Paws Up for Love

by Stephanie Rowe

  "Actually, I was going to ask you if I could ride my bike through your halls for a while."

  "You aren't going to ask for the money?"

  "What money?" She set her sneaker on the pedal, another foot on the ground, and twisted around to look at Evan, nearly toppling off her bike when he came into view. The world would be a safer place if Evan Dorsett would keep his blasted shirt on. How was a woman supposed to concentrate on hating him and all his kin when all she could do was think about how her cheek had been pressed up against him?

  "The ninety thousand you say Buddy stole from you."

  Josie dragged her eyes off his chest and looked at his face. Just as ruggedly handsome there too. She cleared her throat and tried to think of burnt waffles. "What are you implying?"

  Evan folded his arms across his chest. "You found out I had a brother who'd had a few scrapes with the law, and you're trying to extort money from me."

  "I'd find that remark offensive if I valued your opinion in any way whatsoever." Okay, she was insulted, but no need to let Evan know that. And...with a house like this, he probably did have to be careful about people trying to bilk him out of money...but she really wasn't in the mood to give a Dorsett brother the benefit of the doubt. "I don't want your money."

  "Then why did you come here?"

  "Because I want my money."

  "I don't have it."

  "I know that, now." Evan was just as aggravating as his blasted brother. No, stay calm. "I thought you might know where Buddy was, so I could collect from him."

  "Buddy doesn't have that kind of money."

  "He does now."

  "You're wasting your time, Ms. Harper."

  "Obviously." She'd just have to find another way to earn all that money in time to start school in eight weeks. Ninety grand in eight weeks? Not a lot of options. "Do you have any contacts in the expensive call girl industry?"

  "What?" He looked dutifully shocked.

  "Classes start on September twelfth. I need to earn a lot of money in the next eight weeks, and I hear those gals can earn bucks. Might be worth it for two months, don't you think?"

  "No."

  She actually got goosebumps from the iciness in his voice. Talk about vehemence. "Yeah, you're probably right. Too many risks. I'll think of something." She nodded at him. "Have a nice day."

  "Don't crash."

  She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Or maybe I should. I bet I could get a settlement worth a bundle, don't you?"

  He just shook his head at her, as if to remind her he wasn't falling victim to her ploy.

  Yeah, some ploy.

  He'd been her last hope to see a cent of her money again.

  Maybe it was time to ride in the middle of the road and see what fate had in store for her.

  Except she was a wimp when it came to pain.

  Think, Josie.

  There simply had to be a way to survive this little...ahem...downturn without prostitution or serious bodily harm.

  And she would not let herself think about how she couldn't even make Belgian waffles with loads of strawberries and whipped cream.

  Hitting the lowest period in her life without having her favorite comfort food available. Unfair.

  She should make Evan stand naked in her living room for the next two months. That would distract her from her misery.

  And help her work on her willpower.

  And think how popular she'd become with all her girlfriends...

  Ah, the power of positive thinking.

  "Evan's a jerk," Josie announced, as she leaned against the leg press machine that her best pal Monica Miller was trying to adjust. Sunday morning at the gym. Not her idea of fun.

  "Sounds like it." The pin slipped and pinched Monica's finger. She yelped and stuck her index finger in her mouth. "These gyms are a health hazard. Why did we join?"

  "So you could meet the man of your dreams. Physically fit is one of your requirements for your dream man."

  "Right. But so is sane. Why don't we lie out in the sun on the Esplanade and check out all the men jogging by? Then we wouldn't have to risk our health by being at a gym." Monica gave the machine a frustrated kick, only to scowl and grab her foot. "Ow. That was so not a good idea."

  "No. I can't imagine it was." Josie flopped down on the seat of a nearby leg extension machine. "So, what do I do now?"

  "Make a list." Monica was a big fan of lists.

  "Of what? Ways to kill Dorsett men?" Josie shook her head and propped her feet up on some padded arm machine thing. "Evan would have me arrested. He's a bit cynical."

