EMILY STOOD on the sidewalk outside city hall and looked up into the nighttime sky with wonder. She welcomed the gentle kiss of snowflakes on her face. She’d been born and raised in the Colorado Rockies, but snow was still a kind of miracle to her. She loved it, plain and simple.
Turning right, she headed toward home, her mood euphoric. She associated snow with good things: hot cocoa with marshmallows before a roaring fire, long peaceful walks—
“Hey, Emily! Wait up!”
Pulled from her fantasy world by a voice she recognized instantly, she turned with a frown. Michael Forbes hurried toward her, his movements brisk and purposeful, as usual. Common courtesy demanded that she wait for him, but common sense told her to turn and run.
She didn’t like Michael Forbes. She had never liked Michael Forbes, not even way back in high school. He’d been several years ahead of her in school, and of course he had nothing to say to a lower classman, probably didn’t know she existed. But she knew he did.
He’d been president of the student council and had led a revolt that culminated in the complete revamping of school election laws. He’d won the debate championship three years in a row and had bullied the school board into allocating the capital improvement budget the way he saw fit—all while he was still a student.
So far as Emily knew, he’d had few friends then and he had few now that he was practicing law in Shepherd’s Pass, Colorado. He appeared to be a totally independent man who needed nothing and nobody to be happy.
If he was happy.
Emily doubted it. She couldn’t imagine it was possible to be happy without other people.
Michael loomed large beside her. He wasn’t all that tall, probably no more than five foot ten or eleven, but Emily was only five-two so most people loomed over her.
He brushed flakes off the shoulders of his soft suede jacket. “Damn snow,” he muttered. “I thought we were going to get away without the annual Halloween blizzard this year.”
“It’s not annual,” Emily objected. “The Halloween blizzard is more like biannual.”
“Biannual means twice a year.”
“Oh. Then I don’t mean that. I mean every other year. What’s the word for that?”
“Biennial.”
“Then that’s what I mean.” She added as an afterthought, “And stop swearing at the weather. Some of us like snow.”
“What deluded individual could possibly—” He stopped short and tilted his head to regard her ruefully. “You, huh. Figures.”
She strained for a pleasant smile, although her hands clenched into tight fists inside her hand-knitted mittens. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to stand around and be insulted.”
“I’d never insult a lady.” His grin flashed. He really was quite handsome when he smiled. Fortunately for his shark reputation, he didn’t smile often.
“That’s reassuring,” she said, adding firmly, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”
“First, tell me, did you see Luke and Thalia leave with the sheep?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Damn! I wanted to talk to him.”
“There’s always tomorrow, Mr. Counselor.” Turning, she walked away.
His voice floated after her. “Where are you going? That’s not the way to the parking lot.”
“I’m not going to the parking lot.”
She heard rapid footsteps behind her and his voice. “Then where the hell are you going?”
“Home.”
“You’re walking?” He sounded astonished at that possibility.
“It isn’t far.” She kept up her brisk pace, wishing he’d go away and mind his own business. He was definitely intruding upon her formerly mellow state of mind.
“But—a woman can’t walk alone at night.”
“She can in Shepherd’s Pass.”
“I wouldn’t care if this was never-never land. There could still be a pirate or two lurking about.”
“I’ll take my chances with pirates.”
“Sorry, I can’t allow it.” He stepped up beside her, taking the side nearest the street. Apparently he did have some modicum of manners. “I’ll walk you home,” he announced. “Although I’ve got to say, it’s a damned nuisance.”
Her temper finally flared. “Then don’t do it, Michael,” she snapped. “I didn’t ask you to and I don’t want you to, so don’t.”
“You’re just mad because I helped Luke and Thalia end the sheep wars,” he countered. “You won’t give me credit for anything, will you, Emily.”
“Not if I can help it,” she admitted grimly. The snow fell faster. The temperature was dropping, which lifted her spirits. Maybe this would turn into a real snowstorm and leave more than a few puny inches behind. She certainly hoped so.
“Surely you must be pleased at the way everything came out,” he pressed.
“Of course. Justice—and sheep—triumphed over selfish interests. You, Michael Forbes, represented those selfish interests. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He laughed. He actually laughed, and it sounded as if he were sincerely amused. “It’s dirty work, but somebody’s got to do it,” he said. “Joe John Jeff Jordan and Sylvia Dalton aren’t the enemy. They deserve representation just like everyone else.”
