The Frenchman's Slow Seduction (5 page)

His expression changes
from one of euphoria to one that is more pensive, which I find more
heartening.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m
going to give it one heck of a try.”

I throw my arms around
him and give him a big smacking kiss. “Power to you.”

Later that night, as
I’m getting ready for bed, Mike shows up at my apartment. I take
him to the sofa in the living room.

“So, how’d it go?” I
ask.

“Well, Vanessa and
Gordon both went quiet when I showed them the article. They weren’t
having any of that friendship stuff. They said they already had
friends, and that we’d a certain relationship all our lives and
they wanted it to stay that way. I told them I wasn’t happy with
things the way they were, and that I didn’t think it was healthy
for them either. I told them I wanted to be their friend and that I
would support them in their endeavors. I said that the family bond
and memories we had would make me different from their other
friends.”

“I’m impressed. You did
great.”

“Then I went on to talk
about respect. I asked them to phone me before coming over, to
treat me as if I have a life, like I do for them. I told them I’d
like some help with the meals and cleaning up when they come over
for dinner, and I told them that I’d like them to ask me over to
their apartments every once in a while.”

“How’d they take
it?”

“I’m not sure. They
didn’t say much, and they left right after our talk. I hope they
take it well and make positive changes, but I think their reactions
will depend on who they have to talk things over with.”

I laugh. “I applaud
your realism.”

He looks at me. “I need
a screw.”

Chapter 6

When I get to the
clinic Wednesday morning, Lucy is in a panic.

“Where’s Mike?” she
asks. “I can’t get hold of him.”

“He’s on farm
calls.”

“It’s awful, Rachel. Go
see the file room and the rooms out back.”

The scene is frenzied:
toppled cabinets, emptied cupboards, files flung in every
direction, shredded paper, surgical equipment strewn everywhere.
The work of a disturbed mind.

“All the money is gone
from the file,” Lucy says. “About four hundred dollars. And the
back door was left open this time.”

“Have you phoned the
police,” I ask her.

“No. I just got
in.”

I take my mobile from my jacket pocket and make the
call.

“They said they’d be
here in about an hour,” I tell Lucy. Seeing how anxious she is, I
say, “Don’t worry. We’ll do something about it. I’ll start sorting
the files.” Lucy’s filing system is her life.

Ten minutes later, I’m
with my first client of the day, Mrs Beatty, who is very concerned
about her bull terrier’s favorite pastime of chasing his tail. When
she leaves, Tim walks into the room.

“Still no sign of
Shane?” I ask.

“Nope. Still a no-show.
I think he’s going through one of his moody phases.”

The police arrive,
assess the damage, write out a report, and ask questions about the
staff and our hours. When Shane’s name is mentioned, they look
interested. Detective Bill Roscoe gets straight to the point.

“Your clinic is located
at the end of a tiny strip mall in a poor area of town, so robbery
isn’t totally unexpected. We’ve got a few junkies in the area
breaking into places to support their habits. What worries me about
your robberies is that there’s been no forced entry. It’s gotta be
someone with a key. We’ll need a list of employees, past and
present, and the people they live with, and anyone else you can
think of who might have a key. Meanwhile, I would suggest that you
change the locks and hand out a minimum number of keys. Installing
a security system would be excellent.”

When the police leave,
Tim and I get on with the rest of the morning’s work. The last
appointment before lunch is a German shepherd named Maestro; the
police want him checked over before purchasing him for
training.

Tim pokes his head into
the stockroom where I’m searching for a new pen. “Maestro and
Officers Carini and Lin are ready and waiting in the treatment
room,” he says. “I’ll set up the films.”

When I walk into the
treatment room, Michelle’s brother is facing me.

“
Bryan!”
I say,
rushing over to hug him. I’ve never thought of him as Officer Lin.
“Gosh, I’ve missed seeing you!”

“Me too,” he says,
squeezing me. “You look great, Rach.”

Bryan is the only
same-age male I ever let get close to me; Michelle being the safe
intermediary. During my first three years at vet school, Bryan
studied for a business degree at the same university and
practically lived at Michelle’s and my place. Despite his somber
police uniform, made even more intimidating by the height and
breadth of him, I see only the fun loving personality
underneath.

