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  Love Unleashed

  Marcia James

  Copyright

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

  LOVE UNLEASHED

  28 Days of Heart Series

  Copyright © 2010 MARCIA JAMES

  Cover art by Amanda Kelsey

  Edited by Nicole Bunting

  eBook conversion by jimandzetta.com

  All Romance eBooks, LLC

  Palm Harbor, Florida 34684

  www.allromanceebooks.com

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First All Romance eBooks publication: February 2010

  Foreword

  “Nothing’s better than a healthy heart, which helps women endure the ailments of life—physical or romantic—and come out on top of it all. This anthology, with stories by some of the most talented romance writers in the market, will benefit hearts everywhere. It’s not often you can contribute to a worthy cause, one that may well affect you in your lifetime, and at the same time assure yourself of some excellent entertainment. Have a good time, and let your heart be your guide.”

  Charlaine Harris

  Chapter One

  “Welcome to the third annual Claws, Scales, and Puppy Dog Tails animal adoption fair!” Disc jockey “Rabid” Ron Hart unleashed his trademark howl, and his raucous fans joined in. “Ninety-three-point-six ‘Wild Thang’ Columbus is broadcasting live from Dalton’s Pet Supply on Elm Street. We’re here to play oldies, goldies, and personal requests until six tonight. So drive down and join us, and don’t forget to check out the pets for adoption!”

  He kicked off the festivities with the appropriately titled Baby, Let Me Take You Home by the 60s band, The Animals.

  Ron’s boss always supported animal causes, and 93.6 had heavily promoted this event. So it wasn’t surprising over a hundred of the station’s loyal following crowded the store’s parking lot this sunny May Saturday. They hoped to win the donated prizes—from MP3 players to store gift cards. To keep everyone happy until the drawings began, station interns tossed the fans logoed t-shirts, like the one Ron was wearing with his khaki Dockers.

  Nearby, volunteers from the local no-kill animal shelter unloaded cages from a van, placing them onto a row of tables. Each cage held at least one pet—from cats and puppies to a snake and a parrot. One group of kittens was mewling loud enough to be heard above the music.

  Switching off his mic and standing with his back to the crowd, Ron pretended to study his playlist. Would she show or not? So much was riding on today. Aching with anticipation, he forced a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

  A second shelter van turned into the parking lot and came to a stop behind the first. And, thank all that was holy, Cara Wilson stepped out. Damn. Just the sight of her after seven months triggered a full-body rush.

  Sunlight glinted off her reddish-blond hair. She’d tamed it into a long braid that trailed down her slender back. God, he loved her hair, the way it had felt in his hands when she’d been his to hold, to kiss…to love.

  A tanned and smiling volunteer captured Cara’s attention, and Ron continued to watch her unobserved as memories assaulted him. Next to her bronzed companion, Cara appeared ethereal, her creamy skin glowing against the white Sadie’s Ark Animal Shelter t-shirt she wore tucked into worn jeans. Her features were so delicate, almost fairylike. But he was intimately aware of the lean strength in her petite body.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” His sound tech and best bud, “Feral” Darryl Fox stood openly staring at Cara. “That’s the chick who’s had you tied in knots since last year.”

  “Why don’t you announce it to the crowd?” Ron shoved the mic toward his friend, who took it before it could crack a rib. “Since you’re so interested in my love life, why don’t you spin the next song, so I can talk to her?”

  Darryl nodded. “But I don’t see why you’d want to chase after a girl who’s already dumped you.”

  Ron had asked himself the same thing a hundred times. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? And, dammit, Cara’s residency in his brain had killed any real interest he’d had in dating anyone else since she’d broken things off.

  Without replying to Darryl’s question, Ron strolled over to the van. Despite her job title of Shelter Director, Cara was working side-by-side with her staff. As he walked up, she began muscling a cage containing a terrier-like dog from the vehicle’s interior.

  “Need help?” He leaned in and lifted the other end of the cage.

