staring at the woman’s delectable rear end, Joe ordered himself.
He shifted his gaze to the back of Polly’s head and immediately wondered what those silky-appearing, blond curls would feel like sliding through his fingers.
That’s it, he thought, getting to his feet. He’d definitely had enough of sitting in this chair.
Joe moved to the end of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Polly looked at him questioningly.
“Carry on,” he said. “Ignore me.”
Oh, right, she thought dryly. About the last thing a woman would be able to do in regard to Mr. Masculinity Personified Dillon was to ignore him. He was so male and so incredibly there.
“Yes, well,” Polly said, directing her attention to the students again, “ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a veterinarian. I was always toting home dogs, cats, birds, frogs, anything and everything that I was convinced needed my tender loving care.
“That dream for my future career didn’t dim as I grew older, but I had to face reality. The amount of money it would take to become a vet was far beyond my reach. Even with the numerous resources available for student loans, my dream was not obtainable.”
Joe swept his gaze over the students, seeing their rapt attention, hearing the total silence as five hundred pairs of eyes remained riveted on Polly.
She had them, he thought. These kids knew, they understood, about dreams that would never come true. Keep talking, Polly. They’re listening to every word you’re saying.
“To my utmost joy,” Polly continued, “I discovered a program of study at the University of Arizona that would enable me to become a veterinary technician in half the time and less than half the cost of the veterinary medicine program.
“So, I looked at the bright side, saw a way to be included in the career arena I’d dreamed about, even if it wasn’t in the capacity I had initially hoped for. For several years now I’ve been employed by Dr. Robert and Dr. Nancy Dogwood, a husband-and-wife veterinarian team who have an office on the northwest side of town.”
“So what do they let you do, Bird Lady?” someone yelled. “Poop scoop after the dogs and cats have been there?”
Polly laughed. “Sometimes. But I’m capable of giving examinations, inoculations, doing follow-up treatment of animals who have had surgery—and the list goes on. It’s very rewarding, very fulfilling.”
“That’s cool,” a girl said. “So, what’s with the bird?”
“This is Jazzy,” Polly said. “In addition to their regular practice, the Dogwoods also offer a boarding service for pets. I thought it might be fun to bring Jazzy with me today. His owners are in Europe for six months.”
“Oh, ain’t that a shame?” a boy quipped.
Be careful, Polly, Joe mentally directed. Don’t cross over the line into a world where these kids will never go. Don’t lose them now.
Polly flipped open the door of the cage and Jazzy hopped out onto the table.
“Jazzy is a macaw,” Polly said. “Some of you heard him speak earlier. He has an uncanny knack of saying things that fit the moment, making a person believe, at times, that he’s carrying on a conversation. That, of course, is impossible. Anyway, I took extra classes in the care of exotic birds after the Dogwoods hired me, because they board an amazing number of them during the year.”
“Give me a kiss, hot stuff,” Jazzy squawked.
“How much does one of those fancy birds cost?” a girl asked.
Uh-oh, Joe thought.
“Jazzy comes from a long line of champion macaws,” Polly said pleasantly. “He’s worth...”
Don’t say it, Polly, Joe silently begged. Tell them you have no idea what the stupid bird is valued at.
“...I’d say,” Polly said, “probably several thousands of dollars.”
Oh, hell, Joe thought.
Polly blinked in surprise as the students erupted in boos, whistles and thumbs-down gestures.
What was going on? she thought frantically. The students had been listening to her; she knew they had. They’d been sincerely interested in what she had been saying. What had suddenly gone wrong?
Joe stepped in front of the table and raised his hands.
“Quiet down,” he shouted. “Knock it off. I understand where you’re coming from, but there’s no excuse for being rude.”
Well, she was glad Joe understood where the now angry and obviously upset students were “coming from,” Polly thought, wrapping her hands around her elbows in a protective gesture. She didn’t have a clue.
“You’re pushing me,” Joe hollered. “Knock...it... off.”
Then Polly watched in wide-eyed horror as Jazzy waddled to the edge of the front of the table, ruffled his feathers, then proceeded to bite Joe Dillon on the right side of his oh-so-gorgeous tush!
Two
It was bedlam.
Joe roared as the message of a sudden, sharp pain reached his brain, then he spun around, fury very evident on his face. Jazzy made a beeline for the cage and hustled inside. Polly quickly shut and locked the door.
The students went wild; laughing, hooting, pointing at Joe in obvious delight at what had transpired. The pounding of feet on the bleachers began again and three cheers of hip, hip, hooray were executed in Jazzy’s honor.
I want to go home, Polly thought frantically.
Mark Jackson left his chair and came to the table.
“I’ll take over,” he told Joe. “You’d better exit stage left with Ms. Chapman and the felon.” He grinned. “Do you need to see a doctor about your wound?”
“No,” Joe said, his jaw tight. “I need to find a recipe for barbecued macaw.”
“That’s not fair,” Polly said. “Jazzy was upset by the noise and acted out of character. He has never bitten anyone before. He was shook-up and your...your posterior was right in front of him and...”
“Save it,” Joe said gruffly.
He snatched up the cage, then came around the table to grip Polly’s upper arm.
“We’re outta here,” he said.
“Bye, Bird Lady,” a chorus of students sang out. “Bye, Jazzy.”
Polly smiled and waggled the fingers of her free hand in farewell. In the next instant she was nearly lifted off her feet as Joe began to haul her toward the side entrance to the building. Mark Jackson stepped up to the microphone.
“Okay, we’ve had some fun,” the principal said, “but it’s
