He crawled out from behind a box of glow-in-the-dark Silly Putty and shook his fur back into place. “Don’t worry about me. I’m way faster than a geriatric rent-a-cop.”
“Good. So.” Arms folded, she stared up at the mirror. “Let’s cut to the chase before we’re interrupted again.”
“Fine with me, Keeper. Here’s the deal: I give you what help I can; in return, you get me out of here when you shut this place down.”
“Agreed.”
“And you recognize that when the shit hits the fan, I’m breakable and more than just a little exposed.”
She nodded. “We’ll be careful.”
“We? That would be you and the cat?”
“Us, too.” Diana took one last look around the store and decided she really didn’t need to know just what exactly the weights on the wind chimes were made of. “I think we’re going to need a little help.”
TWO
DROPPING HIS SPRAY BOTTLE of window cleaner onto the old-fashioned wooden counter, Dean McIssac crossed the small office and caught the phone on the second ring. “Elysian Fields Guest House.” A small frown of concentration appeared as he flipped open the reservation book, a leather-bound tome with the phases of the moon prominently displayed by each date. “Yes, sir, we still have rooms available for next Wednesday. We can certainly accommodate you and your mother. Sorry? Oh. Your mummy. No, that’s fine; many of our guests arrive after dark. We’ll hold the rooms until midnight. A dehumidifier? That can be arranged, I understand how mold and mildew could be a problem. No, unfortunately, I can’t guarantee the Keeper will be here, but I’m sure you’ll find our…” His cheeks flushed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Flushed is a good look on you.”
“Claire!” The receiver fell the last six inches into the cradle as Dean flag-jumped the counter and gathered the smiling Keeper into his arms.
“You made good time,” he murmured when they finally came up for air.
“I had a good reason.”
“One that I should know about?”
Dark brown eyes gleamed suggestively up at him. “Definitely.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders and he began to pull her close again.
“Hel-lo! Crushing the cat here!”
Dean released his hold like he had springs in his fingers, and Claire leaped back, exposing the indignant, black-and-white cat cradled between them. “I’m sorry, Austin. I just got excited about being home.”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered as she set him carefully on the counter. “It’s home that gets you excited. Tell us another one. No, wait…” He turned and glared at her from a single emerald eye. “…don’t.”
“Okay.” Her hands free, she slid them up the sculpted muscle of Dean’s torso and around the back of his neck, fingers entwined in thick hair. “I can’t resist a man in a pink T-shirt.”
He shifted his grip to her waist, thumbs working against the damp line of flesh between cropped tank and skirt. “Someone buried a red catnip square in the laundry basket.”
“That’s right. Blame the cat. The starving cat!” Austin snapped after a moment when it became quite clear he’d been forgotten again. “The old starving cat who just spent three hours in a car listening to sappy tales of dear, departed Muffy—who probably threw herself in front of that truck in an effort to escape the schmaltz with what was left of her dignity. The old starving cat who’s going to give you a count of three before he starts making pointed comments about your technique!”
“Austin, there’s a package of calf liver in the fridge.” Dean slid his hands down to the backs of Claire’s thighs and lifted her up onto the counter, hiking her skirt up over her knees. “It’s after being yours if you’ll disappear for ten minutes.”
“Fifteen,” Claire growled, licking at the sweat beading Dean’s throat. She kicked off her sandals, crossed her ankles behind him, and dragged him closer.
“You guys do know this is a hotel, right? Like, get a room!”
Forehead to forehead, Dean stared deep into Claire’s eyes. “You didn’t lock the door?”
“Apparently not.”
Lip curled in disgust, Diana closed the front door, pointedly locked it, and strode across the lobby toward the long hall that led to the back of the guesthouse. “We’ve got a bit of shopping-mall-takes-over-the-world situation here, but you guys go right ahead and continue with that whole blatant heterosexuality thing; there’s probably time. I’ll just make myself a sandwich and feed the cats. Coming, Austin?”
“Finally,” he snorted, jumping carefully down off the counter, “someone who has their priorities straight!”
“Are they always like that?” Sam wondered as the older cat fell into step beside him.
“Are you kidding? They’ve only been apart for three days—you should see them after a week. Spontaneous combustion.”
Sam frowned. “Wouldn’t that kill them?”
“You’d think.”
As the footsteps of the two cats and her sister faded toward the kitchen, Claire sighed. “Well, I’m no longer in the mood. You?”
“Not so much. That was after ending things for me.” He lifted her down off the counter and steadied her while she slipped her sandals back on. “Just so I’m clear on this; strangling your sister is not an option, then?”
“If you want to strangle my sister,” Claire told him as they left the lobby, “you’ll have to wait in line.”
“I hope you guys postponed instead of finishing,” Diana snorted as they entered the kitchen, “because if that was it, Claire should file a complaint. I mean it’s not like I’m an expert on these things,” she continued, assaulting a leftover roast with the carving knife, “but someone’s getting left a little short. No offense.” She grinned up at Dean.
“And yet, I’m offended anyway.” Grasping her wrist with one hand, he confiscated the knife with the other and jerked his head toward the dining room table. “You sit. I’ll do this.”
“I don’t know, Dean. I like my sandwiches made slowly and with care.”
“And you might want to reconsider further commentary,” Claire interjected from the dining room, “since he’s eight inches taller than you and holding a knife.”
“Please,” Diana scoffed, grabbing a bottle of juice from