  Startled, she met his gaze. A myriad of emotions flashed across her face and, for one dizzying second, there was something in her pretty hazel eyes he hadn’t seen in more than half a year—desire. Please, God, let him not be imagining it.

  “Ron, I…uh,” she glanced to the side, “I thought Karl was going to DJ this event.”

  “Krazy” Karl Thompson had been scheduled to work this adoption gig. Hoping to see Cara again, Ron had swapped a highly prized Bachelorette Auction assignment for this animal fair. “Karl had a conflict, so I volunteered.” Okay, it was a lie, but a small one.

  Cara’s eyes returned to his, resolve masking any softer emotions. “I thought it might be awkward participating in this event together.”

  Awkward? Huh. This was torture, but it’d be worth it for a second chance. He relaxed his tense shoulders enough to shrug, careful not to jiggle the cage. “We’re both adults, and we can work the fair to help these animals.”

  For a second, they just stood, each holding one end of the cage as she studied him. He could smell the doggy shampoo they’d used to spruce up the terrier, but he also caught the faintest scent of Cara’s lavender body lotion. It was enough to stir flashbacks of lazy Sundays making love to this woman.

  The terrier yipped, breaking the spell. Ron helped her place the cage on one of the sturdy tables, then he followed Cara back to the van. Together, without speaking, they unloaded three more dogs and six cats.

  When Pink Floyd’s Dogs of War blared out of the speakers, Ron sighed. It was time to resume his DJ duties before Darryl turned the event into a homage to his favorite classic rock band.

  “Cara.” He touched her arm to get her attention, barely masking the jolt that simple contact shot through him. When she glanced up, he dropped his hand. “I need to get back on the mic. Let me know when you want me to break between songs to talk up the animals.”

  She nodded, and he forced himself to walk away. Then he ramped up his “Rabid Ron” radio persona for the crowd, awarding several prizes before Cara approached him for a turn on the mic.

  She spoke briefly but eloquently on the plight of homeless animals. Her contralto voice—one of the things he’d always loved about her—hummed along his senses as she explained the rules of the adoption fair. God help him, he could listen to her read the phone book.

  A station groupie sidled up and asked him to sign her t-shirt, which she wore tucked into skin-tight shorts. Licking her lips, she pointed to a spot on the shirt that rode the upper curve of her left breast. He pulled a permanent marker out of his pocket and signed his name, his focus remaining on Cara.

  The girl pouted at his inattention and left to get Darryl’s autograph. Maybe his friend would hook-up with the groupie, but Ron was no longer interested in one-nighters with fans. There wasn’t anything wrong with hot, athletic sex for sex’s sake, as long as both parties knew the score. But since he’d met Cara, he’d wanted mo
re. And he’d done his best to romance her into a serious relationship.

  Throughout the afternoon, he took a break every fifteen minutes to allow Cara to extol the virtues of this kitten or that mutt. Each time he relinquished the microphone to her, he reveled in her nearness, like some pathetic kid with a crush instead of an experienced, thirty-three-year-old man.

  Cara, for her part, was always friendly but in a distant way, as though they were just acquaintances, not ex-lovers. Damn, it was discouraging.

  One by one, the pets found new owners, and the vans retrieved more needy animals from the shelter. By the end of the day, over one thousand dollars in donations had been collected and a remarkable two hundred thirty homeless animals were adopted. Only one cage remained on the tables.

  Ron thanked the remaining fans, switched off his mic, and handed it to Darryl. “Can you—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I knew when you drove your own car here, I’d get stuck packing and returning the remote truck.” He glanced toward the shelter vans. “Hope your plan works.”

  Nodding his thanks, Ron wished like hell he actually had a plan. His first goal had been to see Cara again. And, dammit, he really wanted to know what had gone wrong with their relationship. Maybe if he knew why she’d dumped him, he could move on with his life. Hell, who was he fooling? He wanted Cara back.

