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kitchen to beg—asparagus was always a favorite with the
dogs—and soon over two dozen pairs of eyes surrounded her. Rafi jumped up on
the old stand-alone dishwasher at the end of the counter and swatted playfully
every time Kira walked past him.
    She
sang out loud about gypsies, tramps and thieves as she set the table with
mismatched thrift store dishes. When she finished, she dug through the fridge
for the pitcher of lemonade, and then turned to the crowd. “Will one of you go
get the boys?”
    It
was unnecessary to speak; the animals understood her in other ways, but talking
kept her sane when sometimes she felt anything but. She formed an image in her
head of the upstairs bedrooms, and Babs, ever the responsible helper, ran off,
her nails clacking on the wooden stairs behind the kitchen. Tom might not
recognize the message, but Derek, after just a couple of days, had figured out
that when a dog scratched on his door, Kira wanted him.
    No
one came. Grumbling to herself, she turned down the heat on the tofu, asparagus
and tomatoes, and headed upstairs. Babs sat between the doors, her ears droopy,
her expression dejected, like she’d failed a mission.
    “It’s
okay, little Babby-Sue. Go back downstairs.”
    She
knocked on Tom’s door. No response. She tried Derek’s. The door squeaked open.
He stood in the middle of the room, talking on a cell phone, his voice hushed
and harsh. His frustration filled the room with a bitter odor. Feeling like an
intruder, she turned away.
    “Kira.
I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
    She
turned back to see Derek stuff his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “I
thought you might want some dinner.”
    “Is
Tom invited?”
    Odd
question, but then, her spring fever affected more than just her. Men picked up
on her body’s signals, reacted to them, if only subconsciously, and she’d
expected some tension between the two eventually. “He’s still working, but he
can eat when he comes in.” She paused. “Why?”
    Derek
grimaced. Silence stretched.
    “Derek?
What is it?”
    “It’s
just…” He sighed. “You need to keep an eye on him.”
    She
let out a slow breath and stepped into the room. “There’s more to the farm
thing, isn’t there?”
    He
nodded. “We were in the Army together. That’s how we really know each other.”
    Interesting,
but not surprising, given the military vibes she’d gotten off both of them.
“Why the secrecy?”
    “I
was trying to protect him.” He looked down, scuffed his boot on the hardwood
floor. “But then I realized you’re the one I should protect. He’s not…stable.”
    “Yeah,
well, most people don’t think I’m very stable, so you need to be a little more
specific.”
    Derek
scrubbed a hand over his face, which was rough with dark stubble. “I don’t want
to get the guy in trouble, so I can’t say much, but don’t get too close. And
don’t believe anything he tells you. Anyone with a dishonorable discharge…well,
be careful.”
    Great.
Her first mate of the season, and he was probably a homicidal maniac. “I
appreciate the warning, but I can take care of myself.”
    Derek’s
mouth eased into a friendly smile. The one that had taken away her breath
before she met Tom, whose rare smiles made all her erogenous zones scream for
attention.
    “I’m
sure you can.” He studied her with keen eyes that always seemed to take her
measure, as though he liked to stay one step ahead of everything. “Do you have
any kind of self-defense training?”
    “A
little.” A lot, actually. Back in the days when she trained police and military
dogs, the handlers had been nice enough to give her private lessons.
    “That’s
good,” he said, but his displeasure wafted to her on a raft of scent. Maybe
he’d wanted to give her lessons himself. “Show me what you can do.”
    He
threw his arm out toward her, his fingers stretching for her shoulder. She
didn’t hesitate, seized his hand and twisted hard. Heart pounding, she thrust
down