Belinda (21 page)

“Awful quiet in your house,” Mr. Jed remarked
as he sat down in a chair and placed the tray of hot chocolate over
a scruff mark on the yard sale coffee table.

“It is. Especially since Harvey’s not here.
Have you seen him lately?”

“That big stray mutt that comes over here
every weekend?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen him in a couple of
weeks.”

“Probably courting. That’s what everybody
else is doing these days—everybody except you.”

Janet waved her hand in airy dismissal. “I’m
a career woman, Mr. Jed. You and Harvey are enough for me.”

It was true: she was satisfied with her
career. Not that she didn’t like children. On the contrary, she
loved them. That’s why she had chosen pediatrics. But her
internship demanded so much physical and emotional energy she
didn’t have enough left over for a serious relationship.

She sipped chocolate and enjoyed a neighborly
chat. By the time she stood at the front door waving goodbye to Mr.
Jed, it was dark and the wind had picked up speed. She felt a rain
storm in the air and thought of Harvey, out there on the streets
somewhere, cold and friendless and hungry.

“Harvey,” she called into the darkness. No
friendly dog face appeared. No wagging tail thumped her front door,
and no big pink tongue licked her hand. She couldn’t imagine
spending another Friday evening without Harvey.

She ducked inside her apartment, bundled into
her raincoat and went back out to the car.

Her apartment was on the corner of Jefferson
and Madison, directly across from the library. She took the Madison
Street exit, turned the corner at Jefferson and cruised slowly down
the street, looking right and left for the mutt who was part golden
retriever, part mournful hound dog, and all heart. At the First
Baptist Church she turned north on Church Street toward the
elementary school. Harvey liked children. He could be on the
playground, waiting for a group of Girl Scouts or watching a late
soccer practice. Though why anybody would be practicing in this
weather, she couldn’t imagine.

The rain came down in earnest as she drove
slowly along. She passed a large man wrapped in a heavy raincoat
and carrying a big black umbrella. He looked sinister on the dark,
lonely street. Not many people walked the streets in weather like
this. She started to pass him, then changed her mind. Obviously she
was overworked to be thinking of one of her fellow citizens as
sinister. Tupelo was the friendliest town she knew, and besides the
man might have seen Harvey. Feeling a little bit foolish, she
backed up and lowered her window.

“Excuse me,” she called.

The man jerked up his head, as if she had
startled him. There was nothing sinister about his blue eyes. Or
his face. Under the streetlights it looked as open and friendly as
a dance club on ladies’ night.

“Yes?”

The voice was nice, too. Rich and crisp, like
dark red apples.

“I’m looking for my dog—Harvey. Have you seen
a large tan dog?”

The big man ambled slowly toward her car. He
didn’t walk or stroll; he ambled, as if the sky were pouring
sunbeams on his head instead of raindrops—as if he had nothing but
time on his hands.

“That’s a funny coincidence. I’m looking for
a dog myself. George. A big, shaggy mutt with reddish hair and a
tail that wags all the time.” The man was beside her car now, and
he leaned into her window. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”

His smile was sincere and a little crooked.
She smiled back.

“No. I’m afraid not. Sorry I can’t help
you.”

“Me, too.” He patted the car door almost
absently and looked as if he were going to say something else; then
he backed away. “Good luck.”

“You, too.”

As she drove off, she glanced in her rearview
mirror. He was still standing there, not quite on the sidewalk but
not quite in the street, either, the big umbrella dangling by his
side, raindrops pouring over his head. His wet hair made a dark cap
of curls around his face.

She was at the end of the block before she
realized she hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the school.
Harvey could have been standing on his hind legs saluting the flag
in the front yard for all the attention she’d been paying.

She rounded the corner, scanning the thick
hedges that bordered the football field. A block down the street
she parked her car. The only way she could possibly find her dog in
the dark was to make a thorough search of the campus on foot with
her flashlight. She decided to start with the football field.

o0o

After the woman drove off, it took Dan Albany
two minutes to snap out of whatever spell he was in. He’d thought
himself acquainted with every good-looking woman in Tupelo, but
somehow he’d missed that auburn-haired beauty in the aging red
Corvette. And she liked dogs. That was a plus. If she also liked
cream-filled cupcakes, greasy hamburgers, soggy fries, kids and
soccer games in the rain, she’d be just about perfect. But he
hadn’t even asked her name.

