Man's Best Friend

by EC Sheedy

  "Miss Darwin is here. I thought you'd be anxious to come down, exercise some of your famous charm."

  "You're being snide, Milton."

  "An entitlement of seniority, sir."

  Milt had plenty of that; he'd been around from the time he and Griff were twelve. "No, I won't be coming down," Rand said, surprised that he wanted to. "Is her room ready?"

  "Did you ask me to make it ready?"

  Rand leveled a hard gaze at him. Milton merely lifted a brow and waited for his answer. "You know I did," Rand said.

  "Then doubtless it is," Milton said with a cat's smile.

  Rand glared but didn't bother with a comeback. Lately Milton had developed an irritating talent for having the last word, sometimes several. If he wanted to get any work done tonight, the smart decision was to cede the point.

  "Show her to it then," he said. "And help her get settled. I'd appreciate it." Rand picked up the Cullen Macy file and forced his fractured attention to it. He had more important things to think about than a woman and a dog.

  Milton stood, still as a stack of bricks, at the door. Rand sighed, twirled his pen between two fingers, and said, "I'll talk to her later. Charm the sap out of her."

  "Ah, ever the perfect gentleman. I would expect nothing less."

  Rand grunted.

  "And what time would you like dinner served?" Milton asked. "Will seven be all right?"

  Rand didn't raise his eyes. "Seven's fine."

  "Seven it is."

  * * *

  Tessa clutched Licks to her chest as if he were a coat of armor. Milton said to wait here, and wait she would—for a hundred years if need be—because she was too nervous to move. She'd never been shown to the library before. An elegant library, too—with high ceilings, deep plush furniture, and three solid walls of oak bookcases crammed with books. Rand obviously loved to read.

  They had that in common at least. Her forehead creased and she nearly laughed out loud. The idea of her and Rand Fielding having anything in common was just plain crazy.

  Licks whined and wriggled against her shoulder, letting her know he wanted to get down and explore. At least he wasn't nervous. Just in from outside, he should be safe for the time being, she figured. She placed him on the carpet and perched herself on the edge of the sofa to keep an eye on him.

  While Licks investigated, she stewed. She hoped she'd done the right thing by coming here. The puppy needed her, but she was neglecting all her other customers. Was giving her time exclusively to him and Rand Fielding good business?

  What other customers, Tessa?

  She rolled her eyes and started to giggle, coughed to quell it, looking about the grand room as if she had company. She forced herself into rational thinking. Serving as Licks' personal trainer made perfect sense. Three months as a full-time, live-in caretaker for one little puppy was a dream job. It wouldn't interfere with her work at Dawg's Inn, and the extra money would go a long way toward helping with her sister Annie's college fund. She sank back into the sofa. She should be ecstatic, and she was but...

  She didn't understand Rand Fielding, didn't know what to think about a man who was as determined to keep a dog as he was to keep his distance from it.

  "Miss Darwin?"

  Startled out of her thoughts, she jumped to her feet. It was Milt.

  "The lord of the manor has paper to shuffle at the moment and is unable to come down."

  "Paper to shuffle?"

  "I believe he and his ilk refer to it as work?"

  "I see." She grinned, bent to pick up Licks who'd flopped over her sneaker and started to yawn. "Wouldn't want to interfere with that."

  "Good gracious, no." Milt grinned back, his shrewd eyes close to twinkling. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your rooms."

  * * *

  After showing Tessa how to use the estate intercom placed beside her bed, and telling her to let him know if she needed anything, Milt left to prepare, as he described it, "yet another superlative dining experience." He took Licks with him, saying he wanted company in the kitchen.

  When he'd gone, Tessa stood in the center of the room in silence, awed and captivated. She hadn't expected this.

  She'd been assigned a luxurious bedroom, a sitting room, and a private bath on the second floor, decorated with—she guessed—a woman in mind. Or by a woman. Rand was divorced. Ned had told her that but not much else. Maybe there was a new woman on the scene. She frowned, surprised that the idea miffed her. Yikes, two minutes into her contract and she was delusional.

  Rand might have twenty women on a string. It was nothing to her. This place, this man, were way out of her league.

  The sleigh bed was a wonder, dripping in shiny cream and green satin and with enough plump pillows of every size and shape propped against its headboard to outfit a linen shop. She imagined her leaping-sheep flannel nightgown against all that slippery shimmer and grinned. No doubt she'd slide out of bed on her backside and break a hip.

  She set about unpacking her backpack and the two battered suitcases she'd borrowed from Mom and Annie. It was past five and not only had she promised to call them, she needed to get Licks' sleeping arrangements organized for the night. She smiled. Bonding between man and dog was about to begin. The grim Rand Fielding was about to "learn to love."

