“It’s rewarding when you see the dog learning, isn’t it?” She’d never forget the first dog she’d trained. It had changed her life in so many ways. “But they get mentally exhausted when they’re training. It takes a lot of brainpower for them to process what you’re trying to teach them. They need a break as much as we do.”
Elliott went to Ben and put a hand on his shoulder. “How about I take you home, little man?”
“Can Bogart and Buddy come see where I live?” Ben bounced on his toes.
Elliott shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t think—”
“Sure,” Rebel said. Elliott had warmed up to the dogs quite a bit. The more comfortable he got with them before the vets arrived, the better. She leashed Rem and handed the second leash to Ben. “Ben, you walk Bogart, and your uncle can walk Re—” She bit down on her tongue so hard she could swear she tasted blood.
When she glanced at Elliott, her heart skipped a beat.
With narrowed eyes, he studied her with a curiosity intense enough to take down a big game cat in Africa.
“Elliott, you can walk Buddy.” She stood. “I’ll run up to my room and get the vet profiles and my notes on the service dogs. Meet me in your office in fifteen?”
She didn’t wait for him to agree. Instead, she hurried away with his suspicious stare burning at her back, heating her more than her down jacket. But not nearly as much as his touch had.
She freshened up in her room, dug her iPad out of a drawer so she could access the vet profiles Lily had emailed, and grabbed her notepad. She all but skipped down the stairs with a bounce in her step.
The dreaded face-to-face meetings with each of the Remingtons were finally over. Each of them had shown distrust in some way, some more than others. But she hadn’t received the frosty reception she’d expected.
She hit the switchback in the stairs, turned, and skipped the rest of the way down. And came to an abrupt halt.
Mrs. Ferguson, the woman who’d done most of the cooking at the resort back in the day and had kept motherly eagle eyes on the rambunctious Remington boys, stood at the bottom with a book held against her chest, the other hand resting on a very broad hip.
Where were sunglasses when Rebel needed them? The glare from Mrs. Ferguson’s neon-pink spandex workout pants was blinding.
“Rebel Tate.” Her voice was cooing and maternal, but it wasn’t a greeting. An accusation would be a more accurate description. The woman always did run a tight ship. Somehow everyone knew not to mess with her, even with her Aunt-Bee-from-Mayberry vibe.
It was remarkable.
“Mrs. Ferguson,” Rebel said. “I’m so glad to see you’re still at the Remington.”
“Thank you, dear. Lawrence told me you were in town. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.” She batted her eyelashes behind soda-bottle glasses. “I assume you won’t be here long and probably won’t return anytime soon. It’s a wonderful place to visit, isn’t it? But we can’t stay on vacation forever, can we? Real life starts calling.”
Good to know Mrs. Ferguson was just as savvy as she’d always been. Managing to invite Rebel to leave the island and not come back while sounding sympathetic was a true gift. She really was kind and sweet. Unless someone crossed one of her Remingtons. Then the woman put a bounty on their head.
Rebel had to respect that kind of loyalty. It would be interesting to know what price Mrs. Ferguson had put on Rebel’s wanted poster after she’d disappeared from Elliott’s life.
“Eventually, everyone who doesn’t belong here has to go,” Mrs. Ferguson cooed.
So Rebel’s poster had probably said WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE.
Mrs. Ferguson fanned herself with the book. “Sorry, dear. I’m having a hot flash.”
There wasn’t a bead of sweat visible.
Oh, she was good, all right.
But Rebel was better.
“I don’t know how much Lawrence has told you.” She let that sink in, because Mrs. Ferguson had always had a soft spot for Lawrence Remington.
Mrs. Ferguson’s smile was replaced with uncertainty at the mention of Lawrence’s name.
“The event is for war veterans.” Rebel waved a hand around the resort’s lobby. “Perfect place to host it, don’t you think? Since Lawrence is a war veteran.”