“This is my partner,
Dave,” Bryan says.

Dave stands a full foot
shorter than Bryan but has a physique that hints at long hours in
the gym. His dark handsome look seems Italian.

“My condolences, Dave,”
I say. “How do you put up with this guy?”

He gives me a brilliant
smile. “I’m specially trained to deal with pains in the ass,” he
says, shaking my hand.

I turn to Bryan. “I
don’t think I’ve seen you since Michelle’s Christmas party last
year. You had a cute blonde named Christine hanging off you
then.”

“I remember her. She
was the sister of a friend. She left the party hanging off someone
else that night.”

“Ouch.”

After catching up on
news, I tell them about the break-in.

“Who’d they send?”
Bryan asks.

“Bill Roscoe and Dick
Maynor.”

“They’re good guys,
Rach. Did they say anything?”

“There’s no forced
entry, so they think it’s one of us, or someone who has access to
the keys.”

“Do you think it’s
someone from the clinic?” Dave asks.

“No. I just can’t
picture anybody from the clinic being that out of control. We’ll
have to tighten security around here now.”

Bryan nods. “That’ll be
good, but don’t come to the clinic alone at night, Rach.”

There’s no sense
telling him how impossible it would be to follow his advice.

Maestro nudges my hand.
“Is this your newest recruit?” I ask.

“If he checks out
okay,” Bryan says.

I give Maestro a
physical and find him in excellent condition, except for a niggling
worry I have about his right hip. “I’ll take Maestro for his
X-rays,” I tell them.

Maestro is very
co-operative and the X-rays go quickly. While I study the X-rays on
a computer monitor, Tim returns Maestro to the examination
room.

“What do you think?”
Tim asks, when he gets back.

“I think hip
dysplasia.”

“
Oh no!”
he
says. “Poor pooch.” Tim has a special feeling for shepherds. “What
do you think will happen to him?”

“I don’t know, but the
police won’t want him.”

In the treatment room,
I show Bryan and Dave the X-rays on a monitor and give them the
verdict.

“Sorry I don’t have
better news,” I tell them. “The breeders breed for a sleek angle to
the back legs and that sometimes results in bad hip joints. That’s
what Maestro has.”

Their faces show their
disappointment. After completing the paperwork, I walk with them
outside.

“Do you still have that
mountain bike?” Bryan asks. “You used to bike everywhere.”

“I do, but I haven’t
biked in months. I miss it.” A funny thought passes through my
mind: I stopped riding my bike when I started riding Mike.

“I took it up when I
joined the force,” Bryan says. “A group of us go on a twenty mile
ride every Sunday. You should come.”

I laugh. “You on a
bike. I’d go just to see that. You used to tell me to get some real
wheels.”

“He’s addicted,” Dave
says.

“I’ll keep you posted
on the investigation,” Bryan says, opening the rear door of his
patrol car for Maestro hop in. “Remember, Rach, don’t take any
chances, okay? Repeat break-ins can turn nasty. Let me know if you
feel like coming on Sunday.”

As they drive off, Mike
pulls up in his pick-up. I tell him about the break-in.

“Sounds like you had a
rough morning,” he says. “Why don’t you take off for some
lunch?”

After changing into a
clean shirt, I head to Larry’s for some home cooking.

An hour later, on my
way back to the clinic, I see another police car.

“Trouble with Shane,”
Lucy whispers as I walk into the clinic. “Two policemen are out
back talking with Mike. They’re looking for Shane in connection
with a fight outside a bar.” Hearing them make their way towards
us, she busies herself with paperwork.

In the entryway, Mike
shakes the officers’ hands.

“Thanks for your
cooperation,” one officer says.

When they leave, I turn
to Mike. “People are going to start wondering about us. We’ve had
one police car here per hour. You were pretty chummy with that
lot.”

“I know one of them
from school; I tried to put in a good word for Shane.”

“Did you believe what
you were saying?”

“Yeah. I like the kid.
I mean, I know he’s a bit screwed up, but I don’t think he’d hurt
anybody intentionally; and I don’t think he’d steal from me or
wreck the clinic.”

