Love Bats Last

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sounds of crickets woke Jackie.

  She closed her eyes to shut out the morning and bring back the night.

  Dreams. She'd had some delicious dreams. She pressed her palms to her eyes, and they began to coil back into her consciousness.

  Alex had reached for her repeatedly. But that hadn’t been his first move. He’d studied her first, watching her watching him. And any time she quivered or sighed or reached for him, he’d grinned, as if he knew exactly what his attention did to her. But then, when she burned for him, he’d reached out his hands and stroked her, heating her skin to a fevered pitch, setting her heart racing.

  And she’d touched him. God, had she touched him.

  Her hands tingled, even though every caress had been only in her mind. But her body didn’t accept that truth. It felt Alex. And if she felt this way after only dreaming of him, what would happen if they touched in truth? If he ran his hands down her body, if he cupped her breasts? Tasted her skin? Pushed between her legs?

  Her eyes flashed open, and she cupped her very hot cheeks.

  In her dreams she hadn’t waited for him—she’d done what she’d wanted. She’d pushed his shirt off, demanded that he kick off his pants. And then they rolled around on a massive bed topped with richly thick bedding.

  They’d kissed, mouth to mouth, bodies pressing slick and warm against one another, and then Alex had kissed his way down her body.

  Jackie groaned. She’d groaned in the dream too.

  His mouth had been magic.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  She rubbed at her eyes, then her neck. The kink in it reminded her she’d fallen asleep on the futon.

  Alex had no magic mouth. Or maybe he did, but she knew nothing about it. She’d just been caught up in a dream version of the man. She had no idea how the real Alex kissed, if he even liked tasting a woman, liked pleasing her until she screamed...

  But she wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about him.

  No! She slammed a pillow against her face. Why was she giving any time to thoughts of him? He was a volunteer. Even worse, a ball-playing volunteer. Allowing him to traipse naked through her dreams was one thing—she knew the subconscious worked out all sorts of issues, sex included, in dreams. But her purposeful thoughts? She could control those. She would control those.

  “Damn, damn, damn.”

  She banished the image with thoughts of the two surgeries she had scheduled for that day. She would control her thoughts. And her libido.

  The crickets sounded again, louder and more insistent.

  At first she lay listening. But there weren’t any crickets around at this time of year. When she woke properly, she realized the crickets were singing in her purse. Which meant that Gage had been toying with her ringtones again. She snatched up the phone. Only he would call her this early.

  “You are not going to live,” she barked into the phone. “Not another day. I’m going to feed you very slowly to the great white sharks and th—”

  “Uh, Dr. Brandon? It’s Tanya. Monday morning crew.”

  “Oh. Tanya. Right.” Toeing into her shoes, she glanced at the clock. Six thirty.

  “There’s a man outside. Says he’s got to get into the necropsy lab pronto. Should I let him in?”

  “Who is it, Tanya?”

  She heard commotion in the background and the slamming of a door.

  “Sorry, Dr. Brandon, I didn’t ask. The fish delivery came just before he did. They got our order wrong. Again.” She paused. “I can run out and ask him.”

  “Have him wait. I’ll be right there.”

  Less than five minutes later, Jackie pulled into the lot next to a big blue van nearly as dinged up as her truck. Painted across the side was a very expensive-looking logo: Thomas and Sons Floor Solutions.

  She walked to the necropsy lab. Gage stood in the doorway, arms crossed, talking to a man in coveralls crouched on the floor beside him. That she’d somehow been expecting Alex, even though he’d quit almost a week ago, had put her on edge.

  “Would you be wanting the curved edge at the bottom, like this?” the man said, looking up at her. He held a tile sample up against the wall and bent a curve into it. “From what I was told about your work here, you’ll need it like this for cleaning. Maybe we should take it up sixteen inches, to right about here?”

  “We are not taking anything up, anywhere.” She motioned to Gage to step outside. “We can’t afford it.”

  “Look, ma'am,” the flooring guy said as he stood, “it’s paid for, like I told him.” He nodded toward Gage. “And I gotta get this in today. I have a big job in Tiburon starting tomorrow. I worked this job in as a favor.” He pushed the sample toward her. “Hope you like the color. The gentleman told me to pick it out.”

  She did not have to ask which gentleman. And she wasn’t sure if she was steamed or relieved. Or maybe even touched.

  The man removed the paper covering the flooring sample and held it out to her. She turned it over, fingered it. It was high-grade industrial, top of the line. Even a small piece would cost a week’s worth of seal food. At least Alex’s donation kept her from having to prioritize funds. Likely she’d have lived with the floor as it was, but the USDA could come down on them. Alex’s sturdy and functional patch job had barely passed their inspection the first time. But still, he could’ve told her about his plan. She’d check her emails; maybe he’d sent one that she missed.

  She handed the sample back.

  “Sixteen inches should be fine,” she said, giving him a nod and trying to smile. He had a job to do, so no need to bust his chops, even if she needed to get in there and work.

