#mess free

[sfgooglebooks]

The Sergeant's Christmas Mission by Joanna Sims

"Do I need to sign a new lease or are you giving me notice?" Shane asked. His previous landlady, Ginny Martin, had passed away and his lease had expired while her will was in probate. There was a shortage of housing in Bozeman, Montana; if he got kicked out of his apartment, he would most likely have to return to Sugar Creek Ranch, his family's cattle spread.

Rebecca, who held her body stiffly and had an anxious, worried look hovering in her eyes, glanced over her shoulder at her two boys before answering.

"I'm not here to kick you out," she told him. "I thought we'd see how it goes until the end of the month. Aunt Ginny always spoke so highly of you."

"All right." Shane nodded with a deadpan expression that didn't reflect his relief. It looked like, at least for now, Ginny was still looking out for him.

"I have to get my boys to school." She glanced at her phone to check the time. "We're running late. As usual."

"Okay. Well. Nice meetin' ya." Shane opened his door, about to walk back inside and get back to the business of finding a beer and lying back down on the couch, when Rebecca stopped him.

"Wait." She waved her hand at him. "This wasn't a social call."

Rebecca jogged over to the spot where her sons had been waiting for her, picked up the squirming kitten, and headed his way with her two boys following along behind her.

Great, Shane thought. I threw one back and four jumped into the boat.

"We found this poor little kitten under the front porch this morning." Rebecca held up the wiggly, bedraggled kitten for him to see. "Is it yours?"

Shane got within three feet of the scraggly black-and-white kitten and started to sneeze.

"No." He shook his head. He had always been highly allergic.

"Then we can keep him," the younger of the two boys said to his mom.

"I'm sorry, Caleb," Rebecca said in a soft, but firm, tone. "We can't.”

She handed the older boy the keys to the car. "Carson, you and your brother wait for me in the car. I'll be right there."

The kitten was making a high-pitched cry and Shane had a feeling the little creature was hungry, thirsty, and missing its mom.

"I'm not sure what to do with him." Rebecca tried, unsuccessfully, to soothe the kitten. "I can't just lock him up in the house. I don't have a kitty box or food. Is there a shelter in town? Do you know?"

She talked so fast that Shane couldn't figure out when he was supposed to respond. That high-pitched crying noise was making his headache worse. While he was trying to figure out a solution to the problem, the kitten finally managed to twist out of Rebecca's hands; the moment it hit the ground, the kitten bolted through the crack in his front door, into his house.

"Oh!" Rebecca exclaimed. "I'm so sorry! I'll go get him."

The last thing he wanted was for his new landlady, who held the fate of his address in her hands, to venture into his dungeon. No one went in there and that's how he liked it.

"No." Shane blocked her path. "You're late. Get your boys to school. I'll catch the kitten."

"Catch?" She had turned away, paused and turned halfway back to him, the expression on her face concerned.

"Not in a mean way. I'm allergic." He tried to reassure her. "But I love all animals."

Rebecca hesitated for a moment longer, appearing to be conflicted. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He frowned at her, not liking how distrustful she was of him. "I've got this."

She thanked him, seemingly relieved to have a solution for the kitten, and without glancing back at him, jogged toward the carport on the other side of the house.

Shane scratched his long beard with a yawn as he shut the front door of his house.

"Damn." The soldier stood in his galley kitchen, noticing, as if for the first time, how truly messy his small garage apartment had become. It was a dump. And it smelled.

On his way to the living room, Shane picked up the clothing and trash on the floor. If the kitten wanted to remain hidden in this disaster zone, he could do it. The first thing he really needed to do was get some light into the place. So Shane did something that he hadn't done in months - he opened the curtains and let the sunlight in.

Balls of dust were kicked up into the air when he yanked open the curtains. Coughing, Shane waved the air in front of his face. Dust was going up his nose and into his throat. After he got his coughing under control, Shane began the task of finding the kitten.

He'd always had horrible allergies, and now, with the dust stirred up and a kitten on the loose, he was sneezing one sneeze after another.

"Quit it!" Shane snapped, frustrated at his own nose. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom, knowing that a box of tissues hadn't entered his apartment ever, and blew his nose every couple of minutes while he tried to find the kitten.

