by Cara Colter
And at the way the man issued orders.
Not in a mean way, just … as if he assumed every word would be obeyed, every expectation met without question.
They made it to the front yard, and he moved quickly, almost soundlessly in front of her, grabbing her by the arms to steady her when her own momentum would have propelled her forward.
“Sorry,” he said, giving her an exasperated smile, letting her go and stepping back immediately.
Up that close, she thought he definitely wasn’t old.
There’d been a flash of an impression of power and the firm, muscular build that few men had once they hit middle age.
And the eyes, with those little, crinkly lines at their corners … Maybe they’d led her to believe he was older than he actually was.
Was he even forty?
Audrey looked up at him, feeling every one of her thirty-nine years and wishing all the more that he was sixty and balding.
She wasn’t doing this again, wasn’t throwing herself at a man, thinking it was the way to forget all her problems, to solve them, to make everything right again.
He looked nearly as taken aback as she felt and went still for a second once he’d let go of her, as if he might have actually lost track of the orders he was firing off for a moment.
“Sorry,” he said again, recovering before she did. “I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself.”
He looked down toward her feet. There, mere inches in front of her, was a narrow, deep hole dug into his front lawn.
“This is my second problem,” he said.
“A hole in the ground?” She was lost.
“A number of them, all over the place. You really have to be careful walking out here. I don’t want you to break a bone. The last landscaper did. He’s trying to sue me right now. One more thing I have no time for.”
“Oh,” Audrey said. “I’ll be careful. You have some kind of … animal problem?”
“A dog,” he said, as if the mere word implied something vile. “It digs.”
Audrey worked to keep a straight face.
A mere dog could get the best of this perfectly controlled, very powerful man?
So he was human, after all.
He looked as if he knew she was thinking of laughing in his face and didn’t believe for a minute she’d actually do it, that anyone would.
Audrey wiped every trace of amusement from her face, and then watched in amazement as his own mouth started to twitch; he shook his head and swore so softly she wasn’t sure she could even make out the words.
“Yes, I know, bested by a dog. I realize how ridiculous that is. Nevertheless, this is the state in which I find myself. I despise the dog. The dog despises me. We have been waging war for weeks, and the dog is winning. You have no idea how much it pains me to admit this—”
“Oh, I think I do,” Audrey said.
Once again, the ends of his mouth threatened to curl upward a bit. She could almost feel him battling the impulse, before tamping it down and banishing it completely.
He cleared his throat and went on. “Marion also said you had a very well-behaved dog.”
“We had a wonderful dog. She died two years ago.”
“She didn’t dig up things in your very well-designed yard?” he asked.
“She had a small corner of it where she was allowed to bury her bones. Would that be acceptable? One small, out-of-the-way spot where such things are allowed?”
He sighed. “If it’s absolutely necessary.”
“I think it probably is,” Audrey said.
“Fine,” he said, as if he’d just agreed to millions of dollars in concessions on a contract he was negotiating. “The dog belongs to my daughter, Peyton. She loves the dog, much more than she loves me at the moment. I’m not proud of it, but I’ll admit, I tried to buy her affections with the dog and to some extent it worked. She’s very happy to come here now. The problem is her mother only allows her to come for a weekend here and there, and the dog is here all the time. Because Peyton’s mother decreed that the dog could not go to her house with Peyton. I think just to torment me even more than my ex-wife already has, and if that’s the case, she’s succeeded beautifully because the dog has wreaked havoc on my entire home life.”
“I’m so sorry,” Audrey said, surprised he’d admitted to so many of his own weaknesses—the child he indulged and the ex-wife who’s needling still got to him—so forthrightly. Most men wouldn’t have, would have relished seeming invincible. And there was something in his manner that Audrey imagined could be thoroughly intimidating but she found oddly amusing.
And there was something else. The distinct impression that while the situation at hand was annoying, he knew he would triumph in the end. As if it was a secret he knew, one that kept him calm and able to deal with just about anything.
Except a dog.
“It’s here all the time,” he complained. “It digs. It eats my socks. It ate my favorite pair of shoes, makes all sorts of noise at all hours and generally makes a nuisance of itself. I’m afraid it hasn’t been successfully housetrained, either.”
Audrey nodded, hopefully giving the situation the proper gravity he thought it deserved. “I assume you’ve tried dog trainers with no success?”
He gave her a pained look. “Three.”
And they’d all just annoyed him and wasted his time, as had the poor, unfortunate, would-be landscapers. She wondered how Simon Collier acted when he was truly annoyed. If the earth literally shook or something?
“Again, I really don’t have any formal training in … training animals,” Audrey began.
He shot her a look that said 1) he obviously knew this. 2) they’d covered this point before, and he’d pronounced already that he didn’t care about formal training, and 3) he didn’t care to repeat himself.
“Okay,” Audrey said. “I’m to train the dog.”
He nodded, no doubt satisfied that he hadn’t had to repeat himself further and she hadn’t wasted any more of his time.