  "Well, it's not like you'd actually have to kill them. It would just be cathartic." Monica peered over her shoulder. "There's a really sweaty guy giving you dirty looks. You should at least pretend that you're going to use the machine for more than a lounge chair."

  Josie sighed and swung upright. Her legs were about as strong as overcooked spaghetti after her fifty-eight miles of biking yesterday. Not that they were strong before that, but now? Forget it. "Oh, my gosh. There he is." Monica started pumping the leg press. "Is he watching me? Does he see me?"

  Josie peered across the room, trying to look for Monica's latest crush, but all she could think about was Evan. The men here had nothing on him.... Argh! Stop thinking about him!

  "Josie! Does he see me?"

  The man in question was concentrating very hard on his biceps curls. "No. He's watching himself in the mirror. Egoist. Forget him."

  Monica let the weights drop with a slam. "I'm not in good enough shape to show off at the gym."

  Josie leaned forward and rested her arms on the machine. "Seriously, Mo. I need some help here."

  Monica blotted non-existent sweat off her chest. "Okay. List your top three problems."

  "I'm broke. Buddy's brother is a jerk, but I spent the night fantasizing about him. And I have no comfort food. So, basically, I am much worse off than I was when my husband announced he was leaving me, and I was pretty much scraping the bottom of the barrel then."

  "No way. When you were married to Tom, you were definitely worse." Monica tucked a non-sweaty tendril behind her ear and stole a glance across the gym. "You had no identity, no goals, no self-esteem. You were just a dependent female snookered into a bad marriage. Now you're strong and fighting back. Okay, so maybe you've hit a bit of a snag, but at least you're on the right path."

  Josie wrinkled her nose. Listen to Monica. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. "I'm much better off." The words sounded pretty good actually. And she was in control of her life. Well, sort of. But more than she would have been if she'd stayed married to a man who fell in love with other women. And the day the marriage had ended...that really hadn't been a good day. Her self-confidence and ego had been severely trounced until it was completely mashed. At least now she had a goal and some plans, even if she'd hit a bit of a delay in accomplishing them. "I'll find Buddy."

  "Of course you will."

  "And I'll get my money back."

  "You better believe it," Monica agreed.

  "And I'll never date a loser again."

  "Excellent."

  "And I'm not getting married again."

  Monica rolled her eyes as she climbed to her feet. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. You wouldn't be happy not being married."

  "I'd be fine." She slung a still-dry towel around her neck and followed Monica toward the dumbbells. "I don't even need a relationship. I figure I'll get some random sex as the urge strikes, and that should be just fine."

  "Liar." Monica picked up a set of three-pound dumbbells. "Don't get me wrong. Your marriage to Tom wasn't a good thing, and divorces are always hell. And I think it's great that you're trying to find yourself, but you'd be miserable if you never got married again."

  "That's so untrue." Josie flopped down on a weight bench while Monica lifted. It had to be untrue. Being a warrior Amazon woman meant she didn't need a man for anything. Period. Which was the whole problem with Buddy stealing everything from her. He had
disarmed her in her quest for female empowerment. "I'll become a vet with a satisfying career and..."

  "No way. You grew up with nine kids in your family. You have nieces and nephews everywhere. You do your family dinner thing at least once, sometimes twice a week." Monica grimaced as she tried to lift the weight again. "You're obsessed with family, and you'll never be happy if you don't have a family of your own. With the right guy, of course."

  "Nope." Josie folded her arms across her chest. "I'm going solo and I'm going to be happy." Even if she made herself miserable trying. "I obviously have no skills whatsoever in weeding out the losers from the decent guys. Why get married again? It'll be another Buddy or another Tom, and then I'll have multiple divorces on my record and I'll never recover emotionally. Much better to just stay out of that whole mess."

  Monica dropped her weights and eyed Josie. "I'm not going to have to start worrying about you, am I?"

  "Of course not. All I need to do is find Buddy, string him up by his toenails, and reclaim my property. And then I'll be fine."