He searched the living room, picked up the trash as he went. The kitten wasn't there. Shane made a second cursory inspection of the tiny bathroom before he headed into his cramped bedroom. He tried to flip on the single overhead light, but then realized that the bulb had burned out sometime last month. Or maybe it was the month before that.

"Recon." He spoke to his companion. "You haven't seen a renegade kitten, have you?"

Shane tried to open the curtain covering the window in the bedroom. When it didn't move, he yanked a little too hard and the entire structure, curtain and curtain rod, crashed onto the ground at his feet.

More dust sprayed into the air, making Shane cough and sputter. "Damn it!"

This day was not going according to his usual plan. He should still be sleeping off his hangover, not worrying about a stowaway kitten.

Shane used a dirty T-shirt he found on the floor to wipe his eyes and his face. Then he balled up the T-shirt and threw it back down on the floor. Recon had lifted his head and was watching him curiously. That was when Shane noticed that his canine companion was harboring the kitten.

"Recon." The ex-soldier walked over to the side of the bed he rarely used. "Didn't I just ask you about this kitten?"

The kitten was curled up tightly in a ball between Recon's legs. The only way the kitten could have gotten up onto the bed was if Recon had put the kitten in his mouth like a chew toy and lifted him.

"Look, buddy. Don't get attached. You hear me?" Shane stared at the odd pair. "That kitten's not staying."

But, when he reached his hands out to take the kitten from the safe haven, Recon growled. Recon never growled at him.

"What was that?" Shane asked, surprised. He pulled his hands back.

Recon rested his head on his paws, providing complete cover for the sleeping kitten.

The soldier stood by the bed, stumped by his dog's behavior. Recon was acting as if he was protecting a favored toy. Recon had always been friendly to cats and kids; he looked big and scary, but he was a sweet dog. But he'd never adopted a kitten before.

"Listen to me, Recon. I'm going to clean up and then I'm coming back for that kitten. So be prepared." Shane pointed his finger at Recon with a sneeze. "You can't keep him."

"I really appreciate you trying to fix this for me," Rebecca said. "My sons make a ton of laundry."

"Boys tend to do that." Shane pulled the dryer from the wall.

"Yes, they do."

Before he opened the back of the dryer, Shane pulled the discharge line - the large silver tube hooking the dryer to the vent - out of the wall. "Well, here's some of the problem."

"Oh, my gosh." Rebecca peeked over his shoulder. "Is that all lint in there?"

"It's packed." Shane began to pull the tightly packed lint out of the line.

"You know, I had a brand-new front-loading washer and dryer, but I sold them because there was a washer and dryer listed in the will. I had no idea that they were the same washer and dryer that Aunt Ginny had when I was a kid."

"Your aunt liked to hang on to things, that's for sure." The memory of Ginny brought a brief smile to his face.

Shane sneezed several times, and once the discharge line was unclogged, he pulled some tissues out of his pants pocket and blew his nose. He was still sneezing from Top and his eyes were driving him nuts because they were so itchy.

"Is that from the lint or the kitten?"

He sneezed again. "I've never been allergic to lint."

"Shane."

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen your eyes?"

"No." He blew his nose again. "But they itch like crazy."

"They are swollen. And red."

"That explains it, then." Shane pushed the dryer sideways so he could remove the back.

"I'm going to get you some over-the-counter allergy medicine. I always have some on hand because of Carson."

"No need to bother." He knelt down by the dryer. Rebecca heard him, but ignored him. She disappeared into the house while he unscrewed the back of the dryer.

Once the back was off, Shane was sure he'd found a second cause of the problem. He had cleaned a large ball of lint out of the discharge line connection that was located inside of the dryer when Rebecca returned.

"That's disgusting," she exclaimed. "How has this dryer not caught on fire?"

"Luck."

"Here - take these. Generic Benadryl."

Shane decided to just go along with Rebecca; she had that motherly look on her face and he knew better than to fight those instincts.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Hi."

