by Mara Wells
Her cheeks were bright with color, and a dimple flashed in each one. Every muscle in his body tensed. Not in the oh-crap-what-has-Dad-done-now way of the past year, but more like an oh-crap-she-is-so-damn-beautiful fashion. Their eyes locked, and with a gentle tug, she guided him through and let go of his hand. He tightened his muscles to keep from clenching her fingers in his and pulling her back against him. Her long body would fit snugly against his, he could tell, her head high enough that all that curly hair would tickle his nose.
Riley bent her knees, placed her dog carefully in the grass and, if he wasn’t mistaken, took a steadying breath. Lord knows he needed one, too. He dragged air into his lungs. Pushed it out. Reminded himself they’d just met, and he’d bungled asking her to dinner to such a degree that trying again would be an idiotic choice.
Riley’s dark eyes studied him from under darker lashes. Her berry lips softened the severity of her angular cheekbones and aquiline nose. At this angle, strawberry highlights streaked her hair to almost the same shade as her apricot poodle. A matched set.
Really, he needed to stop thinking ridiculous things about her hair and contribute to this conversation. Something real. And businessy. So she’d know he didn’t usually stand around in dilapidated lobbies fondling other people’s pets. All he could think of, though, were her wide lips and the memory of her bare toes. Luckily, she didn’t need him to keep a conversation going.
“Lady.” She tilted her head, for all the world reminding him of her poodle again, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and push a few of her escaped curls behind her ear.
“What?”
Her lips twitched like she was about to smile, but she reined it in and pointed beside him. “Meet Lady.”
When he dropped his gaze, a black dog that must weigh in at seventy pounds or more sat on its haunches, one paw gracefully extended like royalty expecting an air kiss above the knuckles.
He obliged, bowing his head over Lady’s paw. “It’s an honor, my Lady.”
“Oh, she’ll like that. Thinks she’s the Ambassador of Dog Park, greeting everyone who enters,” a voice said behind him. He turned, and an older woman only a foot or so taller than Lady placed a loving hand on the big dog’s head. “She’s never met a stranger, but that’s how Labs are, of course. Mostly anyway.”
“Mostly? She’s not friendly?” Caleb didn’t see anything about the dog that seemed aggressive, but he took a cautious step back just in case.
“Goodness no. Kindness and people-pleasing are breed traits. I meant Lady’s a little bit of this, little bit of that, and a whole lot of Lab. A mostly Lab, if you will. That’s the fun of a rescue, isn’t it? Never knowing exactly what you’ve got on your hands?” The woman cackled and tugged on Lady’s ear, a move that sent the dog into ecstatic leg thumping. “New around here, are you? Which dog is yours?”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“He was checking out the empty apartment.” Riley jerked her chin toward the Dorothy, and the older woman’s eyes narrowed.
“Thought about moving in a time or two myself.” Her eyes traveled from his recently cut hair to the shine on his shoes. “But I’d have to give up my house”—she pointed her chin east—“because it’s really too much for one person, you know?”
“You’re not missing much.” He tried his charm-’em smile on her, but it only made her squint more. “Until you look out the back windows.” His gesture encompassed the dogs frolicking in the middle of the lot as well as the ones lounging near where their owners chatted with one another under the shade of a mature mango tree. If he wasn’t mistaken, a few were looking their way.
“Neighborhood loves its dogs.” The woman’s hand slid from Lady’s ears down her thick neck. “Riley’ll tell you. This dog park is the beating heart of our neighborhood, no doubt about it. Right, Riley?”
“Right.” Riley pushed humidity-frizzed curls behind her ear. “Mostly apartments and small lots around here, so it’s good to have a spot where the dogs can get in a nice run. We’re lucky to have this place.”
Caleb chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking how he and Grandpa William had discussed that this lot was ideal for a parking structure. “Can’t build anything on the Beach these days without including a parking plan,” Grandpa William had groused. Without parking, the conversion would never succeed. High-end clients do not park on the street. Still, it was fun to watch LouLou engage Lady in a game of chase with an enticing play bow and a yip. Lady wagged her thick tail, and they were off. Even more enjoyable was the smile on Riley’s face as she watched her pet dash through patches of grass.