Shaking his head to clear it, he sent
raindrops flying. With a sigh, he lifted his umbrella and continued
down the street in search of his dog. He even laughed aloud at his
foolish fancies.

“Well, Coach,” he said in that jocular way he
had of addressing himself when he felt he needed a good talking to,
“it’s just as well. Classy looking ladies driving Corvettes aren’t
usually the old-fashioned type who enjoy life on a shoestring
budget.”

Not that he was looking, anyhow. Life had a
wonderful way of just happening, and he figured one day his sweet,
old- fashioned dream woman would waltz into his life. Though why it
hadn’t happened in thirty years, he couldn’t say. Maybe he should
be looking.

But first, he had to find George.

He made a quick tour around the school
building; then he walked down the hill toward the football field.
The hedges would be a good hiding place for a dog, especially if
he’d been hurt and was seeking shelter from the rain.

He had almost reached the stadium gates when
he heard the whimper.

“George,” he shouted. “Is that you?”

The dog whimpered again. It was unmistakably
the sound of the shaggy red stray who had shown up on his doorstep
six weeks ago and become his part-time dog.

Bending low and training his flashlight into
the dark, he spotted George on the other side of the fence, huddled
in a thick patch of shrubbery.

“Stay there, George. I’m coming.”

He sprinted toward the padlocked gates and
was halfway over the fence before he saw her—the woman from the
Corvette. She was racing across the football field, her green coat
unbuttoned and flapping behind her.

“Hey,” he yelled.

Without breaking stride, she glanced in his
direction. “I think I’ve found Harvey,” she called. “I heard him
over there.” She continued running toward the bushes where Dan had
spotted George.

He heard his raincoat rip as he jumped down
onto the football field. Small matter. He’d patch it. What really
bothered him was the disappointment that gorgeous woman would feel
when she discovered she’d found the wrong dog.

He caught up with her just as she’d reached
the dog.

“Oh, Harvey. You poor thing.” Oblivious of
the mud, she knelt beside the big dog and cradled his head.

“George.” Squatting beside them, Dan
addressed his dog. George acknowledged his master with a faint wag
of the tail.

The woman looked up at him. “Did you say
George?”

“Yes. That’s my dog.”

“This is not George. This is Harvey—my
dog—and he looks like he’s hurt.” She pushed the bushes aside and
bent closer to the dog. “Would you mind moving back a bit, so I can
see him better?”

“If you’ll step back, I’ll get him out.” He
broke some of the larger branches that were trapping his dog.

The woman jerked her head up and looked him
straight in the eye. “I’m a doctor. I know how to move him.”

A doctor, he thought. And a bad-tempered one
at that. Her big brown eyes were fairly sparkling with feeling. And
he’d bet she’d never sat on a bleacher in the rain in her entire
life. She was probably the symphony type.

“Allow me to help you, Doctor.” He spoke with
elaborate politeness that bordered on sarcasm. Fifteen minutes from
now he knew he’d regret it, but he forgave himself. The death of a
dream was always hard. Although it had been only a fleeting dream,
he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed and somewhat
cheated. She was so lovely to look at.

She smelled good, too. Even in the mud and
rain, he caught the faint scent of jasmine in her hair.

They worked together for several minutes to
free the big dog. When they had him out of the bushes, the doctor
bent over him.

“He’s weak... probably from hunger, as well
as loss of blood.” She continued her cursory examination of the
dog. “Everything seems to be okay except the back leg.”

Dan could see the dog’s right hind leg was a
crushed mass of bloody flesh and exposed bone.

“You’re a veterinarian?”

“No. A pediatrician. An intern, actually, but
I can patch him up until tomorrow morning. Then I’ll take him to a
vet.”

