Hot Stuff

“Kellen and I roll in the hay a lot,” Cate said.

“Cate’s mother didn’t tell any of this to Pugg.”

“She doesn’t know,” Cate said. “Kellen is a secret. I didn’t think my mother would approve.”

“Why wouldn’t your mother approve?” Pugg asked.

“It’s my job,” Kellen said. “I kill people. It pays well, but it’s not universally socially acceptable.”

“Pugg thinks you might be pulling Pugg’s leg, but then Pugg isn’t entirely sure. You could look like a killer. Pugg will wait outside and watch from a respectful distance.”

“Do I really look like a killer?” Kellen asked Cate.

Cate studied him. He had laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, but there was something else there, too. Grit, Cate thought. He was older than she was, and had seen more of life. And she suspected not all of what he’d seen had been good. “You don’t look like a killer,” Cate said, “but you look like you could kill if you had to.”

There was no change in Kellen’s expression. His eyes were steady and noncommittal, and his mouth remained soft with a hint of a smile at the corners. And Cate knew she was frighteningly close to the truth.

“I’ll wait and walk you out,” Kellen said. “Don’t want you to look like a big fibber.”

“Thanks,” Cate said, wondering if she might not have been safer with Pugg.

Evian’s closed at eleven on Mondays. Gerald Evian, owner in residence, dimmed the lights at 10:50, and the few remaining customers silently left their stools and wandered out. By five after eleven the registers were empty, the bottles were capped, and all the glasses were clean. Evian unlocked the door for Cate and Kellen, and they stepped out of the cool bar air into the warm night.

Pugg was waiting on the sidewalk. “Pugg decided there was something fishy going on, so Pugg is waiting to be convinced,” Pugg said.

Kellen pulled Cate to him and kissed her. It was gentle and lingering, and there was just a touch of tongue. Not so much that Cate felt he deserved a knee in the groin, but enough to give her an unexpected rush.

“Okay,” Pugg said. “Pugg is temporarily convinced. Cate didn’t drop-kick Kellen when Kellen kissed her, but Pugg still thinks there’s something rotten in Denmark. Are you sure you don’t want Pugg to walk you home, too?” he asked Cate.

“I’ll be fine,” Cate said, “but thank you for offering.”

“Pugg would put himself at personal risk for you. Pugg would carry you over mud puddles and walk on burning coals. Pugg would fly you to the moon.”

“Gotta go now,” Cate said, inching away.

“Pugg would climb the highest mountain. Pugg would rush into a burning building. Pugg would share his dessert.”

Cate and Kellen were half a block away, but they could still hear Pugg.

“Pugg would kill spiders and snakes and slugs and yucky things. Pugg would let you spank him.”

Kellen burst out laughing, and Cate clapped her hands over her ears and sprinted across the street.

Four blocks later, Cate stopped in front of Marty’s condo building. “I’m sorry about Pugg.”

“He’s okay,” Kellen said. “He’s just trying too hard. He needs to chill a little.” Kellen glanced at the building. “Is this where you live?”

“Yes. I sublet a room from someone.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to invite me up.”

“No, but I appreciate the rescue from Pugg.”

“Another kiss?”

Cate smiled and key-fobbed the secure door open. “One was enough.”

“Not for me,” Kellen said. And it occurred to him that he might be in over his head on this one. He was liking Cate Madigan way too much.

The morning had been quiet so far. No threatening phone calls. No impromptu visits from Patrick Pugg. Marty was gone, and he hadn’t been specific about his return. It was a little after nine, and in the silent condo, with little to distract her, Cate was having a hard time forgetting Kellen McBride and the kiss. Truth was, it had been a fantastic, spectacular kiss.

Cate’s intercom buzzed, and her first reaction was to mutter a small prayer that it wasn’t Pugg.

“Yes?” she said into the intercom.

“Delivery for Martin Longfellow.”

Cate pushed the button to open the downstairs door. “Come on up.”

Minutes later, when the doorbell chimed, Cate opened the door with her coffee in hand and gaped at the man and dog standing in the hall. The man was average height and weight, wearing a shirt that said Rudy’s Security. The dog was a huge, slobbering beast.

“Dog delivery,” the man said.

“You have the wrong apartment.”

“It says here on the form that I gotta take him to 4A, and this here’s 4A.”

“Yes, but I didn’t order a dog.”

“Well, sweetheart, someone did.” He ripped the top sheet off the form and handed it to Cate. “Looks like the dog was bought by a guy named Marty Longfellow. I got a packet for you too. All the papers are in the packet.”

“No way.”

“Your lucky day, huh?”

“He’s going to have to go back.”

“Sorry, no returns. It says right on the bottom of the form, Rudy isn’t responsible for family disagreements. You bought him, and you got him.”

“But I didn’t buy him!”

“Does Marty Longfellow live here?”

“Yes.”

“End of argument.” He handed the leash to Cate. “Have a nice day, lady. I got a bag of food here in the hall. It comes with the dog. Rudy likes to see his dogs get off to a good start. Don’t want him getting hungry and eating the dining room table, right?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sort of.” He threw the bag of food into the condo foyer and the dog took off for the bag. “Look at that,” the man said. “He’s making himself right at home.” And he backed up and closed the door.

Cate wrenched the door open and caught a glimpse of Rudy’s dog deliverer running down the hall. He punched the elevator button, the doors opened, and he jumped in. Cate blew out a sigh, closed and locked her door, and turned to the dog. The dog was sniffing around the bag of food, pawing it with his foot, and wagging his tail.

Cate opened the packet of information and shuffled through the papers. “It says here you’re a Bullmastiff, and your name is Beast. That figures.”

The dog’s hair was short, and a mixture of brown and black. His nose was smushed in like a bulldog’s. His ears were droopy. His neck was thick. His eyes were brown and soulful. He had a slight overbite and bags under his eyes. The top of his head was almost at Cate’s hip, and Cate guessed he weighed maybe 120 pounds.

“This is bad,” Cate said to Beast. “I know nothing about dogs. I’ve never had a dog. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a dog and a half.”

Also in the packet was a note-sized envelope addressed to Cate. She recognized Marty’s scrawl, opened the envelope, and read the note.

Dear Cate,

I had to take off in such a rush, and then was so worried that you were alone in my condo fielding all those dreadful phone calls, that I took matters into my own hands and asked my friend Rudy to deliver one of his wonderful, specially trained guard dogs to keep you company. Not that I think anyone calling my number would actually be dangerous, but goodness, one can never be too careful these days. I know you’ll get along famously with Rudy’s dog and take good care of him until I return. Give him hugs for me and tell him daddy will be home soon.

Marty

Cate turned to the wall and rapped her forehead against it. Bang, bang, bang. “I