so in sync that she could almost hear the music. Her nails clung to the white tuxedo shirt fabric, both stiff and soft at the same time. His jaw lined with sexy late-night stubble, and as she shifted, his lips found hers as if they'd been waiting the whole time for just such an opportunity.

Her mouth parted to welcome his feather-light ministrations, the light pressure more erotically tantalizing than a deep, sensual kiss. His delicate kisses skirted the edges of what each wanted, providing delicious hints of what could be, what might happen next should each choose to take the next step, choose to make fake dating truly real.

Her fingers wove into his hair, memorizing the silky texture. She longed to know more, so she slid her tongue along his roughened top lip before he parted and allowed her inside. He tasted of pizza, chocolate, and the promise of more.

Soft, came the thought, as most kisses she'd experienced had been hard and fast—as if they were on a race to the finish line. A prelude to sex. A foreplay necessity.

Kissing Jack was an impressive stand-alone act all by itself. The main event. Its own highlight. He deepened the kiss—touching his tongue to hers—the kiss never losing its sweetness. His slow, sensual plunder sent shivers throughout. She wanted him. All of him. Her breasts jutted forward. Heat pooled between her thighs. She didn't want to resist, but he was stepping away, running his fingers down her arms to keep some contact as he moved out of kissing range.

“I should probably go. You need sleep. You'll be up at the crack of dawn with Jingle.”

“I will,” she admitted, knowing he was right to stop, but her impulsive nature wanting to throw caution to the wind.

“I want you to know, the way you look in that dress is sinful. Pure temptation, and I'd like nothing more than to strip it off you.” Her body trembled at those words, anticipating, wanting that up-close and personal interaction. “But I don't want this—us—to be casual sex. We said no emotions, but I like you. And I've never been able to separate sex from …” Fingers raked through his hair as he paused.

His heartfelt words touched her. “Me either. While we want each other, we don't want to mess things up. And if we like each other, we take each step slowly.” Her impulsive nature wanted to rush, but she could see the wisdom in calming things down.

“Exactly.” He drew her back into his arms, inhaled the scent of her hair, and then brought his lips back to hers, this kiss one that plundered before he groaned and pulled away. “I'm working tomorrow night. I'll call you.”

“No need if it's a bother. I know how busy you are and—”

“I'll call you,” he repeated. He released her, retrieved his tuxedo coat, and slid it on, cramming the bow tie into a pocket.

They made one more check on Jingle, who slept stable and sedated. Jack gave the dog a gentle pat on the head, and Kat walked Jack to the back door.

“Lock up,” he said, pulling on his overcoat.

She nodded. “I always set the alarm.”

“Good. You're in a safe neighborhood but—”

“Mom already gave me the lecture. Believe me, people think a vet clinic is a place to get drugs, so I'm wired with cameras recording. Better safe than sorry.”

“A woman after my own heart. Sleep well.” Jack gave her one last, brief kiss before he left. She threw the deadbolt and armed the system, watching on the monitor as he backed the SUV out of the parking lot. Then even his taillights disappeared from sight.

Her clinic was eerily quiet—most animals sleeping the night away. Tomorrow they'd be barking for food and attention, a symphony of chaos. The late-night silence normally soothed, but all of her senses were hyperaware. She pressed her fingers to puffy, well-ravaged lips, overcome by a sudden giddy quiver akin to the one she'd experienced at sixteen after her first real kiss.

She shook her head sharply, hoping to clear the delicious fog. When she'd signed on as Jack's temporary plus one, she'd ignored the fact that this might happen. That first kiss under the mistletoe should have been fair enough warning. Then, seeing him with Jingle … and after the way he kissed …

She rubbed her temples. She should have known better than to get involved, a tiny voice inside her head whispered, but honestly, she'd never ever heeded her inner warnings before. Besides, she'd promised to help rekindle Jack's Christmas spirit. Most importantly, she needed him for her adoption event.

And after all, what harm could a few kisses do?

So for now, she and Jack Donovan were going to spend a lot more time together. A deal was a deal.

She touched her lips again. As long as she kept her heart safe, with the way he kissed, she didn't mind one darn bit.

As St. Louis's only designated task force detective, Jack didn't keep regular hours. However, he did work a forty-hour week, often much more. He'd left Kat's clinic around midnight, and after watching a documentary on DVR because he'd been too wired to sleep, he'd finally crawled into bed around two a.m.

He'd turned off his alarm, letting himself sleep until noon, a ten-hour rarity. As the sheet slid low on his hips, he figured he'd be far more rested if he hadn't had erotic dreams of Kat.

That damn dress she'd worn the night before had been torture, and his imagination had peeled it off her and then filled in the blanks. He'd thus tossed and turned all night long.

