Wonders Never Cease (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 15

  Her rational mind rebelled, but a primal need overruled. When he placed the narrow container on the mattress in front of her and levered her chest so she could reach it, she was momentarily stymied. Blocking her access to the fluid was a nose—an alien body part with fine brown and black hairs parted down the middle leading to a bumpy black appendage on the end. It was a good quarter mile long and obscured her view of the bowl.

  In a flash of insight she realized she was going to have to use her tongue to lap up the water. She hadn’t tried that since Girl Scout camp. She’d been a complete failure.

  “Come on, boy. Just a little. For me?” Ben’s mouth was close to her ear, his tone gentle and persuasive.

  Jill lowered her muzzle.

  A muzzle, a silent voice shrieked in horror. I’ve got a muzzle. But the more practical side of her smelled water and had to appease a very basic need.

  She opened her mouth, as if to take a drink, but misgauged the distance from tongue to dish and lapped air.

  “What’s the matter, guy? Your depth perception off?” She caught the amusement in his tone. Without knowing how, she produced a low, growling sound in her chest.

  He seemed startled. Jill sensed him pulling back slightly. “No sense of humor today, huh?” His spare hand caressed Jill’s neck. “I guess that’s understandable. You’ve been through hell, bud.”

  If you only knew… Jill concentrated on the dish below her face. She moved closer to it, almost touching the water, then poked out her tongue. It touched the cool water and dragged across the bottom of the steel bowl like an ocean trawler. She focused on pulling as much water as possible back into her mouth.

  “Czar!” Ben exclaimed when water squirted sideways out of her mouth and doused his wrist. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to drink?” Jill heard the worry in his voice, and her first impulse—to bite him—disappeared.

  Although frustrated to the point of tears, she dipped her tongue, trying to cup it some—no easy task considering the uncooperative appendage behaved like a sloppy drunk. After several tries, she seemed to get the hang of it, but not before making a total mess of the sheet.

  Ignoring a sudden, stabbing pain above her right eye, Jill tilted her head to look up at the man holding her. I can’t drink worth beans, but, boy, can I see.

  In the crisp light pouring into the room from the wide window at the far end of the room, Jill saw details she’d never noticed before. Fledgling lines that would one day frame Ben’s full, masculine lips. A small scar—just a skinny white nick, really—that cut a divot in his left eyebrow. A weariness about his eyes as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep or was worried about something.

  He nearly lost his best friend last night, she thought. A second thought followed right behind. He did lose his best friend. And he got me, instead.

  The notion of her somehow becoming transformed into Czar was still too inconceivable, too ludicrous, too unholy to be true. It couldn’t happen. It didn’t happen. What she perceived as real simply had to be some kind of hallucination, a dream.

  Ben. Look at me. Look in my eyes. Tell me this isn’t real. It can’t be happening. I want to be me with you, not your dog. It just isn’t fair. I finally meet a man I could fall in love with and what happens? I die and come back as his dog.

  Overwhelmed with unshed tears from a pain that threatened to make her heart explode, Jill willed her mind to reach him, willed him to hear her. Ben suddenly grabbed her face with both hands and held it close to his own. His brown eyes studied her; his lips were pressed in a tight line as he looked for something.

  Jill held her breath. Ben?

  He nuzzled his nose against the funny black blob at the end of Jill’s muzzle. “You’re going to be okay, aren’t you, boy?” His tone was full of concern and love.

  A tsunami of grief washed over Jill, carrying her to the blackest hole in the universe. She knew with absolute finality that her life, the one she knew and sometimes liked, was over, and she was stuck inside the body of a middle-aged police dog.

  A tear perched on the rim of her eye and fell, getting lost in fur.

  Ben’s gaze seemed to penetrate to the very reaches of her soul, but Jill knew he couldn’t see her; he could only see his friend and partner, a dog named Czar.

  BEN KNEW something was wrong—horribly wrong. Czar was not the same dog he’d been the night before.

