The Truth About Cats & Dogs (14 page)

Unexplainably.

So when he dipped his head and put his lips against hers, Sam didn't stop to think about what he was doing. She was there and she was warm under his hands and she looked up at him with that “Are you going to kiss me?” look in her eyes that would make any man think,
damn right.

He wished he'd been prepared for his own reaction. Kissing her while laughing on a bed had been
one thing. Kissing her in the semidarkness at two in the morning was another. Her hair smelled like honey, and her skin felt soft when he moved his hands to frame her face. She made a little sound of surprise, but she didn't pull away. He stepped closer, so that his T-shirt-clad chest touched her breasts, covered by flannel and yet so damn close. And then he touched his tongue to hers—and the world stopped.

He felt as if he'd been hit in the gut, knocked to the turf, dumped upside down and tossed on his head. Nothing made any sense, except that kissing Jess was exactly right. Like coming home to a place he hadn't even known existed until now.

Sam never knew how long they stood there kissing each other in the open doorway that connected their two rooms. He didn't move forward; she didn't step back. As long as they didn't move, as long as they stayed with their bodies pressed together, as long as they kissed upright, as long as their few clothes remained on their bodies, then maybe this could be chalked up to some kind of midnight madness.

He'd been rejected; she was lonely. They were two adults with nothing else to do in the middle of the night. His hands slid to her waist, then higher, to touch those soft breasts. Jess groaned and pressed closer.

Something licked Sam's ankle, which made him jump sideways and bump his head against the door-
frame. He swore, Jess chuckled and a dog barked from the bed.

He looked down. One of the Pekes—the one with only one eye—wagged her tail.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I think we have a chaperone.”

T
HEY
'
D PRETEND
it hadn't happened. That was Jess's plan, and Sam seemed happy to go along with that idea when they met outside walking the dogs in the parking lot behind the hotel. Sometime this morning Darcy had returned to his owner, and Jess assumed Sam had closed the connecting door, leaving her to sleep as late as she wanted.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” Sam answered, and Darcy wagged his tail and attempted to pull his owner toward the two little dogs that were mesmerized by a small pile of dirty snow. Samantha bumped into it, Ozzie peed on it and Darcy bounded on top of it. The Pekes scampered to get out of the way, Ozzie barking with great excitement.

“It's a beautiful day,” Jess pointed out, needing to say something, anything. Sam hadn't shaved yet. He had that adorable rumpled look that handsome men wore so easily and he looked pleased to be outside, despite the cold wind blowing around the corner of the building. “I never thought to ask if you wanted to get an early start.”

“I'm not in any hurry. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.” She picked up Samantha, who looked nervous at the noise of the strong wind. The little dog no longer reeked. Unlike Ozzie, she'd enjoyed last night's bath and her session with the hair dryer and brush; she'd snuggled against Jess as if she'd never felt anything so wonderful, before returning to the safety of her crate and pillow. “I haven't been awake very long.”

“Me, either.” He smiled, which of course added to his charm. Jess found it disconcerting, especially without having had a cup of coffee yet. “I guess we both needed the rest.”

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Avoiding any conversation about last night's toe-curling, heart-stopping, mind-numbing kissing session might not be as easy as she'd thought. Jess shifted Samantha in her arms and attempted to tug Ozzie away from the pile of snow.

“When do you want to leave?”

“Come here, Darce,” he called, then turned back to face her. “Let's order something from room service and eat before we get on the road. It's about a three, three-and-a-half-hour drive to Westport.”

“I'll have someone meet me there,” she assured him.

“There's no hurry. My father is making meatballs and expects you to stay for a meal, you know. And my mother will talk your ear off.”

“I'll call when I get to the house then,” she agreed. “Are you sure they won't mind the dogs?”

“No.” He tugged Darcy closer. “They'll be pleased to have the company. They've been lonely ever since my sister went to London on sabbatical. She and her husband are on a dig somewhere on the northeast coast of England right now.” He grinned. “I was the jock of the family, Karen was the brain.”