He threw his legs over the bed, reached for his cell phone, and grimaced when he saw five missed calls—all from his mother. Sharon must have called her as soon as she woke up.

His phone buzzed and he turned on the ringer, and then slid his finger to the right, answering, “Mom.” He paused, half listening as he padded into his kitchen. “Yes, I know. I slept in. No, Mom. Alone.”

One-handed he uncapped the orange juice and sipped directly from the bottle. The phone slipped slightly and he jostled it back to his ear. “What? Repeat that.”

“I said”—this time her voice came through loud and clear—“that Sharon seemed to like her. Anyway, I have her jewelry and book here.”

He set the OJ aside, rummaged for one of those microwave breakfast sandwiches, and tossed it on the counter. “That was fast.”

“Your father and Matt had a nine a.m. tee time. So tell me all about the ball.”

He took another swig of juice, replaced the cap, and put it back. “Mom …”

“Better yet, bring her to dinner tomorrow night. I'm making pot roast.”

“Mom.” He sighed. No point in arguing with the human tornado. “I'll ask her.”

“Great.” His phone beeped, indicating another call. “Mom, gotta go. It's the precinct.” He switched over, listened to the report. “Thanks.”

He shoved the sandwich back in the freezer and headed for the bathroom. All the digital evidence had been confirmed, so warrants for the aunt and her boyfriend had been issued. Justice for Jingle could be served; Jack would make the arrests.

He called Kat from the car en route. She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, no time to talk, but head's up that you'll be getting media later.”

“What for?”

“I'm going now to make the arrests in Jingle's case. I'd expect a media circus around four.”

He heard her sigh. “Right when we close.”

“I know. It's not ideal. My plan is to be there.”

She sighed again, reminding him of the similar noises she'd made in his dreams. “Okay. Good luck. I'm glad they're getting what they deserve.”

“Me, too,” Jack said. Contrary to what many people believed, arresting someone was a mixed bag. On one hand, he liked the sound of the handcuffs—that satisfying metal click as they locked onto the perpetrator's wrists.

However, the flip side was that he had to perform the act of putting on the cuffs in the first place—that the person he'd arrested had somehow lost a necessary piece of morality and done such a terrible thing to a defenseless, helpless animal.

Knowing he still felt sadness and compassion for the person—no matter how unrepentant or despicable that person was—was the only reason Jack knew he hadn't become jaded, that he hadn't let his anger and hatred overcome his sense of self. He felt sorry for the perpetrators—not that they didn't deserve to be arrested (for that they did), but he pitied them for being such a poor example of the human race.

So he tuned out the “It was just a damn dog! You can't do this!” shrieks of the aunt as he loaded her into the back of the patrol car, banged on the roof, and let the officers take her to the station. The boyfriend, who already had a long rap sheet going back to juvie, went a lot quieter. Jack figured he'd owe the guys transporting the hysterical aunt a round of beer.

“So she done it, huh?”

Jack glanced down to see Peter standing behind him on the front sidewalk. “She did, yes.”

“Got the proof?”

Jack nodded. “We wouldn't have arrested her if we didn't have solid evidence.”

Peter used the toe of his shoe to scratch some gravel, gathered where the concrete had cracked. “She gonna go to jail?”

“That'll be up to the jury,” Jack said.

“But you hope so, huh?” Jack bit back his retort as Peter kept talking. “Don't blame you. Lots around here think like she do, that it's just a dog. But my momma say you don't do that to no animal.” He gave a shudder. “I'd hate something like that happen to Buttercup.”

Jack wasn't quite sure what type of pet Buttercup was, but it didn't matter. “Your mom sounds like a very wise lady to me, Peter.”

He beamed. “You remembered my name.”

Jack pointed to his forehead. “I remember everything. So I only want to hear good things about you, got that?”

“Yes sir.” Peter shoved bare hands into his coat pocket. The day was windy and cold, and the coat looked worse for the wear. “Dog gonna make it?”

Jack thought of last night, when Jingle had relapsed, and revisited in his mind the sight of Kat, standing there in her scrub-covered dress, working frantically to stabilize him. “I sure hope so,” he said. “The vet is doing all she can.”

“I hope so, too,” Peter said with a nod, walking with Jack to his SUV. “Me, too.”

#

Jack arrived at Kat's clinic a few minutes before four and found the major St. Louis media outlets already camped out in the front lot or parked on the side street. The police had managed to keep the arrests quiet, preferring not to have that event filmed. However, one enterprising new outlet had been outside the precinct doors, so they might have some footage of the arrestees being moved inside the station. The media would all air the arresting mug shots.

Jack drove around to the back and buzzed the door. Louise let him in. “Hey, I wanted to talk to Kat before we face that circus.”

“She's finishing up with a patient.”

“I'll wait. How's Jingle? Can I see him?”