  "And you'll keep your mind open toward finding the right guy, even as you embark on your career? The two aren't mutually exclusive you know."

  Nope, she wasn't going to agree to that one. At least not yet. Three years was her minimum until she was allowed to consider being interested in a man again. And not a day less.

  Chapter 4

  Sunday afternoon, Evan pulled up in front of the building Josie had said she lived in. A dirty, gray cement cellblock devoid of any charm, and probably below building code.

  Yes, with this sort of income, Josie Harper definitely had incentive to try to bilk him out of some money.

  So how come that didn't feel right?

  That was why he was here. To eradicate the niggling worry in the back of his mind that Buddy had indeed victimized her. Because if Buddy had, it would be impossible not to fall into his old habit of cleaning up Buddy's messes.

  As if Josie could be considered anyone's mess. She was vibrant and sexy, passionate and powerful. Not that he'd noticed. He was simply satisfying his curiosity by following up on her. And he hadn't been able to reach his private investigator yet, or he would have delegated the job. Not that he'd actually tried to reach him, but he'd been busy. Definitely not intentional. He was simply checking up on her in the most efficient manner available.

  Nothing else.

  It certainly had nothing to do with the way she'd invaded his house, ignored his money and his belongings and lit into him with a passion and power he'd forgotten about.

  Absolutely not.

  He parked in front of the decrepit building. How long had it been since he'd lived in a place like this? Fifteen years? He'd thought it was a palace, his own place, with a working elevator and heat that actually functioned. A pull-out couch for Buddy to sleep on.

  The day he'd bought his first house, in the suburbs of Boston, with a real yard and a dining room fit for entertaining clients, he knew he'd made it. Pulled himself out of the life fate had laid out for him.

  He'd upgraded three times since then, moving into his current sterile house about a year ago.

  For a moment, he felt a tug for the days when simple things like being able to pay the phone bill made his heart puff with pride.

  "Get over it," he growled. His life was just fine the way it was. So what if he didn't sit around and ogle his successes or have any family to share it with? The emotionally fungible Barbie dolls he dated were all he needed.

  "See you later, Mo! Thanks for the ride!" Josie's clear voice rang out, jerking him into awareness. "I'll see you at work later!"

  He glanced in his rearview mirror in time to see her standing on the curb, waving at a beat-up Chevy as it pulled away from the curb. A small duffel bag slung over her shoulder, she started to walk into the building.

  Yep, she definitely lived here. At least one truth.

  She'd just set her hand on the doorknob when a pudgy greaseball with a tank top and a cigarette hanging from his lips shuffled out the front door. "Josie!" he barked.

  Josie's lips tightened, and her face crumpled for an instant. Then she lifted her chin and faced the man. "Mr. Bailey..."

  "Got your rent?" The man held out a pudgy, sweaty palm. "It was due two weeks ago."

  "I get paid next Friday."

  "That's six days away. I don't run a charity. Pack your stuff and move out by the end of tomorrow. I already found someone to rent it."

  Josie's mouth dropped open. "But I've never missed a deadline before. I was robbed..."

  "Not my problem."

  Evan closed his eyes while he listened to Josie fight for her home. How many times had he hid in the bathroom while he listened to his mother have the same fight? A six-year-old boy, terrified he'd end up living on the streets in January in Boston, freezing to death huddled over grates, praying his mom wouldn't end up back in jail before his father was released from his own stay behind bars.

  Tag team parenting of the worst kind.

  Damn Buddy for bringing his past back to him.

  He cursed. Even if Josie was lying about Buddy, no one deserved to be homeless.

  Evan kicked open his door, slammed his feet down, and stalked over to the beady little landlord. "How much does she owe you?"

  Both Mr. Bailey and Josie stopped and stared at him.

  "Who are you?" the landlord asked.

  "Evan! What are you doing here?" Her cheeks had turned a deep red, and her lips were parted in astonishment. Nope, he wasn't even going to think about the shape of her lips.

  He ignored both questions. "How much does she owe?"

