A Little Christmas Jingle (4 page)

As Jack explained the situation to the reporter, Kat marveled at the difference. While he'd been obviously uncomfortable the night of the ball with the attention he'd received, he was a pro at being interviewed.

“He's hotter in person,” Angela whispered. All of Kat's employees had gathered around.

That's an understatement
, Kat thought. Jack spoke strong and sure, his deep timbered voice the type the media loved. Earlier, when he'd simply given her a hug, she'd thought she might short circuit. But, like that kiss, all that heat meant nothing. “Don't you all have work to do?” Kat hissed at Angela.

“Fine. Let's go ladies,” Angela called, softly enough so camera wouldn't pick up. She and the rest of the staff went into the back to do the evening feedings. Kat took a breath. She didn't want an audience for the interview.

“Your turn,” Jack said when finished. He held out the microphone. Behind him, the reporter and cameraman conferred.

Kat's nerves stretched. “I don't want to do this.”

“Publicity is an important aspect of the task force.”

“Says the guy who was hiding in a corner the night of the gala.”

The edges of his lips puckered. Clearly she'd hit a nerve. “The media is essential for getting the public on our side. The mayor took a lot of flack for dedicating an officer specifically to animal crimes. Some see it as a waste of taxpayer dollars. Media is a necessary evil. The calendar—that's my superior officer's brainchild and one I couldn't refuse.”

The small black metal box felt heavy in Kat's hand. “You've probably had media training.”

“Yes, but you'll do fine. Just speak the truth. Let me get you wired.” He stepped into her space, his six-foot bulk towering over her. The stilettos she'd worn the night of the ball had made her his height; in her work shoes she stood only five eight.

“This goes here.” He clipped the mic to her lapel. Then he moved her lab coat aside and hid the thin cord underneath, the movement draping the cord so it skimmed the outer edge of her left breast. Her breath caught, and he held out the transmitter. “Tuck that into your back pants pocket.”

“At least you aren't doing
that
for me.”

Blue eyes glittered. “I can if you want.”

“No, I'm good,” Kat said, heart racing.

“You ready?” the cameraman asked. “We're trying to hit the six p.m. broadcast.”

“Ready,” Kat replied, following Anthony's gesture to stand in front of the Christmas tree.

“This'll be a good backdrop,” Anthony said. Kat forced herself to relax, and when prompted, spoke about the extent of the puppy's injuries and how the next twenty-four hours would be crucial.

“So what else do you do in cases like this?” Anthony asked.

Kat blinked. “I've never seen a case this horrendous. I will be staying on site tonight to make sure Jingle pulls through.”

“Jingle?” Anthony asked.

Kat jutted her chin forward. “There was a small bell attached to his choke collar, and he deserved a new name, one that reflected holiday spirit and optimism.
It's a Wonderful Life
is one of my favorite movies.”

“So every time an angel gets his wings, a bell rings,” Anthony clarified.

“That's the movie,” she confirmed. “Christmas is a time for miracles.”

“So are you going to be Jingle's guardian angel?”

“I am going to do my very best.”

“Great. Jingle it is. The viewers will love that.” Anthony grinned. “That's all I need except to film him.”

Her ponytail swished as she shook her head. “Absolutely not. He needs rest and to be left alone. Not to mention, it's a sterile environment.”

Jack spoke up, asserted control. “Contact Public Affairs and see what they're willing to share. I submitted photos with my report.”

“I'll do that. Thanks so much for your time, Dr. Saunders. You can take your mic off, and I'll film the rest of my segment from outside. I might be here awhile if that's okay. Producers may want to have me live on location with your clinic as a backdrop.”

“I—”

“That's fine,” Jack interrupted, anticipating Kat's refusal. “Dr. Saunders will be happy to help the task force out in any way possible, won't you?”

She unclipped the mic and passed it to the cameraman. Anthony handed her his business card, unaware of Kat's growing tension. “We'll run the story at six and ten. The full version will be online. You will call me if there are any changes? Our viewers will want to know how he's doing. This type of story always tugs the heartstrings, so there will be multiple follow-ups. Remember Trooper, the dog dragged behind the car?”