  In the past week, with Bradley’s help, she’d come close, real close, to identifying the source of the runoff. She could feel it. But feelings weren’t enough. She still needed the test results before she could take any next steps. She’d just have to wait until later that afternoon to prep the rest of the samples.

  She decided to check on the juvenile sea otter that had been rescued the week before. The little rascal was clever; he’d already figured out how to undo the double latches on the special enclosure they reserved for otters. Gage had come in one morning to find him scooting around on the kitchen floor.

  She found the otter floating on his back with one of Gage’s hockey pucks tucked onto his tummy.

  “I wondered where that was,” Gage said as he came up beside her.

  “Recruiting him already?”

  “He must've stolen it from my gear bag on his last visit to the kitchen. Won't give it up. He uses it to crack clams.”

  “I hope that’s regulation equipment,” Michael Albright chided when he joined them. “That’d make a good press story: Clever otter signs with the San Jose Sharks.”

  “No, Michael,” Jackie said. “Don’t even think about it. We are trying to reduce human interaction with marine mammals, not encourage it, remember? Mission point number one?”

  Michael started to protest, but evidently thought better of it. “I came by on my way to the city to see our latest star." He nodded at the otter. "Even I can't resist them. ”

  Jackie showed Michael how to separate the frozen lobster and shrimp pieces and toss them in the water from behind the screen at the end of the pool. They didn’t want the otter associating food with humans. Already kayakers in Monterey Bay had complained of sixty-five-pound otters crawling up onto their boats. Otters were cute at a distance, but it was best to keep them there.

  “He eats better than I do,” Gage said.

  “He’s cuter than you are,” Michael said with a grin. He pulled Jackie aside.

  “I heard about Alex Tavonesi’s growing interest in the Center’s work,” he said smoothly.

  “Ipso facto our floor.” She jerked her head back toward the necropsy lab. “But maybe you haven’t heard that he quit volunteering.”

  “Minor detail. We’d like him to be honorary chair of the gala.”
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  She hadn’t forgotten about the formal party that Michael insisted they throw each year; she’d just tried to put it out of her mind. Fussing over menus and music and guest lists just wasn’t her thing. And asking Alex to chair such an event was overreaching, even for Michael’s loose standards.

  She took in a breath to protest.

  “We don’t have any other draw,” he added before she could respond, “at least not like him. He’s baseball’s golden boy right now and we need a star.”

  “He does Nike ads, Michael. We’re nothing to him.”

  “He gives the money from those ads to charity, my dear.” He leveled his businessman-of-the-galaxy stare at her. “We need this, Jackie. The Center needs this.”

  She held her face impassive, considering.

  “The animals need this,” he added.

  “That’s low, Michael.”

  “Do I have to grovel?”

  “For God’s sake, pull out all the stops, why don’t you?” She had to smile. He was devoted to moving the Center and its mission forward, and he did what it took. “All right. But you ask him.”

  When Michael raised a brow, she just stood there. She wasn’t about to try to explain to him what she couldn’t explain to herself.

  “No deal,” Michael said. “He couldn't care less about me. You ask him. Today would be good—and since it didn’t make the printed invite, we’ll have to use my publicity people to get the word out.”

  He nudged her on the shoulder as if she were a child reluctant to enter a game. “Here’s his cell number. You can do it.”

  Michael headed for his Porsche, then turned back. “By the way, I got you a great printing deal for the membership brochures. A business associate of Volkov's, some friend of his from Russia who has a print business, among others. He’s doing it for free.” He saluted her and stepped into his car. “You know, Volkov might make a great board member.”

  She hadn’t imagined a man like Volkov having business associates in Russia. In fact, she knew little about him and wondered how much any of the board knew. Next time she spoke with Michael, she’d ask.

  She spent the next three hours on a report for the Marine Mammal Commission on the Hawaii project. She sent it off and walked to the door of the lab.

  “Just finishing up,” the flooring guy said as he held out a clipboard. “Sign here.”

  The number at the bottom of the page shocked her. The floor had been ten times more expensive than she’d imagined.

  “My name’s Barry.” He handed her his card. “Call me if there are any problems.” He glanced around the lab. “But if you ask me, this floor will outlast the building.”

  The vapors from the floor adhesive mixed with the pungent smells of the lab, and Jackie knew better than to work in there until the vapors had dissipated. She went to the hospital instead and found Gage finishing up an arthroscopic surgery, expertly repairing a torn shoulder tendon on a female harbor seal that had been hit by a boat.

  “Nice work,” she said as she helped him load the still groggy animal onto a gurney.

  “High praise. Don’t think you’re going to get me to make that call.” He pulled his surgical mask off his face. “Michael mentioned it yesterday. It’s a good idea, Jackie.”

  “I rescind my praise.”

  “Too late,” Gage said with a lopsided grin. “It already registered with my ego.”