  Ron strode over to the last cage. Cara was crooning softly to the animal within, a dog she’d described in her unsuccessful adoption pitch as a Chinese crested.

  The poor animal resembled a bald Chihuahua with snout-to-tail liver spots. A small, plain brown leather collar encircled its scrawny neck. Several of its molars were missing, and the dog’s tongue hung through that dental gap, lolling out the side of its mouth. The single tuft of hair on its skeletal head contributed to its canine Crypt Keeper appearance. Too bad the adoption fair hadn’t taken place on Halloween.

  Ron cleared his throat. “Sorry we couldn’t find a family for this little guy.”

  Cara straightened, her expression somber. “His name is Charlie—after the cartoon character Charlie Brown, who has just about as much hair on his head as this crestie.”

  “Is he a stray?”

  She shook her head. “Just another victim of the economy. His previous owners lost their house and couldn’t afford their pets anymore. They found new owners for their cats, but not for Charlie.”

  He hated seeing the sadness on Cara’s face. Sticking his hands in his pants’ pockets to keep from reaching for her, Ron offered, “Maybe if you could cure Charlie’s mange, give him some doggie Rogaine or something?”

  Cara’s mouth dropped open, and then to his astonishment, she belly-laughed, tears sparkling in her dancing eyes. Frowning, Ron waited through her lingering chuckles to be let in on the joke.

  Brushing the backs of her hands across her damp cheeks, Cara shot him a full-blown smile that made something squeeze almost painfully in Ron’s chest. “Charlie is a Chinese crested hairless dog. He’s supposed to look like this.” She gestured to the homely pooch. “Well, except for the bad teeth.”

  “You’re shi—uh, kidding me, right?” Ron stepped closer to the cage. “He’s bred that way?”

  Grinning, Cara opened the cage, reached in, and lifted out the dog. “Charlie has the sweetest disposition. He may not win any beauty contests, but he’s got the title of Mr. Personality locked in.”

  He held out his hand, which the dog sniffed and then licked, his tongue tickling. Ron slid the tips of his fingers down Charlie’s back, amazed at the softness of the animal’s skin. “Since he didn’t get adopted, what will happen to him?”

  Cara sighed. “There are rescue groups dedicated to different dog breeds, including cresties. I’ll call the local contact on Monday, to see if they can place him. It could take several weeks to a month, though, before we can find him a new home. I was hoping he’d be adopted today or at least fostered.”

  “Fostered?” Ron stopped stroking the dog when his hand bumped into Cara’s as she cradled Charlie. Just that slight touch spurred the need that always flared in her presence.

  “Foster parents, or ‘Shelter Angels’, as we call them. They keep animals in their homes until we can arrange for a permanent adoption. The fostered dogs and cats get love and attention, as well as develop their socialization skills.”

  Even as his mind yelled “No!” Ron opened his mouth and volunteered. “I guess I could take Charlie for a month or so until the crestie rescue finds him a home.”

  Her eyes rounded. “You’d do that?”

  A plan was finally forming in his brain, and he hoped like hell it was a good one. “Yes, if you’ll come over and help me get him settled. I’ve never owned a dog, so I’m not even sure what he eats.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I can order pizza for us, unless you have a date.”

  Chapter Two

  Cara ducked her head, her thoughts rioting. Ron Hart was as tempting as a pound bag of M&Ms and, in the long run, just as bad for her. Her friends had thought she was nuts when she’d broken up with the handsome DJ. He’s a nice guy. He has a steady job. He treats you good. But her friends didn’t understand that something vital was missing from their relationship—a satisfying love life.

  Cara wanted a take-charge guy who was sexually aggressive to the point of political incorrectness. She’d been honest with the man she’d dated before Ron, and he’d been shocked by her erotic fantasies. Not only had he refused to fulfill her needs, he’d called her “unnatural”, broken things off, and told his friends about her “slutty desires”. They must have told their buddies, too, because she’d gotten so many obscene phone calls, she’d changed her number. They’d even hassled her online. She’d had to close her social media site pages and get a new email address. It had been a nightmare.

