He gave a startled bark and scrambled toward Flynn for protection.
“Go away, Flynn, and take your klutzy dog with you.”
Flynn simply lifted his legs and used Moe as a footstool. “Lets just go over our options,” he began.
Twenty minutes later Dana stomped into the kitchen. She stopped short, hissed through her teeth when she saw the contents of her trash can strewed from one end of the floor to the other and Moe happily sprawled over the mess of it, chewing on a wad of paper towels.
“How does he do it? How the hell did he talk me into this?” And that, she admitted, was the mystery of Flynn Hennessy. You never knew just how he managed to box you into the corner of his choice.
She crouched down, got nose to nose with Moe.
Moe rolled his eyes to the side, avoiding hers. Dana swore that if dogs could whistle, shed have heard the I-wasnt-doing-anything tune coming out of the dogs mouth. “Okay, pal, you and I are going to go over the rules of the household.”
He responded by licking her face, then flopping over to expose his belly. * * *
SHE woke with the sun streaming over her face and her legs paralyzed. The sun was easy to explain. Shed forgotten to draw the curtains again. And her legs werent paralyzed, she realized after a moment of panic. They were trapped under the massive bulk of Moe.
“Okay, this is no way to begin.” She sat up, then shoved the dog hard.“
“I said no dogs allowed on the bed. I was very clear about that rule.”
He moaned, an oddly human sound that made her lips twitch. Then he opened one eye. Then that eye brightened with manic joy.
“No!”
But it was too late. In one leap, hed trapped not only her legs but her entire body. Dancing paws pressed into her belly, her breasts, her crotch. His tongue slathered her face with desperate love.
“Stop it! Down! Mary Mother of God!” And she was laughing hysterically, wrestling with him, until he leaped off the bed and raced out of the room.
“Whew.” She pushed at her hair. It was definitely not the way she cared to wake, as a rule. But for one day she could make an exception.
Now she needed coffee. Immediately.
Before she could throw back the covers, Moe bounded back in.
“No! Dont you do it! Dont you bring that horrible, dis
gusting ball into this bed.”
Her usual morning speed approximated that of a snail on Valium, but one look at the tennis ball in Moes mouth had her moving like an Olympic sprinter. She hit the floor, causing Moe to change direction and go into a skid. He thudded against the bed frame, then, undaunted, spat the ball at her feet.
“We do not play fetch the ball in the house. We do not play fetch the ball when Im naked, which, you may notice, I am. We do not play fetch the ball before I have coffee.”
He cocked his head charmingly and lifted a paw.
“Were going to have to compromise. First Ill getunnaked .” She went to the closet for her robe. “Then Ill have my first cup of coffee. After which Ill take you for a very, very brief walk during which you can relieve your bladder and play fetch the ball for exactly three minutes. Take it or leave it.”
* * * SHE didnt know how he did it—like master, like dog, she supposed—but she ended up spending a good twenty minutes playing with Moe in the park.
This was not her morning routine, and if there was anything that was sacrosanct to Dana, it was her morning routine. She could admit that she felt more energized and more cheerful after the interlude with the goofy dog. But she wasnt going to tell Moe that, or anyone else.
He gobbled down his breakfast while she ate hers, then fortunately for all involved, plopped down for a quick morning nap while she substituted Othello for her current breakfast book.
To stay fresh, to let it all simmer in her head, she switched gears after thirty minutes, and chose one of the books on sorcery. However wily and amoralIago was, Kane was more so—and he had power. Maybe there was a way to undermine it, or deflect it, while she searched for the key.
She read of white magic, and of black. Of sorcery and necromancy. And it was different, she realized as she made her notes, when you knew the fantastic you read of was real.
Not fantasy. Not lies, but truth.