“Jingle is not ratings material,” Kat said stiffly. “Jingle's an injured dog.”

Jack cupped her elbow in warning. “No, he's not, but the public will be compelled to do something. They'll be moved to call in other abuse. They'll donate money toward his care, and Pet Rescue maintains a specific account dedicated to task force causes. Think of all the animals Jingle can help, all the good that can come out of this horrible situation.”

“Fine.” Kat conceded and tucked the card into her lab coat pocket as the media left. Her staff was in the back, checking on the animals. By six, everyone would be gone, off to their Friday night activities. Kat forced herself to relax. The 24-7 Christmas radio station began to play “Joy to the World,” another of her favorites, and she automatically began to hum along, until she realized Jack remained in the room, staring at her.

“You don't need to stay,” she told him.

“I wanted to give you my card.” He proffered a slip of paper, and she placed the white cardstock with the other one. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

She kept her tone bright, unaffected. “Why?”

He shifted his weight, shoved his hands into front jeans pockets. “You don't make things easy, do you?”

She scowled. “No woman wants to be easy.”

“No woman should be difficult, either.”

Her last serious boyfriend had used that word during their final fight. Kat's hands went on her hips. “You don't know me. I do not appreciate—”

“I'm sorry,” he cut in. “I'm not handling this well. I'm not trying to offend you. But the kiss …”

“It was just a kiss. Caused by mistletoe. Nothing to stress about,” she replied, using her best nonchalant tone. No need for him to know she'd searched for him. No need for him to realize his perfect lips had rocked her world. Or that she'd fantasized about being in his arms.
And in his bed.

“Well, it shocked me seeing you today. If I reacted poorly, I apologize. I never intended to make you uncomfortable.” He stepped forward. Stopped short. A hand raked his hair off his forehead, and then the blond strands simply returned to their previous position. “I couldn't have saved him without you.”

“You helped by letting me cut off his collar, rather than cutting it off yourself on site,” she admitted.

He gestured. “So, square?”

“I guess. It shocked me not to see the rescue group doing the transport like the procedure manual says would happen. But every second counted. Your efforts made the difference.”

“Look, can I buy you dinner? I …”

“Thanks, but no. Best we keep this relationship professional.” As she shook her head, she realized multiple strands had escaped her ponytail and she probably looked like something the cat dragged in.

“You need to eat.”

His kindness and concern touched her. “True, but I'll order delivery. Lots of places around here to chose from. I'm thinking Thai.”

A blond eyebrow arched. “You're really going to sleep here?”

“It wasn't a line. I'm set up for just such contingencies,” she replied, her tone confident. Kat pointed to a camera hanging up in the corner of the room. “I have eyes everywhere and a state of the art security system. I'll be fine. Besides, the police substation is right down the block.”

“True.” Jack's weight shifted again.

She worked to reassure him so he'd feel free to leave. “Tonight is crucial. It's best for me to be here. If something goes wrong, time is of the essence.”

“Can I call you later to check on how he's doing?”

“The phones will roll to voice mail.”

“I could go get carryout, wait with you. Keep you company,” he offered, enticing her.

Company would be nice, especially his, but somehow she resisted. “Really, I'm fine. I'll call you if anything changes.” She patted her pocket. “Promise.”

The moment stretched, as Jack clearly wanted to say more.

“Go enjoy your weekend,” she told him before her resolve faltered. The man was temptation personified. “I'm sure you have places to go, people to see. Don't let me keep you. As for me, I still have work to do, including checking on Jingle.”

Jack had absolutely no plans aside from turning on his TV and watching the Blues take on the Blackhawks, but he kept that to himself. He also wanted to ask about her shelter, but given that Jeff Ellis of Pet Rescue had approved her clinic, he knew it could wait until tomorrow. Jeff was the city's most outspoken animal advocate and the man who'd singlehandedly convinced the mayor to form the task force. He thought of the letter he'd read. After meeting Kat, his gut told him something about the letter was off.

