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  "That," he told her softly, "was in respect and admiration. And this..." He reached into his back pocket and brought out a folded paper, "is an impound warrant. It gives us full legal authority to search for and seize any animals we find on the premises that we suspect of being abused." He grinned. "One of the few advantages of being a past president of the Humane Society—connections."

  She didn't know whether to hug him or to shake him. "But I thought you said there was nothing we could do!"

  "No," he corrected. "I said I'd already tried. I guess," he admitted, "I just needed to be reminded it couldn't hurt to try again."

  Then Lyn did hug him, and in the strong warmth of their embrace something tender and tenuous formed between them, a moment of recognition, of cautious truth, of wondrous certainty. Something changed, between and within them; it was wonderful and it was frightening, and it was too new for either of them to examine closely yet.

  Casey stepped away first. He said, smiling, "What are we waiting for?" And they went together to the house.

  **************

  “If you want my opinion,” Lyn said, watching a frustrated black lab determinedly try to figure out how to get a treat out of a wooden box with a closed door, “he would learn a lot faster if you would just show him how to open the door first.”

  “Thus speaks the animal behavior expert,” returned Casey with a grin.

  Since the "cat caper"—as Casey never tired of referring to it—he was relentless with his quips, and Lyn supposed most of it was deserved. She had made a decision, she had done something positive, and maybe it was just a little thing and maybe it had gone to her head, but she had a right to be proud of herself. Twenty cats now had a chance to find good homes through the Humane Society, and some of them would even be auctioned off for donations to help support the Society's other work. An woman had been put out of business. Lyn had made a difference. She was a lot more confident now than she had been when he first met her, and not afraid to express her opinion. If sometimes those opinions clashed with Casey's, that was too bad. He was the one, after all, who had insisted that she work with him.

  For the past half hour her job had been to tempt, harass and otherwise torment an eighteen-month-old black Lab called Samson while Casey put the dog through a series of behaviors that ranged from simple obedience to complex performance tricks. While Samson was in a down-stay she crept up behind him and banged on tin pie plates or called to him from a distance; when he was given a command to retrieve a pair of car keys she tossed sticks and toys in the opposite direction; most recently she had followed along beside him, tempting Samson to break the heel position with a dog biscuit held a few inches in front of his nose. Samson was no dummy, and he passed those tests with flying colors.

  Now he had to figure out how to pressed down on the levered handle that would cause the door to swing open and give him access to the treat that he could smell through the cut-outs in the box, but could not access. He had tried clawing at the box, pushing his nose through the cut-outs, standing on the box, and turning the box over. Every time he did, Casey would right the box and patiently wait for him to try again.

  “Unless he figures it out for himself, he won’t really learn,” Casey explained. “That’s the way neural pathways are formed. It’s the same for humans. I can stand here and tell you how right I am all day, but until you experience it for yourself you won’t really believe it.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Very funny.”

  Samson’s random pawing at the box suddenly hit the lever, and the door sprung open. “Say look at that!” Casey exclaimed. “Woo-hoo, what a dog! Good boy, great fellow, look at you!” And even as Samson was gobbling up the smelly ball of greasy goodies that had been hidden inside the box, Casey descended on him, feeding him hot dog slices out of his hand, rubbing his head, his back his neck, exclaiming what a smart dog he was. Lyn joined the party, her own excitement unfeigned as she hugged and petted and congratulated Samson, because Casey had taught her how important it was to reward a dog with enthusiasm the moment he achieved success. Samson was in heaven, his tail swishing madly, quivering with excitement over all the attention.

  “It takes an emotional component to lock the behavior into long-term memory,” Casey explained. “The next time he sees the locked box, he’ll be able to open it on the first try. Okay, buddy, kennel up.”

  With that crisp command, Samson , who had been reveling in having Lyn rub his belly, sprang to his feet. He followed Casey happily to his kennel, flopped down with a contented sigh, and closed his eyes.