“What about the No Trespassing signs? This isn’t part of the Dorothy, is it?” Caleb was fishing, and he felt a twinge of guilt for playing dumb. But fishing was all part of the research. One of the biggest hurdles for any developer was community acceptance. How big of an obstacle was this unofficial dog park going to be? Was Riley going to claim her grandmother owned this lot, too?
“Oh, no one minds,” Riley said breezily, waving away his question like a mosquito. She tightened her ponytail, and he caught another glimpse of her smooth belly, skin a few shades lighter than her arms and legs. His gut clenched, knowing his next words were going to make it so she never reached out that soft hand to help him again. But they had to be said. Rip off the Band-Aid, if you will, and let go of the stupid fantasy he was building in his mind about how Riley would taste when he kissed her. Sweet like the sound of her voice? Strawberries like the highlights in her hair? Whatever it was, he was never going to find out, because he was the big, bad landlord about to evict her grandmother. Even if he found every resident the poshest retirement home in Miami, there’d be no coming back from that.
“I think someone does, or at least will, mind.” Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “When he builds a parking structure on this lot, you’ll have to find another dog park.”
“There’s nowhere else in the neighborhood.” Riley took a step backward, tripping over a Chihuahua running by. She landed on her butt but pretended not to see his hand when he extended it to help her up.
Caleb tucked his rejected helping hand into his pocket. “I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else.” He knew he sounded like an ass. Like his dad. She was going to hate him—hate him more, he corrected—and he didn’t blame her. He kind of hated himself right now. “Your days of taking advantage of an absentee owner are over.”
“Why would you say that?” She cocked her chin at him, the picture of defiance. “I told you my grandmother owns the place.”
“That can’t possibly be true.” He’d seen the paperwork himself. How did he gently break it to her that her grandmother was indulging in a senile fantasy?
“Well, it is true.” Riley crossed her arms and leveled a glare at him hot enough to make sweat pop on his forehead. The neighborhood, or at least this neighbor in particular, seemed to believe this lot was theirs. Her quick defensiveness proved they weren’t just going to pack up their dog toys and go home when the bulldozers rolled in.
Matching hot-pink accents or not, Riley was trouble. He had to get his head back in the game and remember why he was here. “Honey, I am the owner, signed deeds and all, and I have big plans for this property.”
Hand to heart, Riley stared at him with those wide eyes.
“Oh, this one’s special indeed.” Lady’s owner cackled and placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “That’s nice, dear. You go on and make your plans. You know what they say about the best-laid ones, don’t you?” She shuffled off to the group of people at the mango tree, leaving him with Riley. Planning a coup, no doubt. Lady was a lady, but he could tell by the way the dog owners checked him out after a few words that Lady’s owner was the designated dog park gossip. Caleb suddenly had a bad feeling, the kind usually saved for reports that the foundation was compromised or a Cat 4 hurricane was barreling its way toward one of their hotels during the
height of tourist season.
“Wait a minute, Caleb Donovan.” Riley’s fingers fluttered on her chest. “Are you telling me you swindled my Grams out of her property?”
“You know who I am?” He couldn’t help the flick of pride that she’d heard of him. Maybe she’d read about the timeshares down in the Keys or the resort in the Bahamas.
“Of course.” More heat flashed in her eyes, and the flick of pride died an even quicker death. She knew the headlines. Knew about his dad. The worst of his family obliterated any good he’d ever accomplished.
He should know her. He saw it on her face, the careful way she watched him. How could he have forgotten a woman like this? He couldn’t place her, and it killed him to have to ask, “We’ve met before?”
Her curls shook with her denial. “Why would you recognize any of the thousands of employees whose careers you ended?”
He sucked in a breath. It was true he’d ordered the terminations days before the assets were seized. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You made a lot of choices.”
LouLou jumped at Riley’s hip, the bounce-bounce of pick-me-up, but Riley ignored the dog to glare at him some more.
