Foul Play - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,9
orange juice and studied Jacob Elliott, deciding he had to have been at the head of the line when God was giving out all the good stuff. Not just physical good stuff like broad shoulders and perfect teeth. Jacob Elliott had a bunch of intangible qualities that, even in her inexperienced state, Amy knew would make him an extraordinary lover and a good friend. There was a gentleness about him, a satisfaction with life, a generous sense of humor. And he was honorable. Thank goodness.
She couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her last night. She’d indulged in a glass of wine from time to time—a nip of sherry at Christmas and champagne at weddings—but it had never affected her like that. It probably had to do with being fired. Yes, that had to be it: She’d been vulnerable. And depressed.
She should explain to Jake. He probably thought she was a crazed sex fiend. “I don’t usually do things like this,” she said. “I’ve never picked up a veterinarian before. And I’ve certainly never tried to get one into my bed.”
Jake nodded solicitously and tried not to smile.
Amy nervously twisted her napkin. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me, but it’s wrong. Honestly, I’m really very nice. In fact, most men think I’m prudish.”
Damn. This wasn’t coming out right, and if he didn’t stop smiling she was going to rearrange his nose. “What I mean to say is that I’d never go to bed with you!” Lord, now he looked insulted! “Not that it wouldn’t be … ah, pleasant.”
“Pleasant?”
“Incredible?” Did she just say “incredible”? Was that her voice? That shamelessly husky whisper?
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in casual sex. I think the union between two people is very special and should be reserved for marriage. Besides, I could never, um, fool around with my employer.” She looked at him speculatively. “Do I still have a job?”
“You bet. And it starts today.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to get going. Mrs. Tobin is bringing her cat in at eight o’clock. Things slack off around noon. That would be a good time for you to come in to the office and meet my crew. The clinic is just around the corner from the supermarket … you can’t miss it. Oh, and Amy …”
“Yes?” She gulped, afraid of what he might say next.
“Wear something casual … something that won’t show dog hair.”
Amy locked the front door behind her and skipped down two porch steps before coming to a screeching halt. There was no little red car sitting in her driveway. She thunked her fist against her forehead. “Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Her car was still in the supermarket parking lot. No big deal. She could ride her bike. She hustled back into the house and changed out of her blue sundress into a pair of red shorts and a crisp white blouse. She traded her white sandals for a pair of running shoes.
Thirty minutes later she sailed into the clinic parking lot with sunburned cheeks, her blond curls damp against her forehead. She parked her bike in the flowerbeds to the side of the door and immediately stepped in a soft, malodorous brown mound. The four-letter expletive she uttered fit the occasion perfectly. She entered the empty, air-conditioned waiting room holding her shoe as far from her nose as possible.
Jake looked up from the front desk and grinned. “You have to be careful where you walk around a vet’s office.”
“Uh-huh.”
He gingerly took the shoe from her. “Follow me. I’ll rinse it off for you and give you the complete tour.” He opened doors as they walked. “Four examining rooms.” He pointed out a room with microscopes and stainless steel gizmos. “We have a good lab.” They proceeded toward the back of the clinic. “This is our grooming and minor-surgery area … over there are intensive-care cages.”
He cleaned her shoe in a deep sink, sprayed it with disinfectant, and waited while Amy laced it back onto her foot. “Boarding kennels are through that door, and major surgery is downstairs.”
He led her into a large carpeted room with wall-to-wall bookshelves and a huge oak desk heaped to overflowing with stacks of manila folders, magazines, apple cores, and a massive yellow tomcat with only one eye and half a tail.
“This is my office. Maybe you could help me get it straightened out.”
The floor was littered with newspapers. Cardboard boxes held unpacked books. Phone numbers had