  But before he could begin to figure out exactly what was wrong and how to fix it, a man appeared in the doorway of Czar’s room. His half-buttoned lab coat looked as though he’d slept in it. His mop of curly red hair stuck out at bizarre angles. He was studying a chart that he carried in one hand and sipping from a straw stuck in a cardboard carton of chocolate milk that he carried in the other.

  When he looked up and saw Ben sitting on the bed, he stuttered, “I…oh, sorry. Wrong room.”

  Ben recognized him. Jill’s doctor. “Wait.” Ben let go of Czar’s jaw and carefully moved the dog aside. “Dr. Whitehurst, isn’t it? I’m Ben Jacobs. We met last night. I was just looking for you when they called to tell me Czar was awake.”

  For some reason, Czar made a low growling sound. Ben gave him the hand signal to be quiet. “Sorry,” he told the wary-looking medic. “He’s not himself this morning.”

  “No problem. Heroes are allowed a few idiosyncrasies.” He took a final draw on his straw, then tossed the carton in the round trash can near the door. “If it weren’t for your dog, I wouldn’t be on my way down the hall to check on Jill.”

  Czar’s head shot up. Ben returned to the bed and put one hand on his dog’s shoulder. “How’s she doing? The nurse at the desk said, stable, but that doesn’t tell me much.”

  “I wish I could give you a definite prognosis, but all we can do is wait for her body to heal itself. This is the most frustrating part of brain injuries. You just never know what’s going on in there.”

  Czar made an odd, whining sound.

  “I talked to your supervisor this morning,” the man said. “He told me they think she interrupted a burglary.”

  Ben could see the man’s doubt. “You don’t believe that.”

  “I suppose that makes sense, but like I told you last night, the guy hit her twice. With great force. If you were just trying to get away, wouldn’t once be enough to stop a woman Jill’s size?”

  Ben frowned. Nothing about this case made sense—including this morning’s report from the mechanic, which had been ambiguous.

  The doctor took a step closer to the bed. Ben felt Czar’s interest perk up. “You know what’s really strange about this?” he asked.

  Ben shook his head.

  “Their wounds are almost identical.” He put his hand out tentatively. Ben whispered a low command in German.

  Czar tilted his head and looked at him as if he didn’t have a clue what Ben wanted. “Easy, boy,” Ben repeated. “Let Dr. Whitehurst look at you.”

  Czar didn’t move as the man gently probed the bandaged area. “Odd, isn’t it? Different methodology—bullet versus statue.” He looked at Ben. “Sergeant Simms said she was hit with a statue of some kind.”

  Ben had visited the crime scene on his way to the hospital. He didn’t for a second believe some drug-crazed thief had been looting the house when Jill had walked in. Even without the doctor’s opinion, Ben’s gut told him this was a hit. Not the most professional he’d ever seen, but definitely intentional.

  “They were both lucky,” the doctor said, stroking Czar’s nose.

  To Ben’s surprise, Czar suddenly licked the man’s hand.

  “By the way,” Whitehurst said. “The blood you donated came in handy. We had to transfuse her twice.”

  Ben shrugged, hoping the man wouldn’t see how much his words meant to him. “I had to do something. They wouldn’t take my blood for Czar.”

  As if sensing his inner turbulence, Czar leaned against him. Ben absently stroked the soft bushy fur beneath his neck.

  Suddenly, the sound of a beeper intruded. Dr. Wh
itehurst jumped as if prodded with a stick. “Time for rounds. Jill’s in ICU, you know. Visitors are limited to two at a time, close friends and family. Once we remove the shunt I’ll transfer her to a regular room.” He gave Ben a serious look. “Just out of curiosity. Are you two involved?”

  Ben looked at Czar. Last night they’d been involved, very involved. Would they have felt the same way this morning? “Yes,” he answered honestly. “We…” He didn’t know what to say. We fell in love? We were poised on the brink of something incredible? We just hadn’t gotten around to naming our unborn children? “Yes.”

  “Good,” Whitehurst said, smiling. “If she knows she has you waiting for her, she might come back to us faster. I’ll make sure the nurses know you’re to be allowed into her room. Anytime.”