LouLou turned her attention to him. Bounce-bounce. Caleb scooped up the dog, a move that sent the poodle into a licking spasm. Soon, the underside of his chin was thoroughly dog-slobbered. She was a godsend, this tiny tornado of tongue, lick by lick elevating his mood from the bleak thoughts Riley’s accusations triggered.
He didn’t like to remember the dark days right after the trial, when everything was up in the air and no matter how he crunched the numbers, there was no way to save his family’s business. No way to save the hotels or the jobs. He’d liquidated assets and cashed in stock options, and none of it had mattered in the end. His father had thoroughly screwed the company, and Caleb was glad for the hefty prison sentence the judge proclaimed with a smack of her gavel.
What he hadn’t anticipated was that as the one left behind, he’d be facing the consequences of his father’s actions in the real world. It didn’t seem fair that Robert Donovan got to hide out in a prison cell while Caleb dealt with the fallout. That was what he deserved, he supposed, for believing that while his father occasionally lied to get his way, he would never lie to his own son.
By now, LouLou was sniffing his ear, and if he didn’t put a stop to it, he suspected a thorough ear-cleaning was coming his way. He tilted his head away from the dog, which only inspired her to cover his neck in doggy kisses.
“What a little love,” he cooed, stroking the dog’s back while supporting her hind legs on his forearm. She agreed with more vigorous licking.
“Traitor,” Riley mumbled at her dog. She took custody of LouLou, holding her in a loose grip under her arm. “First pee, then slobber. I’m sorry to inflict so much doggily fluid on you in one day, but this one is a nonstop supervisory nightmare. Aren’t you?” She punctuated the lighthearted scold with a kiss on the top of LouLou’s poofy head.
No doubt about it, he was jealous. Of a dog.
LouLou squirmed in Riley’s arms, wiggling around until she could butt Riley’s chin with the top of her head. He’d never thought much of Mr. Pom-Pom, but now he realized he missed having a dog around.
“It’s okay,” he found himself saying, wishing he was still holding the dog so he could at least get Riley to look at him.
“Dogs will be dogs.” Riley hugged LouLou to her side. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
Caleb winced. “I’m sorry, too. If it helps any, that was the worst time of my life.”
Riley considered him, head tilted, cataloging him from head to toe. “It kind of does. Were you miserable?”
No one had ever asked him how he felt about the whole thing. No one had noticed if he was miserable or not. The words crowded into his throat, but all that came out was, “Yeah.”
“Good.” Riley’s fingers covered those soft-looking lips, the pink tips pressing into her cupid’s bow. “You really think you’re the owner? I don’t understand how that could be.”
He nodded because he was practically the owner. Once Lance finally called him back and they somehow got Knox involved or Grandpa William to change his mind, he’d own every square inch of this run-down money pit.
“That doesn’t even make sense. Why would you want this place? The neighborhood is residential. You can’t build a hotel here.” Riley tugged at the fabric of her scooped neck, righting the havoc LouLou’s wiggling was doing to her neckline, and revealed another flash of hot-pink underneath. Sighing, she bent down to let LouLou run wild again, and the swells of her breasts pushed against the material in a drool-inducing way. Down boy, he told his inner hound. Hot pink wasn’t even his favorite color, and he for sure should be keeping his eyes above her neck.
“Zoning ordinances can be changed.” He was definitely looking at her eyes. Her big, brown eyes that were none too happy with him. “But I’m thinking more of a condo conversion.”
“You’ve been here all of two seconds, and you want to completely change the neighborhood?” She planted her hands on her hips and notched her chin up. LouLou scooted closer to his leg and nosed the back of his knee. “Are you kidding right now?”
He squatted and soothed a hand down the dog’s back. “It’s just business, honey.”
“Well, honey,” Riley sniffed and tugged LouLou toward her. She eyed him up and down like he was something she wouldn’t touch with a doggy bag. “I hope you have a backup plan. No one’s touching Grams’ place.”
