Paws Up for Love

by Stephanie Rowe

  Evan groaned and opened the door back up. "What now?"

  "What's up for tonight? Dinner? Not sure how you want to work this roommate thing." It felt odd just to let him go into his room and shut the door without some sort of closure.

  "Got a business dinner." He yanked off his tie, then hung it carefully on a very neat, very full tie rack built into the inside of his closet door.

  "Business dinner? But it's our first night together." She lounged against the doorframe and tried on the pouty look of a spurned lover. Just for fun. It wasn't as if she actually cared whether they spent her first night bonding over takeout Chinese food.

  "Someone has to support you in this luxurious lifestyle." He grinned. "I'm just a slave to your needs."

  A slave huh? Would that be like a love slave?

  "What's that look for?"

  Heaven help her. Had the slave fantasy been apparent on her face? "Ah...well..." Heck, might as well lay it out there. It wasn't like she'd been keeping it any great secret anyway. If they were going to be housemates, it would be too much effort to tread on eggshells. "I was thinking about you being my slave...you know, with that...um...ridiculously sexy body and everything...then I sort of thought 'love slave'...and if you were my slave, then I could make you shut up and I could pretend that I liked you and then...well...my imagination sort of got away from me."

  Evan's eyes surged with blackness and for a moment she thought he was going to swoop across the room, tear off her clothes, and make love to her right there on the carpet. Then he blinked, and the moment was gone, a reserved expression marring his fine features. "You think I have a sexy body?"

  Her cheeks became hot. "Only when I'm delusional."

  "Huh."

  The surge of smug male satisfaction yanked her out of her indulgent mood. "However, I also think you're a jerk and you're manipulative and totally snowed by your brother. You still think I'm a liar, you believe in your brother, and I haven't entirely figured out why I'm here, given that information. However, as I said, I'm desperate and since I can't find your brother, I'll take you up on your offer." She balled her fists and held them in front of her chest, like a boxer readying for a fight. "I'm on guard, though. I don't know what you have planned with your little bed-and-breakfast setup, trying to pretend you have all these 'no touching' rules, but it's not going to happen."

  He grinned, and Josie held her fists up higher. "I'm serious."

  "I know you are. And I'm terrified."

  "You wouldn't mock me if I was an Amazon warrior woman with a spear."

  "But you aren't, are you?"

  She dropped her fists, replacing them with a sour glare. "I'm working on it."

  "You moving to the Amazon?"

  "Maybe. Maybe not." She lifted her chin and turned haughtily away. "None of your business. Have a good evening. I'm going to go wait for the movers."

  Chapter 9

  Josie had just made it downstairs when the doorbell rang. Movers already? She hadn't even scoped out the rest of the house for a place to put her furniture, now that she had decided to be amicable and keep her bedroom intact.

  Was that wimpy? A return to Old Josie to accede to Evan's wishes? She frowned. It really had seemed important to him, so would it really be bad to leave the room as he wanted it? Being nice was okay. It wasn't the same thing as letting herself be taken advantage of. No, it was definitely okay. She could feel good about her decision. She wasn't reverting.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Josie hopped over the last stair then yanked open the front door, ready to face some overweight, saggy-bottomed moving guy.

  But it was a very tall, model-skinny woman with white blond hair, a very sophisticated evening gown, and stiletto heels. "You probably aren't the movers, huh?"

  The woman stared at Josie.

  Josie met her gaze, using all her willpower not to look down at her dirty jeans, sneakers, and wrinkled tee shirt. She had no makeup on and her hair was shoved in a ponytail. She was like mud compared to this woman. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Can I help you?"

  The woman finally donned a cool smile. "I'm here for Evan."

  "You are?" She felt her shoulders drop about six inches.

  "Yes." The woman peered past Josie. "Is he ready?"

  "Not quite. I just left him changing his clothes in his bedroom." Okay, so that sort of implied something that wasn't actually the case. From the sharp look the woman gave her, she was glad she'd said it.

