Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction\A SEAL's Surrender\A SEAL's Salvation\A SEAL's Kiss (36 page)

“Savannahs are known for being cautious,” Eden agreed, rubbing her knuckle under the feline’s chin. The cat was not only purring like a motorboat now, but doing the comfy circle dance in Eden’s lap. “But once they make a bond, it’s a pretty tight one.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?” Eden asked, smiling at the grumpy-faced older woman.

“I didn’t realize you were quite so well-read on rare cats. Or that you had such a way with animals.”

“It is my job,” Eden added, figuring it was easier to smile than to grind her teeth. Even though that would have felt a hell of a lot better. What was up with people? They thought they had her so easily pegged?
Nice-enough misfit, a little klutzy, always good for a laugh
.

“Well, yes, but I suppose I thought you mostly tended animals like this one.” The older woman gestured to Mooch, who was sniffing around her shoes like they were made of bacon.

“I try not to discriminate,” Eden said gently, offering the raggedy looking mutt an indulgent look, even as she continued to rub her fingers under the chin of a cat that cost more than her car. “Mooch was abandoned when his owner died. He’d been with her for twelve years, and in the end, he was her only companion. Her only company. When she had a stroke, he shredded a window screen to escape, ran back and forth in front of the house, barking until he got someone’s attention.”

Mrs. Carmichael’s polished lips rounded as she looked—actually
looked
—at the dog.

“All the owner’s family wanted when she was gone was her money, anything they could sell for profit. They were going to have the dog put down.”

“No!”

As if Eden had just taken a gun and aimed it at the canine, the older woman snatched him up and cuddled his wriggling body close in her arms.

“It happens a lot,” Eden said sadly. She hated that. Hated that she couldn’t do more to stop it. Her estimation of the other woman had sure taken a high leap, though. “The shelters, rescue groups and other vets know I take in special cases and try to find them homes. One of them called me about Mooch and I convinced the new owners to let me keep him.”

“Does he have a home, then?”

Hmm. Quickly shielding her considering look, Eden shook her head slowly, letting her chin droop just a little. “He doesn’t. I’m trying to find him one, though. I can’t keep too many dogs here myself—it’s just not fair to them.”

Mooch, the consummate player, chose that moment to lick the older woman’s chin and give a friendly yip. Mrs. Carmichael laughed, hugging him close.

“Well, that’s a shame. I can’t bring a dog home myself because Mr. Carmichael is allergic. But I have friends...”

Eden grinned.

Mooch was as good as placed. Mrs. Carmichael had a reputation for never saying anything she didn’t mean—and quite a bit she did but should keep to herself. And given the tax bracket of her friends, Eden figured Mooch stood a really good chance of finishing out his golden years in prime style.

Five minutes later, Mooch on her lap, Mrs. Carmichael finally wound her way around to the real purpose of her visit.

“I heard that sweet boy, Cade Sullivan, helped you rescue my Paisley.”

Sweet boy?
Eden’s lips twitched.

“Actually I’d already rescued Paisley. Bev was in the car giving her water when Cade showed up,” she corrected meticulously. Then she laughed and leaned forward to admit, “It was me Cade was rescuing.”

Mrs. Carmichael’s eyes rounded, right along with her mouth.

“I figure you’re here to get the really good inside dirt, right? And only Bev, Cade and I know that part. So there you go, I’ve just provided you with lunch fodder for an entire week.” Too amused to be offended, Eden grinned.

The older woman tried for a look of righteous indignation, but couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds. Smiling back, she reached over to pat Eden’s hand. “Sweetie, you’re the best gossip this year. You didn’t think I was going to waste my advantage, did you? Especially not when I’ve got the inside track.”

“Is Paisley your inside track, then? I should charge you for an office visit for this,” Eden teased, her fingers combing through the cat’s soft fur. The Savannah purred her approval. Surprisingly, so did Mrs. Carmichael in the form of a harrumphing hum.

“Good point.” The older woman looked around the office, noting the various animal photos, inspecting the certificates and then giving Eden a considering look. “Why don’t you go ahead and give my baby a checkup. Make sure she’s faring well after her little adventure. We’ll see how that goes.”