“Just so you know, it eats bushes, too.” He pointed to an unfortunate azalea, which she assumed was the dog’s latest victim. “It eats vines, flowers, everything. The dog eats it, chews it enough to kill it or pulls it out and drags it around the yard, in addition to digging in unexpected spots. Something else you’ll have to contend with.”
“Does the dog have a name?” Audrey asked.
“I call it any number of things,” he said, dry as could be, but amusement flashing beneath the surface.
Audrey was sure of it.
And she wondered for a second, in that flash of humor, if he was even younger.
Thirty-eight?
Thirty-six?
She suddenly felt ancient, envying him the utter confidence, the air of power, the obvious wealth and all the security she imagined it would bring, that he didn’t depend on anyone to secure his own future except himself. The kind of security that could not be taken away.
How would it feel to have that and know that no one could take it away?
“What does your daughter call the dog?” Audrey tried.
He made a face, distaste obvious, and reluctantly admitted, “Tinker Bell is its formal name.”
Audrey made a choking sound as she tried as hard as she could not to laugh, then covered her mouth and coughed—she hoped realistically—and then finally managed pure silence.
It was hard, but she managed it.
His mouth settled into a hard, straight line. “We’ve settled on Tink for short. It’s the most dignified thing we could come up with, given what we had to work with.”
Audrey nodded, afraid to even try to speak.
“I suppose I’ll be forced to introduce the two of you before you agree to take this on,” he said, then waited and waited.
Hoping she’d say she didn’t have to actually meet the dog first?
Should she agree to that?
Did she want the job that badly?
Audrey feared she did.
<
br /> Then he saved her by saying, “But my business experience tells me to do everything I can to sell you on the job before you meet the dog. Shall I show you the living quarters?”
“Please,” Audrey said.
He lifted his arm, gesturing for her to head back the way they had come. “And on the way, I’ll tell you my third problem. My housekeeper, Ms. Bee. I adore her.”
“Really?”
He liked someone.
What a surprise.
“Yes,” he said, one end of his mouth actually curling up just a bit, as if he’d actually thought of smiling. “People may tell you that I’m … difficult. Demanding. Unreasonable. That there isn’t a woman alive who could live happily with me. It simply isn’t true. Ms. Bee and I get along beautifully.”
Chapter Two
So people talked about Simon Collier, too, and he obviously didn’t like it. Audrey thought about telling him she understood and wouldn’t listen to the gossip.
Except in all of the ten minutes she’d spent with him, she was fairly certain no woman would have an easy time living with him. She’d figured out all on her own that he was certainly demanding, precise to the point of perfectionism, and that from his youngest days, probably wouldn’t have gotten the little check mark in the box titled Plays Well with Others.
Women included.
Of course not. He’d have all the power, and they’d have none.
Audrey had been in a relationship like that, and look how badly it had tuned out.
But this was about him and his Ms. Bee.
“I’m very happy for the two of you,” Audrey said.
He gave her a wry smile. “We’ve been together for ten years. Our relationship has lasted much longer than my marriage, and we understand each other perfectly. She’s precise, careful, orderly. Runs my house like a machine. Anything inside those walls is her domain. You are not to interfere in the least or question her or bother her, because I can’t imagine living without her. I don’t want to.”
“Okay,” Audrey said.
But what did she have to do with his love for his housekeeper?
“Unfortunately Ms. Bee—that’s Peyton’s name for her—hates the dog, if possible even more than I do,” he said.
“Oh.” Audrey got it.
“She threatened to leave me if I didn’t get rid of the dog. I confess, I considered telling Peyton it ran away and that I couldn’t find it or that it got hit by a car. But then she’d cry, and I hate it when my daughter cries. But I refuse to live without Ms. Bee, either.”
“I understand.”
“I promised her I would find someone to fix the dog, that she would never have to have anything to do with it again. It’s the only way I could get her to stay. Which is where you come in. You’re to see that the dog never bothers Ms. Bee, which is why I need someone to live on the premises.”
They reached the side of the garage, and he led her up a set of stairs on the side of the building that led to the second floor and a door; he unlocked it and stepped back, letting her go inside first.
It was an open, L-shaped space, tastefully, if sparsely, furnished, a living room, small dining area and kitchen, obviously the recent recipient of Ms. Bee’s attentions, because it was absolutely spotless. The hardwood floors gleamed, as did the countertops and the appliances.
The walls were a light, cheery butter-cream, and there were tons of windows that looked out over the backyard.
Audrey stuck her head in the door opposite the kitchen and found a bedroom and nicely appointed bathroom.
“The previous owners had a son in college who lived here, I believe, when he no longer wanted to live at home, precisely,” Simon said. “I hope it’s acceptable?”
“It’s perfect,” Audrey said.
Much more than she’d expected to be able to afford on her own, given her lack of experience at anything and lack of formal job training.
“So, you can fix the lawn, fix the dog and keep it from bothering Ms. Bee?”
She took a leap of faith.
Either that or told a full-blown lie born of the desperation to be near her daughter.
