got that right,” Mike said after a glance to make sure Charlie was out of hearing. “The lady has a knack for acting before thinking.”
Dan grinned. “From the way you look at her it hasn’t prevented you from falling for her.”
“You’ve got that right, too,” Mike agreed. “But I’ll be damned if I understand why when she attracts trouble the way a cat attracts fleas.”
Dan smothered a laugh and turned to leave. “If anyone can handle Charlie, I have a feeling you’re the man to do it.”
“Not if I can help it,” Mike muttered.
Charlie came back in time to hear him. “Did you have something else to say, Mr. Wheeler?”
Mike glanced at her. Mr. Wheeler? She was back to the best-offense-is-the-best-defense position that fried him. “No. Talk to you later.”
Charlie frowned when Mike walked away. The man was a puzzle, all right. But, first things first, she mused as she set her mind back to the business at hand. There was a wounded man waiting to be taken to the emergency hospital. There was also the shooter, whom the FBI was going to have to debrief. And, to her annoyance, there was Mike wanting to know more about the shooting incident after she’d already told him everything she knew.
Her first opportunity to do something about turning Mike into a more reasonable man would have to wait until Sunday. A day when she’d volunteered her place for a do-it-yourself Blair House picnic. Surely by then they would have a chance to talk to each other like two reasonable people. The only problem was that every time they got together, something major seemed to happen to Mike.
All she had to do was make sure Mike wouldn’t come to harm in the process of taming him, she thought with a guilty twinge of conscience as he limped away. What could possibly go wrong at a picnic?
Squaring her jaw, Charlie turned back to matters at hand. She wasn’t interested in winning Mike for herself, mind you, but showing Mike he was as human as the next person could be interesting. No matter how she looked at it, taming Mike Wheeler was going to be a job and a half.
Chapter Two
Matters didn’t improve between them when Mike arrived unannounced in Charlie’s office the next morning. He carried a sheaf of papers in his hand and had a determined look in his eyes. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have minded, but at the moment he was the last person on earth she cared to entertain in her office. If he discovered what was going on in here, coupled with the negative image he already had of her, her professional reputation wasn’t worth a plugged nickel. Not that it mattered, she told herself, the man’s attitude was enough to try a saint.
“What are you doing here, Mike?”
He looked taken aback at her attitude. His eyes narrowed, an eyebrow rose. “I work here, remember?”
“Of course,” she said, brushing aside her instinctive reaction to his unexpected and definitely unwanted appearance. Forcing a smile, she risked a glance at the coatrack behind him. “Actually, I meant, what are you doing here in my office this morning?”
“I need to get a few more details about the shooting yesterday. I didn’t come back right away because you looked a little queasy and in no condition to talk.” He gestured to her bandaged wrist. “Feeling a little better this morning?”
“I’m fine, it was only a scratch,” Charlie answered, more and more uneasy at his presence with every passing moment. Considering the state of affairs between them, and what was going on in her office, she didn’t feel very well, at that. Too bad she hadn’t had the foresight to close the office door behind her.
Their gazes locked. She could tell he sensed something was wrong with her. It looked as if the visit was going to end in a standoff, until, to her dismay, a strange guttural sound broke the silence.
Mike cocked his head and looked around the office for the source. “What was that?”
“What was what? I didn’t hear anything.” The feeble smile froze on Charlie’s lips as the sound came again. The unthinkable was about to happen. She silently prayed that the sound wouldn’t be repeated.
“I’m sure I heard something,” Mike glanced cautiously around the office again, finally shrugged and took a seat by her desk. “Maybe it was my imagination. Got the time to answer a few questions?”
“Actually, no.” She summoned her best smile and remained beside the open office door. Maybe he would take the broad hint and leave. “I have a full morning ahead today. How about tomorrow?”
The sound came again. This time, too loud for her to ignore. She frantically tried to think of a sensible explanation for the sound, but her mind seemed to have turned to mush. Any way she looked at it, she was knee-deep in trouble—and with the last man in the world she wanted to be in trouble with. He’d already as much as told her she was one card short of a full deck. What would he think of her now?
She followed Mike’s gaze to the large cloth tote bag she’d hung on the coatrack this morning. To her deepening dismay, it was shaking as if something inside was doing a rumba, with sound effects to match.
“Maybe I’m nuts,” Mike said as he got to his feet and cautiously eyed the shaking tote bag, “but it looks to me as if there’s something alive in there.” He paused and fixed her with a grim look that sent her heart skidding down to her toes. “You wouldn’t happen to know what it is, would you?”
Charlie swallowed hard. There was something alive in the tote bag. How could she deny the truth when it was so blatantly obvious? She debated the alternatives and finally decided she had to give Mike some kind of story to throw him offtrack before he looked inside the bag for himself. But then, she thought as she took a deep breath, this was no ordinary situation.
To add to her present problem, she was all too aware this wasn’t going to do much for her reputation.
“It’s only Boomer,” she said finally when she tried and failed to come up with a decent story. She patted the tote bag and made soothing noises. “No problem about our talking, though,” she added hastily when Mike took a step toward the rack. “As long as you’re here, you might as well go on with your questions.”
His eyes narrowed as his gaze turned back to Charlie. “Boomer? Your cat?”
“No.” She eyed the tote bag and prayed its occupant would give up and take a nap before all hell broke loose. After all, she’d bottle-fed Boomer only minutes before they’d left the house. He couldn’t possibly be hungry again.
“Your dog?”
“No. That is, not exactly.”
“Not exactly,” Mike repeated slowly. The finely honed sixth sense that had never failed him demanded satisfaction. “Just what do you have in there?” He took another step toward the rack.
“A male baby wallaby, a type of kangaroo.” Charlie blurted since she couldn’t come up with another answer. “His name is Boomer. All male kangaroos are called Boomers.”
Mike froze in midstride. “A male baby kangaroo? In here? I mean in there?” He pointed to the tote bag.
Charlie nodded