“I guessed that,” she said, and he laughed as they headed toward the side door of the hotel. The wind whipped around them, but the sun was shining as if yesterday's storm had been completely forgotten.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He held the door open for her and the Pekes.

“Waffles, if they have them. Or French toast.”

“I'll have it sent to my room this time. How about in an hour?”

“That's fine.” She would have time to shower, fix her hair, put on makeup, brush the dog hair off her sweater and hope that her jeans didn't look too worn. She would make coffee in the little pot provided by the hotel and remind herself that this would soon be over. She and the dogs would be home tonight, which would end this strange journey. And she would be busy finding foster homes, going through adoption applications, returning phone calls, shopping for a car…Surely she would be too busy to think about Sam Grogan and his broken heart.

Because, she reminded herself, he must have a broken heart. A man didn't come that close to get
ting married without really wanting to, no matter what he said about how he was relieved.

 

“O
H, SWEETHEART
, I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, Mom.” Sam hugged his mother, who looked unnaturally pale but still as pretty as ever. She wore a velour pantsuit and pink fluffy slippers, and her gray-streaked hair was stylishly cut, as usual. “Really, it is.”

“Well,” his father said, clearing his throat and clapping Sam between the shoulder blades. “Well, we're glad you're home. Your mother wasn't going to be happy until she saw for yourself that you were okay.”

“I'm okay. I'm glad yesterday is over, but I'm okay.”

“Now I can say it,” his mother declared, releasing her hold on him. “Susan wasn't the right woman for you, not that she wasn't a nice girl, but I couldn't quite figure out why you two stayed together. She seemed a little—” His mother paused, frowned, searched for the right word.

“Indecisive?” Sam suggested.

“High maintenance,” Martha Grogan said. “You have your whole life ahead of you now, honey. There must be hundreds of women who would love to go out with a big, handsome television star.”

“Mom—” He started to explain that he wasn't a star but a sportscaster, but he knew she wouldn't hear a word of it. She knew he was on television—he sent her tapes of the shows—and that was that. “Let me
introduce Jess, okay? She wouldn't come inside, said she wanted us to have some privacy.”

“How sweet,” his mother said. “Is she nice, Sam? Is she pretty?”

“Mom—” Sam kept his expression neutral. If he so much as thought about kissing Jess, his mother would see something in his face that would start her asking more questions.

“For heaven's sake, Martha, leave the boy alone.” His father guided him toward the door. “Let's go get your stuff and this friend of yours. Martha, you get back on the couch and put that afghan over your legs. Just because you're feeling better doesn't mean you have to run around the kitchen asking questions and making Sam here nervous.”

“I'm not nervous.”

“He's not nervous,” his mother added, refusing to leave the kitchen. “Go get that young lady and her dogs. I have a steak bone for Darcy and a hundred questions for you.”

“A million's more like it,” his father grumbled, but he was smiling when he held the door open for Sam. “Your mother's been on pins and needles ever since you called yesterday. She was sure you were just about going to die of a broken heart and—holy moly, who the hell is that?”

Sam Senior had just had his first glimpse of Jess Hall, all blond curls and blue eyes and a hot body poured into denim jeans and a snug red sweater.

“That,” his son breathed, “is the woman I found at Krispy Kreme.”

“I would imagine,” his father whispered, “she's cheered you up quite a bit.”

“Yes, sir.” Jess looked up from walking the Pekes. She smiled at both Grogan men, and Sam remembered kissing that mouth and touching those breasts less than twelve hours ago. Every time he looked at her he somehow found it difficult to breathe. “She's a very cheerful person.”

 

I
T KEPT GETTING WORSE
.

She liked his kisses, his dog and his parents. She loved his smile, his kindness and the way he'd coped with a disappointing wedding day. He hadn't wallowed in self-pity or passed out in a bar. No, he'd taken his dog out for doughnuts and he'd rescued a woman who came with luggage, dogs and boxes of Christmas stockings.

And yet Sam looked at her as if
he
was grateful for something as he sat across the dinner table eating his father's
promised
meatballs, complete with spaghetti, salad and thick slices of Italian bread.