  Lyn sighed, too, dusting off her jeans as she stood up. “That’s the kind of dog I want.”

  Casey’s eyes twinkled. "How's Rabbit doing?"

  Lyn scowled. Casey knew very well how Rabbit was doing. He was cowering in a corner of one of Casey’s outdoor kennel runs because he could not be trusted to be left at home. After three days he was no closer to being housebroken than he had been the first day Lyn brought him home, and she still hadn't the courage to tell Pat about their new acquisition. He spent most of his time eating or hiding under the dining-room table—when he wasn't chewing up eighty-dollar running shoes or snarling at the postman—and, though she showered him with affection and bribed him with treats, Lyn could not even teach him to come when he was called. And that, despite her success with the cat caper, did absolutely nothing to bolster Lyn's self-confidence.

  Most insulting of all, Rabbit adored Casey. He didn't know his own name, but his ears pricked up when he heard Casey's. When Casey told him to sit, he almost tripped over himself in his eagerness to comply. When Lyn told him to sit he generally walked off someplace to take a nap.

  It was control, Lyn decided. That sense of confidence and power Casey exuded was irresistible to all weak-spirited things...like Rabbit, like herself. It wasn't right, it wasn't honest, but it was nonetheless irrefutable.

  She said, "I need to get home. Pat's due in late tomorrow and I've got a lot of house cleaning to do."

  He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at Rabbit, who watched him fixedly from the run with his head on his paws. "I'll bet you do."

  But as she started to leave he touched her shoulder lightly. It was a casual touch that held no intimacy or suggestion behind it, just a brief gesture, asking her to wait. But the touch went through her like a low-voltage electric current, thrumming through nerve endings and heating her senses, and she looked at him, startled.

  Since that night in front of Mrs. Crebs's house, Casey had very carefully, very deliberately kept their relationship on a semi-impersonal basis. There had been no searing kisses, no long meaningful looks, no stolen caresses. She had been both grateful and conversely confused by that. She had even hoped that the long hours of arguing and sweaty, undignified work had made her immune to the chemistry of his presence, and was surprised and dismayed to find that nothing could be further from the truth.

  But if Casey was aware of the effect his simple touch had on her he did not show it. His tone was conversational as he said, "You remember that movie I was doing with Sheba?"

  She smiled weakly as he dropped his hand. "How could I forget?" She had the rare pleasure of helping Casey put Sheba through her paces twice this week, and nothing about the giant cat was forgettable.

  "We're going into town to finish up next week. I thought you might like to come with me. It'll be an overnight stay," he added, almost too casually.

  Already, Lyn's heart was beating faster than normal, though she could read nothing on his face beyond the friendly, matter-of-fact invitation. What was he suggesting? Why was he suggesting it?

  "I thought you might enjoy being on the set," he added easily. "And if we get finished in time we could take in some of the attractions—even stay the weekend, if you like."

  Casey wasn't fooling himself any more than he was her, and he didn't know why he even tried. The truth was, she was becoming an obsession with him, a fever in his blood, and the more he tried to deny it the worse it b
ecame. She was getting to him, affecting him on a level that was far deeper than sexual...like that business with the cats. Why had he done that? It was crazy, it was quixotic, and it was not like him at all. But something in Lyn had touched something in him and all of a sudden he was involved. That disturbed him deeply, and the only thing he knew to do about it was to get this relationship back on course, to carry it to its natural conclusion. To get her out of his system. A working weekend on the movie set? He knew better than that, and so did she.

  Lyn cleared her throat. She couldn't believe she had considered it, even for a moment. "Urn, thanks, but I don't think so. I mean, who'll take care of your animals while you're gone, and there's Rabbit—"

  "I thought you said Pat was coming home tomorrow."

  "She is, but that doesn't mean she wants to go to work right away. Besides, I haven't seen her in so long and she doesn't even know about Rabbit. I can't just run off and leave her."