“I don’t care about that,” Emily said airily. “That’s lawyer talk.”
“Which you obviously equate with double-talk. What have you got against lawyers?”
“Plenty, and I’m not going to talk to you about any of it.” The last person she’d ever confide in was Michael Forbes. It was none of his business that her father had been a lawyer and had taken her mother to the cleaners in the divorce settlement. If it hadn’t been for Grandma—
“What was that?” He stopped short beneath the streetlight in front of the Sew Bee It, Emily’s fabric and crafts store on Main Street.
“What’s what?”
“I thought I heard a cry.”
She frowned. “I don’t hear a th—” And then she did, a cross between a howl and a bark, as nearly as she could make it out. It seemed to be coming from the alley between her store and the Paper Sack carryout deli and café. She turned to Michael with a frown.
He listened intently. “It’s a dog,” he announced.
She shivered and thrust mittened hands deeper into her coat pockets. “I wouldn’t be too sure. It could be a wolf or something.”
“In a service alley just off the main drag? I don’t think so.” He started forward.
“Where are you going?” she demanded with alarm. She didn’t like the man, but she didn’t want to see him ripped asunder by some wild animal.
“To see what that is. You stay here.”
He couldn’t tell her what to do! “I’ll come with you,” she declared, and started after him. She was fully prepared for him to forbid it and then there’d be another fight but—
“Okay,” he said, and kept walking.
Why, of all the nerve! He didn’t even care if he led her into danger. She’d show him! She remained right on his heels as he plunged into the dark alley.
MUTED WHIMPERS AND YOWLS WERE definitely coming from the big metal Dumpster behind the Sew Bee It Craft and Fabric Shoppe. Cautiously Michael circled the contraption, trying to figure out what was going on.
Emily gave the Dumpster a respectful distance. “Is that a dog?” she asked.
“Sounds like it.”
She caught her breath in outraged reaction. “Do you suppose someone threw away a dog like a sack of trash?” she demanded. “I’m not crazy about dogs, but that’s awful.”
The animal, if dog it be, punctuated this deduction with increased yowling. Michael supposed it had heard voices and was hoping for rescue.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “it is awful. If people would only spay and neuter their pets this kind of thing wouldn’t happen nearly so often.”
“Now that it has,” she said indignantly, “we’ve got to do something.”
“You’re right.” He checked the latch holding the heavy bar in place. The opening was a good five feet off the ground.
“I think we should call the fire department and let them handle it,” she announced, her tone anxious. “Come on, we can call from my place.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Uh-uh? What do you mean, uh-uh?”
“I’ve got my cell phone if I want to call, which I don’t. They’d just haul it off to the pound. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Handle it how?”
“There’s only one way. I’ll have to crawl in and boost the dog out.”
“Michael, don’t be crazy.” She edged a little closer and the light at the rear of her shop revealed her wide-eyed concern. “That could be a wild dog in there, or a mad dog—rabid, anything. It could be—”
“—scared to death,” Michael interrupted impatiently. “Calm down, Em. I know what I’m doing.”
He always knew what he was doing, even when what he was doing didn’t make a whole lot of sense to everyone else. For example, he knew that taking on the Shangri-la case wouldn’t make him any too popular in many circles, but that didn’t even factor into his decision. Public opinion never influenced Michael Forbes.
Not even the public opinion of a beautiful woman with long black hair and big blue eyes.
He unlatched the bar and threw open the door to the Dumpster. Inside, the animal launched himself toward freedom but fell short and crashed back down again. Michael had only a glimpse of the furry form, but that was enough to see there was no way the dog was going to make it out on his own.
Michael really really didn’t want to climb inside that dark hole with a strange dog. But sometimes the thing you dreaded most was the thing you most needed to do, he reminded himself. Like root canals and writing checks to the IRS and—
Behind him, Emily said a single distressed word. “Don’t.”
“Got to.” He braced his hands on the opening and hoisted himself up. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, call animal control. Or maybe the paramedics.”