“You must stay for dinner,” Mrs. Grogan had said when Jess talked about calling home for a ride. “I'm feeling much better today and I'm not the least contagious. A couple of days ago I thought I was at death's door, but today? Well, today I'm much more optimistic.” This was said with a friendly smile and after letting Ozzie climb up on the couch to lie at her feet.

Mr. Grogan, whose sturdy good looks echoed his son's, had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome. “We're so glad you were with Sam yesterday,” he had confided when she'd gathered dishes to set the table. He'd said it as if she'd volunteered to ease Sam's pain, as if she was an old friend. “Martha and I felt better knowing that he wasn't alone.”

“I think he's going to be fine,” she'd whispered. “Really. He was a little sad at first, but then he seemed better.”

“Yes,” Mr. Grogan said, and winked at her. “I can see that.”

It was all too tempting, after traveling with Sam and kissing Sam and now spending time with Sam's parents. Tempting to fall the tiniest bit in love with him, to believe—just a little—that fate had intervened and brought Sam knocking on the window of her dented van because they were meant to be together, like an opening scene in a movie.

But a sensible woman such as herself did not go falling in love after a mere thirty-six hours with a man, no matter how special that man was turning out to be. Nope. Oh, she'd seen enough people fall in love with
dogs
at first sight. Take Hazel and Harriet. Jess pictured the elderly woman and her little Pekingese living happily ever after. Why couldn't it be that easy for people?

“You really should spend the night.” Mrs. Grogan now held Ozzie in her lap and the dog was upside
down and fast asleep, his little pink tongue sticking out. Poor blind Samantha refused to come out of her crate, despite Darcy whining at her. The mastiff lay in front of the crate, his head on his paws, staring inside as if he could will the little female to come out and play.

“I can't,” Jess said. “But thank you. I'm going to call a friend of mine and—”

“I'll take you home in the morning.” Sam passed her the basket of Italian bread. “Whatever time you say.”

“Mary said last night that she'd come get me,” Jess explained, looking past Sam to the darkening sky out the dining room windows of the comfortable ranch house. Sam's parents had raised their children here—Mrs. Grogan had made sure Jess had seen the photos displayed on the bookshelves beside the fireplace—and Mr. Grogan said they were content to stay exactly where they were, a few miles from the ocean and close enough for “Sammy” to visit whenever he could.

“There's no need,” Sam said. “Unless you have to work tomorrow?”

“No, but—”

“Good,” Mrs. Grogan said, snuggling Ozzie closer to her. She kissed the top of the dog's head and his tail wagged in appreciation. “It's so much fun to have some company now, and I'm not sure I can let little Ozzie leave me yet.”

The two Grogan men looked at each other and
then toward Mrs. Grogan, who was happily unaware of the horrified expression on her husband's face.

“Now, Martha,” he said, “the last thing we need around here is a dog.”

Mrs. Grogan ignored him. “Jess can sleep in your sister's room, Sam. Show her around while your father cleans up the kitchen.”

Jess knew she could have protested and Sam would have given in. She should have called Mary as soon as she arrived in Westport, but she hadn't. She'd been having too much fun pretending that she was Sam's official girlfriend making a visit home to meet his parents, instead of a hard-luck passenger he'd pitied in a parking lot.

So she stayed. And later that evening, after the Grogans had said good-night and gone to bed, Sam took her in his arms in front of his sister's bedroom door.

“I've never kissed a cleaning lady before.” His mouth dipped closer, brushed her lips, teased with light, feathery kisses.

“I guess there's a first time for everything,” Jess managed to say. And then it was a long time before she could say anything at all.

D
ISAPPOINTMENT OBVIOUSLY CLUNG
to him, Sam decided, as he carried Samantha's crate to the car. He wondered if he was contagious that way. Maybe the blind dog he tucked carefully into the back of the vehicle felt the same way, now that her two buddies had found homes and she was still hiding in her crate. The two of them seemed doomed for failure.

