LITMIR.BIZ

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needed something special, something that gave it life.

      Before she could stop it, the image of the stray jelled in her thoughts. How sweet it would be to have his company right then, to have him snuggle into the curve of her neck again. Gabi could almost hear the sound his claws would make against the kitchen floor as he trotted close.

      A knot formed in her throat, and she wondered how the rascal was doing. The urge to hold him again made her sadder than she could have expected.

      “You can call to check up on him,” Zach had said before she’d left. “The phone here is connected to my cell, so I can be reached whenever anyone finds a stray animal. You can call me anytime.”

      The memory of the shelter director’s words was swiftly followed by the awareness of the lights she’d noticed on in the building when she’d walked past it about a half hour earlier. Was Zach Davenport still there? Would he really answer if she called?

      She pulled out the business card he’d given her from the pocket of the clean cutoffs she’d put on after her shower. She stared at it, the need to know growing greater by the minute. Her stomach tightened with apprehension—and a touch of anticipation, too—as she dialed the number on the card.“Hello?” he said after the third ring.

      She drew in a breath. “Hi...Zach? It’s Gabi. Gabriella Carlini. I dropped off a stray earlier today.”

      It occurred to her to check the red-and-white clock above the stove. Almost ten o’clock. Oh, great. What nutcase called this late just to check on a dog she couldn’t keep?

      Obviously, a nutcase like her.

      “Gabi...?”

      Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice. She barely knew him, but Zach Davenport was a man who left a lasting impression.

      She fought to keep her own voice from rising to a higher pitch than normal. “Yes, um...”

      Silence came over the line. Then he cleared his throat. “How can I help you, Gabi?”

      That voice...that rich tenor voice. A random thought crossed her jumbled mind. Did he sing? She suspected he’d be good—

      “Ah...Gabi?”

      She blinked. “Yes...well, I, uh, wondered how the little guy has settled in. And I saw the lights still on inside the shelter on my way home. Besides, you’d said the phone would ring directly to you, so I could call whenever. So, um, that’s what I did.”

      Oh, no. She sounded like a blubbering fool. She shook herself to try and get it together. “How is he doing? Did someone adopt him?” She held her breath waiting for his response.

      Which didn’t come. The seconds ticked by.

      “Zach?” she asked.

      The silence continued. Then he coughed. “Well, you see, it appears we have a, uh, small problem.”

      Uh-oh. “A problem?”

      “It appears your little buddy has...well, escaped.”

      “No!” Gabi’s stomach tightened into rock. “I can’t believe this. You couldn’t have been so careless with him—”

      “No one was careless. If you’d let me explain—”

      “It better be a good explanation.” This couldn’t be happening. To think she’d trusted his shelter—him—with a live creature. And then he’d lost it. “You assured me you’d find him a good home. Losing him doesn’t fit that description.”

      Again, he hesitated. “After we bathed him, we realized he has a lot of terrier in him. They’re great diggers, especially the smaller terrier breeds like the Westies, the Cairns and the Jack Russells. Because of that terrier instinct, your buddy decided to dig his way out by going under the fence around his run. He’s so small it couldn’t have taken much time or effort to make a big enough hole.”

      “But you just said you realized he was a digging breed. Why didn’t you put him in some kind of cage?”

      “All our guests have a run. They need exercise, a place to—er, well, go that’s separate from their den—their sleeping quarters. And besides, we’re required to provide it. Besides, I did check the fence. It was secure to the ground. He dug—deep.”

      Gabi remembered the dog trembling, and anxiety swamped her. “Have you looked for him?”

      “Of course. You saw the lights here at the building. I’ve been searching for the past hour, everywhere on our property and the neighborhood around us. Haven’t seen even a sign of him. Still, I suppose it’s better that you know what’s happened.”

      She shouldn’t be this upset. Once she’d relinquished the dog into the shelter’s custody she had no further claim on him, not even on the kind or quality of care he received. The shelter and, by extension, its director, were now responsible for the animal’s welfare, not her. But in Zach’s voice she identified an echo of her concern, and that comforted her despite the crummy incident. She came to a quick decision, following her heart.

      “Look, I’m getting Papa’s big flood-sized flashlight and coming to help you look.” She rummaged under the sink. “Aha! Here it is. Two sets of eyes are better than one, you know, especially where this little sneak is concerned.”

      She held her breath, hoping he’d agree—and not just for the dog’s sake. She didn’t want to admit it, but deep inside she was curious about Zach, more now that she’d heard the worry resonate in his words. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

      Even though she shouldn’t care one way or the other.

      She wondered what he thought of her. First, she’d shown up dirty and stinky, bearing an equally dirty and stinky stray. Then, like some overprotective mommy, she’d called to check up on the dog she’d relinquished. To him.

      Did he think she had questions about his competence? Did he think she doubted his ability to care for the dog?

      More important, did she doubt him?

      “Are you sure? I mean, it makes sense, two of us looking,” he said. “But it is late, and you must be tired.”

      Was that a hint of relief in his voice? Even if she had inserted her feelings into her interpretation, she made up her mind. She headed for the living room, Mama’s old kitchen cordless phone between her shoulder and ear, flashlight in hand. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll meet you at the shelter, and then we can decide what to do next.”

      Without giving Zach an opportunity to object, she said goodbye, dropped the phone on the small console table by the front door and let herself out. The brisk night breeze off the Sound felt good against her face, its balmy touch a pleasant reminder to treasure it, since the capricious Pacific Northwest rains could change things in a flash. The salty tang of the sea tickled her nostrils, and she savored the familiar sense of coming home. The faint echo of the night’s last Edmonds Ferry horn’s blast traveled miles toward her in the quiet hush. Lyndon Point was a gorgeous place, with unique scenes and sounds that tempted the senses to a smorgasbord of experiences.

      Ten minutes later, she rapped her knuckles against the locked door of the shelter. Footsteps approached.

      “Ready?” she asked when Zach opened up.

      As attractive as the shelter director had looked in his scrubs earlier that day, he was even more so in a royal-blue polo shirt and jeans. His hair was rumpled, as though he’d run his fingers through it more than once, and his eyes gleamed with a touch of blue, probably reflected from his shirt. She paused a moment and took in his masculine good looks.

      “Let me lock up.” He pocketed the key, then turned to Gabi. “Like I told you, I’ve already searched the yards in the surrounding neighborhood, and I also checked with 911 dispatch. No dogs turned in, and no accidents involving dogs reported tonight, no dogs seen on the loose for them to notify Animal Control.”

      She

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