For a solid heartbeat, Eden just stared. What? A real appointment? From one of the Oceanfront matrons? Warning herself not to get too excited, Eden scooped the cat up into her arms and tilted her head to one side to ask, “Adding legitimacy to your pending story?”

The older woman laughed, rising too and waiting for Eden to lead the way to an exam room. “I’m meeting the Spring Fling planning committee in the morning. And you have to admit, your rescue and subsequent examination of my baby gives me an exciting co-star status in gossip central’s latest favorite topic.”

“Well...” Eden set the still purring cat on a stainless table and, one hand still rubbing her ears, reached for the stethoscope, “I think Paisley’s the actual co-star.”

“I’m her agent,” Mrs. Carmichael deadpanned.

“She’s a lucky cat,” Eden decided ten minutes later after giving the cat a thorough and surprisingly easy exam. Savannahs weren’t known for being agreeable, but the feline, who weighed more than Mooch, had purred through the entire checkup. “And in excellent health. You might want to supplement her with some fish oil. Omega-3s are good for the immune system and will make her coat even shinier. From the scent of her fur, you’re taking her to the salon Dr. Turner recommends. They’re lovely and do a fabulous job of pampering the pets. But after a month on the fish oil, you won’t need those conditioning baths. Also, Savannahs often have a taurine deficiency, so if you aren’t already, you might want to begin supplementing.”

“I suppose you sell this taurine?”

Eden looked up from her inspection of the feline’s nails to shake her head. “No, but I can recommend a few brands, though.”

Mrs. Carmichael gave another humming humph, then nodded.

“You’re very good at that,” she decided with a considering look. “Paisley doesn’t take to most people, let alone veterinarians. She hates the techs at Dr. Turner’s. They’ve started asking me to sedate her before visits.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Eden said, giving the huge cat a sympathetic hug. “I know Savannahs can be considered persnickety, but you’d think a veterinary clinic would understand that about the breed.”

“You’d think,” the other woman murmured before asking about the charges.

Eden gave the cat one last scratch, then leaving her with her owner, stepped over to the computer to print out a bill.

“So, where did you and the sweet Sullivan boy go after drinks last night?” Mrs. Carmichael asked, making a show of pulling her checkbook out of her Hermès bag. “A walk on the cliffs, perhaps?”

“Oh, my God,” Eden breathed, the bill hanging limp in her fingers. Horrified images of YouTube videos, Instagrams and mocking humiliation for not moaning correctly during an orgasm all filled her head. “Did someone follow us?”

The older woman laughed so hard she snorted. Then, after wiping a tear from one eye, she took the paper and patted Eden’s hand.

“Sweetie, you are such a rookie at this.”

Eyes huge, Eden shook her head in denial. “That was a setup? But how’d you guess?”

“Process of elimination. Cade’s BMW headed west when he left the Wayfarers. That meant you either went to the cliffs or up the coast. Since word is that his car was in his driveway two hours later, the cliffs were the best bet.”

“We could have circled around, made a turn somewhere.”

“Cade’s too practical for that, sweetie. Please, if you don’t know him better than that, how are you going to keep people guessing about what happened?”

Before Eden could process that, or even wonder if she’d totally underestimated the depth and reach of the Ocean Point gossip chain, the other woman handed her a check.

Eden glanced at the amount, then forcibly yanked her jaw off the floor.

“Um, I think this is a mistake.” She tried to hand the slip of paper, with its overabundance of zeros, back.

“That’s for the rescue, and the reward I’d have had to offer. For today’s visit, which I’m assuming since it’s a Sunday and your posted hours don’t include weekends, means this is considered emergency time, and a retainer for monthly checkups for the next three months. At that point, we’ll reevaluate.”

With a grunt, she lifted the twenty pound feline, draped her over her shoulder like a purring stole, and gave Eden a nod.

“I’ll be in touch during regular business hours to set up Paisley’s schedule. I’ll expect you to have those supplements you recommended for me then, too. And don’t forget to have Mooch ready for visitors. I’ll send a few people out to meet him.”

Between the buzzing in her ears and the feeling of standing on a very unstable cloud, Eden was sure she said something. Hopefully it included the words “thank you” and maybe “goodbye.” But she couldn’t be sure.