Riley stomped off, LouLou watching him over her shoulder like she’d never see him again. Thunder rumbled and a few large splats of rain quickly turned into a torrent. In seconds, Riley and her dog were out of sight, and he was soaked to the skin.
Chapter 5
Honey? Honey? Riley kicked off her muddy sneakers outside her front door and leaned against the wall, grateful once again for the enclosed hallway that kept the elements out and the AC in. With LouLou tucked under one arm, she reached down with the other to peel off her wet socks. Luckily, she was an expert at balancing a freaked-out poodle while accomplishing tasks like brushing her teeth or putting dishes in the washer.
When it rained, LouLou got nervous. When it thundered? She was an anxiety ball, and no homeopathic pills or overpriced thunder shirts would calm her. Dr. Morrow, LouLou’s veterinarian, offered to write a prescription, but Riley hated the idea of drugging her pooch, especially since thunder was a daily occurrence during the summer. Besides, LouLou was fine as long as she had ninety-nine percent body contact with a human. Riley stepped inside, grabbed a towel she kept on the entry bench for rainstorm emergencies, and gave the shivering poodle a brisk rubdown.
But seriously, honey? Riley wrapped LouLou in the towel and walked with her to the kitchen where she poured some water into her Keurig, prepping for a late night of research. Grams always told an entertaining story but not always a true one. Public records were the way she’d get to the bottom of this mystery. Who did Caleb Donovan think he was, calling her honey while threatening her dog park and her grandmother’s gorgeous building? When she found proof her Grams did own the building, he’d be eating those words. With honey.
In the bathroom, Riley tossed the wet towel in the hamper and ran a dry one over her own out-of-control curls.
“Zoning ordinances can be changed.” Her singsong, high-pitched voice was meant to calm LouLou, but the words themselves still infuriated her. LouLou perked her ears and tilted her head, more relaxed now that they were inside where the booms of thunder were muted.
The sound of the Keurig finishing its cycle brought Riley back to the kitchen, LouLou’s favorite room. The storm outside still troubled LouLou, so rather than spin in circles in front of the refrigerator door until Riley gave in and gave her a treat, she cowered under the breakfast table until Riley sat down. Then, she levered herself up Riley�
�s legs until Riley had no choice but to reach down and pull her the rest of the way onto her lap.
One hand wrapped around her mug, Riley propped open her laptop with the other. The second bedroom was set up as a home office-slash-guest room, but fifty years’ worth of the building’s records took over most of the room. Riley found it easier to work in the kitchen. Closer to the coffee, and she could watch LouLou when she used her doggy door to go outside on the patio.
Honey. She couldn’t get his voice out of her head, the deep rasp of it and how she’d found herself leaning toward him to better catch the sound. She’d liked him—the light-brown hair cropped close to his scalp, the way his hand felt in hers, his gentleness with LouLou—a lot. Right up until he’d gone all smug and possessive about the building, the dog park, her job. No way he was the owner. No way.
Sure, she had a long day tomorrow of some pretty grueling work on the stucco, but she couldn’t sleep until she proved Caleb Donovan wrong. Riley angry-typed the address into the search bar and followed a convoluted trail through public records until she found it. Rainy Day Holdings. Grams’ management company, or so she’d told Riley when the on-site manager position became available and Rainy Day hired her. “Don’t want the neighbors to know I’m the one collecting rent,” Grams had said in a low, dramatic whisper. “I like to play at being one of them.” Play? Grams was the queen of the Dorothy, and everyone knew it.
If Riley’s friend, Marina, a real estate paralegal, weren’t about to give birth any day now, she’d leave the background check to her. Why had she never dug deeper into Rainy Day? Probably because she’d wanted to believe Grams. Searches for Donovan and Rainy Day brought up nothing but a bunch of articles about Caleb’s father and the crumbling of his empire. Could Caleb be the money behind Rainy Day? No, the transfer of ownership happened long before either she or Caleb were born. Didn’t that prove he couldn’t be the owner? What would Marina do next? Riley kept typing until she found the answer she wished she’d had years ago.
