Zack found his feet.
Where the hell was it coming from?
As he focused his every sense on the sound, a disquieting sensation funneled through his center. Yesterday he’d scoffed at Trinity’s suggestion of kidnappers…abductors. But this minute, more than ever, he wondered about their baby’s background. Well cared for, provisions supplied…Was she abandoned or had she been stolen? Perhaps by someone who’d ended up with cold feet, lucky for her.
Fingers flexing at his sides, Zack crossed to the wall of windows then, senses tingling, he leaned close to scan the apparent quiet outside. Drifts still slanted in from a gray churning sky. All the world was buried in a deep blanket of white. No sign of life anywhere. And yet that infernal scratching kept on.
He was about to grab a jacket—and his trusty baseball bat—when something leaped out of the swirls and at windows—at him. His thumping heart shot like a bullet up the back of his throat at the same time his brain registered rows of teeth, yellow eyes, a hairy, pointed snout.
A wolf?
A heartbeat later, from a pillow of white, the culprit bounded up again and tipping forward, Zack got a better look. Not a wolf but a domestic dog—a big one. A mix of every gigantic canine ever bred. Behind the woolly frame, a saber of a tail cut back and forth across the snow.
It was the dog the Dales had inherited from an elderly relative. With his owners away, he must have wandered off from the shelter of his gigantic doghouse and got lost in the storm last night. Clearly he wanted to be friends…to play.
No one could stay out in that weather, but what disasters would that lashing tail and mammoth body bring if let loose inside? Meaning to or not, his weight could knock Trinity flying, never mind the baby. Maybe he could lock him in the garage… .
“Who’s that?”
Zack glanced over his shoulder. Still in those baggy, sexy red pajamas, Trinity was back. He took a moment to reacquaint himself with her sparkling eyes, those tempting lips—the slight frown on her brow?—before focusing again on Fido. What was that dog’s name?
“He belongs to the Dales,” Zack said before Trinity could ask.
“He looks friendly.”
“And huge.”
“He must be cold.”
Zack took in the natural fur coat. “He’s well insulated.”
“We can’t just leave him out there. Bet he’s hungry.”
The dog bounced up and down, leaving a growing crater in the snow while Zack contemplated their dwindling supplies. “I’m not sure I have enough for his entrée.”
“You’re not going to leave him out there?”
“I wouldn’t, except…Well, hell—he’s a mountain.”
“A cold mountain.”
The dog licked the window, one long, upward swipe that left a noteworthy smear, and wagged his tail more.
Collecting the baby, Trinity pushed out a breath. “Are you going to let him in or am I?”
Zack looked back at Trinity and at the baby and rubbed the back of his neck. This place was getting crowded. “Maybe we should ask if the pigeons want to come in for cookies and tea?” But Trinity only rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, he’s big.”
“So’s this house. But, I suppose if you can stand to watch him shaking out there knee-deep while we sit in front of that gorgeous warm fire…”
Zack locked his arms over his chest and shook his head. This was not a good idea, even with Bonnie peering out the windows and making mumbled noises past the fist stuck in her mouth, like she wanted to meet this energetic new visitor. Like if she could have anything in the world, it would be to have a dog.
That dog.
Throwing up his arms, Zack headed out, muttering, “I’ll let him in through the laundry room.”
A moment later, he fanned back the door. The dog was waiting right there, tail still, one paw raised, wanting to shake hands. When Zack was young, the family had a dog, a Labrador that reminded him a little of this guy. He’d thought once or twice recently about getting a boxer or some such, but his Fifth Avenue apartment wasn’t the place for a canine, and he didn’t get out here enough to consider that option.
Shivering against the icy breeze, Zack put those thoughts aside and stepped back.
He let the mutt know, “We’re letting the cold in.”
When the dog merely cocked his head, Zack clicked his fingers and waved him in. The dog’s face seemed to break into a smile before he shook out his coat. Zack shielded himself while specks of snow flew in every direction. Looking like a multicolored mop now, this most recent guest padded in and lumbered past his reluctant host. Watching his rump and shaggy tail disappear through the doorway, Zack groaned. Guess there was one more for lunch. He took another look outside, just in case anyone else was lurking around, then closed the door and followed puddle tracks back to the living room.
The dog was sitting quiet and erect at Trinity’s feet, his flap ears pinned back on his golden head. He was so still, he could’ve been set in cement. In contrast, Trinity was sighing her adoration. The way she clutched the baby high, shoulders hitched and smile wide, anyone would think she was six and had just met Santa Claus.
As Zack came closer, he could admit the dog’s eyes were a merry kind of brown. He gave off a happy, easy vibe. He remembered Mrs. D telling him how protective and loyal he was. That she trusted him with the grandkids. With any child. Well, fine. Just as long as he kept that sword of a tail in line.
Trinity reached down to ruffle the dog’s damp crown. His tail thumped on the wooden floor and echoed through the rafters. “He’s gorgeous!”
“He’s wet.”
“We’ll get him settled before the fire, poor thing. If you hold the baby, I’ll towel him down.”
Zack was already marching back to the laundry room. He wanted to control some of the hair that would no doubt fly. “I’ll towel him down.”
“It’s good to support someone when they need it,” she called after him.
He pulled up at the doorway and digested her tone. “He’s a dog,” he said, bending to grab towels from a cabinet.
“Dogs. People. Business associates.”
Collecting two towels, he stopped. What the hell was she talking about?
He spun around and, caught off guard, jumped a foot in the air. That blasted dog had followed him, was standing right in front of him, panting, looking like he’d found a new best friend. Then he barked, once—loud. Zack pulled in his chin.
“You have some kind of attachment disorder?”
The tail started to thump.
With the dog close behind, Zack moved back to the living room, set a bath sheet before the fire and unraveled the other, ready to dry off that voluminous coat. He looked hard at Trinity, who was swaying back and forth, Bonnie in her arms, like nothing was out of the ordinary. At first glance, she looked happy enough but her jaw was tight, her usually plump lips pulled into a line, and he got the distinct impression she was avoiding eye contact. Guess the call with her boss hadn’t gone so well.
Maybe she’d gotten the sack.
He hunkered down to dry the dog’s coat. One small blessing…He didn’t smell. Zack dropped the towel over the dog’s head and rubbed.
“Did you get through to New York?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”