  Then she’d met “Rabid Ron” and thought he might be the “bad boy” for her. But behind closed doors, he was “Tame Ron”—a conventional, meat-and-potatoes kind of guy in bed. Still, they’d had wonderful times together in all other ways. And for a couple of months she’d tried to make things work, to just enjoy his gentle lovemaking, but in the end she couldn’t keep living a lie.

  She wasn’t the sweet, demure woman he believed her to be. Cara hadn’t shared her dark fantasies with him because she knew what she’d see in his eyes—disapproval and disgust. So she’d just walked away. Unfortunately, her heart had stayed with Ron.

  “Cara?”

  Damning herself for a fool, she met his gaze. “If you foster Charlie, I’ll help you get started. You’ll need supplies, which the shelter pays for. You can give us back anything you haven’t used once Charlie’s adopted.”

  Ron opened his mouth to speak, but she startled him into silence by handing him the crestie.

  She gestured to Dalton’s Pet Supply. “The store’s assembled foster starter kits for the adoption fair. I’ll be back in a minute with one for a toy-sized dog.”

  Cara strode swiftly to the store, trying not to feel like she was rabbiting away from an uncomfortable situation. She wasn’t a coward. She was simply removing herself from Ron’s proximity until she could get her emotions under control—a strategic retreat, so to speak.

  Spotting the store manager, she explained to Mr. Blanchard what she needed. He nodded and went into the storage area to get the kit, which was actually several bags of supplies—from a Charlie-sized doggie bed and food to small treats and toys. While she waited, she paced in front of the check-out area, trying to settle her nerves.

  Seeing Ron again could be a good thing. After all, she hadn’t been able to banish him from her heart or her dreams. After seven months apart, she still loved him. Maybe she needed this reminder of why she’d left. And maybe she was just trying to justify going home with him tonight.

  Mr. Blanchard returned with two bags of supplies, the cost of which he added to the shelter’s store account. Thanking him, she carried the bags out into the late afternoon sun. The volunteers had packed up the rest of the tables and left in the
first shelter van. Cara’s steps slowed as she caught sight of Ron standing next to the empty cage. He was holding the crestie carefully—if a little awkwardly—and talking to it. What a cute, incongruous pair they made.

  Ron’s hands were almost bigger than Charlie’s body, making the full-grown dog look like a puppy in his cupped palms. He bent his face closer to the dog’s, and his windblown hair matched the dark chocolate color of Charlie’s liver spots. As Cara reached them, the crestie leaned up and licked the tip of the DJ’s nose.

  Ron chuckled, the corners of his warm brown eyes crinkling into laugh lines. “I guess he likes me.”

  Love and regret tightened her throat, and Cara swallowed them down. She was a sucker for a man who liked animals. And, darn it, she didn’t need another reason to want this gentle guy.

  “Good thing he doesn’t know your DJ name is ‘Rabid Ron’.” She set the bags on the ground. “He’d be shaking more than normal.” Heck, she was trembling a little herself at the thought of being alone with Ron again. He might not be her fantasy lover, but he could kiss like a dream. Get a grip. You’ll just be there for an hour or so until Ron is ready to care for the dog. Do this for the crestie. “I can transport Charlie in the cage in my van to your place.”

  “Does he have to go back in the cage?” Ron held the dog closer to his chest, and Charlie appeared comfortable being almost five feet off the ground.

  Cara smiled despite her inner turmoil. Ron was already protective of the little crestie, so maybe he’d end up a pet owner instead of a foster parent. “I think we can come up with an alternative to the cage.”

  She picked up the cage and set it in the back of van. Then she pulled out a padded dog carrier with more than enough room inside for the tiny crestie. “He can travel in your Jeep’s backseat in this. See, a seat belt goes through this loop at the top.”