“We’re buddies. We do everything together.”
“He doesn’t chase cats, does he?”
“Not to my knowledge.” He had scared the bejesus out of a few rabbits, Hank thought. And once he caught a squirrel. But as far as he knew, Horatio didn’t chase cats.
“Fluffy has always been an apartment cat,” Maggie said. “She’s never seen a dog. She’s really a sweetie pie.”
Hank gave the cat carrier a quick glance from the corner of his eye. Fluffy, the sweetie pie, was making unearthly growling sounds that had all the little hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end. “She sounds…annoyed.”
“Don’t worry,” Maggie said into the cat carrier. “We’re going to get you out of there right away. I’m going to take you into the house and feed you a nice smelly can of cat food.”
By the time Hank had stopped the truck, Horatio was wagging his tail so hard his whole body was in motion. Hank opened the door, and the dog vaulted off the porch. He hit Hank at a flat-out run, planting two huge paws on Hank’s chest. Both of them went down in the mud with a loud splat and a grunted expletive.
Maggie looked over and grimaced. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Hank said. He was spread-eagled on his back in six inches of brown muck. Horatio stood with his paws still on Hank’s chest. “I’m just dandy.”
She searched for something positive to say. “He sure seems happy to see you.”
This is nothing, Hank thought. Wait until he gets a load of Fluffy.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
The rain was pouring now and she had to shout to be heard. Hank was entirely soaked, and coffee-colored water was swilling around his pants’ legs.
This had to be one of the worst ideas he’d ever had, Hank thought. He wondered if he rolled back onto his stomach and plunged his head into the puddle, would it be possible to drown himself? At the moment it seemed his most pleasant option.
He looked up into Horatio’s face and took solace. At least his dog thought he was wonderful. What Maggie Toone thought of him was beyond imagining. He definitely wasn’t at his masculine best.
“Why don’t you and Fluffy go on into the house, and I’ll be along. The door should be open.”
Maggie nodded and slipped out of the truck, clutching the animal crate. She moved as fast as she could, but she was drenched by the time she reached the porch. Rain dripped from the tip of her nose and off the ringlets at the side of her face. She removed her shoes and stepped into the foyer.
“Hello,” she called, expecting the house keeper he’d promised. But the house was dark and empty. A momentary stab of fear raced through her. What if there was no house keeper? What if it had been a ploy to get a woman alone?
That was ridiculous, she told herself. The employment agency had thoroughly checked out Hank Mallone’s background, and they’d assured her he didn’t have a criminal record. Hank Mallone was exactly what he appeared to be, she told herself. But she wasn’t sure that was comforting.
Hank stood at the bottom of the porch stairs for a moment, letting the rain wash over him, removing the larger chunks of mud. He stepped under the protection of the porch roof, wiped the water from his face, and shook himself like a dog. He looked through the screen door at Maggie. Not a terrific homecoming, he thought. Her eyes were large, her lips pinched tightly together. He couldn’t blame her if she was suddenly frightened and having second thoughts. He probably looked like some deranged yahoo.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not as stupid as I look. I couldn’t possibly be.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, trying not to let her voice waiver. “I’m really very brave. One time I picked up a snake with a stick.”
He felt a smile begin to spread to his face. Damned if she wasn’t cute when she was trying to be brave.
“This is different,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “This is man-woman stuff. You’re probably a little worried about being alone out here with such a smooth guy.”
Maggie giggled. Ordinarily she wasn’t the sort of person who giggled, but it gurgled from her throat in a rush of relief and gratitude. “Thanks. I guess I needed reassuring.”
His gaze inadvertently dropped to her wet shirt, perfectly plastered to high, round breasts, and a pained look came over his face. Now if only he could reassure himself he wasn’t a sex-starved pervert.
Because that’s how he was feeling. He had mud in his ears, his briefs were waterlogged, and his shoes squished when he moved. Only a total degenerate could get aroused under those conditions, he told himself. And it wasn’t just her shirt that was doing it. It was the way her eyelashes looked all spiky when they were wet, and the way the rain had brought out the scent of her shampoo.
“This is awkward,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve ever pretended to be married.”
He was so close, she could feel his body heat steaming off his rain-drenched clothes, and his nearness had the same effect on her as a belt of bourbon on an empty stomach. Fire roiled through her.
She took a step backward, and gave herself silent warning that she wasn’t an impressionable teenager. Modern, intelligent women did not crumple into a heap of slavering goop just because an attractive man invaded their body space, she told herself. She gave his hand a motherly pat and made an effort to bring the moment back into its proper perspective.
“It’s not so serious. It’s a bogus marriage. It’s temporary. I’ll only be here for six months.”
“Oh yeah? What if you get attached to me? Horatio was only supposed to be temporary. Big Irma asked me if I would take him for a few days, until she found a home for him. That was three years ago.” He fondled the dog’s satiny black head.
“Now he’s crazy about me. I can’t get rid of him. He follows me everywhere.”
He leaned a little closer to her, and the corners of his mouth tipped up into a smile. “He’d do anything to get his ear scratched. Anything! That could happen to you, you know.”
The man made a fast recovery, Maggie thought. One minute he was on his back in the mud, and the next minute he was teasing her.
“I’ll try to control myself,” Maggie said. “If I get a sudden, overwhelming urge to have you scratch behind my ears, I’ll lock myself in my room.”
Brave words coming from a woman who was already more than a little attracted to Hank Mallone. Brave words coming from a woman who was having a hard time controlling her heartbeat because Mallone had moved a step closer and smiled at her.
She stood absolutely still, wondering if he was going to kiss her. Six months could be a long time if the relationship grew uncomfortable. And his track record wasn’t encouraging. His past was littered with discarded female bodies. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud droning noise drifting through the open door.
Horatio’s ears perked up, and Hank turned to look outside. “Sounds like a car.”
“Doesn’t sound like any car I’ve ever heard,” Maggie said.
The sound was low and throaty-a powerful motor guzzling gas through double carburetors, its life’s breath resonating through a thirty-year-old exhaust system. It was a 1957 Cadillac, and it eased to a stop behind Hank’s pickup.
“Looks like a little old lady,” Maggie said.
Hank grinned at the Cadillac and the gray-haired woman behind the wheel. “That’s no lady. That’s my new house keeper. That’s Elsie Hawkins.”
The woman jumped from the Cadillac into ankle-deep water. Her exclamation carried to the house, and Maggie burst out laughing. “You’re right. She’s no lady.”
Elsie held an umbrella in one hand and a sack of groceries clutched to her chest. “Never fails,” she said. “Just when you haven’t got a crust of bread in the house, it decides to rain cats and dogs.” She looked at Hank and shook her head. “You look awful. You look like you rolled in the cow pasture.”