“Well, well, are we ready?” His father rubbed his hands together in great anticipation of a drive with his one and only son. The fact that his son might like to have a private hour or two in Rhode Island with the luscious Jess Hall had never entered his father's mind, or if it had, the man hadn't given it much thought.

“We're ready,” he said. “As soon as Jess says goodbye to Mom again.” Sam hid a grin. His father might be spoiling his romantic daydreams, but he was also inheriting Ozzie, the barking Pekingese. Jess had found another home for one of her West Virginia orphans, much to his father's dismay.

“I should have known what your mother was up
to the minute I heard you say you had dogs with you.” His father tucked a cooler packed with meat-ball sandwiches on the floor behind the front seat and hoisted himself into the back. “She's always wanted a little dog—no offense, Darcy.”

The mastiff whined and edged closer to his traveling companion.

“Don't lick me,” Sam Senior warned the dog. “I'd like to stay clean for a few more minutes.”

“You can change your mind.” Sam dangled the car keys and opened the driver's door. “It's going to be a long day in the back seat with Darcy.”

“But we'll get to talk on the way home. Been a long time since we had a chance to do that,” his father reminded him.

The back door opened and Jess stepped out, Martha behind her ready to wave at the departing car. It was foolish to wait for Jess to smile at him, but he did. Hard to imagine he could have been on his honeymoon and never met her…Which was a surprisingly chilling thought considering that last week he had thought himself in love with someone else.

“That is one very nice young lady,” his father declared. “Think you'll see her again?”

“It's possible.”

Jess hurried over to the other side of the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

“You're welcome to come back and visit here anytime,” his father said, leaning forward to pat her
shoulder. “But if you bring any more homeless dogs with you, I'm not sure I'll let you stay for dinner.”

“He's kidding,” Sam said. “That dog will be sleeping in his recliner with him by next weekend.”

“Your mother's not going to let that hairy little thing out of her sight,” he grumbled. “I think she'd have kept the other one, too, if it hadn't needed surgery. What did you say was wrong with it, Jess?”

“Hernias, we think.” She turned in her seat to face the older man. “I hope it's not anything worse, but she has two tumors on her belly.”

“Good Lord,” his father said. “That's why you drove all the way to Virginia, to save this dog?”

“One of the reasons, yes.”

“Tell him about the fabric and the Christmas stockings,” Sam suggested.

“Now you're teasing,” she said. But she shot him that knockout smile and fastened her seat belt as they drove down the street and north, toward the interstate.

The hours passed too quickly, despite the Monday morning traffic and the stop for coffee at a roadside truck stop. They bought coffee-to-go and a box of powdered sugar doughnuts, most of which were shared with Darcy. Jess lived in Newport, an island town in Narragansett Bay, accessible after two bridges and one small traffic jam on a waterfront street. She directed him up a hill to Bellevue Avenue, past opulent mansions half-hidden behind hedges
and iron fences, to a winding road lined with less imposing homes. The house she pointed to was yellow, a neat two-story Cape with a paved driveway and an elegant black door.

“Nice place,” Sam's father said, as Sam pulled into the driveway. “Did you grow up here?”

“This was my grandparents' house,” Jess explained. “We lived on another part of the island, but that place was sold after my mother died.”

“And your father?” Sam couldn't help asking. He hated the idea that Jess was alone in the world, though he told himself that it was none of his business.

“He remarried three years ago—she's a very nice woman—and they moved to Florida, where her sons live.” She unbuckled her seat belt and invited them inside. “Come on in. I'll put on some coffee or water for tea,” she said.

“It's started to snow,” his father pointed out. “We probably should head back before it gets worse.”

A vision of making love to Jess while the snow swirled outside flashed into Sam's head. “I'll unload the car,” he said.

“The backyard is fenced,” Jess said, hopping out of the car. “Darcy is welcome to run around back there for a few minutes.”

Great. Hauling boxes of old fabric and watching a mastiff pee was not the fantasy he'd dreamed of last night in his cold and lonely bed.

