Page 35 of S.O.S. Billboard

“Thanks, Billboard,” O’Shea heaved a sigh of relief. “I owe you.”

Billboard grunted. He could think of a lot of things he wanted from O’Shea, but seeing as she’d already pretty much offered him carte-blanche and he’d turned her down, it was his own fault he wouldn’t fish his wish.

“Fifteen minutes, O’Shea,” he returned abruptly, and hung up.

Damn.It was going to test all his fortitude, having that delectable woman sleeping in the room right across the hall from him. Every last one of Billboard’s nerves-of-steel were going to be sorely tested.

The traffic, once he backed out of his garage, was almost non-existent. He’d expected that this time of night. He pulled up in front of the hotel twelve minutes later. He got out of his Bronco, and the first thing he did was approach the valet.

“I heard you helped my friend out with her cat problem.”

The youth’s eyes grew wide. “You…you’re not going to report me, are you?” his voice cracked.

“No. I’m going to thank you, and ask you to watch my vehicle while I go in and get her and her new friend out. They’ll be leaving for good, so you won’t have to put your job on the line for them again.” He held out a twenty-dollar bill, which the kid happily took.

“Thankyou,sir,” he said with a relieved smile.

Billboard gave him a chin lift, turned, and called O’Shea.

“I’m here,” he said, when she picked up.

“I’m on my way down.”

It sounded like she was having a struggle.

“You need help?” he asked. He didn’t know how much luggage she had,orhow well her new charge was behaving.

“I’m good,” she told him, a little out of breath. “It’s just that…I’ve stashed Zoe inside my zip-up-sweatshirt, and she’s not exactly happy.”

Damn.That meant scratches and…

Billboard hadn’t thought about the cat’s origins. What if it was feral? What if it bit her?

He sped into the hotel lobby and was just about to push the elevator button when the doors slid open, and a flustered looking O’Shea walked out. Her cheeks were pink with exertion, and it looked like she was about eight months pregnant…with a squirming baby.

He tried to tamp down both his concern and his amusement. “I’ll take your bags.”

He reached for the burden in each of her hands, unable to keep the reprimand on his lips from slipping out. “You keep that devil contained, and try not to get scratched.” He also couldn’t help the next words that flew from his mouth, either, as they both started walking toward the doors. “You have no idea what she might have picked up for diseases on the street.”

O’Shea, per her norm, waved off his concerns. “What will I do with Zoe while I check out?” she asked.

Billboard huffed. “Let’s get her in the car along with your luggage, then you can go do your paperwork.”

“Good plan,” she answered.

She followed him the few steps out to the front where his vehicle was waiting, and the valet pretended to ignore them.

It took some doing, but finally the cat, Zoe—Billboard rolled his eyes that O’Shea had already given the beast a name—detached her claws from the inside of O’Shea’s shirt, and wasable to be wrestled into the back seat. Billboard slammed the door behind her, foiling an attempted escape. Only then did he turn to the frustrating woman beside him and rail at her for real this time. “What were you thinking, O’Shea? That cat might have rabies. Sane people don’t take risks in dark alleys. Sane people don’t bare-handedly and without proper equipment, pick up strays.”

She got a mutinous look on her face, and he knew he was in for some sass.

“Ido,” she snapped at him. “And if you’re being a prick because you hate cats; that you believe she’s too much for you to handle, I can call Mizzay right now. I’m sure she’ll let me stay the night until I can find accommodations elsewhere that accept pets.”

“No,” Billboard answered with a growl. “I’m fine with cats. I had them growing up. But…” He knew he needed to tread softly. O’Shea had her back up.

He sighed. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You’ll both stay with me, but first thing in the morning we’re bringing her to a vet and having Zoe checked out. Deal?”

“Deal,” O’Shea responded, her smile popping out. “I wanted to get her looked at, anyway.”

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