“You’re so right, dear. Lawrence is like a son to me.” Her free hand fluttered to her buxom chest. “I hope you do a good job for those young men and women.”
Rebel nodded. “I’m going to do my very best. No matter how long it takes. No matter how long I have to stay here. Even if I have to ask the sponsor to extend the camp.”
For a second, she forgot to breathe. She’d been on the island less than a week, and she’d already gotten comfortable. Comfortable enough to consider staying longer. Comfortable enough to wonder what life would be like if she stayed indefinitely. Which she couldn’t. There was no training facility on the island waiting for her to occupy it. And even if there were, she couldn’t live in a place where she’d bump into Dan Morgan on a regular basis. The guilt and shame would eat her from the inside out until there was nothing left of her to give back to the people she wanted to help.
“We’re absolutely not asking the sponsor to extend the camp.” Elliott’s stony voice came from behind her.
She startled, her notes and iPad crashing to the floor. Thank goodness the iPad was in a protective cover.
Elliott helped her gather them up.
“Where’s my dog and Bogart?” she asked as she scrambled for her notepad.
“I left them in the garage with Jax. I stopped in to check on things, and he said they needed to eat.” He picked up her iPad and dusted it off.
Oh. She’d been so preoccupied she’d forgotten to feed the dogs.
Nice.
Hot ex-boyfriends did that to a girl. Dogs before dudes would make a great hashtag for female dog lovers.
Elliott handed her the notepad, and a muscle in his jaw tightened and released. “We’re sticking to the original schedule.”
Did he really loathe being around her that much? Because she’d thought he was softening toward her. To the point that she’d been wondering how to reinforce the invisible barrier he’d thrown up between them the day she’d arrived.
He turned to Mrs. Ferguson, took in her spandex attire, and backed up a step. His gaze flitted around, never dropping below her neck. “Hi, Mrs. F. What brings you here so late?”
She tapped the hard back of her book, which was still cradled at her chest. “My Fifty-Plus Book Club for ladies only met tonight.” She smiled at Rebel. “I lead activities for our senior guests now that Charley has taken over the kitchen.” She turned the book around to show them the cover and gave them a shy smile. A pair of legs in fishnet hose and orthopedic shoes was on the cover. It was titled Ageless Erotica.
“Oh,” Elliott wheezed out.
He could say that again, because Rebel had nothin’.
“I talked Lily into letting me discuss books with”—she batted her eyelashes several times—“mature content as long as the book club meets at night.” She dropped her voice. “After the kids have gone to sleep.”
Elliott grabbed the banister as if he needed it to hold himself upright. “I’ll be in my office when you’re ready, Rebel.” Then the rat fink hurried away and left her alone to deal with Mrs. Ferguson’s frightening choice of reading material.
“Well, I see you’re still a firecracker, Mrs. Ferguson.” Rebel winked. “I always admired that about you.” She said her goodbyes and headed to Elliott’s office. Too bad she didn’t drink. She could use a shot of something, because fishnets and orthopedic shoes were likely going to give her nightmares tonight. And for many more nights to come.
She breezed into Elliott’s office and then stopped cold. His desk was cleared of all work, replaced with two delicious-looking meals, two glasses of water, and two bottles of beer.
He was busy arranging the utensils and cloth napkins. “Hey.” He glanced up. �
�Just in time. I had room service deliver dinner here. If I remember correctly, you like steak and lobster mac?”
She did. Very much. The incredible aroma had her tummy rumbling, but she’d planned to eat alone in her room. Having dinner with him was too much like a date. Not to mention, she wasn’t keen on eating in front of others. “What’s this?” She took a step back. “I told you earlier I wasn’t hungry.”
“That was hours ago, Rebel. I’m starving, and since we’ve still got work ahead of us, I wasn’t going to eat in front of you.” He nodded to the chair across from his desk. “Just have a taste.” His voice turned smoky. “You might decide you like it and want more.”
