The Longest Night. Kathleen O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ think this is funny, but I don’t. This is all about survival, sweetheart. Mine.”

      There. He’d told her. It wasn’t the sophisticated approach he probably should’ve used, but he hadn’t had much sleep lately and it was all because of her.

      Then she got up to leave. He’d blown it. His one shot. Gone. She glanced around the room and cast one anxious glance in his direction. “The store. Tuesday,” she whispered, and then quickly walked away.

      ON SUNDAY MORNING, Cassandra was up early. She always squeezed in a workout before she started the day, but last night she’d had very little sleep, and it was all Noah Barclay’s fault.

      Everything had been fine until she’d looked deep into his dark, tortured gaze. This was a man who looked to be in pain, and she’d put him there. There was the usual victory dance of power in her head, but this time the victory dance wasn’t nearly as much fun.

      In fact, this time the victory dance was completely unfun.

      It was that complete lack of fun that prompted her to give him a second chance. That, and the fact that the man had the most mesmerizing eyes. Honest and completely unsmarmy. She’d actually checked. But there was no telltale hand over the mouth or the shifty-eyed marker of dishonesty. He’d met her gaze square-on and she’d gotten a jolt that she hadn’t been expecting.

      Okay, sue her, she was attracted to the man. She would give him a shot, then he’d show his true colors and, yeah, she’d seen the end of this movie before.

      Cassandra picked up her mop from the broom closet and jabbed at the floor with more anger than precision. Nothing like a little housework to ease frustration.

      She lived in a little, two-bedroom, one-tiny-bath, no-garage in Hardwood Heights. It was her sanctuary and she loved it. The community had strict rules about noise and behavior, so it was always quiet. Peaceful.

      So peaceful that it was unnervingly loud when she heard a scratching noise at the front of her house.

      That was odd, she thought as she peered through the glass in her front door. No one was there. But then the scratching started again.

      She flung open the door. Still nothing.

      Then she looked down.

      Some people might have called it a dog. Cassandra was horrified, and slammed the door on it.

      She hated dogs.

      The scratching started again.

      Her fingers drummed against the wood door frame, knowing that if that stupid animal didn’t stop, her brand-new, seven-hundred-and-eighty-six-dollar door was going to be ruined. It was a honey, too. Golden oak with beveled glass that just dressed her place up so nicely.

      No way was that dog going to ruin it.

      She marched to the kitchen and filled a pitcher with water. Then she opened the door and doused him.

      The mutt retreated to the lawn and sat on his haunches, fur bunched and smelly—now a wet smelly—and glared back.

      “You’re a stupid dog, aren’t you?”

      She slammed the door and waited. The scratching started again.

      Darn it. He wasn’t leaving.

      Where did the thing belong? Maybe a neighbor had lost it? Not that she thought anyone was going to claim it. Something that huge and that old and that ugly wasn’t going to be popular anywhere. Worst of all, it had big, mean teeth.

      After gathering her courage, she threw on some shoes and went outside. She was prepared to confront the monster, using the back door of course.

      She clapped her hands in what she thought was an anti-dog manner. “Go home.”

      The dog growled at her.

      Okay, let’s try something new. Kindness. “Here, buddy,” she sang, snapping her fingers.

      The dog growled at her.

      “You are a stupid, stupid animal,” she announced, and the dog promptly went and curled up on her porch. Not that her porch was large, mind you. In fact, the dog took up the entire space.

      “No, no, no. You belong to someone else. This is not your home. Bad dog, bad dog.”

      The dog opened one lazy eye and showed his teeth in a twisted-looking grin.

      “Where’s Timmy, boy?”

      The dog yawned.

      Okay, this was getting her nowhere. She gave him the eye as she walked next door to Mrs. Mackenzie’s place. Mrs. Mackenzie was an elderly woman who, to Cassandra’s knowledge, had no pets, but maybe that had changed. After all, it was never too late to gain a pet.

      When Mrs. Mackenzie answered her door, Cassandra smiled politely. “Did you lose a dog?” she asked with hope in her voice.

      Mrs. Mackenzie squinted, her mind creaking. She was a dear old woman, but a little slow. “No. Can’t say that I did.”

      “Do you know anyone in the neighborhood who’s lost a dog recently? Big, ugly, black and gray.”

      Mrs. Mackenzie shook her head. “No, dear. The neighborhood board frowns on dogs. Don’t know anyone around here that has one. Sorry. Would you like some pie? I just made a fresh cherry. With ice cream.”

      Cassandra shook her head, depressed at the fifty-pound spawn of Satan that had just been dumped in the lap of her lawn.

      Still determined, she went door to door, covering thirty-seven houses in five blocks. And all she got for her trouble was seven chocolate-chip cookies and three lewd propositions. Damned perverts. Somebody out there was dog-less, probably crying and worrying.

      She made her way home, munching the last cookie, thinking that maybe the animal had disappeared while she was gone. No such luck. As she rounded the corner, there he was, curled up in a big, ugly black ball on her porch. At least he had stopped the scratching. She stood at the end of her walkway, considering her approach. She really didn’t like dogs.

      This one growled, showing really big teeth.

      “Shoo. I’m going inside now.”

      The dog ignored her.

      “I’m walking to the door now,” she said, taking two slow steps.

      The dog still ignored her.

      “I’m coming closer. Don’t upset me, dog, or you’ll be sorry.”

      The dog opened one sleepy eye.

      Two more steps and he began to growl.

      “Don’t mess with me.” And almost, almost, almost…

      He jumped to his feet and started barking.

      Not.

      She blew out a breath and stared the СКАЧАТЬ