Shane was in the middle of a sneezing fit when Rebecca showed up at his door. Top had been home for a couple of weeks and one of her favorite places to sleep was curled up in the space between his shoulder and neck. He tried many different sleeping configurations - Recon and the kitten in the living room and him in the bed, or Recon with him in the bed - but nothing worked. Someone was unhappy unless they were all together. So Shane had given up and given in, and the kitten got to sleep where she wished. And he just dealt with the sneezing and swollen, itchy eyes. It wasn't the worst thing he'd ever dealt with in his life.

"Hi." He sneezed again.

"Bless you."

"Thank you."

“Kitten?"

He nodded as he blew his nose.

Rebecca showed him a pile of papers in her hand. "I have the new lease for you to review and sign."

He nodded. "Come on in. I'll look it over and sign it now."

Rebecca handed him the papers and immediately dropped to the ground on her knees to show Recon and the kitten some attention. Shane sat down on a bar stool at the small kitchen bar and began to read over the lease. It was standard - no real surprises. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Top turn upside down in front of Rebecca, her black-and-pink paw pads up in the air, batting a feather toy the landlady was holding.

"Top! You've already gotten so big!"

Shane hadn't expected it to happen so quickly, but he had fallen in love with that little rascal of a kitten. Yes, he had to load up on boxes of tissues and allergy medicine, but he didn't mind. Top was the funniest, sweetest little soul he'd ever encountered. And Recon and the kitten were best friends.

[sfgooglebooks]

Mr. Darcy's Decision: A Sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice by Juliette Shapiro, page 56

Elizabeth and Jane could not have dreamed of more. Neither, even in stretching their imaginative capabilities, could have foreseen the romanticism that defined what was now theirs. Like the girls they had once been, but were fast growing away from, they sat for a while and shared secrets of kisses, of little particulars of their husbands' mannerisms and publicly unknown ways. Jane, with the assurance of confidence only a close sister could promise, was explicit in her depictions, diverting Elizabeth with the amusing but little known fact that Charles Bingley always reacted to his wife's first application of scent, with a sniff, then a sneeze and a curse.

"Oh, his poor face, Lizzy. It is never my intention to laugh at him, but I find him, with his nose red and eyes streaming, a most humorous sight and for some reason I am always reminded of our first meeting. When first acquainted with Charles, I would never have imagined this human aspect."

"I understand you completely, Jane, our dreams of marriage are never colored by the things that make the reality of matrimony so much an adventure."

"You do not think it odd then that my endearment is increased by so mundane a thing as Charles's sneezing."

"No, not at all," said Elizabeth, "for all Fitzwilliam's looks and attributes, I think I savor most the way he frowns before laughing, and he always does it, Jane."

[sfgooglebooks]

Deep Black by Stephen Coonts and Jim DeFelice

"The CIA draft estimate doesn't say who is organizing the coup," said Rubens. He had obtained a copy of the draft from one of his usual sources even as Collins was leaving the Puzzle Palace; she had undoubtedly said it wasn't prepared as a personal challenge to him.

Johnny Bib wrinkled his nose, fighting back a sneeze. He seemed to loathe the CIA people so badly he had an actual allergy to them.

"Are they holding back?" Rubens asked.

"They're not smart enough to hold anything back."

"Smart and devious do not go hand in glove, John. Who's the leader of the coup? Vladimir Perovskaya, the defense minister?"

Johnny Bib stifled another sneeze by burying his nose in the crock of his arm. Rubens wondered if the agency ought to add etiquette and manners classes to its basic training regime.

[sfgooglebooks]

The Divine Creek Ranch Collection, Volume 4 by Heather Ranier, pages 289-293

Clay's gaze landed on the "No Dating" policy on the bulletin board. The no dating rule had provided a buffer for him with Tabitha, but as he looked at it, he realized it was no longer necessary. He owned the shop. He made the rule. He could unmake it.

He got up from his stool and walked to the bulletin board and stood looking at the sign. He heard the doorbell jingle out in the showroom as he pulled the pushpins from the corkboard. He took down the blue printed sign and tore it in half and then in half again.

"Well, it's about time!"