I pick up several
medical files on the counter. “Shane’s not a kid, Mike. He’s
twenty-three.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I
guess I shouldn’t call him a kid.”

Ten minutes later, as
I’m walking into the front office, Shane makes an appearance.

“The constabulary were
here to see you,” I tell him.

“What?”

“The cops were here
looking for you.”

“You’re not going to
tell them I’m here, are you?”

“No thanks.”

Mike comes out of a
back room. “Shane, I need to see you right away.”

Clients start arriving.
Although it’s my afternoon for surgery and Mike’s afternoon for
appointments, I begin seeing clients while Mike deals with the
Shane crisis. A half hour later, Mike emerges from his
conference.

“I’m going with Shane
to the police station, Rachel. I’ll take care of surgery when I get
back.”

At four o’clock, Mike
returns exhausted. Surgery still hasn’t been started, which I find
really depressing. Summoning what little energy I have left, I help
Mike with the surgery. We finish at eight o’clock, and I leave for
home. Mike stays behind to keep an eye on post-operative
animals.

Walking up to my
apartment, I hear someone call out my name.
“Oh crap!”
I
think to myself. “It’s Reynaldo.”

“Hi, Rachel. I’ve been
trying to get hold of you,” he says, kissing my cheek. He’s dressed
nicely and smells good, so I know I’m in for trouble.

“Hi, Reynaldo. I’m
never home these days. I’ve been working a lot.”

He waits for me to
unlock the door and invite him in, but I want to keep him outside,
a safe distance from any place that could be perceived as
intimate.

“I think about you a
lot,” he says. “Can I come in?”

I shake my head. “No,
Reynaldo. I’ve had a long night.”

“I can help you to
relax,” he says, stroking my wrist.

I pull back my hand.
“Reynaldo, we can’t see each other. I’m seeing someone else.”

“That’s okay. I don’t
mind if you’re seeing someone else. I just want to spend some time
with you.”

I shift to put some
distance between us. Looking at him, I can’t get over how
good-looking he is. He’s like a fantasy man, a man who can’t
possibly exist. And he’s so passionate about women.

“I mind, Reynaldo. I’m
a one-man kind of woman.”

“Come on, Rachel, we’re
both consenting adults. We can do whatever we like, especially if
it gives us pleasure.”

“Reynaldo, you have to
leave.”

He leans closer. “Let’s
go inside, Rachel.”

Exhausted, I begin to
feel uneasy and a little vulnerable. As I’m trying to come up with
the perfect words to have Reynaldo desist, Myra appears outside her
doorway.

“Rachel, could you come
over?” she calls out. “I need some help.”

Reynaldo reaches for my
hand. With a light but secure grip on my wrist, he says, “I need to
talk to you, Rachel. I won’t leave until I talk to you.”

“
Can you come?”
Myra says again. She’s very good.

“I’ll be right there,”
I tell her.

As I try to pull away,
Reynaldo holds on. I would have to make a scene to get away without
his help, and I’m too tired for a struggle.

“I’ll call you,” I tell
him.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow at
six.”

“You promise?”

“Of course,” I say,
trying to mask my apprehension.

Leaning forward, he
kisses me, and I feel his tongue brush across my cheek.

In every way, Reynaldo
is an enigma. Most of the time I think he’s harmless, but sometimes
he scares me.

Chapter 7

When I get to the
clinic on Thursday morning, it looks like Mike has been there for
some time.

“What’s gotten into you
this morning?” I ask.

“Angst, my dear, bitter
angst. I’ve got to take control. My complacency is even showing up
in the clinic. I’ve arranged for new security measures to be
installed on Monday, and I’ve done up the list of people who might
have clinic keys. I want to get an early start on surgery.”

In the lunchroom, Shane
is busy shoving a large duffle bag into a cupboard.

“Boxing gear,” he
says.

“Can a person really
like boxing?” I ask.

“I do.”

“Why? What do you get
out of it?”

“I need a way to take
out my aggression. Otherwise I get into trouble. I love hitting
into another person as hard as I can. You can’t match that feeling,
that buzz, you get.”