Fortune (34 page)

“I can't answer that. But it could have been anywhere. Dogs love it, it's really sweet.” The vet cleared his throat. “We made sure we got it all out of his stomach, and I've got him hooked up to a vodka IV right now. Antifreeze causes crystals to form in the kidney and, basically, takes out the kidney. The vodka keeps the crystals from forming. Like I said, if you hadn't brought him in when you did, we could have lost him. Frankly, we would have. This stuff works fast.”

“When can he…” Skye's voice shook, and she battled to steady it. “When can he come home?”

“About seventy-two hours. I'm sorry, Ms. Dearborn. I know how distressing this must be for you. But rest assured, we're doing everything we can. I'm very optimistic.”

Chance tightened his arm around her. “You'll call if there's any change?”

“Of course. And we open at seven-thirty. You can check on him then.”

Skye murmured her thanks and they turned and walked toward the door.

“Ms. Dearborn?”

She stopped and looked back at him. “Doctor?”

“A dog the size of Moo would have to drink a good eight ounces of the antifreeze to affect him this way.”

She searched his gaze. “Yes. So?”

“So, I'd be surprised if it was an accident. I believe someone deliberately poisoned your dog.”

S
kye huddled deeper into Chance's front seat, her mind whirling with what the veterinarian had said. “Who could have done this?” she murmured, looking at Chance. “Who would want to hurt Moo?”

Chance glanced at her, then back at the road. “The vet said he
thought
someone deliberately poisoned Moo. But he wasn't certain of that. It could have been an accident, caused by simple carelessness.” The light ahead changed to red, and he eased the car to a stop. “So in my mind, the question is where and when, not who.”

She frowned, not quite following. “What are you getting at?”

“The vet said, antifreeze acts fast. That means Moo would have had to have gotten into the stuff shortly before I got to your place.”

“Because he was fine when you first got there.”

“Bingo.”

The light changed, and Chance started through it. He flipped the wipers on high. Skye watched them move back and forth, sweeping the snow aside, recalling exactly what she had done that evening.

“As you know, Griffen and I left the restaurant just behind you. I had one of my headaches, and I didn't have any of my medicine with me.”

“Where was Moo when you got home?”

“At the front door, as always. Eager to go out.” She rubbed her chin with her index finger. “The building has an enclosed garden courtyard. It has a patch of yard, and at night I usually put him back there when I first get home. That way he can get some immediate relief and I can take my time checking the mail, changing clothes, stuff like that.”

“And?”

“And that's what I did. I put him out, took a headache tablet, and Griffen and I talked for a few minutes. When Griffen left, I let Moo back in. And that's it.”

“Then, that courtyard's the place. Let's check it out.”

Her building in sight, Chance took the first parking place he came upon. They climbed out of the car and crossed the snow-slippery street.

Skye touched Chance's arm. “There's only one entrance from outside. All the tenants have a key, and it's supposed to stay locked.”

“Let's try it and see if it is now.”

She nodded and led him down the driveway beside the building. The courtyard was surrounded by an eight-foot-tall brick wall, its top decorated with multicolored pieces of broken glass. The gate, also eight feet tall, was locked tight.

Chance tried it a second time, really rattling it. It still didn't budge. “Unless one of the tenants left it open earlier, then came back to relock it, I doubt a stranger was inside messing with your Kong-dog.”

She made a sound of distress. “You think one of my neighbors did this?”

“It had to happen out here, Skye, unless you keep open containers of antifreeze inside your apartment.”

“Not hardly.” She frowned and fitted her gate key into the lock. “Come on, let's look around.”

They did. And found what they were looking for. A coffee can, tipped onto its side, looking completely out of place in the neatly tended courtyard. Chance picked it up and ran a finger along the inside, then touched the tip to his tongue.

“Sweet,” he said, turning his head and spitting.

Skye took the can from his hands and gazed at it, heart hammering.
Folgers. Five-pound can. A Jewel food-store sticker on the bottom of the can.

She lifted her gaze to Chance's, shivering. “Who did this? Why? I can't even comprehend such a thing. Moo's so gentle.”

“Do you clean up after him? Some people get pretty—”

“I'm a fanatic about it.” Her teeth began to chatter. “What now?”

“We go inside. You're turning blue.”

Skye carried the can up to her apartment and deposited it on her kitchen counter. She gazed at it, still shivering. “I miss him. It's too quiet, it's…” She shot Chance a weak smile. “You probably think I'm pretty silly, being so attached to a dog.”

“I don't think you're silly at all.”

“Thanks.” She tugged off her gloves and tossed them onto the counter beside the can, then ran her hands through her hair, shaking the snow off. “You want a drink or something?”

“I should go.”

“Do you have to?” The question just popped out, and she flushed and looked away. “It's only that…I don't want to be alone, not yet, anyway. Could you stay a little while? I'd really appreciate it.”

He hesitated, then shrugged out of his coat. “So, where do you want me to put this?”

She released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. “Thank you.” She smiled and held out a hand for his coat. “I'll take it.” He handed it to her, and she hung his and hers on the brass tree by the door, then turned to him. “How about that drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Perfect.”

Minutes later, they sat on her battered old couch, big mugs of steaming hot chocolate fortified with a shot of peppermint schnapps cupped in their hands. Curling her legs under her, she angled her body toward his and took a sip of her drink. And sighed.

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I remember how much you used to love hot chocolate.”

“I still do. It's comforting, though I'm not sure why.” She shook her head. “My mother used to make it for me even in the middle of July.”

“Maybe that's why it's comforting.”

She met his eyes, thinking for the first time of what would have happened if Chance had left without noticing Moo, or if he hadn't come at all.