Clay turned at Tabitha's words, just in time to catch her as she threw her buxom body into his arms. "What-"

"It's about time you came to your senses, Clay Cook!" She clung to him like a sticker burr as she laid her freshly glossed lips on his in a hard, deep, smacking kiss. Clay froze, his eyes went wide, and his sinuses reacted violently.

"Tabitha!"

She clung to him with her arms around his neck. "Oh, Clay! I knew if I just gave you time, you'd see a reason. I saw how she threw herself into Del's arms. She should've been ashamed. I'm here for you. I've always been here for you!" She pecked his face over and over until it felt like he'd been painted with sticky finger paints.

"Tabitha-" The burning in his nose was ferocious, and he knew the sneezing and waterworks were only seconds away.

"It's all right! I forgive you!"

"Tabitha, stop! Please!" His handkerchief came out just in time. "Achoooo!"

"Oh, you poor baby!" Tabitha patted his shoulder and ruffled her sweater, sending more cat hair flying into the air. "Let me help you!" She pulled her Kleenex from the sleeve of her cat hair-infested sweater and patted the tears on his face and tsked. "Oh, it's okay, Clay! I forgive you! Don't cry!"

I'm dying! Kill me now!

Tabitha continued patting his face with her Kleenex, succeeding in plastering more cat hair to the lip gloss she'd "smooched" all over his face. Her lack of personal boundaries was disturbing. Was she going to spit on her Kleenex next to wipe the lip gloss she'd gotten all over his face? A chill went up his spine at the thought.

He remembered the inhaler and nasal spray Emma had given him and went to his workbench, sneezing his head off. The wheezing had begun, and he was relieved he had the inhaler to rely on.

Tabitha continued fluttering around him as he pawed through the drawers in the workbench. "Tabitha, stop. I'm having an allergy attack."

"Oh." Tabitha flapped her hands and sounded concerned as she continued patting him and trying to touch his face. "You should go to the doctor again. That Emma Guthrie doesn't know what she's doing. She didn't cure you at all last time. You should go to my doctor. He could tell you what you're allergic to so you could avoid it."

Clearing his throat, Clay replied, "I know what I'm allergic to, Tabitha." He tried to rein in his responses because he didn't want to bite her head off. That wouldn't help anything.

"Well, what is it you're allergic to?"

He took a deep breath. "In a word, Tabitha? You. You have several cats. You always have cat hair on your clothing. I'm really allergic to cat hair and cat dander."

Tabitha looked as though he'd Tased her. "Me? You're allergic to me? Oh, no! What do we do!"

Clay shook his head. "It's fine as long as we keep each other at arm's length. I can deal with it."

Tabitha seemed to mull that over and with a trembling lip said, "What if I got rid of the cats? Would that make it better?" She reached for his shirtfront, but he held his hands out to stop her.

"It would. But I don't expect that from you. Just... keep your distance." The cat hair tickled around his nose where it had stuck, and he sneezed again.

"But I can't do that, knowing how you feel now. I'd give up Mister Willy and Missus Pookie for you, Clay."

Clay held up a hand, realizing she didn't understand and wasn't going to take the hint. He could hear the wheezing in his upper airway as he spoke. "Tabitha, listen to me."

"Okay." She ruffled and overlapped the front of her cardigan again, bringing on another flurry of sneezes.

"Hold on a second," he said, then used the inhaler. After one more dose from it, he continued, "Tabitha, I never meant for you to think I was considering dating you. You're my employee. Period. I'm taking down the rule but I'm not opening that door between us."

"But-" She wouldn't get away, and he couldn't help himself. He sneezed explosively in her face as she blotted her hairy Kleenex against his cheek again. Get off of me, woman!

"Sorry about that. No, Tabitha. You're a good worker. You've been loyal, and I appreciate it."

"But I-"

"No."

Tabitha's cheeks burned bright red as it evidently dawned on her why he'd taken down the sign. He had no intention of justifying his actions. It wasn't for his employee to dictate what he did or whom he dated. He wanted the sign gone so Lily would know the only barrier between them was on her end now. Maybe that would help.

"I assumed..."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just heard the bell. Would you mind seeing to that customer?"