“No matter what time, call me and I can be here,” he told her. “I need to be here, if—”

“I understand,” she said crisply, keeping the professional mask firmly in place. Jack's offer to buy dinner and keep her company had sent sweet little tingles to her toes. She wanted to see more of him but knew she had to be professional. Her head—and the rest of her—were battling. Time to get him to a safe distance. “Don't worry. I will make sure nothing happens to him now that he is in my care.”

He nodded at her conviction. “No, it probably won't. I can tell you keep your word.”

“Exactly.” Her countenance softened. She liked how persistent he was, how passionate. “We open tomorrow at nine. We close again at four. My staff—”

“While I'll call first thing, I'll want to see him for myself,” Jack interrupted. “I'll come by tomorrow. I'll be checking on him personally for as long as it takes, pretty much until he's adoptable. For the foreseeable future, you and I will be seeing a lot more of each other.”

He reached out, touched her cheek with the back of his forefinger. A shiver of anticipation shot through her. “Until tomorrow, Kat.”

Then he was gone. As she locked the back door and watched him climb into his SUV, Kat knew she could take Jack's final words to the bank. Her cheek tingled. She reached up, traced her cheek where he'd branded her with the lightest of touches. Jingle would take a while to heal, which meant Jack Donovan was about to be in her life for a long time.
A very, very long time.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she whispered, and went to check on her patient.

By the time Jack appeared around noon, Kat's nerves had stretched thin from anticipation.

“You're being silly,” she mumbled to herself. “Stop it.”

They were professional colleagues, if that. Certainly nothing more, which didn't explain the giddy feeling she'd gotten when she'd spoken with him briefly first thing this morning.

And the moment her tech had poked her head into the office and said, “Mr. December's just pulled in,” Kat's stomach had fluttered with thousands of butterflies. Certainly not a professional reaction. More like her teenage, silly self—an often-heartbroken girl she didn't mind leaving behind.

Jingle had made it through the night and, thankfully, remained stable. She'd kept the puppy on intensive painkillers delivered directly to his bloodstream along with intravenous fluids. She kept him sedated so he slept, his body's natural healing mechanism for warding off infection.

“How is he?”

“Still in intensive care, but I'm very hopeful,” Kat answered as Jack strode into her office like he owned the place, white paper bag in hand.

“No, don't get up.” He dropped into the chair in front of her desk and glanced around, as if noting the very comfy couch she always slept on, her degree from the University of Missouri, various knickknacks and books, and the family photo on the bookshelf where the stack of calendars had been. Kat had put
those
in a desk drawer. He set the bag on her desk. Delicious smells reached her nose.

“I stopped at Salume Beddu. Since you ate dinner by yourself, I thought I might tempt you to join me for lunch if I brought the right incentive. Your staff said you had about an hour.”

Her mouth watered. Considered one of St. Louis's top sandwich venues, the artisan specialty shop cured its own meats. “What did you order?”

“Wasn't sure if you were vegetarian or not, so I brought a Beast, a Speck, and one of their roasted vegetable with mozzarella. Figured whatever you didn't want, I could reheat and eat tomorrow.”

The Beast was a fresh sausage sandwich with roasted hot peppers and onions. “I don't eat a lot of meat, but I do when the occasion warrants. The Speck will be perfect.” That was thinly sliced, cured Italian pork topped with lemons and Gruyère cheese.

“A woman after my own heart,” he said, passing her sandwich over.

“Or at least your food.” She reached behind her, took out two waters from the dorm-size refrigerator next to her desk. She handed him one, their fingers connecting with a zing over the cold bottle. She snapped her head up, their gazes colliding. For one brief moment she imagined how his electrified hands would feel on other parts of her body. Blushing, she looked away and cleared her throat. “I'll make up for the calorie splurge by eating a salad later.”

He held up a hand. “No. Don't tell me that. I like a woman who eats.” He began to unwrap his sandwich. “Do you know how many women pick at their food and push it around their plates? I don't know what they hope to accomplish.”