“Don’t joke about it! Look, I don’t want you to do this. It’s too dangerous. You could be—”
But it was too late; he swung his legs over and dropped down inside the pit, hoping he didn’t land on the dog.
He landed on the dog.
THE CREATURE INSIDE the Dumpster let out a yowl and Michael began to swear. This was followed by sounds of thrashing and tumbling about.
Emily ran to the Dumpster door and tried to peer inside, but it was dark as a tomb in there.
“Michael,” she cried. “Are you all right? Speak to me!”
His only response was an exclamation that sounded strangely like “Aargh!”
“Oh, my God! Are you hurt? What’s going on?”
“He’s licking me. Get away! Yuck! Stop it—”
More sounds of scuffling and then he began to laugh. “Enough of this gratitude! If I can just get hold of him—”
Emily gave up and backed away cautiously. Just because the dog hadn’t attacked with bared fangs didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Michael was crazy to take such a chance.
She frowned. This was totally unlike the Michael Forbes she knew, both personally and by reputation. That Michael Forbes was a hardheaded, no-nonsense individual who was always playing the angles.
What possible angle could he have now?
From the Dumpster came a muffled exclamation. “I think I’ve got him—hold still, dog! Dammit! I’m trying to save your miserable life.” He grunted, and his voice grew louder, as if he were standing near the door.
“Here he comes! I’m just gonna boost him through.”
The front end of the dog emerged into the light. Mouth open, tongue lolling out, vicious teeth shining—
Emily stumbled backward, her mouth dry with alarm. Before she could take more defensive action, Michael apparently gave a hearty shove, because the dog shot out of the Dumpster and fell to the ground with all the grace of a rock.
MICHAEL HOISTED HIMSELF up to the high threshold and swung out of the Dumpster. He was none the worse for wear, although his suede jacket might not be able to make the same claim. Fortunately, the Dumpster was no more than a third full of trash.
Emily screamed, a high, frightened sound that pierced him like a bolt of lightning. Leaping to the ground, he started forward, only to stop short.
She cowered against the back wall of her shop while a middle-sized dog leaped and jumped around, leaving dark smudges on her coat. With every touch, the creature yipped joyfully.
Poor little mutt was showing his gratitude, but it definitely wasn’t appreciated. Michael knelt and snapped his fingers, stifling his smile.
“Here boy, here! I don’t think the lady appreciates your gratitude.”
As if sensing rescue, Emily cried, “Get it away from me! Please, Michael, do something!”
“I’m trying. Here, boy!”
The dog turned, its head tilted questioningly. Seeing Michael, it galloped forward and plowed right into him, knocking him over backward in the snow.
Again Michael got the full treatment: wet tongue slurping at the side of his face. Laughing, he tried to wrestle the dog aside so he could get up. Apparently thinking this was a swell new game, the dog darted in for another sloppy kiss.
Finally Michael got hold of the animal and held him off long enough to rise. His hands felt bony ribs through the rough coat, and he realized this dog must be starving. Anger rose in his throat, nearly choking him. Whoever had dumped the dog didn’t deserve to live.
The dog plunked down his rear end and looked from the man to the woman and back again. The eager expression on his canine face clearly announced his availability.
“That,” Emily said in a faintly disbelieving voice, “is the ugliest dog I have ever seen.”
In his heart, Michael had to agree. The creature was medium-sized, scruffy and filthy. One ear flopped over while the other stood upright, its paws were much too big for the rest of it, promising further growth. A scraggly tail, much too long for its body, waved uncertainly.
It was ugly as sin, all right, but also painfully skinny and painfully eager to please. Even dog-lover Michael couldn’t believe how strongly he was responding to this mutt. Whether it was the animal’s friendliness or his friendlessness, something was coming through with a vengeance.
Emily said, “Ug!” and straightened away from the wall where she’d been cowering. “Use your cell phone and call the pound this minute. Do you suppose it’s open at this time of night?”
Michael stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Already he was feeling proprietary about this dog. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “That would be like signing his death warrant.”
“You’re being melodramatic,” she scoffed. “They find homes for the animals who go there and—”
“Not a chance. Who in their right mind would adopt a sad-sack dog like this one, when the world is full of roly-poly puppies and fluffy little kittens?” he demanded.