Obviously embarrassed, Tabitha said, "Of course. I'm sorry for my mistake. I hope I..."

Clay smiled at her. "Just help the customer, Tabitha. It's okay. It was a misunderstanding."

Clay went in the bathroom, took off his t-shirt, shook it out hard, and then doused his face repeatedly with cold water as his sinuses unleashed their histamine-induced fury. He stayed that way for a couple of minutes until the cold water seemed to help. He coughed and felt the inhaled medication taking affect, easing his breathing. He used hand soap and washed her greasy lip gloss from his face.

After drying off with paper towels, he used the nasal spray and went into the workroom to put on the clean shirt he kept there in case of spills or accidents.

"Oh, hello, handsome." Clay grinned and turned at the sound of Lily's voice. She stood with Del just inside the back door.

"Oh, hey," he said, noting her appreciative gaze traveling over his bare chest.

"Everything okay?" Del asked as Clay blew his nose again, feeling embarrassed for his continuing nasal histrionics.

"Yeah. I had an allergic reaction."

"What are you allergic to?" Lily asked.

"Cat hair and cat owners, evidently. It's a long story," he said quietly. He pulled the clean white t-shirt on and hugged Lily when she came to him, and kissed the top of her head. "Did you have a nice afternoon?"

Del nodded. "Lily helped me with my errands."

"I'm going to cook and freeze some meals for him, too. He invited me out to the ranch one day this week."

Clay liked that idea and the fact that it would give her a break from the hard work and long hours she was keeping lately. He observed the casual way Del's hand rested on her shoulder and felt a slight twinge of possessiveness, but he tried not to react to it. Lily had always been equally close to both brothers, and he didn't want her to feel pitted in the middle.

"I'm going to go check on Tabitha and see if she needs a break."

Clay smiled at her thoughtfulness. "She probably a little peeved at me right now. I'm sure she'd appreciate a break, darlin'." The endearment slipped so easily from his lips, and Lily paused for a second, flushed a bit, but didn't say anything else as she slipped through the doors. So much for not showing his possessive thoughts.

"Everything really all right?" Del asked. "You look like shit."

"Yeah. This allergy kicks my butt. I..."

"What?"

"I was pulling down the 'No Dating' policy sign I put up to keep Tabitha off my back, and who should walk in while I'm doing it?"

"Let me guess. Tabitha?"

"Yeah, and she got a little enthusiastic."

Del snorted. "She jumped you?"

"Basically, yeah." Another loud sneeze echoed through the workroom.

[sfgooglebooks]

One Hot Summer by Suzanne Scott

When Jilly looked up, she had tears in her big brown eyes.

"I can't believe Lavinia was this generous. It's like we were family," she said. "And I can't believe you're taking it out on me in such a mean, lousy, childish fashion."

"For God's sake. Don't cry," Kit said, shocked. So much for the upper hand. "Have a tissue." He handed her one from the box he sighted on the desk, then sneezed himself.

"Thanks. Gesundheit. Have a tissue," she sniffled.

"Thanks," he said. "What are you talking about? What am I taking out on you?"

"The fact that Lavinia gave me some of your stupid inheritance," she said. "The fact that because of me you're a poorer man. Why else would you be so obnoxious?"

Kit looked at her, befuddled. Just when he thought he'd established some kind of rhythm with her, she'd managed to completely unnerve him again. Suddenly all the hellcat fire was gone. She looked like a drowned kitten. She thought it was his fault. She was completely wrong, so why were her idiotic tears enough to break his heart? "Jillian. Ahem. Jilly," he said in the most tender comforting tone he could muster with so little practice.

Jilly went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Well, it isn't my fault. I didn't ask for it and I don't want it."

"Jilly," Kit began again, and sneezed.

"No. Don't Jilly me. I'm going to the lawyers tomorrow and giving it back. Stop sneezing," Jilly said tearfully.

"I'm not sneezing for fun," Kit said indignantly, forgetting to be comforting. He sneezed again, loudly.

"My grandmother wanted you to own half of the inn," he continued, "and you're damned well going to own half of it. Even if I have to stand over you with a whip."