All the air disappeared from the room.
Finally he lowered his head and finished setting out the flatware.
She perched on the edge of the chair, her foot bouncing so fast it could’ve broken the sound barrier. “Still no word from the sponsor?”
He claimed the executive chair behind his desk and cut into his steak. “If he doesn’t return my messages by tomorrow, I swear to God I’m going to have Trace fly me to their corporate headquarters.” His fork hovered at his lips. Juicy and delicious looking.
The steak didn’t look half-bad either.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat.
Her gaze flew to meet his, and the lazy smile that formed on his delectable mouth shone in his eyes.
He nodded to her notepad. “So how do we go about picking possible matches for the vets?” He popped a bite of steak into his mouth.
She couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t. She licked her lips.
Her fork clattered to her plate.
Lord.
“Well, um . . .” She shuffled through her notes. “First we need to review the veteran’s profile, then pick out three or four dogs that might fit his or her specific needs.”
Elliott put down his utensils, got up, and dragged his chair around to her side of the desk. Then he moved his food in front of him. He leaned closer to look at her notes, his scent, his body heat, his unfair amount of sex appeal triggering every pheromone in her body.
He twirled his fork in a circle. “You can show me while we eat.”
She finally took a small bite of the lobster mac, and it melted on her tongue. She had to stop herself from moaning. While she savored the incredible bite of food, she pulled up the first vet profile on her iPad.
“This guy has an extreme case of PTSD. He needs a dog to take cues from his body language and identify his triggers.” She thumbed through her handwritten notes on the dogs. After perusing the entire list, she pointed out three dogs. “I think we should start him with these three.” She handed the notepad to Elliott. “Read my notes and see what you think.”
While he examined her choices, she picked at her plate. If she really let herself enjoy the taste of food, it was like Homeless Hungry Rebel would take over and she wouldn’t be able to stop shoveling it in. She supposed it was a form of PTSD from the trauma of being a homeless teen, which was why she was even more uncomfortable without Rem at her side. So she just moved the food around on the plate without taking another bite.
When she looked up, Elliott studied her with curiosity. His firm chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.
She shuffled more food around and even cut off a chunk of steak. “Briley and Charley are geniuses in the kitchen.”
“Yes, they are.” The roughness of his voice told her she hadn’t misread the desire in his eyes. “Letting them take over the restaurant was one of the best things to happen at the resort, besides hiring Lily.” He nodded and picked up one of the bottles of beer. “We’re still building our team, fleshing out a long-term business strategy, but we’re getting there. We just need a few solid events like this boot camp to keep signing up during our off-season, and we’ll be good.” He held up his bottle. “Here’s to successful business plans.”
She’d drink to that, just not with alcohol. She picked up one of the glasses of water. “I don’t drink, but cheers all the same.”
They both took long pulls.
“Did you swear off the stuff because of your mom?” He put down the pad and cut off a bite of steak.
“Yes. I was determined not to end up like her.” Rebel concentrated on her food.
“You should be proud, then.”
If that was a compliment, she’d take it. Her mother had been a good person once. But by the time Rebel was in middle school, the goodness had been drowned out by booze and poor choices.
“Alcoholism destroys more than just the person drinking themselves to death.”
Was that her talking? Because her lips were moving, but she’d meant to keep her mouth shut so Elliott wouldn’t keep asking questions.
“It destroys their family, their friends.” She sighed inside. She’d kept quiet so long, kept everything bottled up inside, that it felt good to let out at least a little of the pain her mother had caused. Just a morsel couldn’t hurt. It might even be cathartic. “It destroys innocent people who are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Did that lead you to help veterans?” he asked, picking at his food.
She’d already swerved too far onto the information highway. “In a way.” She forced a big smile and pushed her plate away. “Speaking of which, it’s late. Let’s get to work.” She reached for her iPad and notepad, but his thick fingers circled her wrist.