  Not that she owned Evan, but Josie could tell this woman thought she was all special and well...she felt a wee bit possessive about Evan. "I suppose you could come in and wait for him." She stepped aside.

  The woman took a few dignified steps into the front hall, clasping a delicate handbag in her manicured fingers. Yeesh. There was no way Josie could walk in heels that high. They were nearly as long as her calf.

  She shut the door and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm Josie Harper. I live here with Evan."

  The woman gave her a look that really required eyebrows being lifted in disdain, but her perfectly coifed brows didn't move.

  Botox woman. How un-Amazon-like. Josie wiggled her eyebrows just to prove she could. "And your name is?"

  "Priscilla Donnelly. Of Donnelly, Inc."

  "Oh, course. Donnelly, Inc. Wonderful company." Who the heck was Donnelly? "Your dad own it?"

  A flicker of ice lit up Priscilla's eyes. "Yes, but I'm second in command. I'll be taking over when he retires." She looked her up and down. "And what do you do?"

  Saying she was unemployed and living off charity didn't sound so good. "I'm just playing happy homemaker for Evan these days." Why had she said that? Her goal was to become a woman like Priscilla Donnelly. Financially secure, fabulous career, with a sense of fashion that would put her on the cover of all career woman magazines. She should be down on her knees, begging Priscilla to mold her into a new woman.

  But she couldn't.

  She hated Priscilla Donnelly.

  Yikes. She was turning into a horrible person. Hating someone she'd just met for no reason? She should be ashamed. "Listen, sorry for being testy. I've had a really bad week."

  "It's no problem." Priscilla glanced up the stairs, and her face suddenly dropped its shmooish reserve, breaking into a warm and well-practiced smile. "Evan. At last."

  Boiling rage exploded inside Josie. And she'd wondered why she'd hated Priscilla from the first moment. A good warrior always listened to her instinct, especially when identifying the enemy. Josie slowly turned and faced the stairs. Evan was jogging down them, another gorgeous suit accentuating all the masculine curves of his body. And he was smiling at Priscilla. Smiling. He hadn't smiled at Josie since they'd met.

  Jerk.

  "Hey, Priss. Sorry to keep you waiting."

  Priss? What kind of a name was that? "Your business dinner date is here." Okay, so she sounded a little sarcastic. Nothing she could do about it.

  "Priss isn't my business dinner date. She's my secret weapon."

  Priss giggled and gave Josie a sympathetic look. Poor delusional sod, thinking you have a chance with my Evan. Her thoughts were so obvious Josie wanted to vomit right there.

  Okay. That was it. She was officially an emotional disaster. "Have a nice evening."

  "You too. Make yourself at home." Evan put his hand on the small of Priss's back to guide her out the door.

  She felt ill.

  Priss stepped outside, but Evan turned to Josie. "You okay? You look a little green."

  Blasted jerk actually looked like he cared. Made her want to just fall into his arms and start crying about everything that had gone wrong in the last six months. Instead she forced a smile to her face. "Just a little hungry."

  "You sure?" He laid his hand across her forehead. "No fever."

  For a fraction of an instant, she let her eyes close while she relished the touch of his cool hand against her skin.

  Then he removed his hand and she opened her eyes. "I told you.
I'm fine."

  "All right then." Evan hesitated, then pulled a paper and pen out of the table in the front hall. "Here's my cell number. Call me if you need anything." He touched her face. "Sorry I have to run out."

  He was sorry? He was almost making her feel special, like he cared, like they had some sort of connection. And she suddenly wished so much that it was true.

  She took a step back and folded her arms. "Go. It's not polite to make a woman wait."

  So he left.

  And she went in search of ice cream. Cookies. Cake. Fudge. Anything chocolate would suffice.

  Evan glanced surreptitiously at his watch for the hundredth time in twenty minutes. This evening was turning into a disaster in all ways.

  There had been one goal for tonight. One simple goal. Have a nice dinner with Dr. Samuel K. Black, IV. Gain his trust and his friendship. Secure him as a client.