“I’m sure I can,” she said.
“Excellent.” He named a salary she thought was more than fair, given the fact that she’d be living here for free. “When can you start?”
“When would you like?” she asked.
“I suppose this instant is out of the question, given the fact that you need time to move your things in. Dare I hope, tomorrow?”
“You don’t want any references or a résumé—?”
He shook his head. “Marion vouched for you. That’s all I need.”
Audrey nodded. “Did she tell you … I mean, you should know—”
“You’re one of her strays, aren’t you? Had some problems? Trying to get your life back together? And she’s taken you in for a while?”
“Yes.” He did know Marion well.
“Have you ever been arrested?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t,” she said.
“And Marion wouldn’t let you stay at her house unless you were clean and sober now, so … Good enough. I don’t need the details. I just need someone to fix my three problems. You’re going to do that for me?”
“Yes, I am,” Audrey agreed.
“Excellent.” He handed her the keys to the apartment, turned and started walking away, still talking to her.
Audrey hurried to follow.
“I’ll leave you to introduce yourself to Ms. Bee. She’s in the kitchen, expecting you. She’ll give you all the details you need,” he said, waiting for her to lock the door behind her.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” Audrey said.
“No, thank you. You’re going to make my life much easier.”
Audrey nodded.
“The dog should be returning any moment. We hired a dog walker, hoping we could survive the week that way. Yes, here they come.”
Audrey followed him down the stairs and waited as a young woman in shorts and a T-shirt came up the walk, half-dragged by what looked like a long-haired, mostly black-and-white, wiry but overgrown puppy, maybe six months old.
Although having just returned from its morning walk, the dog looked as if it had just gotten out of bed and was ready to run a marathon, looked hopeful that the opportunity might be offered. Its mouth stretched wide, it appeared to be smiling, happy and eager to take on the entire world, and as it got closer, Audrey could see its beautiful coat was shot through with silver.
He was striking looking.
The young woman said, “Hello, Mr. Collier,” and tried to turn over the leash to him, but he waved it off, motioning for her to give it to Audrey.
The dog’s tail whipped back and forth madly. It made a happy, yipping sound, then eased up on its back legs until it was standing practically straight up and rested its paws on Audrey’s thighs, mouth open, tongue lolling out in greeting.
Simon Collier grimaced and said, “Sorry,” then turned his attentions to dismissing the dog walker.
Audrey smiled, looked right into the dog’s eyes as she gently pushed it back and onto all four feet. She knelt on one knee, bringing herself to eye level with Simon Collier’s nemesis.
“Hello, Tink.”
Tink’s grin got even wider. The dog put his overgrown paws on her bent knee and then eased up to lick her cheek excitedly.
Simon made a sound of pure disgust.
“We’re going to be friends,” Audrey whispered to the dog, hoping it was true. Her job depended on it, after all, and the poor baby probably didn’t have any friends at all, except for Peyton Collier.
She stood up. Tink reared up and did a little dance of pure excitement but didn’t jump on Audrey, which she took as a sign of intelligence and eagerness to please.
“That’s nice,” Audrey complimented. “You can dance.”
“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” Simon asked, as the dog walker turned and left.
“N
o, but why in the world did you get a border collie?”
“Because my daughter thought it was cute, and the woman who sold it to us claimed it was a smart dog, although I haven’t seen any sign of that. Why?” He looked worried. “Border collies are bad?”
“Not if you want an animal that was bred to herd sheep all day without getting tired,” Audrey informed him.
He froze for a moment. “You’re telling me I need to buy it a herd of sheep to keep it happy?”
Audrey burst out laughing. “No, just that this animal has a great deal of energy, which is why it seems destructive to you. It’s bored, probably extremely bored. It needs something to do.”
Simon frowned. “What does it do besides herd sheep?”
“Exercise. I’ll run with Tink every morning. Maybe in the evening, too, if I have to. The dog will be too tired to cause trouble.”
“That’s all it needs? To be too tired to cause trouble?”
“That should go a long way toward solving your problems with Tink. The good news is the person you bought the dog from is right—dogs of this breed are known for being very intelligent.”
“This one is not,” Simon insisted.
Audrey laughed again, petting the dog, who’d jumped back up and planted its paws on her, wanting to be close and unable to contain its excitement.
“See,” Simon said.
Audrey gave a little push against the dog’s furry chest and said, “Tink, off.”
The dog went down and stood there looking up at her, tail wagging, whole body practically trembling with excitement, but it stayed on all fours.
“Good dog,” Audrey said, wishing she had some kind of treat to offer.
“He most certainly is not,” Simon said.
“So it’s a he?” Audrey sighed and turned from the overeager dog to the all-powerful man. “Well, he is smart enough to know you don’t like him—”
“Then he’s a genius,” Simon quipped.
Audrey fought a grin once again. “And by now Tink probably knows just how to get to you.”
Simon looked incredulous. “You’re trying to tell me I’ve been playing mind games with a dog?”