And thinking, too, of what had brought Chance to her door in the first place, of how he had admitted following her and Griffen, and of how angry she had been.

Her cheeks heated as she acknowledged she didn't care why he had come, she was just glad he had. And not only because of Moo.

“I haven't thanked you yet,” she murmured. “Without you, Moo might not have made it.”

“You would have seen something was wrong. I just saw it first.”

She wasn't as sure as he, but didn't argue the point. “You were so certain Moo was really sick. How did you know it was as serious as it was?”

“Common sense. He declined so fast, I knew whatever was wrong, it was bad.”

She brought her mug to her lips, but didn't sip. “I didn't know you had experience with animals.”

“I don't, not really. But it works that way with humans, too. That's the way it was with my mother. One day she was fine, four weeks later she was dead. She had a fast-growing malignancy.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Ancient history.”

Skye sipped then, studying the man she had once thought she knew so well, thinking that perhaps she hadn't known him so well, after all. “In all the time we were together, you never talked much about your mother. Will you tell me a little about her?”

He almost refused. She saw it in his eyes, in the way he stiffened, the way he opened his mouth with a denial that sprang to his tongue. But then he surprised her. He told her about his young and pretty mother, about how they had lived. He told her, too, how he had always been alone, even when he was with her because she had spent her life looking outside of them, looking at all the things she longed for but didn't have.

And, finally, he told her about her illness and death. “My old man refused to take me, so they shipped me off to my aunt Rebecca's farm. You know the story from there.”

Skye was silent a moment, thinking about all he had said, moved by the emotion she heard behind his words. “It sounds like you loved her a lot.”

“She was my mother. We didn't have anybody but each other.” He drew his eyebrows together, his gaze directed to a place beyond Skye. “I always knew, though, that she was more important to me than I ever was to her.”

“I'm sure she loved you very much.”

“Not enough to make her happy. She was never happy.” He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of a bad memory, then grinned at her. “So, how did you and that big mutt of yours hook up? You guys seem pretty attached to each other.”

“We are.” She smiled. “He was a puppy. I found him abandoned at the side of the road. It was pouring rain, he was drenched, muddy and pathetic-looking. The poor thing, I couldn't not pick him up. Nobody else would have.”

“You're a soft touch, Dearborn.” He set his half-f mug on the coffee table. “So, you gave him a home, and he pledged his eternal devotion in return.”

She laughed. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“More like good instincts. You always had good instincts, Chance McCord.”

He laughed and they talked then, cautiously at first, easing into the events of their last thirteen years. Little by little the caution slipped away from them, and they became the essence of what they were: two people who had shared in a year what most never share in a lifetime, two people who had lived and almost died together, who had, for nearly a year, depended on each other for everything.

Two people who had once meant the universe to each other.

Skye laughed at a memory, scooting down in the plump cushions and resting her head against the sofa back. She closed her eyes. “I had forgotten about that. Was I ever really so young?”

“You were.” She heard his smile, felt the sofa shift as he leaned toward her. “I also remember the time you tried to kiss me.”

She opened her eyes, cheeks warming at the memory. He was above her, and as she gazed up at him, she realized everything about his face was familiar, familiar in a way that felt really good.

She returned his smile. “That one I hadn't forgotten. I was so jealous of that other girl…What was her name?”

He thought for a moment, then laughed. “I haven't a clue.”

“Good.” Skye swept her gaze over him. “I fancied myself in love with you. And I wanted to prove to you that I was a woman, too.”

He trailed a finger along the curve of her jaw. “You were beautiful even then.”

“I was a silly, confused little girl who was trying to become a woman. I was also a major pain in the ass.”

He laughed loudly. “I'm glad you haven't changed.”

She batted her eyelashes, playing the coquette. “The way you do go on, Mr. McCord. It just sets a girl's heart aflutter.”

He didn't laugh at her joke, didn't even crack a grin. Instead, he searched her gaze, the expression in his doing just what she had teased him about a second before—setting her heart aflutter.

Even as she called herself a fool, she reached up and cupped the back of his neck. “You're right, you know. I don't think I have changed.”

“I'm glad. I've missed you, Skye.”

She tangled her fingers in his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I'm kissing you or not.”

“Funny…that's what I was going to ask you. If you would—”

He caught the last with his mouth.

And passion exploded between them. Just like that. Like a bomb going off. White-hot. Earth-shattering. She made a sound of surprise. Or was that his?

He drew away, his expression dazed. Then he kissed her again, deeply, erotically, as she had never been kissed before. As she had dreamed of being kissed all those years ago.

She arched up to meet him, pressing her body against his, trembling. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, seeking, stroking. She answered each stroke with one of her own, her body humming, control spinning crazily out of her reach.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't be doing this with him, that it was wrong. But for the life of her, she couldn't think why. It didn't feel wrong. It felt right. And good. Incredibly, deliciously good.

Wanting to feel his skin against her, she tugged at his tie and struggled with his shirt buttons. They broke apart long enough for him to yank her sweater over her head and toss it to the floor.

“We can't do this,” she said, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and running her hands over his muscled chest.

“We can't…” He groaned and buried his face between her breasts. “You feel like heaven.”

She shuddered and arched against him. “That feels so good. Don't stop. Don't—”

The phone rang; once, then twice. On the third ring, the machine picked up and Griffen's voice echoed through the room. They froze.

“Hi, sweetheart, just wanted to make sure you were all right. Sweet dreams. I love you.”

They looked at each other, then separated.

Skye grabbed her sweater and tugged it over her head, sickened by her behavior. What was wrong with her? Griffen loved her. How could she have been so disloyal? So dishonest?