Sara's Surprise by Deborah Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

listened at the fireplace, her ears pricked. "We're going to take a bath. Daisy Doolittle." Sara knew that nothing would keep Noelle's canine pal from following them from the room.
    But Daisy didn't budge. Noelle called "Zee, Zee"her version of Daisy's namebut the dog ignored even that. Finally Sara had to drag Daisy from the room by the scruff of the neck and shut the door behind her.
* * *
    He did not feel like Santa Claus.
    Kyle let himself down stone by stone, his toes aching inside his running shoes from constantly fighting for a hold on the slick wall. The chimney was suffocating, full of the soot and smell left by thousands of fires. When he looked up he saw blue sky. When he looked down he saw darkness, followed by a stone ledge, an open damper, and a glimmer of light.
    Victory.
    A few minutes later Kyle eased out of the fireplace and stood gazing at a majestic room outfitted in a style that was very English and very appealingold brass lamps, stained-glass windows that would have done justice to a cathedral, and plush leather furniture with a comfortable, well-worn look.
    He glanced down at his blackened clothes and skin. Santa Claus never had to deal with soot, apparently. Moving on silent, careful feet, Kyle explored. Off the main room was a cheerful blue kitchen with modern appliances. Gingham curtains decorated a sunny bay window. The window was barred on the outside. The kitchen was connected via a short hall to a dining room that rivaled the big den for splendor and size.
    Going back past the fireplace, Kyle opened a heavy paneled door and stepped into an arching hallway with a carpeted floor. He tilted his head toward the faint sound of water running. After a second he decided that someone was emptying a tub, not filling it. Along the hallway he discovered guest rooms and an alcove at the end with a double door that suggested a master suite. Kyle tested an ornate silver doorknob there. It turned easily, and he slowly drew the door open.
    A snarl greeted him. Hackles rose in a shaggy golden ruff. White fangs shown under curled lips.
    Kyle's breath caught. This dog was no trained guard animalit was a mishmash of unimpressive, ill-fitting parts, and he doubted that it weighed more than forty poundsbut it meant business. Bitter, deeply lodged memories flared to life. He would never let a dog bite him again.
    He pulled his pistol and aimed for a point right between the animal's eyes. If it made one step toward him, he'd shoot. Hi, Tinker Bell. Didn't mean to upset you. I just did a Santa act down your chimney. Then I killed your pooch. Ho, ho, ho . Kyle lowered the pistol but didn't remove his finger from the trigger.
    At the same time, he swept his gaze around a bright, contemporary bedroom done in pretty pastelsnothing like the other rooms, with their dark, ornate furniture and stone floors. Through an open door across the master suite Kyle saw a large bathroom. The blue-tiled floor was wet; a thick white towel was jumbled on the side of a blue tub. He turned his attention back to the bedroom, studying the door that stood open in the wall to his left.
    Kyle gave it puzzled scrutiny. It wasn't an ordinary door. For one thing, it was too narrow. He would have had to turn his broad shoulders sideways to fit them through the frame. The door hinged on the left side, so that it opened toward him, and he couldn't see what lay beyond it. Not yet, anyway. He would.
    "Back, mutt," Kyle told the lanky dog. He made his voice very kind and complimentary. "You're the ugliest damned dog I've ever seen. You've got splayed feet and a pigeon chest. If your eyes were any closer together, you'd look like a cyclops. I hate dogs."
    The snarl faded a little. The tip of a bushy tail wagged.
    "You're stupid too," Kyle said sweetly. He eased a hand forward. "Make friends, potato-head." A salvo of barking poured from the dog's throat. Kyle jerked his hand back and pointed the gun again. He heard footsteps scuffing softly on a carpeted