  Casey said, "I hired a kid to do the kennel work this morning. He'll be more than capable of feeding the animals. You can even leave Rabbit here if you don't feel like saddling Pat with him. It's only for two days, you know. I think Pat would understand if you took a forty-eight-hour furlough."

  Lyn met his eyes. "Why do you want me along?"

  He smiled. "Because, my dear, I'm tired of lying awake at night wishing you were in my arms. Because I have visions of sweeping you away to some luxurious resort with pictures of cartoon characters on the walls and making love to you into the wee hours of the morning. Because we can't go on pretending forever."

  Lyn could not tell whether he was serious, but it didn't matter. His voice, soft and husky, went through her like a liquid shiver and his words conjured up visions that left her weak.

  She said, as steadily as she could, "I take my cartoons very seriously."

  His smile was gentle and a little sad. "How much longer are you going to keep saying no to life?"

  "No is a good word." She got to her feet. "It teaches discipline and builds character."

  He stood beside her. "How about dinner tonight?"

  That really surprised her. "What?"

  "Dinner?" he repeated. "That meal that comes between lunch and bedtime? Sometimes eaten in restaurants on social occasions, like when a man wants to impress a woman he's very interested in?"

  "Do you mean—a date?"

  His smile was rueful. "Well, I've tried everything else. Why not a date? Surely you can't find any reason to object to that."

  The trouble was, Lyn couldn't find any reason to object. Even worse, she wanted to accept. She wanted to get dressed up for him, to spend an evening talking about things men and women talked about on dates, to have fun. And the realization shocked her so much that, before she knew it she was saying, "Thanks. I'd like that."

  He looked as surprised as she was for a moment, then he smiled. "Great. I think I can get things straightened out around here by six. Is that too early?"

  "No. That's fine. I—I'll see you then."

  She was in such a state of confusion that she almost forgot Rabbit, and it took another five minutes to coax him into the car. Casey was laughing as she drove away, but Lyn barely noticed. She was already beginning to suspect she had made a mistake, and all the way home kept herself busy making up excuses to cancel.

  ********

  The telephone was ringing when Lyn arrived home. Dragging on Rabbit's leash, struggling to get the key in the lock, she reached the telephone just as the answering machine picked up. She grimaced at the telephone and unfastened Rabbit's leash, then had to tug on his collar to get him out the patio door while the answering machine message played in the background.

  "Come on, you mangy mutt, outside. I don't know what I was thinking about, telling him I'd go out tonight. I've got to clean the house and wash my hair and anyway, what would I do with you? Pat wouldn't have a house left if I went out and left you alone!"

  And then she heard Pat's voice on the answering machine speaker.

  Lyn shoved Rabbit through the patio door and raced to pick up the receiver. "Hi, Pat!" She was a little breathless. "Don't hang up, I'm here."1

  "What, you're not out making money for me while I'm gone?"

  Pat sounded cheerful and relaxed, as she had every time she had called from North Carolina. Lyn was glad the vacation had been as wonderful as Pat had expected it to be, even though her sister's absence had complicated her own life more than she wanted to tell.

  "Sorry, business has been a little slow."

  "You sound like you just got in."

  "Well ... I did. 1 was over at Casey's."

  Lyn had made the mistake of mentioning, in the most offhanded way, Casey Carmichael and his job offer, and of course Pat had read far too much between the lines ... or perhaps she had read exactly what had transpired between the two of them.

  "And?" her sister prompted eagerly.

  “And he made me jump through hoops and climb tall buildings and fetch sticks from the middle of a lake, the same old stuff. And he asked me out to dinner tonight," she added without meaning to.

  Pat practically chortled with glee. "I knew it! I told Marilee only last night... well, let's have some details? He's adorable, isn't he? Didn't I tell you he was? And perfect for you. I mean you both have the same kind of background—sociology, psychology, that sort of thing, and—"

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, Pat, we're not going to the altar, just to dinner. And besides, we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. What time are you getting in?"

  There was a long pause. "Actually," Pat said, "that's what I called to talk to you about..."

