(Dear Readers, I apologize for the long delay in bringing you this new chapter, and for the shortness of it. Many are the reasons, including job responsibilities and family matters. I am already writing chapter 6, and will hopefully have it to you by the first of next month.)
*
Karen watched Peter move around his kitchen expertly, and she realized for the first time how little she knew about him. He was a widower, but other than that, and the job he did, she knew nothing about him. And yet here she was, sitting at his kitchen table, completely at ease. Her safety radar was asleep, and if she were to be completely honest, had never once tripped with him. The thought that she was safe made the last walls crumble inside her, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with emotion as she watched his big hand wield the knife, and his broad shoulders filling the fridge as he bent to take cheese and sandwich meats out. She tore her eyes away from the sight of his wide shoulders and long legs, and forced her mind to think of things other than what those legs might look like without the screen of clothing. She knew he rode his bicycle most places, so she assumed they would be muscular. The thought of those muscular legs between her own had her almost leaping out of the chair to pace away to the window furthest from where he worked.
Her sudden movement seemed to startle the dog, who cracked an eye open and stared at her in a Cyclops-like fashion. She stared back, immobilized by discomfort. For some reason she didn't understand, she felt cautious rather than afraid of what she could see was a big dog. A Labrador, if she wasn't mistaken. The dog opened the other eye, still with his head on his paws, and continued to watch her, unmoving, unblinking. Karen wondered what his name was, but just as she was about to ask, he stood up, shook himself lazily and strolled over to her to sniff her. Peter turned around immediately, and said,
"Shake, Scrooge!"
Karen felt a warm padded paw on her hand and looked down to see the dog waiting for her to shake his paw. Surprised and inordinately amused, she laughed softly and "shook hands" with him, then watched him walk over to his master and butt him gently in the leg, as if to say "Who's she?"
"Your dog's name is Scrooge?" she asked, amusement still thrumming through her, mixed with relief that the animal seemed to be quite tame.
"Yes," Peter answered, chuckling softly as he put things on the kitchen table. "Come on, let's have lunch!" he continued, gesturing for her to take a seat while he retrieved a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Please help yourself!" he invited her as he poured the wine.
Karen took a sandwich and placed it on her plate, and took a sip of wine. Up close, she could smell the cologne he used, a tangy, spicy flavor that married itself to the scent of the man who wore it. Even that was turning her on, and she hastened to give herself something safe to think about.
"So, why Scrooge?" she asked, taking a bite of her own sandwich.
"It's an acronym, based on a note left with him," Peter explained. "Sorry, can't raise one more goddamned pet, it said. The 'm' and the 'p' didn't fit for the acronym, so they used the 'o' and 'e' to make a word."
"It's a very clever name. Did you come up with that?" she wanted to know, amused.
"No, they did," he said, "and since it seemed to describe his past owner so well, I let it stay!"
"When did you first get him?" she wanted to know next.
Peter gave her a look which told her he knew what she was doing. It was knowing and amused and aroused all at once. But he answered her question anyway.
"He was about two months old," he said, "and I couldn't resist him."
Karen eyed the big dog. "I wonder how he would get on with a cat," she mused.
"When I travel, I leave him with a friend who has a house full of cats," he explained. "Her cats all love Scrooge, and he seems to love them right back." He paused, watching her finish her sandwich. "Do you have a cat?" he asked her.
"Not now, no," she said. "But I had two back in the States. I had to give them up for adoption when I moved here."
She tried to hide the sadness she felt at that, partly because she didn't want to get maudlin over them, and partly because she thought it was a sign of vulnerability on her part to become so emotional over a couple of felines.
"What were their names?" he asked gently.
"Bones and Spruce," she answered at once. "Both male, one all skin and bones when I found him, the other with fur that was two-colored, like the blue spruce in my yard." She sighed. "I do miss them."
A simple statement that gave away a lot about her. She hurried on. "Anyway, I can't think about pets till I have established my own place of residence, now can I?" she asked on a forced laugh.
"No, I suppose that wouldn't be wise," Peter answered, pouring a second glass of wine for her. "Drink up!" he invited her, and smiled when she complied at once.
A companionable silence followed during which they polished off the sandwiches he had made, and then Scrooge got up to sniff her again. Karen bore his attention with less fear this time, though she still did not move a muscle before she relaxed and bent over to scratch him behind the ears. The dog sniffed her face, and then, before she could move away, he licked her from forehead to chin, thankfully on the side, so his warm tongue missed her lips. A bubble of laughter, a bit hysterical, burst from her lips, but she bore the doggy kiss with more equanimity than she had thought possible as Peter called him off.
"I see you've made a second conquest in this house," he commented, his low tone sounding seductive to her. "Not surprising, really, given who you are. Scrooge likes women, but he has never, in all the time I've had him, kissed any of them, till now."
Karen's head shot up, and the question was out of her mouth before she could censor it.