Still standing there in shock, Eden stared after the departing floral steamship.

Then she looked at the check again.

She’d done it.

Oh, she hadn’t saved her home yet. But she’d gotten a new client. One who was married to the bank owner’s brother, and had just handed her enough to pay off one-thirtieth of the loan.

Hips swinging, Eden happy-danced her way back to her office.

She’d told Bev that dating Cade should bring in some gossip gawkers who’d use their pets as an excuse to troll for dirt. But she’d just said that to throw Bev off Eden’s true dating intentions. She hadn’t really believed it.

But now?

“Mooch, we just might make this work after all,” she said, tossing the dog a treat. Then, figuring if anything deserved celebrating, this did, she dug into her emergency chocolate stash and had one herself.

A screaming orgasm, a possible home for Mooch and a wealthy new client. This weekend was working out pretty darned good.

8

C
ADE
WASN
’
T
SURE
what it’d take to make the weekend much worse. A plague, maybe. A natural disaster or two.

Or another visit to the hospital.

“Your father is out of ICU now. He’s all settled in a private room and getting a little testy with the doctors’ order that he not have a computer or work-related paperwork. After this morning’s incident, they even restricted his access to the newspaper,” Catherine said with a worried frown. Moving with the ease of someone much younger than her eighty years, she bustled around the brightly lit kitchen. Pouring coffee into a large custom mug with a picture of a fluffy baby harp seal and the caption
My Grandson
, she handed it, and a plate of cookies, to Cade. Then she gestured that he take them to the sitting room.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Cade said absently, waiting until she took her cup of tea—in fine china with no seal—and was settled into her favorite chair before taking his own seat. “The doctors know what they’re doing. If he listens I’m sure he’ll be home with a private nurse by the end of the week.”

Which meant Robert would be in the hospital for at least two weeks, and probably cause at least three nurses to take mental health leave. Cade didn’t care.

Now that he knew the old man would live, he’d done his duty by coming home. Now to get the hell out of here.

“He’s going to be horribly bored,” Catherine mused, as if terrorizing nurses and browbeating doctors wasn’t entertainment enough for her son. “Maybe you could go by and visit this afternoon?”

“I don’t think my visits are that good for his health,” Cade said, offering a teasing smile to balance the bitterness in his words. As much as he loved his grandmother, he didn’t see any point in perpetuating her naive hope that someday, somehow, her son and grandson would bond.

“It’s good for both of you to spend time together,” Catherine insisted, taking a dainty bite of her cookie before dipping the shortbread in her tea. “And it’s a relief for him to know you’re handling those little business issues.”

“One issue, which is his trying to evict a neighbor you used to have over for teddy-bear tea parties,” Cade pointed out. “And I haven’t done anything to handle it so far.”

“But you will, won’t you?” Catherine leaned forward, her eyes intent as she gave her grandson the harshest look in her arsenal. The one that shot guilt like a laser. “Whatever your feelings about your father’s business practices, Eden needs your help. You’re going to help her figure out a way out of this, aren’t you? Take care of her, please.”

He’d taken damned good care of her last night.

But that was definitely not the kind of care his grandmother was talking about. Nor was it the kind he should even be thinking about, let alone wanting to repeat a few dozen times. He needed to forget about it. Pretend it had never happened.

Before he did something stupid.

“Mrs. Sullivan,” Dora called from the door. “There’s a phone call.”

The live-in housekeeper offered Cade a friendly smile, but didn’t give any other indication that she spoke to him on a monthly basis with updates on Catherine’s well-being. If grandmother knew he was checking up on her, she’d pitch a fit. She’d probably follow it up with a hug and a plate of cookies, but Cade figured it was better to keep her fits to a minimum.

“Probably another person wanting to know all about your tête-à-tête with Eden last night. For someone who hasn’t handled things, you’ve sure started a lot of chitchat around town,” Catherine said, rising with an ease that belied her years. Her green eyes, so like Cade’s own, twinkled behind round spectacles. “When I come back you can give me the details so I know what to tell people. And then you can fill me in on what really happened.”

Holy hell.

And he was worried about doing something stupid?

He’d pretty much already covered that.