  Ben felt like a fraud. Just because he’d fallen head over heels in love with Jill didn’t mean she felt the same. He’d gotten the impression she cared. He knew she was interested. He wanted to believe their passion was more than a passing attraction, but how could he say for sure when they hadn’t even made love?

  The doctor was partially out the door when Ben remembered to ask, “Has her family arrived?”

  “Her mother got here about an hour ago. Her dad’s on his way.”

  Ben thought he read a note of strain in the man’s tone. Beside him, Czar gave a little shudder. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Dr. Whitehurst sighed. Fatigue made him look older than his years. “According to Mrs. Jensen, everything is wrong with this facility—not enough light, too much noise, poor ventilation.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t say this. But after meeting her mother, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jill. My dad was the same way, and believe me, it’s not easy growing up with that kind of perfectionism.”

  Czar barked. The tone seemed like an affirmation, and Dr. Whitehurst smiled. “I’ll take that second opinion any day.” He nodded at Ben. “See you later.”

  Ben glanced at his watch. The nurse at the desk had said the local vet was supposed to examine Czar before they’d release him. For some reason, Ben didn’t have the patience to sit around and wait. “I feel as if Jill’s Time God is breathing down my neck,” he told his partner. “Screw waiting. You look pretty darn good to me. I say we head home. We can stop at the vet’s office on the way, okay?”

  Czar’s bushy tail made a start-and-stop motion. He turned his head as if to see whether or not his tail was working. Ben couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong, but he had to hope Czar’s peculiar behavior was due to some residual effect of the drugs they’d given him.

  “I brought your leash but forgot a collar,” he said, returning the useless leather strap to its pocket. “They had to cut the old one off last night.”

  Just that little reminder made Ben queasy. He’d almost lost his best friend in the world. He put one knee on the bed and took Czar’s face in his hands. “That was a crazy stunt you pulled, my friend. You almost got yourself killed, but if it saved Jill’s life then I’m going to forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”

  Czar strained against his hands until he was close enough to lick Ben’s face. The big scratchy tongue felt good.

  “Okay, boy. Let’s head out. I’m taking you home, but first I want to see Jill.” He shoveled his hands under his partner’s withers and lifted him into his arms. “Bet you’d like to see her, too. You’re the hero, after all.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JILL AWOKE with a fierce pain in her head. She groaned silently, reluctant to get up from her nap. Fuzzy dredges of sleep clouded her mind, but not enough to obscure one big fact: someone else was in bed with her. She heard breathing, a little rough going in but even and solid coming out. Her nose twitched as she identified an alien scent: sweat and some woodsy-perfumed deodorant. Male.

  She opened her eyes. In the hazy afternoon light seeping from behind vertical blinds, she saw her bed partner—Ben.

  And the morning’s events came rushing back to her.

  The hospital. Czar. Mattie.

  Her mother had been incensed that Ben would consider carrying a dog into her sick daughter’s hospital room. She’d barred entry like a mother bear defending her cub. Jill had been mortified for Ben’s sake, yet touched. Mattie had seemed really distraught.

  Ben had handled her mother with finesse and great kindness. He’d diffused the situation by leaving, even though Jill had barked her head off in protest. How was she going to get back into her body—if that was cosmically possible—if nobody would let her get close to the inert figure she’d seen lying on that hospital bed?

  Hysteria, fear, anger and grief were just a few of the emotions vying for control, but Jill was a master at compartmentalizing her emotions. In the fourth grade, when her mother had been packing for yet another move, Jill had thrown a tantrum about leaving behind her best friend. Mattie had scolded Jill severely. “This isn’t a perfect world, Jillian. Don’t waste your time crying over things that can’t be changed. Focus on what you can control and let the rest go.”

  What can I control now, Mom? I’m a dog.

  Ben suddenly let out a deep sigh. His lips moved as if forming a word or preparing for a kiss. Does he think about our interlude in the hot tub? At the top of Jill’s list of regrets was not making love with him when she’d had the chance. Not only would she have avoided bumping into the mugger, she’d now have that memory to savor.

  Or would that only make this situation worse?

