“I’m not,” Felicity replied as she followed, studying a substantial muscled ass that should in no way be so fascinating. Except it really was.
“Oh? Any reason?”
Had Cooper’s voice lowered a few degrees to chilly?
Suddenly Felicity didn’t want the woman to think she hated animals. That wasn’t it at all. “I think it would be unfair for someone in my position to own an animal. I’ve spent the past few years following my boss around for work. She travels all over the world checking on her business interests. For instance, I’ve just been living in Australia for the past ten months while she overhauled one of her magazines over there.”
“Australia?” Cooper opened the double doors at the top of the stairs, pinning them back on each side with a latch. “Does that explain your un-New York accent? How weird. I thought you might be a bit English.”
So English that Mrs. Allsop’s entirely proper elocution lessons hadn’t been in vain, then? Felicity beamed in satisfaction. “No, I’m American. I’ve never even been to England.”
Cooper gave her an odd look, then swung the office door wide. “All right, come through. Let me just wash up. I probably look a mess. I had to play midwife to a dog that wanted to hide under a dirty building first thing. And then I was heading back to the office when I got the call about the dog food donation.”
Well, that explained her clothes looking like a tramp had died in them.
Felicity studied the office. A battered wooden round table sat in the middle of the room with five mismatched chairs around it. Folders and papers spilled across it. A few desks with old-style fat computer monitors sat around it. How eighties. The largest desk had a huge phone on it and a name plate attached to the divider: Mrs. Brooks, Receptionist/Vet Tech.
In one far corner was a locked glass office. A bronze sign reading Director Harvey Clifford was stuck on the door.
Next to it was a second room, this one with enclosed walls, and a sign: Pet treatment clinic—KNOCK FIRST. A smiling cartoon dog was stuck under that.
Animal posters with motivational sayings lined the walls that didn’t have windows. The ones that did looked like they were in desperate need of cleaning.
A kitchenette proved to be Cooper’s destination, and Felicity tried very hard not to look as the other woman bent over a small sink and washed thoroughly with two types of soap—one smelling of disinfectant, the other of lemon. As Cooper dried her hands on a paper towel, she called over her shoulder, “Tea or coffee?” Then she slam-dunked the paper towel into a bin near her ankle.
“Neither,” Felicity croaked out. “Well, not now. I’m trying to kick my excess caffeine habit. Step one, don’t hit the beans too early.”
“Suit yourself. Have a seat.” She gestured at the round table. “I have to change. Always pays to keep a few spare sets of clothes at work in this line of business.”
Felicity nodded as she slowly lowered herself to the closest chair and tried very hard not to think about the fact that changing meant…sliding pants down those impressive legs.
Maybe she should have had a coffee. She’d be able to focus entirely on the cup instead of the woman striding away to a room at the back of the office.
Cooper disappeared inside but didn’t bother shutting the door.
A moment later came the clang of a belt buckle hitting the floor. A boot went sailing with a thud out the door, followed by, “Oops. That steer got away from me.”
“Where are you from,” Felicity called back, fascinated, “if you call your boots ‘steers.’”
“A bit of here and a bit of there. I’m a military brat. We moved all over.” Another thud, but this time the boot stayed out of sight. “What about you? Because I’m thinking someone who sounds English but hasn’t been there sounds that way on purpose. Am I right?”
There was a slap as a pair of jeans suddenly landed in a puddle within sight, and Felicity swallowed about what that meant. She wanted to shake herself. She was here to do a job—an investigation, actually, into possible embezzlement—not get distracted by an employee at the charity. Who isn’t wearing pants right now.
“Felicity?” The vet’s head poked around the corner. “Was that a touchy topic or something? Sorry if it was.”
“Oh. No.” Focus. “It’s not much of a story. I had a terrible accent and took some voice lessons to sound more professional. My teacher was English, so some of her accent and sayings stuck. I’ve always absorbed voices, though. I’m a little surprised I don’t have an Australian twang now. God forbid.” She shuddered.
Cooper laughed and disappeared again. “I see.” A sock suddenly went flying. “Crap.”
What followed the sock were ten glorious seconds of blurred Amazon dressed only in a white T-shirt that strained across ample breasts and sinful ass-hugging black boxers chasing after it. Felicity whimpered softly.
Why in the hell did she find someone like this so attractive? Someone so strong? So…soft butch? Who had real meat on their bones? It was at odds with everything she knew about herself. Her head was always turned by lawyers. Thin, lean, compact men and women with impeccable fashion and manners and grooming who posed themselves oh so artistically. They were all fussy, neat, clever, and precise, just like her.
She definitely didn’t do undulating teddy-bear-like military brats who could double as the Bank of America building. Especially not ones who crawled into dirty, creepy places to play canine midwife. There was no part of any of that description that resonated with who Felicity knew she was attracted to. And yet here she sat, unable to blot out those ten glorious blurred seconds.
Cooper gave a sheepish laugh as she leaped back into her changing room. “Sorry about that. I’m so tired that my coordination’s well and truly fried right now.”
Like my brain. Apparently.
“It was a long night,” Cooper continued. “Well, morning. I’ve been going fourteen hours already. I swear I’m usually the height of professional and manage to keep my clothes on a lot of the time!”
“Fourteen hours?” Felicity gasped. She might do that regularly, but she was in upper management and had a desk job. Vets did this, too?
“Don’t worry, I only have a few more hours left. Then I’ll take a nap.” A disembodied hand flung out and pointed.
Felicity followed it and saw a small open door she’d missed before. She could see a makeshift bed.
“Great for catching some Zs when I’m doing a double shift.”
“Do you do a double shift often?” Felicity asked, curious.
“Every now and then. Pet emergencies are part of life, and my usual casual replacement is getting his gallstones out.” Cooper stepped back into the main office area, knotting a bundle of dirty clothes in a bag. She shoved it under one arm, then tucked her T-shirt into her clean pair of jeans. She did up a solid silver buckle on her belt. “Much better, right?”
Felicity took in the flannel shirt, white T-shirt, and faded blue jeans. “Y-yes,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks catch fire. “Very nice. Yes.”
What the hell was wrong with her? She was having lustful thoughts, on the job no less, about someone who absolutely wasn’t her type!
“Two yeses, huh?” Cooper grinned. “Lucky me.” Her teeth were white and perfect, and her smile breathtaking.