A current of electricity shot through her. It was wonderfully exciting and terrifyingly dangerous at the same time.
“Come here,” he whispered, his voice low and throaty and too damn sexy to resist.
Heat rushed from where his fingers circled her arm, up through her center, and turned her nipples to hard peaks. On her list of life mistakes, this had to be at the top. But she could no more stop her body from wanting him to kiss her than she could stop the sun from rising or setting.
“Elliott—”
He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he crushed his lips to hers, devouring her mouth with a smoldering kiss. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate and urgent like they’d been deprived of each other for far too long.
Her heart punched against her chest, but she couldn’t help herself. She opened for him, and his lovely tongue found hers. Desire crashed through her, sending shock waves of pleasure rolling through every nerve ending.
She moaned into his mouth, melting into him.
That urged him on, and he buried a set of fingers in her hair at the back of her head and tugged her chair flush against his with his other hand.
She molded a palm to his chest, sliding it up and then down again, and oh, he was just as firm as she’d imagined. Just as muscled as she’d remembered.
His lips moved to her ear, and he took her lobe between his teeth and nipped and tugged and sucked.
Lust rioted through her, and she lost all self-control. Good God, if he wanted to take her right there on the desk, she wouldn’t be able to say no. His wonderful mouth feathered kisses down her neck that rocked her world, and she gasped for air.
His world must’ve been spinning off its axis too, because he let out a moan that was low and guttural and said he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
His phone dinged. He slowed the kiss, then went in for more, and she gave him what he wanted.
Another ding had him sighing against her mouth. He broke the kiss. He gently swiped his lips across hers one last time and then caressed his thumb along her jaw. “Hold on.” He snatched his phone off the desk and thumbed the screen. “It’s an email from Collins. He says he’ll get with us tomorrow.” He discarded the phone. Leaned over the arms of the chairs again and molded his fingers around the side of her neck, gently caressing her sensitive skin.
Her ovaries sighed as he leaned his forehead against hers.
“Why did you really become a dog whisperer?”
There it was. That inquisitive mind of his was shoveling away the BS from her past to get to the truth.
The sudden urge to blurt out the whole sordid mess welled up in her, threatening to spew.
To give back to innocent people who have been damaged for life. People who have served their country in the military. People who have been victims of the irresponsible behavior of others. Others like my mother.
“I . . . I told . . . told you.” She stumbled over her words. “People’s lives get destroyed. I like to help try to put them back together again.”
“Do you know why I was so good at my job in San Francisco?” His voice was still throaty and laden with lust.
She had no idea where he was going with this. His gentle fingers—caressing her collarbone, her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear—weren’t helping because she ached to her very core for more. “Um, because you’re smart and well educated?”
“Because I have a sixth sense. I can predict when companies are honest, solid, and going places. I can also recognize half-truths, inflated numbers to cover flaws, and bullshit when I hear it. That gift has saved my firm from making bad investments with our clients’ money.” His thumb caressed over the inside of her wrist. “You’re not telling me everything.”
His directness and how close he was to the truth made her hiss in a sharp breath. Okay, it wasn’t just his insight. The taste of him on her lips and the softness of his thumb smoothing over her sensitive skin had something to do with her intake of breath and the fact that she couldn’t seem to let it out, making her lungs burn.
When her chest felt as though it would explode, she finally gasped for air. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” She snatched her arm from his grasp and pushed out of her chair. “I’ll go through these myself and meet you early in the morning to discuss them.”
“Rebel—”
She spun on him. “If you were so good at your big-shot job, then why are you here on this pitiful little island where no one wants to live unless they have to? What are you hiding?”
God forgive her. She didn’t mean it, but she had to get out of there before she made the mistake of telling him everything.
She fled through the lobby and out the front door to go find Rem for comfort. It was the only source of comfort she’d likely ever allow herself. Because she didn’t deserve anything more.
Dare Me Again Page 13