"Don't tell me what to do, and don't threaten me, you big bully." Jilly wiped her cheeks, feeling entirely out of control. "Your grandmother liked me. She must have intended to help me. It's not her fault you duped her. She certainly didn't leave me a legacy just so that she could saddle me for life with a controlling, chauvinistic, under-evolved cretin."

Kit sneezed.

"Grow up, dimwit," he said. Obviously, his attempts at comfort weren't working. Shock tactics were needed here. "I was not nasty to you because you're taking away money. I have money to spare, which you would know if you knew anything about me, or Lavinia, or the stock market, or men's clothes, which - based on your crack about the IRS - you obviously don't."

Satisfied, he watched her tragic expression return to the mulish fury he'd grown accustomed to. Good. Now if only he could stop sneezing.

"I was nasty to you," he continued, sniffling and sneezing again, "because you're an uppity know-it-all who insulted my tailor."

"Well, that's certainly clear," Jilly said, handing him another tissue. She dabbed at her own damp eyes. "Let me be equally clear, and say that your sneezing is really making me very nervous."

"It would help if you'd stop making comments about it. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to be personal?" Suddenly Kit was suspicious. "You don't have a cat in this place somewhere, do you?"

Kit Malone's once beautiful gray eyes were almost as red as hers were, Jilly noticed. His bold, disgustingly perfect nose was red, too. The observation made her feel much better. Suppressing a shaky smile, she gestured toward the slipper chair Kit had perched his oversize frame on.

"Yes, I do. Every shop needs a cat. In fact, you're sitting on her, more or less." Jilly bent down and snaked an arm underneath the chair's skirting, fishing out what looked like a huge brown mop.

"My God," Kit said in disbelief, sneezing again. "That's the hairiest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Pankhurst is a Maine coon," Jilly said sweetly, giving the creature a kiss on what Kit presumed was its head. Even in the depths of his misery he noticed that Jilly's hair and the cat's fur were almost the same color, both composed of what seemed like a thousand different shades of warm, tawny, tortoiseshell brown. "Maine coons are noted for the length and fullness of their fur," she continued perversely, holding up a feathery paw in demonstration. She was beginning to enjoy this. Kit Malone was really quite attractive, as long as a girl held on to the upper hand.

"I don't care if the bloody thing's a rare Siberian ice leopard," Kit said, sniffing. "If you really want me to stop sneezing, could you please get its tufts out of my face?"

"If you wish." Majestically Jilly carried Pankhurst to the lace-curtained French doors at the rear of the shop and dropped the cat into the tiny garden outside. "I'm surprised you have this prissy little allergy, a big macho guy like you," she said as she returned.

"Aside from cats, I'm not allergic to anything but gunfire. That masculine enough for you?"

[sfgooglebooks]

The Marinski Affair by John Holt

"Mr. Kendall," the visitor continued. "I'm Russell. Frank Russell." Kendall looked blank, still dazed by the blow to the head. He looked at his visitor. "Frank Russell," the man repeated. "You're expecting me." He paused. "I should say you were expecting me about two hours ago. Harbor and Main, six-fifteen, remember?"

Certainly Kendall remembered. This was the guy who had kept him waiting for two hours, in the cold, in the rain. This was the guy who had caused him to catch double pneumonia. This was the guy who had caused him to smash his knee against the desk, so that he would never walk again. This was the guy who had caused him to bang his head just now, and sustain multiple fractures to the skull. Not to mention the loss of memory. This was the guy who had just put an end to his dreams of sporting greatness.

So what was he expecting, a warm welcome perhaps? Perhaps I should roll out the red carpet maybe, or how about a brass band? Perhaps an award of some kind, a medal for services rendered, from a grateful nation? The keys to the city would be good. What about a ticker tape parade in Times Square? Certainly, no problem.

Give me a break.

"I'm busy, Russell," Kendall said, continuing to shuffle through his papers. "As I'm sure you can see." Russell never moved. Kendall tried to stifle a sneeze, and failed. Then he sneezed a second time. That's it, tomorrow it will be full-blown pneumonia, and all because of this guy. "Come back another time," he continued. "Like maybe in a year or two. Make an appointment with my secretary." Kendall sneezed a third time. "We're in the book. Just look under P, P for pushover."