  "What?" Something in her sister's tone caused alarm signals to go off. "Are you going to be late? Is anything wrong?"

  "No," Pat replied quickly, "No, nothing's wrong at all, in fact, everything couldn't be more right. It's just that—well, I've had a little accident, and—"

  "What? Where are you? What happened? How bad—"

  "Hush, stop screeching in my ear. Now calm down and listen to me—are you listening?"

  "Yes," Lyn said. She was breathing fast and pacing back and forth with the telephone , but she tried not to let her agitation show in her voice. She didn't want to upset Pat any more than she was already. "Yes, I'm listening. Just tell me what hospital you're in and I can be there in—"

  Pat's laugh was high and breathless, more like a giggle than the low-pitched, throaty laughter that Lyn usually expected from her sister. "Hospital? Good heavens, far from it. I just twisted my ankle, nothing is even broken. The only thing is, I'm going to have to stay off my feet for a while and the doctor doesn't really think it's a good idea for me to drive back anytime soon. So it looks like I might be here a while."

  Lyn was confused. "Do you mean—just lying around in the ski lodge while your ankle heals? At those prices? Can't Marilee drive? Do you want me to—" .

  "No, I don't want you to drive up here and bring me home," Pat said, and her voice held more than a hint of exasperation. "As a matter of fact, I'm sending Marilee home tomorrow with my car. I'll fly home later. And I won't exactly be at the ski lodge. I, um, met someone."

  Lyn wasn't really that naive; she just wasn't accustomed to thinking of her sister in those terms and it took her a moment to catch on. "What do you mean, someone? Who? And what does that have to do with..." At last, it dawned on her. "Oh," she said, and sat down abruptly. "You mean a man."

  "As a matter of fact, it's the same doctor who took care of my ankle, and he's invited me to stay at his condo while I recuperate." She must have heard Lyn's gasp, because she explained impatiently, "No, I didn't just meet him today. We've been on the slopes together all week and had dinner almost every night and..." Her tone changed, becoming softer, almost dreamy. "He's really wonderful, Lynnie. I never thought at my age..." She laughed again, a little self-consciously. "Even Marilee approves, and you know how picky she is! I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she didn't push me into that other skier just to give me an excuse to stay wit
h him a little longer."

  Lyn was too stunned to say anything, and Pat must have mistaken her silence for disapproval. Her tone was half-defensive, half-pleading as she went on, "All right, so I don't really have to stay here. I could get in the car now and it wouldn't cripple me permanently. But I've been sitting here all day, Lyn, trying to think of reasons why I shouldn't stay, and the truth is, you can spend your whole life making up excuses to turn down the good things that come your way and pretty soon... there are no more good things."

  She took a small breath, and Lyn could picture her on the other end of the connection, running her hand through her hair the way she did when she was tense, or uncertain, or trying to sort things out in her mind. "Since Jack died," she said, "I've been—hiding. Making up excuses, trying to protect myself, I guess. And that's stupid, Lynnie. What was I afraid of? Making a mistake? Being hurt? I don't know," she sighed. "Maybe I'm crazy. But this...this could be real. It feels real. And I've got to find out. I can't keep hiding any longer."

  It was a long time before Lyn could answer. Her head was spinning, she felt as though she had been knocked off her feet. So many new concepts, new ideas, possibilities... and somehow, wrapped up in all the surprise and confusion over her sister's behavior, Lyn felt as though there was something very important for her.

  Unexpectedly she felt tears prick her eyes as she said, "I'm so happy for you, Pat. I wish I were there now so I could give you a big hug."

  She heard Pat's breath of relief. "Oh, Lyn, do you mean it? Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

  "Absolutely," Lyn said with conviction. "I hope it works out, but even if it doesn't... I think you should stay."

  "Thank you," Pat said softly. "You're the best little sister I ever had."

  Lyn laughed, and Rabbit chose that moment to bark, quite loudly, at the patio door. Lyn covered the receiver, but too late.