Tempting Faith. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ “Listen, lady, there’s no reason to get violent. Mac, Vern, tell her.”

      But his two friends had already abandoned him and were tossing their equipment into the van.

      “Wait for me,” Wilson called. He spun on his heel and jogged to the van, then ducked into the passenger seat.

      Within seconds, the engine roared to life and the newspeople made a tight U-turn, then headed down the drive. Cort stood next to Faith’s truck, leaning his weight on the fender and watching the proceedings with interest. She ignored him, popped the dart out of the rifle and lowered the butt to the ground.

      “Where’s Ken?” she asked, turning back toward the kids.

      Beth, a petite brunette with gold-rimmed glasses, stared at her feet. “Putting the kittens back in their cages.”

      Faith held on to her temper. “Why did you let in the reporters?”

      “We left the gate open for you,” Rob answered. “They just kind of showed up.”

      “You didn’t ask them to leave?”

      Rob shook his head. “Ken said—”

      Faith held up her hand. “I’ll deal with Ken in a minute. Why didn’t you ask them to leave? Either of you?”

      Guilt was written all over their young faces. Faith hired college students because they had enthusiasm and dedication, plus she preferred part-time help. The only problem was sometimes they weren’t as mature as she would have liked.

      Beth stared at her shoes. “He was so nice, and it seemed so exciting that I didn’t think about how you said you didn’t want any publicity about the kittens until it was too late.”

      “You just thought he was totally cool,” Rob said, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Some good-looking older man says a few nice words and you melt like butter.”

      “That’s not true.” Beth flushed with anger. She stood a good eight inches shorter than Rob’s six feet, but that didn’t intimidate her. “I didn’t see you ordering him off the property. In fact, you were real interested in the sound equipment and asked the guy a lot of questions.”

      “That’s better than swooning. You won’t see me on the six o’clock news.”

      “Stop!” Faith held up one hand. “You know the rules.”

      Beth nodded. “You’re right, Faith. I apologize. I should have thought about what would happen. I know the kittens are important to you and the facility. I wouldn’t purposely do something to hurt either.”

      “Me, too,” Rob mumbled, nudging Beth on the arm when she turned and glared at him.

      Faith fought back a smile. Eloquent to the last, that boy, she thought. These kids were basically well-meaning. They’d been caught up in the excitement of the moment. She didn’t like it, but she understood how it happened.

      “I accept your apologies,” she said. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn around.

      “What’s going on? Beth, why are they leaving so soon? I wanted to show them— Oh God, Faith. You’re back.”

      “I’m sure there’s an explanation, Ken,” she said coldly, still not turning around. “Make it a good one.”

      “Gee, Faith. I’m sorry. This isn’t what it looks like.”

      Her grip on the rifle tightened. She tapped her booted toe against the asphalt. A couple of deep breaths didn’t help, either. “What the hell were you thinking?” she said as she spun to face the young man. Her voice rose in volume. “Reporters? Reporters?”

      Rob and Beth slunk away, leaving Ken alone. The young man stood over six feet tall. With broad shoulders, long brown hair and a scraggely beard that hadn’t completely filled in, he looked more like a teenager than a college senior. At her words, his bravado faded. He slumped visibly and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

      “It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled.

      “It wasn’t like that?” she said loudly, then forced herself to lower her voice. “We have a few rules here. They are for your safety and for that of the cats. Rule number one is no reporters without my say-so. Ken, you know where those kittens came from. The last thing we need is word getting around about their whereabouts.”

      “I’m sorry.” Brown eyes pleaded for understanding.

      She gripped the unloaded rifle in both hands and tossed it at him. He caught it. “’Sorry’ doesn’t cut it,” she said, pacing in front of him on the asphalt. “I should bust your butt back to the dorm and never let you on this mountain again.”

      “It was an accident.” He shuffled his feet.

      “How do you figure? The reporter said the wire service had the story and…” Realization dawned, and she was grateful she wasn’t holding the rifle anymore. “It’s that girl! You let her take pictures.”

      For weeks Ken had talked about nothing but Nancy. Nancy the beautiful. Nancy the brave. Nancy the journalism major. He’d asked Faith if she could come and take pictures of the cats for an assignment for one of her classes. Maybe do a story to drum up publicity. Faith had refused.

      “Just a few,” Ken admitted. He looked up at her. Regret pulled his mouth straight. “She took them to the local paper, and they got picked up by the wire service. That’s what brought the reporter out. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Am I fired?” He sounded like a ten-year-old.

      She jammed her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “You’ve worked here two years, and you’ve done a good job. But in the last few months you’ve come in late, you’ve skipped work without calling, now this.” She pinned him with her best glare. “You’re thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy. All the trouble you’re having is because of that girl. Get that under control and you can work here. If not, you’re out. Consider this a final warning. One more screwup and you’re fired.”

      “Faith, I’m sorry.”

      “Put the rifle away, then get out of here. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the week.”

      “I understand.”

      “Did you at least remember to feed the cats?”

      “Yeah. An hour ago.”

      “Fine.” Faith waved her hand in the direction of the supply building. “Get going.”

      The young man walked off, his body slumped forward, his steps slow and shuffling. He was the picture of misery. Part of her regretted the harshness of their conversation. Still, the lecture had been necessary, and he deserved it.

      “Don’t you think you were a little hard on him?” Cort straightened from where he’d been leaning against the truck. Using his crutches to support his bad leg, he stepped toward her.

      “No.” She flushed, realizing she must have sounded like a fishwife. “I have rules—”

      “They’re СКАЧАТЬ