  Easy.

  Except for one minor problem.

  Dr. Black was bored out of his mind.

  This was strike two.

  Evan and Dr. Black had met once in Dr. Black's office. Evan knew he'd passed the professional inspection, but he'd sensed a failure to connect with the wealthy Bostonian. And he needed this client to really break through into the elite group of financial advisors serving Boston's Old Guard.

  And the man was slipping through his fingers.

  He'd thought it was because Dr. Black was looking for someone with blue blood, someone with a pedigree and a history. He doubted his familial ties to felons and his dirt-poor childhood would qualify. Which is why he'd recruited Priscilla. She was the epitome of everything Old Boston Proper, and Evan had been pursuing her for months. Tonight was the first time she'd actually accepted an invitation from him.

  He'd been pleased by her acceptance of his invitation, both on a professional and personal level. Priss was just what he needed to complete his life.

  But she was boring as hell, and Dr. Black looked like he was about to nod off in his salad.

  And all Evan could think about was Josie. He had a feeling she was wreaking havoc on his home, and he felt like a little kid, eager to get home and see what she'd done.

  No, this evening was definitely not going as planned.

  With Priscilla's connections, her practiced and perfect manners, and dignified charm, not to mention looks that would knock any man down, he'd been so certain she'd be a valuable asset in winning the trust of Dr. Samuel K. Black, IV, and a perfect match for him.

  She was currently expounding on the latest idiotic move by Congress that could adversely affect the earnings of Donnelly, Inc. Dr. Black was nodding in a suspicious rhythm...

  Evan peered closer. Sure enough, Dr. Black's eyes were at half-mast, and his chin was bowing toward his chest.

  This was not going well.

  Time to call it a night before he lost all opportunity with this man.

  As for Priscilla, he was giving up on her. He couldn't deal with another evening in her company. It'd be back to seeing her at cocktail parties and gallery openings.

  But why? He'd always thought Priscilla was interesting before. Why was he so bored that it was all he could do from throwing himself out the window into the Charles River? Surely, it had nothing to do with the fact he kept comparing her to Josie, and Josie kept winning.

  That would be unacceptable.

  He was just feeling a little cranky. Time to shape up and invest a little energy in the evening, both in Dr. Black and Priscilla.

  He could do this.

  Chapter 10

  He made it home just before midnight. Josie heard the car door slam, and her heart started beating quicker.

  Not because she was excited to see him.

  Because she was hoping he wouldn't throw her out on her well-padded hiney.

  It took only nine seconds for him to step into the house and shout her name. "Josie? Are you still awake?"

  As if she could sleep through that bellow. "No."

  "Where are you?" She heard the heels of his dress shoes click on the gorgeous wood floor with its fancy inlays. Where was she? An excellent question. What did he call this room? "It's the room off the kitchen. Overlooking your backyard." And what a yard it was. The perfectly manicured lawn stretched for at least two acres, sliding into trees that hid any sign of neighbors or civilization. She'd sat and stared out the picture window until it had become too dark to see, and then she'd spent twenty minutes trying to find the lights for the backyard before she'd given up.

  Which was better, because she'd had a bit of unpacking to do.

  "Why are you in an empty room?" He appeared in the doorway, stopping immediately as he took in his new room, filled with the furniture from Josie's apartment, including her queen-sized bed, pushed into a corner and laden with pillows, creating a very comfy and very appealing snuggle-place. "And I was assuming that the empty garage meant the movers hadn't arrived."

  "Why furnish the garage when you have such a sterile house in need of some character?" She burrowed deeper into her faded orange couch, scratching Zeus's head. "And don't look at me like that. You said not to touch your bedroom. You never mentioned this empty room."

  The scar under his eye began to twitch. "And the cat?"

  "Monica dropped her off." She hugged Zeus tighter, ignoring the low growl in the cat's chest. She had about twenty seconds before Zeus would break out the claws. "Her name's Zeus. Isn't she cute?" She held her up. "Look at that face. How could you turn her down?" The claw came out, narrowly missing Josie's nose.