The man did not move. Kendall glared at him. "So, if you don't mind, I'm a very busy man. I've things to do you know, places to go, people to see, deals to make."

Still the man never moved. "Busy, busy, busy, can't stop. So much to do, and so little time." The man never budged. "You know where the door is, don't you, Russell?" Kendall muttered. "It's that big rectangular thing you just came through. Close it on your way out."

The man shrugged, but still never budged. "You are looking for Carl Simmonds I believe?" he said. "Is that right, or not?"

Kendall looked up. He nodded, reluctantly. It was right, but he was still smarting from being kept waiting. He was still trying to dry off. Then he had this awful headache, and his knee was still paining, and there was all of this mess to clear up. All in all he was not at his best, his most conducive, his most hospitable. This was not a good day, not a good day at all. It was becoming increasingly clear that this Frank Russell, or whatever his name was, was not going to go away. Kendall looked at the papers on his desk. "Later," he murmured. "Later."

He then looked up at Russell. "All right, Russell. Have it your way. So what happened? Where did you get to?" he asked. "I mean, we did have an appointment, didn't we? I didn't just imagine it, did I? A dream perhaps?" He gave a sigh, and sneezed once again. "You did telephone, didn't you? I mean it was your idea, wasn't it?"

Russell nodded. "Yes we did have an appointment. I'm sorry about that," he replied. "I just couldn't get to you, that's all."

"Why not?" Kendall retorted, still unhappy about being kept waiting. "Don't tell me you were put off by a little drop of rain."

Russell shook his head. "It wasn't the weather. I was being watched."

"He got home last night at about twelve. He said that he heard raised voices. Two people were arguing."

"Did he say what the argument was about?" asked Kendall.

"He's not sure," Devaney replied. "He couldn't make out what was being said, it was too muffled. He just knows that there was quite an argument going on."

Kendall nodded. Then he held his hand up and sneezed. "Sorry about that."

Devaney looked at him. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

Kendall sneezed once again, and wiped his nose. "I'm okay," he replied. "It's just this wretched hay fever." He reached into his pocket and took out a nasal spray. "There, that's better," he said. "Now back to business."

"All right, so you were in Baltimore the day of the party, but I still have a slight problem. Perhaps you can help."

"Out with it, Kendall," Simmonds replied. "Let's get this over and done with, shall we?"

"Thank you, Mr. Simmonds, that's really very good of you." Kendall stopped and raised his hand. Suddenly, he sneezed, and then sneezed again. He shook his head, and took out his handkerchief. "Sorry," he said. "I got caught in that heavy rain the other day." He paused and wiped his nose. "On Tuesday, remember. It really came down."

Simmonds took a deep breath. "Kendall, what is this all about?" he asked. "That old case was solved long ago. And besides, why are you raking this all up anyway? Why all of these questions?"

Kendall ignored the questions. "You do know that you were seen that night, don't you?" he responded. Simmonds looked puzzled. "The night of the robbery, I mean. You were seen just after three o'clock, you were running from the house towards the wood." Simmonds still said nothing. Kendall suddenly sneezed. "This wretched hay fever," he said as he wiped his nose. "You're fortunate not to have it." Simmonds said nothing.

"You weren't in New York, were you?" said Kendall.

"Of course I was in New York," Simmonds replied. "I just told you, I went there to arrange for some finance. When I arrived I was kidnapped, don't you remember?"

Kendall shook his head. "No, no you weren't," he said. "I've had my suspicions about that kidnapping for a long time. It was the notepaper that started me thinking. Then when you mentioned about the rain the other day, I was convinced."

"The rain," Simmonds repeated, puzzled. "What rain?"

Kendall smiled. Then he suddenly sneezed. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. "You remember I told you that I had got absolutely soaked the other day. I caught this miserable cold as a result."

"Kendall, where is this leading?" Simmonds asked impatiently.

"I saw the house too, it's really very, very nice," Kendall continued. "What would a place like that cost to rent, I wonder?" Simmonds said nothing. "I would guess, what, five hundred dollars a week, maybe more. Then there's the boat. That would be at least two hundred and fifty dollars alone." He held up his hand and shook his head again. "You know, I reckon the whole thing would be."

