Janet (2 page)

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 probably weighs sixty pounds.”

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 was
perched astride the fence with her dress hem caught in the chain
links.

“I seem to be stuck.” Her laugh was breezy
and completely unself-conscious. “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.” The problem with telling one
little lie, was that now she had to straddle a fence with her dress
hiked up to her hips and pretend she didn’t notice that Dan Albany
had his hands all over her legs. Strictly business, of course. 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.

Thank God he finally got her dress free.

“I’m afraid I tore your dress.”

“It’s okay. I never did like it anyway.”

Goose bumps popped up along her arms.
Unfortunately they were not from the chill. It was high time to get
off the fence.

“Lift Harvey up, and I’ll take him down the
other side.”

“You be careful now.”

She thought his concern was touching, until
she figured out her was talking about the dog. She gritted her
teeth, put her stubborn will to the task, and finally got down, dog
and all, on the other side.

“How did you get to know this big mutt?” Dan
asked after they had settled in her car.

“About six weeks ago he showed up on my
doorstep—on a Friday night. He looked skinny and lonesome, and he
wasn’t wearing a collar.”

“That’s just how he looked when he came to
me—lonesome. I put ads in the paper, trying to find his owner. But
nobody called to claim a shaggy red dog, so I took him in.”

“No wonder they didn’t call. He’s tan. That’s
what my ad said.”

They both laughed.

“He seemed to like being around my house all
week,” Dan said. “I guess it’s because he loved being near the
school where all the children were. But he disappeared every
weekend.”

“That’s when he came to me. I call Harvey my
weekend dog.”

“And I call George my weekly dog. He’s as
reliable as the
Weekly Reader
the teachers use at
school.”

“He’s a smart dog, answering to two
names.”

“I consider him brilliant. You ought to see
the way he can sit up and beg for a steak bone.”

“I never give him bones. He might get them
stuck in his throat. I give him only vitamin-enriched dog
food.”

Dan chuckled. “That’s probably the reason he
spends most of his time at my house—you won’t give him anything
decent to eat. He’s crazy about hot dogs.”

“They’re full of additives.”

“What do you eat at ball games?”

“I never go to ball games.”

He’d known it, but he’d had to ask. Strike
one, he thought. But of course you couldn’t rule out a woman simply
because she didn’t care about sports. Maybe she was the domestic
type. Maybe she loved puttering around her house and kitchen. He
gave her a sidelong glance. Classy. Smart. Professional. He
wondered if she ever had time to putter.

He was going to ask her, but his house came
into view.

Turn left here,” Dan said. “That’s my
house.”

Dan Albany’s house was a revelation to Janet.
On the outside it was old-fashioned and looked too large for one
man. But the yard looked well cared for. Inside, the house smelled
like bacon and coffee and cupcakes—and faintly of dirty gym socks.
The front hall had an antique hall tree almost invisible under all
the baseball caps, letter jackets and overcoats. To this
collection, Dan added his umbrella and raincoat. Janet feared the
tree might topple under the weight.

He picked up the dog again and led the way to
his den. A fire was going in the fireplace and two Victorian lamps
made soft pools of light in the darkness. The room was filled with
large, comfortable-looking furniture and lots of clutter. It had
the lived-in look of a man who collects things but doesn’t quite
know where to put them. An antique carousel music box shared space
on an end table with a signed baseball, an old duck decoy and a
letter opener.

Hand-crocheted doilies, all in different
designs, decorated the arms of all the chairs. A child’s wooden
rocking horse sat in front of the bookshelves, which were fairly
groaning under their load of books and knickknacks.

Janet had never been in a room quite so
astonishingly cluttered. It wasn’t dirty or even messy, just
jumbled.

Dan placed the dog on a rug in front of the
fireplace, and Janet had no more time to consider his house. She
patched Harvey the best way she could while Dan held him steady.
She liked the way he constantly stroked the dog and spoke soothing
words to him.

“You’re good,” she said, looking up into
those amazing eyes. “There are days I could use you at the
hospital.” She began to pack her medical supplies into her black
bag.

“I love children and animals.”

Dan gave George one last pat, then moved to
stand beside the mantel as the dog’s head sagged and his eyes
closed in sleep. He watched the play of firelight in Janet’s hair
as she bent over her bag. Nice.

“If we’re both going to be involved with this
dog,” he added, “I think we should decide what to call him. No use
in him having to remember two names.”

“I’m partial to Harvey.”

“Any reason?”

“It’s the name of a favorite uncle of
mine.”

Dan smiled. “He doesn’t mind being godfather
to a dog?”

“He wouldn’t, if he knew. He was crazy about
animals. I think word got out among strays, because he never had
fewer than six dogs at a time.” She snapped her bag shut and stood
up. “He died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Then we’ll call him Harvey.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

Lulled by the cozy firelight and the easy,
relaxed manner of Dan Albany, Janet felt like sliding into one of
the big, fat chairs and leaning her head back. A woman could get
addicted to a cozy room like this. .

“Could you direct me to your bathroom?” she
said. “I need to wash up before I go.”

“Down the hall, then through the door on the
left.”

When Janet got into the bathroom, she
suddenly realized how tense she was. No matter what shape her
little patients were in, she had to be strong. The compassion she
felt had to be tempered with discipline. Her work demanded it.

She leaned briefly against the sink, then
straightened her shoulders and scrubbed her hands. She’d check on
Harvey one last time; then she’d go home and climb into a hot bath
with a stack of medical journals. Much of her professional reading
was done in the tub. Doing two things at once was the only way she
could make enough time in her day for all the things that needed
attention.

The den was empty except for Harvey. Janet
knelt beside him.

“You’re back.” Dan Albany spoke from the
doorway.

“Yes. I thought I’d check on Harvey before I
leave.”

“I made hot chocolate.” He held out two
steaming mugs. “And don’t say you don’t have time.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say. How
did you know?”

“I’ve been around high-powered people enough
to know.” He came into the room, walking carefully so the chocolate
wouldn’t slosh over the brims. “Why don’t you take that rocking
chair beside the fire?”