 

“C
OME VISIT US ANYTIME
when you're on one of your rescue missions,” Mr. Grogan said, enveloping Jess in a hug as they stood in the middle of her tiny foyer. “We'll take good care of that little dog, don't worry.”

“I'm not worried.” Ozzie had it made, as did Harriet. Only blind, elderly Samantha was left to keep her company tonight.

“Darcy and I will wait for you in the car,” Mr. Grogan said, tugging on the dog's leash. He whined, sniffed Samantha as if to say goodbye and trotted reluctantly out the door with Sam's father.

Jess turned to Sam and plastered a bright smile on her face.
It was fun while it lasted,
she wanted to say. Would he say those dreaded words,
I'll call you,
and would she carry her cell phone everywhere she went in hopes that it would ring?

“Well,” she said. “Thanks again for everything.”

He stood there looking down at her as if he had forgotten where he was.

“Sam?”

Those green eyes met hers. “I wish we had another day.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Me, too.”

“This is crazy.” Of course he kissed her, a soft meeting of lips that meant
goodbye, it's been fun, see you around, sweetheart.
And of course she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
I like you, I'll miss you, I don't know what to think about these past two days.

“Absolutely insane,” she agreed.

“I'll—”

“Oh, please don't say it.” Jess winced. “Not unless you really mean it.”

“I was going to say I'll call you.” He frowned. “You don't want me to?”

“Surprise me,” she said. “My phone number is on the adoption form your mother is filling out.”

“I can do better than that.” His hands cupped her waist, slid to her back and held her body against his in a most arousing way.

“You can?”

“Meet me next weekend. I'm doing a game in Miami. You could join me and we'll spend a long weekend on the beach.”

“I can't. I'm working the next twelve days straight with only Sundays off. The holidays are coming and everyone wants more hours.” And she needed the money, especially now that she'd be making car payments on whatever she bought.

“The week after that, then. Let's go somewhere special.”

“More special than Baltimore?”

“What about Boston?” he said. “I think that's the weekend the Raiders play New England.”

She hesitated. “Maybe we should quit while we're ahead.”

“Coward,” he whispered against her mouth. “I thought you had guts.”

“Now you're talking like a jock.”

“Meet me somewhere, Jess. Just the two of us, without dogs and parents and broken cars.”

“I don't know.” She could have invited him back to Newport, but that was somehow too personal. She didn't want to remember him in her house, in her bed, after this ended. It would hurt too much to have had him here, in her life, and then be lonely in her own home.

“Will you have a car—a reliable car—in two weeks?”

“I'll have a car in two days.”

“Meet me in Boston in two weeks. On a Sunday night.”

“Where?”

“Name it and I'll be there right after the game. I'll do the wrap-up in record time.”

“The weather—”

“I'm not going to worry about the weather. We'll figure it out. Just say yes.”

“Where are you staying?” Jess stalled for more time to think. Oh, it was tempting to see him again, to spend a few days alone together because they wanted to and not because of a string of accidents.

“At some hotel next to Logan. Meet me downtown, at the Westin. Everything will be decorated for Christmas and I'll even go shopping with you and carry your bags and we can pretend we've known each other forever.”

“Sam, I don't know.”

His expression changed, the light leaving his eyes. “I'm sorry, Jess. I thought you were feeling the same way I am.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Which is?”

“That we've found something too special to walk away from.” His hands tightened on her back. “You don't have to decide now. If you don't think we're somehow meant for each other—and I know how corny that sounds, but what the hell—then don't come to Boston. I'll hate the fact that you're not there, but I'll understand.”

“You can change your mind, too,” Jess managed to say. “That's only fair. If you're not there, that's okay.”

“I'll be there. Six o'clock. We'll have dinner, drink champagne, tell each other the story of our lives.”

“Six o'clock,” she repeated. “But either one of us can change our mind if we come to our senses.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, don't you believe in love at first sight?”

“Love?” She gulped. “Not this soon, not this fast. Do you?”

“Ah,” he said, smiling into her eyes before giving her one final long, promising kiss. “I'll tell you the next time I see you.”

And with that he was gone, walking out of her little house without looking back.