  "Nice cat."

  "She's a sweetie."

  "She? Zeus is a male god."

  "He's the god of war. Why is it that only men are allowed to be warriors? Women can be tough too."

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned against the door, the sleeves to his charcoal gray suit scrunching up slightly, revealing stark white cuffs with custom cufflinks. "You're really obsessed with this female warrior thing, aren't you?"

  "No," she said quickly.

  He ignored her denial. "What gives?"

  "Nothing."

  "My guess is that you feel like you were trounced at some point in your life, and you're trying to overcompensate for that."

  She stared at him. How did he do that?

  The corner of his mouth curved up. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not a total idiot."

  "Maybe not, but you don't exactly come across as the most perceptive individual."

  "Ah, but being perceptive is critical in my business. If I can't read my clients, I'm done."

  "So, it's about business. That makes more sense."

  Evan ignored the dig. "Who trounced you?"

  "No one."

  "A man? Your ex-husband? Is that why you're all weird about relationships?"

  That was it. She was ending this conversation before he guessed every little secret she had. He was the enemy. Not the individual to confide in. "So, how was the date?"

  The scar twitched again. "You mean, the business meeting?"

  As if she would fall for that. "She's not right for you, you know."

  He looked surprised. "Why not?"

  "She's...cold. Aloof. Calculating. Plus, she's too skinny. And she can't move her eyebrows. How could you date someone like that? You'd never know what she was really thinking. It would be terribly disconcerting. And her hair? Total dye job. Don't you want someone who is more natural? And her clothes. Too perfect. She'd never go play in the leaves with you."

  Evan was staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I don't play in leaves."

  "Yeah, you probably don't. Way too undignified for you." Josie took a deep breath. Must be cool. Pretend she didn't care. "You're probably a perfect match. In fact, I'm sure you are. But you'll lose her if you don't shape up."

  "Oh, really?"

  "Yep. You made her drive to your house, instead of picking her up. You didn't compliment her on her outfit, which obviously cost bundles, you didn't admire the lack of wrinkles on her forehead, or even...um...give her flow
ers. Or wine. Or diet pills. Whatever she'd want. Women like to be appreciated and doted on. And you just took her for granted." She folded her arms. "Yep, you blew it, buster."

  Evan chuckled. Mr. Serious actually chuckled. Too bad it was obviously at her expense. "Well, thanks for your insight. I'll be sure and take notes."

  She scowled at him. "Fine. Be ungrateful. See if I care."

  "You didn't ask me how the business part of the meeting went."

  "Was there a business part?"

  "Yep. I was trying to acquire a very important client by the name of Dr. Black. A man, by the way."

  "As if I care what gender your clients are." But she did feel a little better knowing there really was an actual business agenda. "Did you get him?"

  "Nope. Didn't go so well." Evan sighed, and suddenly she realized that he looked a little tired. "I'm about out of chances with him."

  Her heart twinged with sympathy. "Um...what happened?"

  "I can't connect with him." He balled his fist and punched it lightly against the doorjamb. "It's just not happening. I thought Priscilla would help, but that didn't work either."

  It suddenly occurred to Josie that maybe Evan didn't have anyone else to vent to. Except her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  Evan blinked, then his lips tightened, and he withdrew, as if he hadn't realized he was sharing with her. "No."

  So much for the moment of bonding. "You know, sometimes you really match this house," she said.

  "Is that an insult?" He didn't even blink at the change in conversation. Did anything rattle him?

  "An observation."

  "Translate, please." He walked across the room, paused for a moment as he inspected his furniture options, then sank down on the same couch she was on. At the other end, but suddenly it felt very small. "I'm overwhelmed with curiosity to find out why I'm like a house."

  She decided his sarcasm was intended to cover his unbearable curiosity, which he was too proud to acknowledge. "Well, the house is proper and elegant and beautiful to look at."

  He lifted a brow. "But..."