foster the perception she was “mystical.”
“Hello,” he said coolly.
“I was just wondering how Sheridan is feeling.”
“He seems better,” Mike lied.
“That’s good,” she said cheerfully. “The fresh air up here is good for every living thing, don’t you think?”
He grunted.
“See you around,” she said, then left on a breeze of some citrusy scent that tickled his nostrils.
He rubbed his nose and watched her leave, collecting people as she went along, who apparently wanted to talk about their pets. Outside, a dozen or so dogs of all shapes and sizes were tied up along a railing, food and water within easy reach. When she walked out, tails wagged and ears perked and they all began to bark in a canine symphony. Lacey stopped to pat and coo to each one, moving down the line like a celebrity receiving her fans.
Mike pushed his tongue into his cheek. It was as if she was the Pied Piper of Pooches.
When she stepped into the sun, brilliant rays of light glanced off her white-blond curls, setting them afire. For a moment, she did look a little magical, he conceded. Then his mouth went dry. Because starkly silhouetted against the voluminous clothes she wore was a surprisingly willowy, womanly figure.
Lacey Lovejoy had secrets, all right. She was hiding a hot little body under all that useless fabric.
She bent over, tilting a pretty spectacular behind into the air. His body responded to the way she moved, and erotic images popped into his head. An Irish setter was licking her smiling face, and Mike was struck with the most absurd pang of…jealousy?
The sound of a man clearing his throat brought his head around. Clancey, the cook, was standing there, staring at him pointedly. “See something you like?”
Mike realized with a start that his mouth was open and his tongue was practically hanging out. He straightened and closed the menu. “Blue plate special.”
“Coming right up.” The beefy bald man gave him the once-over, then sauntered back to the grill.
Mike frowned at the man’s back, then chanced another glance out the window. A sun-bathed, shimmering Lacey was walking away, and all the dogs at the railing were straining against their leashes to follow her.
Mike felt the pull of her on his own body…and acknowledged, with a disturbing twinge, that he was no better than the other hounds. He dragged his gaze away from her and murmured, “Down, boy.”
Chapter Four
Lacey eyed the twelve-foot stepladder with trepidation. The spotlight overhead had burned out and needed to be changed, but the landlord wouldn’t be able to get to it until tomorrow. And she had a fear of heights that left her shaky even on mall escalators.
But without the light, her grooming area was too dark for her comfort level when dealing with shears and clippers. Besides, the ladder felt sturdy and this seemed as good a time as any to overcome her phobia. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the bottom rung. Slowly she inched her way up the ladder, giving herself a pep talk throughout, and coaching herself not to look down. When she reached the top, she felt good.
For two seconds.
Then she wobbled and vertigo clutched her stomach. She gasped and the lightbulb she held slipped out of her hand, hitting the floor in a splintering spray of fragile glass. Lacey gripped the ladder until her knuckles turned white. She made the mistake of looking down at the pile of sparkling shards and froze, unable to go back down.
She hadn’t thought to bring her cell phone up the ladder with her…not that she could let go long enough to actually use it if she had.
The grooming room was adjacent to the front room, out of the line of sight of the storefront windows, so she wouldn’t be able to get the attention of a passerby.
And she didn’t have an appointment for another hour…although the thought of someone having to climb up the ladder to rescue her was more than a little embarrassing.
* * *
Her sweaty hands slid on the metal sides of the ladder, and her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wing. She took deep breaths, willing her pulse to slow, but her knees felt weak. She squeezed her eyes closed and wondered how much longer she could stand there. An hour stretched ahead like an eternity.
At the sound of the bell chiming on the front door, her heart leaped with relief.
“Hello?” she called.
“Hello?” a male voice returned.
“I’m in the back,” she said, hoping it was her landlord. “I need