Wild Action. Dawn Stewardson
don’t even bother the rabbits,” she added, giving him an amused glance as she pulled the van to a stop. “Their names are Harpo, Chico, Groucho and Zeppo. Collectively, of course, we refer to them as the Marx brothers.”
And Uncle Gus, Nick remembered someone once mentioning, had been a huge Marx brothers fan.
“I said we, didn’t I?” Carly murmured with a sad little smile. “I wonder how long it’ll take before I stop doing that.”
She got out of the van and hugged each of the dogs in turn. Then they rushed around to the passenger’s side and stood eyeing Nick through the window— drooling as if they were looking at lunch.
Checking them out from up close, he wondered if Carly was certain they weren’t at least part wolf. They were one hell of a size, and he’d never seen any other dogs with those sinister-looking yellow eyes.
Telling himself they weren’t a whole lot bigger than the German shepherds the police used, he opened his door and climbed out—the heat and humidity hitting him hard.
It had been hot in Alberta, but that was a dry heat. Ontario was at least as hot and sixty times more humid.
He cautiously extended his hand and let the dogs sniff it. Despite their appearance, they seemed friendly enough, so he risked taking his eyes off them long enough to get his suitcase and jacket from the back.
“I thought Dylan might still be here, but his truck’s gone,” Carly said. “The high school kid who’s been helping out,” she explained.
Nick nodded, then gestured toward the wooden building with the wired-in open area that stood maybe sixty yards away. “That’s the new aviary you mentioned?”
“Uh-huh. Attila’s field is at the bottom of the hill beside the house, and the little barn you can see is where we feed the rabbits and stable the ponies. But let’s save the grand tour until after you unpack and change. And then maybe you’d like a drink. There’s some Scotch that Gus used to say was smooth as silk.”
Glancing at his watch, Nick discovered it was only four-thirty. He’d been up for so long it seemed later. “It’s a little early for something as strong as Scotch,” he said, “but a cold beer would go down fine.”
They’d just started for the porch when a tremendous roar rattled his eardrums. He stopped dead, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Carly and the dogs continued along as if they were deaf.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, hurrying to catch up.
“What was what?”
“That noise.”
“Oh, it was just Attila welcoming us home. He must have smelled us.”
“From this distance?”
Carly gave him another amused look. “Bears have an incredible sense of smell. They can scent things for miles. But he won’t mind if we don’t say hello until later.”
Nick looked in the direction of the hill, half surprised to see the ground wasn’t vibrating. The last time he’d heard anything that loud he’d been in Costa Rica, watching the Arenal Volcano spew fire and boulders—and that had made him a little nervous, too.
Following Carly the rest of the way to the house, he did his best to relax. After all, she’d told him she was perfectly fine with the bear, so there was no reason she’d need any help with it
He just wished he didn’t have the sense there was something she hadn’t told him.
CARLY CHANGED INTO SHORTS, then went back downstairs and chatted with Crackers while she made a jug of iced tea. The parrot loved company and was papertrained. So, years ago, Gus had built a big solariumtype addition to the kitchen, and Crackers was pretty good about staying in it.
“Treat!” he demanded as she stirred the tea.
She cut him a wedge of apple, then poured herself a glass of tea and put the jug into the fridge, lingering in front of the open door and thinking how heavenly the coolness felt
The house was too old to have central air, and Gus hadn’t liked air-conditioning anyway. He’d always said that even window units were for wimps, so she’d learned to live with the hot, muggy spell that inevitably settled in during July. But she’d far rather live without it.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she dug a beer from the back of the fridge and reluctantly closed the door. When she turned, Nick was standing in the kitchen eyeing Crackers.
“Is he usually out of his cage?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. He really hates being in it during the day. But he stays in it at night. I think he worries that one of the cats might try a sneak attack while he’s asleep.”
“Would they?”
“I doubt it. And if they did, they’d regret it. Big macaws have incredibly strong beaks. He could amputate a man’s hand. But he wouldn’t,” she added quickly. “He loves people.”
Nick nodded, although he didn’t look entirely convinced. Then he glanced at the beer she’d forgotten she was holding. “That looks good.”
“And you look like a cowboy,” she said, handing him the bottle. “You also look even more like Gus. He always wore jeans and boots.”
“Must be one of those things that run in families." Nick twisted the top off his beer and took a long, slow drink.
Watching him, Carly felt an unexpected twinge of attraction. Oh, she’d realized earlier what a good-looking man he was. But it had been an in-the-abstract kind of awareness, because he hadn’t struck her as her type.
Not that she exactly had a type. As she’d told him earlier, living out here meant her social life had never been exactly hectic. And there’d been nothing about any of the few men she had gone with over the years that had made her think they were Mr. Right.
When Nick lowered the bottle, she reached for her glass of tea and said, “Let’s sit outside. Maybe there’ll be a breeze.”
She gestured him to precede her, letting her thoughts drift back to where they’d been. Whatever her type was, Nick Montgomery wasn’t it. His hair was far too short for her taste, and in his suit he’d seemed too…civilized was the word that came to mind.
Although now, she had to admit, with those hiphugging jeans and his T-shirt clinging to every muscle, that wasn’t true anymore. But Nick was her temporary business partner, and she’d be a fool to even think of him in any other light
He’d only be here for six weeks, tops, then he’d be heading back out West Or maybe he’d be gone a lot sooner. For all she knew, he might be out of here ten minutes after she told him about the problem with Attila.
She followed him outside and they sat on the porch in silence for a minute—until one of the cats stalked by to check out the company.
“His name’s Blue, and he’s been in quite a few commercials,” she offered. “That’s mostly what Wild Action has done until now. Commercials, some work for television, the occasional documentary and one Canadian feature film that opened and closed the same week. I don’t think they even bothered making it into a video.”
“So Two for Trouble really is your…our big chance.”
She nodded, aware that this was the perfect time to speak up—while he was contemplating how important the movie was to them. All she had to do was think of the right words.
When Carly lapsed into silence, Nick sat casually looking in her direction and not letting himself stare at her long, tanned legs. It was tough not to, though. They were such great legs they’d stop traffic if she ever walked down a city street in those shorts. And as for that little sleeveless blouse…
Earlier, she’d looked the picture of innocence. And she even smelled innocent—like prairie wildflowers.