  She used her amazingly acute vision to study the man opposite her. Like a little boy, he slept on his side with his pillow scrunched up under his cheek. His dark hair stuck up in little tufts. Gray-hued smudges looked like bruises beneath his eyes. He needed a shave, but the faint stubble gave him a sexy, dangerous look.

  Ben suddenly opened his eyes. Immediately alert—none of Jill’s usual fuzzy wake-up dementia in sight, he looked at her and frowned. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you at the foot of the bed where you’re supposed to be?”

  He put his index and middle finger at the bridge of her nose and slowly drew them down to the big black tip. “I guess we can make some concessions after what you’ve been through,” he said softly.

  Jill adored his voice—so deep and masculine. Comforting. “I got the impression you didn’t like the new vet,” he said, grinning.

  Jill frowned at the memory. Rough hands. Poky things. Thermometers where thermometers didn’t belong. And I thought gynecologists were intrusive. Jeesch.

  Ben playfully batted her ears. “I’ve heard there’s a lady vet in town. Maybe we’ll check her out next time.”

  He sat up and stretched. The covers pooled around his waist, leaving his torso bare. “I’d better get showered. Jimmy’s wife said she’d take the tux back for me, but I’ve got to drop it off at the station. Then I want to run by the auto-repair shop on my way to the hospital.”

  Jill listened, but her gaze never left his body. What an amazing body it was, too. Why didn’t I pay closer attention to the details when I was a woman?

  Tossing back the covers, he jumped out of bed. He’s naked. Jill tried to make her eyes look away. Mattie surely had a rule for this: Never stare at a naked man. But another part of her brain said, You’re a dog. Look while you can.

  Jill was beginning to hate that practical voice, but in this case she didn’t seem to have much control. Her salivation glands weren’t following orders, either.

  She’d seen Ben in swim trunks, but she’d been polite and hadn’t ogled. And heaven forbid, she wouldn’t have dreamed about speculating about his—uh, privates. But there they were. Picture perfect. At ease.

  In its flaccid state, Ben’s penis hung like a thick pendulum against a nest of dark curls. A searing heat wave surfed across her face and down her body. She felt twitches in places she wouldn’t expect dogs to twitch, especially male dogs. Her big tongue lapped at the drool pooling in her floppy gums.

  Ben turned slightly and bent over to pick up a pair of white jockey
shorts on the floor. Jill lifted her head for a better look. His lean, well-sculpted butt deserved praise, too.

  “Amos said the mechanic’s report was inconclusive, but I want to talk to the guy myself,” he said, starting toward the bathroom.

  He paused to open the vertical blinds a few inches. Bright sunlight poured into the room. From the back, his body was equally stunning. His buttocks were a paler shade of tan, not stark white like her flesh. She recalled him mentioning a grandmother who was part Cherokee, which explained his relative lack of body hair.

  “According to the report, the bleeder screw was loose, which means brake fluid escaped every time I pressed on the brake. Essentially, I cleared the vacuum, so the brakes wouldn’t hold. The lines were intact and there was no sign of tampering, but how did the screw get loose?”

  I could tell you my theory if I could talk, but since I can’t, I guess you’re gonna have to figure it out on your own.

  Ben turned. The angle of sunlight glistened through the small triangular thatch on his chest, which funneled downward.

  “Do you suppose Jill was right?’

  Jill tried to concentrate on his words not his body. Yes. Of course I was right. Score one for the dog girl.

  “If she was right about the brakes, then she might have been right about a lot of things.” His forehead puckered pensively. “Like her confidential source disappearing.”

  Dorry. I completely forgot about Dorry. What if the person who attacked me got to her first?

  Jill barked. Too loud. It made her head throb; unfortunately she hadn’t figured out the volume control on her voice yet.

  “I know,” Ben said, returning to the bed. He kneeled across from Jill and leaned down to pet her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll do some investigating today while you’re recuperating.”

  She closed her eyes. Ben’s state of undress combined with her newly remembered anxiety over Dorry were just about enough to unhinge the very tentative hold Jill had on her sanity.