Kay Hooper - Peppers Way

Contents

The classified ad was provocative yet innocent, and the man who read it on a whim felt compelled to meet its creator. But Thor Spicer was unprepared for Pepper, the beguiling dynamo who checked him out, liked what she saw -- and warned him that she had designs on his heart. Intrigued by her challenge, Thor decided to take her dare -- even though it meant constantly tripping over her gentle Doberman and outwitting the Chihuahua who guarded her door. It wouldn't be easy to strip away the layers of mystery surrounding their very private selves -- but Pepper declared that it was the only way....

WANTED: MAN. Must be over six feet tall and weigh at least two hundred pounds. Must own large house on considerable acreage. Must like animals. Must have job with flexible hours. Preferably single. Call Pepper.

He wouldn't have given the ad a second glance if he'd found it in the personals column of some trashy magazine. It certainly sounded typical of that kind of publication. And yet... Thor looked at the ad for the fifth time in as many minutes. Well, he fit all the requirements. And he was dying to find out what kind of woman would place such an ad in a large daily newspaper.

He'd seen the ad every day this week, and had grown more and more curious. And since he knew very well that the newspaper in which the ad was running didn't pander to lonely hearts or practical jokers, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what it was all about. A publicity stunt or something. Had to be. But if it wasn't... well, then, what was it?

He possessed two overwhelming sins, neither of which was appropriate in his profession: curiosity and a love of the absurd. Sighing, he reached for the phone and dialed the number printed after the name Pepper.

"Hello?"

It was a sweet, childish voice, presently filled with suspicion. She sounded as though she might possibly be five years old... on her next birthday.

"Pepper?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes?" Definitely wary now.

"I'm calling about your ad," Thor began.

"Oh, Lordanother one! Listen, I'm pulling that ad tomorrow, so forget it! I've been listening to obscene suggestions all week, and I'm fed up! So, whoever you are, get your kicks somewhere else!"

The voice, he reflected, was still sweet and childish, but this was definitely no little girl he was talking to. Curiosity grew. Mildly, he told her, "I didn't call to make obscene suggestions."

"You didn't? Then what do you want?" she demanded.

"I thought it was a matter of what you wanted," he murmured. "A man over six feet tall, two hundred poundsand so on."

"Do you fit?" she asked, still suspicious.

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Does that matter?"

She sighed, irritated. "I've had calls from four high school quarterbacks this week, and I didn't like any of their questions."

"High school is definitely behind me," he responded, then asked in spite of himself , "What did they ask you?"

Clearly aggrieved, she said, "Well, one of them asked if I like leather. The other questions weren't repeatable."

Trying not to laugh, Thor said, "Your ad is a bit... suggestive."

"It is? But I spent so much time on the wording just to get the proper effect!" she wailed softly.

"The effect you got was far from proper. What, by the way, is the ad all about? You'll notice," he added virtuously, "that I'm not leaping to conclusions."

"I'll bet you leaped to plenty before you picked up the phone," she muttered, and then sighed again. "You see, it's my dog."

"Your dog?" Thor echoed.

"Uh-huh. My landlord found out. That is, he'd known that I had a dog, but he got all upset with me last week. Said something about not realizing that I fed it hay. Anyway, I can't keep my dog in this apartment anymore."

"I see." The matter was, indeed, becoming plainer to Thor. " Which is why you advertised for a large man with a house in the country. "

"Right." She sounded relieved. "I mean, a small man would feel intimidated by a Dobe, don't you think?"

Thor, whose mind couldn't instantly identify Dobe to conjure a picture, agreed wholeheartedly. "Certainly. I suppose you'll want to know how large my house is? "

"You mean, you're interested?"

"Of course." Thor looked around at his large, spotless living room and heard his housekeeper banging pots in the kitchen. Ah, well. He could keep the dog outside; he needed a watchdog anyway. Pepper's voice intrigued him; he would have offered to look at a Bengal tiger if she'd asked. "Are you selling the dog, or"

"Oh, no!" She was shocked. "I wouldn't do that!"

So she was just finding the dog a good home. Odd how some people felt better about giving away their pets rather than selling them. "I see. Well, Pepper" He hesitated. "I'm sorry, but you didn't tell me your last"

"Oh, everybody calls me Pepper," she assured him cheerfully. "Who are you, by the way?"

Thor found himself smiling. "Thorton Spicer. My friends call me Thor."

"I'll bet you have red hair."

Surprised, he confirmed her guess. "Yes, I do, but how did you know?"

"Vikings," she said cryptically, then went on as if no explanation were necessary. "Do you have a large house?"

"Four bedrooms, two baths, living room, den, study"

"That sounds perfect! Land?"

"Fifteen acres." He was growing more and more amused. But he warned himself not to develop a mental picture of Pepper; whenever he did that, he was always disappointed. Of course, his mind was already busy drawing. Pepper, it decided arbitrarily, was about five feet tall with blond hair and big blue eyes. He told his mind not to be so damn sure. She was probably six feet tall with black hair and played hockey.

"Perfect!" The little breathless voice sounded delighted. "Oh, but, you'd better"

"See the dog," he finished dryly. "Yes, perhaps I'd better. I'm heading into town this afternoon; if you'll tell me where you live, I'll stop by."

She gave him clear, precise directions to her apartment building, which rather surprised him; she had sounded a bit feather-headed. Then she finished with, "You can't miss it"which made him immediately distrust the directions. But he promised to drop by around three o'clock.

Before she could respond, there was a loud crash from her end, and she said hurriedly, "Oh, heavens! Brutus! What're you? Look what you've done! Um, I'll see you at three."

Thor found himself listening to a dial tone, and assumed in amusement that the last sentence had been intended for him. He hung up the phone, chuckling quietly. Well, it would certainly be interesting meeting Pepper. And he did need a watchdog. Brutus? He scaled his mental image of a Dobe up a few inches. Obviously a large dog. And why did the name keep ringing warning bells in his mind?

"Your lunch is getting cold," Mrs. Small told him dourly from the doorway of the room.

Mrs. Small wasn't. By any stretch of the imagination. She was only a little over five feet tall, but made up for the lack in other areas. All other areas. And she was the exception to the rule that all plump people were jolly souls. In five years Thor had never seen her so much as smile. He'd even given in to the lesser side of himself and tried a few practical jokes, only to be told coldly that he was too old for such nonsense.

Thor looked at her now and decided not to tell her about the possible addition to his household. "I told you not to bother," he said instead.

"No bother, as long as you eat it."

He wondered vaguely if Mrs. Small would ever call him by his name. Either of his names. She never had. He was almost terrified of the woman. "I'm coming," he said hastily, noting that her habitual frown was assuming thunderous proportions.

She deepened her glare, nodded briefly, and turned away.