“ We’ll
take him to a vet,” Dan
countered. “It appears that George has two masters.”

“Harvey.” Her eyes were alight again, but
this time with humor.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“My house is just up the block—the big white
one with all the gingerbread trim,” he said. “I’ll take
What’s-his-name up there, and you can follow in your car.”

“It’s raining. We’ll all go in my car. My
medical bag’s in it.”

“You’d put a wet, muddy dog in your
Corvette?”

“He’s not a wet, muddy dog. He’s Harvey, and
I love him.”

Dan took in her tumbled auburn hair, her
brown eyes bright with compassion. “You’re not half bad, Doc,” he
said as he bent and carefully lifted the big dog.

“Watch his leg,” she said.

Dan laughed. “Just a little bossy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. Just a little—”
pausing, she surveyed him from head to toe “—big.”

They started across the football field toward
her car.

“Dan Albany.”

“Janet Hall.”

“I don’t know how you got over this fence,
Janet.”

“I climbed, just like you.”

He thought that must have been a sight to
see, but he didn’t say so. Dr. Janet Hall was wearing high-heeled
pumps and a dress under her raincoat.

By the time they reached the fence, the rain
had slowed to a drizzle.

“It’s going to be tricky getting across
holding this dog,” he said.

“Can you lift him over if I go first?”

Dan judged the height of the fence. “I think
so, but can you hold him? He’s a big dog.”

“Yes.” She stuck her flashlight into her
pocket and smiled at him. “Have you any idea how strong a
sixty-five pound child who doesn’t want a shot can be? Subduing
them long enough for an injection builds strength, if nothing
else.”

“Regular little tigers, are they?”

“Absolutely.”

With her coat providing cover, she hiked her
dress up matter-of-factly and found a toehold in the chain links. A
hefty breeze caught her coat and billowed it back from her body.
Her legs were long and slim and lovely. As she climbed, Dan caught
an intoxicating glimpse of lingerie. The doctor wore black lace
under her tailored dress.

Half-embarrassed for enjoying the view so
much, he turned his head away and tried to take an interest in the
trees. But they were just trees. Janet, on the other hand...

He swung his gaze back to her. She was
perched astride the fence, her dress hen caught in the chain
links.

“I seem to be stuck.” Her laugh was breezy
and completely unselfconscious. “If I let go to free myself, I’ll
lose my balance.”

“Maybe I can help.” He lowered George onto
the grass and reached up. His hand brushed leg. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” She’d lied, Janet thought, as
Dan caught hold of her hem and tried to work it free of the fence.
The problem was that she was sitting on a fence in the rain with
her dress hiked up to her hips and a strange, disturbingly
appealing man touching her leg. And she liked it. Ordinarily she
would never be caught in such an unladylike fix. But here she was,
the most proper of the Dixie Virgins, soaking wet, displaying her
legs like a Las Vegas showgirl and loving every minute of it.

o0o

Peggy Webb is a USA Today Bestselling author
from Mississippi with 70 books to her credit. She writes romance
and the hilarious Southern Cousins cozy mystery series starring
Elvis, the basset hound who thinks he’s the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll
reincarnated. Her peers call her a “comic genius.” She also writes
literary fiction under the pen names Anna Michaels (for Simon &
Schuster) and Elaine Hussey (The Sweetest Hallelujah, MIRA, July
30, 2013). Pat Conroy calls her literary work “astonishing.” This
critically acclaimed author has won many awards, including a
Romantic Times Pioneer Award for creating the sub-genre of romantic
comedy. Several of her romances have been optioned for film.

Peggy is a member of Novelists, Inc., Authors
Guild, International Thriller Writers, and Romance Writers of
America. She is excited about bringing her romance classics back to
readers as E-books. The award-winning
Touched by Angels
and
A Prince for Jenny,
as well as the Donovans of the
Delta series, have all been Kindle Top 100 bestsellers.

Follow the author on her websites:
www.peggywebb.com
,
www.elainehussey.com
and
www.annamichaels.net
and
on Facebook and Twitter

o0o

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