“No woman is going to marry a veterinarian when she can have a dashing spy,” Rourke commented.
“Do you know one?” Bentley asked calmly.
Rourke glared at him. “I can be dashing when I want to, and I used to work for the CIA.”
“Yes, but does sweeping floors count as a real job?” Chet wanted to know.
“You ought to know,” Rourke told the other man. “Isn’t that what you did in Manila?”
“I was the president’s bodyguard!”
“And didn’t he end up in the hospital?”
“We’re here!” Cappie said loudly, indicating where the cab was stopping. “And the ride is Dutch treat,” she added. “I’m not paying cab fare for bodyguards and stubborn hangers-on.”
“Who’s a hanger-on?” Rourke asked.
But Cappie was already out of the cab. The three men followed her when they settled their part of the fare.
She walked into the veterinarian’s front office, where Kate Snow was still holding down the job of receptionist. She was twenty-four, tall, brunette and had soft green eyes and a pleasant rather than pretty face. She smiled.
“Hi, Cappie,” she greeted. “Come to visit your old stomping grounds?”
“Actually I’m here to apply for something part-time,” she replied.
“Brenda said that, but I didn’t believe her,” Kate replied, stunned. “You just moved to Jacobsville.”
“Well, I’m moving back.”
“I’ll buzz Dr. Lammers,” she said, and pressed a button on the phone. She spoke into the receiver, nodded, spoke again and hung up. “He’s with a patient, but he’ll be out in a minute.” She looked past Cappie. “Can I help you?” she asked the three men.
“I’m with her,” Rourke said.
“Me, too,” Chet seconded.
“I’m applying for a job, too,” Bentley said. “I thought you might need an extra vet.” He smiled.
“Who are you?” Kate asked, surprised.
“He’s my ex-boss,” Cappie muttered.
“You’re Dr. Rydel?” Kate exclaimed. “But you have your own practice in Jacobsville!”
“I do, but if Cappie moves here, I move here,” he said stubbornly.
“We might move here, too,” Rourke interrupted. “I can interview for a job here, too. I can type.”
“Liar,” Chet said. “He can’t type.”
“I can learn!”
“All you know how to do is shoot people,” Chet scoffed.
“Sir, it’s illegal to carry a concealed weapon,” Kate began nervously.
Rourke gave her his most charming smile. “I’m a professional bodyguard, and I have a permit. If you’d like to see it, I’ll take you to this lovely little French bistro downtown and you can look at it while we eat.”
Kate stared at him as if he’d grown horns.