Suddenly, he sneezed again. "What did I say," he said. "I knew I'd catch a cold after that rain." He took out a paper handkerchief and blew his nose. "Don't you just hate these things," he said, indicating the handkerchief. "Mollie makes me use them," he continued. "They are more hygienic, she says. I don't know, she might be right." He paused again and wiped his nose. He then turned towards Simmonds. "What do you think, Mr. Simmonds?" he asked. "About paper handkerchiefs, I mean?"

Simmonds was not in the least interested in paper handkerchiefs. "Can we just get on, Kendall," he said angrily.

Kendall looked hurt. He screwed the handkerchief up and dropped it into the wastebasket. "Yes, sure," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just this cold," he murmured. "I better take something for it..."

"Kendall!!" Simmonds yelled.

Kendall held his hand up. "Sorry," he said. "Now where were we?"

[sfgooglebooks]

A Sapphire Season by Lynn Morris

At last the arrack was mixed, and Lord Southam poured their glasses and served them, then took his seat by Mirabella. "A toast," he said, lifting his glass. "To the four loveliest ladies at Vauxhall tonight." The men said heartily, "To the ladies."

Mirabella took a very small sip of the punch, but as soon as she had inhaled the strong fragrance, she sneezed not once but twice. "Please pardon me, oh dear," she said, woebegone.

Giles grinned mischievously. "Sorry, Southam, but she's ferreted out your secret ingredient. Cardamom."

Mirabella sighed. "It's true, I'm afraid. Cardamom always makes me sneeze." She darted Giles a wicked glance and said, "But I shouldn't have told your secret, sir, I have more discretion."

"Everyone knows you sneeze at cardamom, the secret was out," Giles replied.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. and Miss Smythe, I didn't know," Mirabella argued.

Lord Camarden said, "Mirabella, Giles, if you think we all came here to listen to you two squabble, you are much mistaken, we hear enough of that at home. Southam, I compliment you on your arrack, it's fortifying and the taste is pleasing on the tongue."

Lord Southam nodded, then said to Mirabella, "Please forgive me for inflicting respiratory distress upon you, my lady. And now I must find another secret recipe that won't make you sneeze."

"That's very kind of you, sir, kinder than our Monsieur Danton," Mirabella said, sniffing a little. "It enrages him that I have this odd reaction to cardamom, which is one of his favorite spices. He has accused me of imagining it, and keeps making dishes with it, thinking I won't notice."

"And do you?" Lord Southam asked.

Lady Camarden said, "Once we had lamb with a sweet sauce, and Mirabella sneezed so much that I was obliged to dismiss her from the table. It was really quite embarrassing, with Lord and Lady Liverpool there."

"I did try to hold the sneezes, back, Mamma, but all I succeeded in doing was a sort of deep hiccuping into my napkin," Mirabella said plaintively. "It fairly made my ears ring."

"Your ears and your nose were very red," Giles commented.

[sfgooglebooks]

Breathless by Celeste Bradley and Susan Donovan

Hours later, Fitch and Brenna were thrust laughing into the Casa Mata honeymoon suite by their enthusiastic festival minders. The door was shut on them amid shouts of encouragement and giggles. Fitch was about to tell Brenna he was thrilled to be alone with her, when he began to sneeze.

Flowers - everywhere. While he and Brenna had been making their debut appearance as a faux married couple, the room had been stuffed with blooms. All colors and all varieties were piled high on every surface. He sneezed again. And again.

"Are you all right?" Brenna stared at him.

He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't catch his breath! He could only shake his head and wipe at his streaming eyes as he sneezed another time, and then another.

When he felt Brenna shoving him, he went blindly, trusting her.

Fresh air rushed past his face. He leaned his hands on the wrought iron railing of the balcony and breathed the clear evening air into his lungs. He felt Brenna gently patting him on the back as the burning in nostrils began to subside.

"Are you allergic?" she asked.

"I wasn't when we were outside." He caught his breath, straightened, and brushed his eyes with his sleeve.