“Exactly. He’s not cute, he’s not trained, he’s certainly not charming. Why should we make him our problem?”
“Because we happened to be walking past when he called for help.” Michael thrust out his chin at an aggressive angle. “And what do you mean, he’s not charming? I think he’s damned charming.”
“Just because he kissed you?” She brushed ineffectually at the dark stains on her coat. “Me, he just wiped his dirty feet all over. I hate dogs that jump all over me.”
“I suspect you hate all dogs, period.”
She glared at him through the falling snow. “Not at all. I like good dogs, like…like Lorraine’s Reckless.”
“That’s hardly fair. Jack Reckless is old, and he’s a Border collie to boot. Everybody knows they’re smart, serious, no-nonsense working dogs.”
“So?”
“So this is a mutt, and young to boot.” He indicated the dog, which squirmed under the attention and let out a plaintive combination groan and growl, obviously meant with friendly intent. “It’s like comparing apples and oranges.”
“I still say he belongs in the pound,” she said stubbornly.
“And I say he doesn’t.”
“Then are you going to take him?” she countered. “We’ve got to call the pound. We can’t just go off and leave a stray dog roaming the streets, can we?”
“We certainly can’t do that.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a dog. Good. That settles that.” She looked at him with dread, as if sensing it wasn’t settled at all.
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” he hedged. “First tell me why you dislike dogs so much.”
“I’m a cat person.”
As if that explained anything. “Lots of people like lots of different animals, dogs and cats included. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”
Her soft face took on the stubborn expression he was beginning to know. “I’m not lots of people, I’m me. Besides, I’ve gotten along just fine for twenty-seven years without getting cozy with dogs, so why should I change now?”
“Because this dog needs you.”
“Forget it. No way, no how, will I have anything further to do with that animal.” Chin up, she turned toward the street, dismissing both man and beast.
The dog immediately leaped to his feet and galloped after her. With a squeak of alarm, she whirled away from him.
“Do something! Make him stay away from me!”
“He’s not vicious, Em. He just wants to be friends.”
“Good for him. Tell him to find somebody who needs a friend, which isn’t me.”
“What’s with you and this dog? Everybody likes dogs unless…were you bitten by a dog or something?”
“Yes!” She glared at him, her hands pressed flat against the building behind her. “It was a stray, just like this one. When they couldn’t find it, I had to take those awful shots.” She shuddered. “And I had to get stitches. I’ve still got the scar on my leg.”
“Poor Emily. But that doesn’t mean all dogs are bad,” he coaxed. “Look at this one. All he wants is to be friends.”
“I don’t want to be his friend!” She appealed to Michael. “What difference does it make, how I feel about dogs? You’re the one who intends to keep him.”
“Well, actually…”
She groaned. “Don’t even go there. I will not get involved with that animal. You do it, if you’re so determined.”
“I would, only there’s a little problem with that.”
“Such as?”
“I live in an apartment—no pets allowed. I’d take him in a minute if I had someplace to put him. You, on the other hand, have a nice little yard and—”
“And nothing!” Her fighting spirit had returned. “It’s completely out of the question.” She waved one mittened hand dismissively. “If you’ll just call your dog, I’d really like to go home now.”
“Our dog.”
“Your dog.”
“Be reasonable, Emily. You can’t just turn your back on this poor, pathetic creature.”
She looked at the poor, pathetic creature, and Michael’s description was no exaggeration. She closed her eyes for a moment as if to steel herself.
She opened her eyes. “You aren’t going to sway me with pity,” she said grimly. “I’m going home and I never want to see that creature again.”
She took a cautious step. When the dog didn’t follow, she took off for the sidewalk again, walking fast.
Michael called after her. “Can’t we work out a compromise?”
Her voice floated back. “No way! I’m out of here. Good luck with your new dog and do not, I repeat, do not, bring him to visit.”
The dog looked at Michael and whined. Calling it to him, he bent to scratch an ear, the floppy one. The dog flinched but held firm.
This animal had been abused. Someone had mistreated him and then thrown him away like so much garbage.
Maybe Michael couldn’t take him home, but there were other things he could do.
That is, if he could successfully butter up Ms. Emily Patton.
“Hey, Emily! Wait up!”
Michael took off after her at a trot, his new best friend gamboling around him.