A Little Christmas Jingle by Michele Dunaway

hate, but you might be my last hope. I honestly don’t know what else to do. I was impulsive and once again it bit me.”
    The waiter set her salad down, then topped off their water glasses. Jack lifted his beer to his lips, let a good long sip pass. Then he set the brew down and brushed some lint off the red and white plastic tablecloth. “I told you how I feel about animals being Christmas presents; they are a huge responsibility. Jingle was a present.”
    She bristled. “I screen every adopter personally. I’m like an animal-human love connection. I also have a return policy. If they don’t want the animal, no matter when, they are to bring it back to me.”
    â€œEven if you don’t have a shelter?”
    She jutted her chin forward. “I will work something out.”
    He toyed with the frosted red plastic water cup, wiping away a bead of condensation. “How many come back?”
    â€œWe’ve had a few,” she admitted, “but not as many as you’d expect. Less than two percent. And I’ve been able to find new homes for each one. All of my dog owners can partake in free obedience classes held here at my clinic. While you may not like Christmas, it’s a great time to get a pet because people are home. Kids are off school for at least a week, so there are people around during the day to assimilate the animal. I also hold kiddie classes to teach children proper pet care. Good animal care comes from education. Kids need to learn how to show appropriate affection and how to take care of their pets. I provide that.”
    His fingers moved up and down the bottle in an absent caress. If those fingers were on her … Her mouth dried and she took a long, nourishing sip of cold wine. “Seems like you’ve thought of everything.”
    She nodded, and her loose brown hair swished around her neck and brushed the tops of her shoulders. “I’ve made my clinic full service. I do not want what happened to Jingle happening to any of my animals.”
    He liked how she said “my animals.” Saving pets was a calling, not just a mission, not just a job. On that point, at least, they were kindred spirits. “What if we did it at a later time?” he asked.
    She finished her Riesling. “You’re missing my point. I know you hate Christmas adoptions, but I am out of time. My hearing is right before the holiday. I have mere weeks to find homes for twenty dogs and fourteen cats. I’ll do anything to save them. Anything.”
    That caught his interest. “Anything?”
    â€œAnything.” That had come out wrong. “Well, within reason.” Where was that waitress? More wine. Stat.
    Those fingers continued their sensual assault on the cup. “So, if I do you this favor, will you owe me one?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOwe me one.” He repeated, those three words subtly suggestive. Kat’s breath hitched.
Just what did he mean?
He rubbed his fingers together then reached for the beer bottle. “If I do this, I want quid pro quo.”
    She’d grabbed her fork, and she set it back down. Was he really considering helping her? “Like what?”
    â€œYou want to use me, yes? My particular skills?” The words rolled seductively off his tongue, sending an anticipatory shiver to her toes. She could think of all kinds of skills she’d like to use, none involving signing calendars or finding homes.
    Oh boy. Her impulsivity once again had her in far too deep. His lips molded around the bottle opening. Her mouth dried, and she sipped water for much needed composure. “I sound like all those women. It was Angela’s idea. Forget I asked.”
    â€œI never forget a thing.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo. It’s one of the reasons I became a cop. It’s also the reason that kiss we shared is so potent. Or that I wouldn’t like to try it again.”
    â€œOh.” She let that sink