  Mr. Bailey took a moment to inspect Evan's suit, then his eyes flicked over his shoulder to his SUV, which didn't sport enough rust or dents to blend into the neighborhood. A greedy gleam appeared in the landlord's eyes. "Five hundred for last month. Another five hundred due next month."

  "But next month isn't due for two weeks," Josie said, desperation tingeing her voice.

  "You're a high-risk tenant now. Different standards."

  Evan whipped out his checkbook and wrote a check for a thousand dollars. He handed it to Mr. Bailey. "Here. You can fill in your name."

  "I don't take checks." But he was greedily eyeing the pale blue paper.

  "Cash it today. If it bounces, you can still boot Josie out tomorrow, right?"

  "Sure. Okay." He yanked the check from Evan's hand and glared at Josie. "You better hope that this check clears."

  He stalked back into the building, the check clutched in his sweaty palm.

  Evan returned his checkbook to his pocket and tried not to notice how Josie was staring at him. "I thought you didn't believe me."

  "I don't." Not really. But there was still that really slight chance...

  "Then, what was that for?"

  Evan finally met her gaze, startled by the intensity of emotion in her blue eyes. Wariness, relief, and suspicion...and even a bit of confusion. "No one should worry about being homeless."

  "That's it? Nothing else?"

  "Nope. You're my charitable donation for this month."

  Josie's face darkened. "I'm a charitable donation?"

  She was taking offense to that. As he would have, when he was poor. Evan shifted uncomfortably. He was really making a muck of things. "Being homeless is wrong."

  "I wanted to find Buddy, not sponge off you."

  "I realize that, but..."

  "I'm not a charity case. I'm just in a bit of a downturn."

  "Which is why I didn't pay your rent for the year. Just for two months while you catch up."

  She narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to have to think about whether I can accept it."

  "Just accept it, Josie. Pride is a foolish thing. Take what you can get and use it to your advantage. You can pay people back when you've climbed out of your hole."

  Josie tilted her head. "Experience talking?"

  He was not going there. "I have to go." He left her standing on the sidewalk. Watching him. Th
inking.

  If he weren't so determined to keep her out of his life, he'd be very interested to know what she did next.

  Later that evening, Josie and Monica were camped out in Josie's mom's kitchen for a late dinner after work. Josie was staring at the check she'd retrieved from Mr. Bailey. One thousand dollars. Just like that. Evan had handed over a thousand bucks.

  "Tear up the check," Monica said. "You can move in with me."

  "I don't know," Josie's mom said. "Seems rather gallant. Maybe you should cash the check and then find a way to repay him."

  Josie eyed her mom. "You're matchmaking."

  Her mom fluffed her hair and tried to look offended even as she helped herself to another brownie. "Nonsense. I'm being a realist. You're broke. You need money. He offered to pay. Is he good looking?"

  "Mom! He's related to an ex-con who stole from me!"

  "Josie was mooning about him earlier today," Monica said. "I think she likes him."

  "No, I don't!" Josie pushed back from the table and scowled. "Why are you guys pushing this on me? Don't you have any respect for my single status?"

  "Hey, I told you to tear up the check," Monica said.

  Josie's mom shrugged. "I just think you're acting a little irrationally since your divorce. Talking about becoming a vet and never getting married again. Is that really what you want? Some demanding career that leaves you no time for your family?"

  "I'll find a way to balance it. It's not like I'm going to disappear into a career." Why didn't anyone understand her need to become independent? "I just want a chance to..."

  "I know, I know. Spread your wings." Her mom rolled her eyes. "By the time you realize you've overreacted to a few bad experiences, it'll be too late. You don't have forever to have kids, you know."

  "I'm twenty-seven! I have twenty years to have kids!"

  "That's just medical malarkey. You're already past your ripest years."

  Josie took a deep breath. "Just because you had seven kids by the time you were my age doesn't mean I have to do the same thing."

  Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Not just me. Except for Les, who recently met that very nice girl in Vermont, all your siblings have had kids by your age, too. It's natural."