Read Love To The Rescue for Free Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Sinclair
accompanied her husband all over the world for weeks or even months on end when he was busy with his consulting assignments.
As she and Leslie walked toward the main door, Amy experienced a brief flash of uncertainty. Would she qualify? She owned a house with a huge pie-shaped back yard. She worked from home so her pet wouldn’t be left unattended for hours on end. And with the insurance money she received after Allan died and her writing revenues, she could easily afford the ownership costs. She’d even slipped out of the house while Leslie was in the shower early this morning, purchased everything a large dog would require, and then some. Any dog of hers would want for nothing. But she’d kept the receipts, just in case.
Uncertainties continued to worm their way into her mind. Was she responsible enough to own a dog? When she lost herself in her writing, she frequently forgot to eat. Could forgetting to feed your pet be considered cruelty to animals? Probably, and she could be charged, hauled into court, and ordered to pay a hefty fine. How embarrassing would that be! And the dog would never forgive her, would develop an inferiority complex, believe himself unworthy, become traumatized for life.
“I’ll set the alarm on my cell phone during every writing session, and then I’ll remember to take a break.”
“Did you say something, Amy?” Leslie met her eyes.
“Just thinking aloud.” She felt herself frowning. Maybe they wouldn’t have anything bigger than a beagle, and she would have to leave without a new family member. That scenario saddened her immensely.
She’d come to adopt a dog, she realized, not because her friends thought she needed one but because she wanted one. Ever since Tiffany first suggested the solution to her situation, the idea grew in her mind like an over-fertilized dandelion.
Amy MacArthur wanted a dog of her own.
“Okay. Let’s see if they have any suitable animals.” Amy slung her purse strap over her shoulder and accompanied Leslie into the building.
****
Today, Kevin was spending the majority of his shift at the court house, testifying in a case involving a suspected drug dealer. He’d discovered the outstanding warrant one stormy night about six months ago when he clocked the guy speeding on Deerfoot Trail, the north/south thoroughfare through the city. He’d arrested him without incident. Testimony wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but if his appearance in court helped remove this scum from the street, even for a few years, it was well worth his time.
Kevin caught himself smiling whenever his thoughts wandered to Amy. And they wandered almost constantly. He yearned to run his fingers through the beautiful sun-kissed hair that would probably hang well below her shoulders when released from the ponytail. He imagined feeling its silky texture in his hands and a floral-scented shampoo teasing his olfactory senses. Her full lips had just begged him to kiss her, and she would run her hands up and down his back and then slip them under his shirt while he embraced her tightly and gently drew her against his aching body.
The bailiff called another witness and Kevin shook himself out of his fantasy. He paced outside the courtroom waiting for his turn with the lawyers. After another fifteen minutes passed, he slumped into a nearby chair. Twenty minutes later, he was finally called to testify, and he dragged himself off the hard wooden seat and entered the courtroom.
Hours later, nearing the end of his shift, Kevin phoned Sally Wilson.
“Do you suppose Amy MacArthur called Victim Services?”
“I doubt it. After the initial shock wore off she seemed somewhat in control. Perhaps the support of her friends will be enough.”
“I hope so.” Kevin wondered if Sally heard the doubt in his voice or if she detected his uncommon interest in this particular victim. He considered all his cases important, but Ms. MacArthur had taken his breath away. There was just something
As she and Leslie walked toward the main door, Amy experienced a brief flash of uncertainty. Would she qualify? She owned a house with a huge pie-shaped back yard. She worked from home so her pet wouldn’t be left unattended for hours on end. And with the insurance money she received after Allan died and her writing revenues, she could easily afford the ownership costs. She’d even slipped out of the house while Leslie was in the shower early this morning, purchased everything a large dog would require, and then some. Any dog of hers would want for nothing. But she’d kept the receipts, just in case.
Uncertainties continued to worm their way into her mind. Was she responsible enough to own a dog? When she lost herself in her writing, she frequently forgot to eat. Could forgetting to feed your pet be considered cruelty to animals? Probably, and she could be charged, hauled into court, and ordered to pay a hefty fine. How embarrassing would that be! And the dog would never forgive her, would develop an inferiority complex, believe himself unworthy, become traumatized for life.
“I’ll set the alarm on my cell phone during every writing session, and then I’ll remember to take a break.”
“Did you say something, Amy?” Leslie met her eyes.
“Just thinking aloud.” She felt herself frowning. Maybe they wouldn’t have anything bigger than a beagle, and she would have to leave without a new family member. That scenario saddened her immensely.
She’d come to adopt a dog, she realized, not because her friends thought she needed one but because she wanted one. Ever since Tiffany first suggested the solution to her situation, the idea grew in her mind like an over-fertilized dandelion.
Amy MacArthur wanted a dog of her own.
“Okay. Let’s see if they have any suitable animals.” Amy slung her purse strap over her shoulder and accompanied Leslie into the building.
****
Today, Kevin was spending the majority of his shift at the court house, testifying in a case involving a suspected drug dealer. He’d discovered the outstanding warrant one stormy night about six months ago when he clocked the guy speeding on Deerfoot Trail, the north/south thoroughfare through the city. He’d arrested him without incident. Testimony wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but if his appearance in court helped remove this scum from the street, even for a few years, it was well worth his time.
Kevin caught himself smiling whenever his thoughts wandered to Amy. And they wandered almost constantly. He yearned to run his fingers through the beautiful sun-kissed hair that would probably hang well below her shoulders when released from the ponytail. He imagined feeling its silky texture in his hands and a floral-scented shampoo teasing his olfactory senses. Her full lips had just begged him to kiss her, and she would run her hands up and down his back and then slip them under his shirt while he embraced her tightly and gently drew her against his aching body.
The bailiff called another witness and Kevin shook himself out of his fantasy. He paced outside the courtroom waiting for his turn with the lawyers. After another fifteen minutes passed, he slumped into a nearby chair. Twenty minutes later, he was finally called to testify, and he dragged himself off the hard wooden seat and entered the courtroom.
Hours later, nearing the end of his shift, Kevin phoned Sally Wilson.
“Do you suppose Amy MacArthur called Victim Services?”
“I doubt it. After the initial shock wore off she seemed somewhat in control. Perhaps the support of her friends will be enough.”
“I hope so.” Kevin wondered if Sally heard the doubt in his voice or if she detected his uncommon interest in this particular victim. He considered all his cases important, but Ms. MacArthur had taken his breath away. There was just something