  * * *

  Rand's first surprise was hearing Milt say, "This way, Miss Darwin." His second was seeing Tessa step into his dining room. When she spotted him her eyes widened and her mouth softened. Obviously, she was as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

  Damn Milt anyway. The man was getting presumptuous by any standard, even Rand's—far too lax since his father's death. This whole thing smacked of a matchmaking setup. He wondered if it would do any good to let Milt know Tessa was Ned's pick of the week, not his.

  Rand lowered his soup spoon, halfway to his mouth before the invasion, and shot a scathing look at Milt, an effort that appeared to have as much impact as a teenage spit ball.

  Tessa's gaze ping-ponged between them, and her expression veered from confused to troubled. "Is this okay?" She looked at Rand.

  He couldn't drum up a smile, but he did get to his feet, table napkin clutched fig-leaf style to his groin. He tossed it on the table, where it landed on a sheaf of corporate reports he'd intended to review as he ate.

  "I'm glad you could join me." He cast another flinty look in the direction of the serene Milt, who'd guided Tessa to the chair on Rand's right where, to his amazement, lay a full place setting. Had he not been so wrapped up in his work, he'd have noticed it earlier.

  "Yeah, I can see you're thrilled." She took her seat and frowned at Milton, not looking any more pleased by the dining arrangements than he was.

  "Soup, Tessa?" Milt inquired, his smile innocent as a babe's.

  Rand saw her anger fade and her lips twitch. She gave him a resigned grin. "If it's okay with you, it's okay with me."

  Before Rand could open his mouth, Milt ladled soup into her bowl. She laughed, and Rand resumed his seat, shoving aside his reports for the duration of dinner. He was surprised to find Tessa wasn't the only one smiling... so was he. It was slight and tight, as though it didn't fit his face, but it was a smile all the same.

  "It's fine with me," he said, turning to Milton. "I'm sure the lady would like some wine, Milt, and I'm equally sure you'd love to fetch it for her—" his smile turned wicked, "—and if you're very lucky, by the time you get back, Miss Darwin and I will be copulating on the dining table."

  The unflappable Milton didn't flap. "The white Bernini, I think. It's at the bottom of the wine cellar."

  Tessa lifted her napkin to her mouth and dropped her head. Rand saw her shoulders shake, but she didn't let the laughter ring until Milton closed the door behind him. Then ring it did, full, gleeful and throaty. She caught her breath, but her eyes were filled with tears. "I'm sorry, but this—" she shook her head "—is funny."

  "And glaringly obvious."

  "He's trying to fix us up,
isn't he?" she said, her smile lingering.

  "I believe he is." Rand picked up his soup spoon.

  Tessa didn't follow suit. "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why would your, uh, valet or whatever he is, try to get you a... date?" She may have stumbled over the question, but her obvious curiosity held her on course.

  Down went Rand's spoon. The damned soup was cold anyway. "I don't know. He and Ned work under the misguided assumption I'm some kind of female-challenged charity case."

  "Ned tries to fix you up, too?" Her eyelids narrowed with suspicion. "I mean he wouldn't—I'm not—he couldn't think you and I—"

  There it was again, that tantalizing pink. Fascinating.

  "No, you're not. I've established that." He didn't bother mentioning Ned's intentions were personally motivated. Again, he picked up his soup spoon, intending to use it as a means of evading further conversation—and to relieve the stiffness settling in his stomach muscles when he thought of Ned and Tessa. None of his business. He swallowed his tepid soup.

  "Are you?" she asked.

  "Am I what?" He looked down, intent on another mouthful. The sooner he ate, the sooner he'd get out of there, maybe have time to hang Milton in the wine cellar. The thought cheered him.

  "A 'female-challenged charity case?' " she quoted, eyes wide.

  His spoon perilously close to his lips, Rand came close to spewing mushroom soup clear across his dining table. Unable to reply, napkin now plastered to his mouth, he glared at her.

  "Oops! Sorry." She cringed openly, and wrinkled her face in the way of a child waiting for a reprimand.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  He waited.

  She gave a long sigh and, like him, abandoned her soup. "It's a failing I have. You know that kill-the-cat thing."

  "Curiosity?"

  "Uh-huh." She smoothed her napkin against her lap and raised her gaze to meet his. "I'm sorry. Really. I mean it's obvious you're not a, uh, charity case."

  This was getting interesting. "How so?"

  Her gaze didn't falter, but she shook her head. "I should tell you I have another failing."

  "I can't wait to hear about it."

  "I speak my mind." She smoothed her napkin again. "To a fault, Mom says."

  "Then I'm even more intrigued," he said, leaning back in his chair. "So tell me, Tessa, why are you so sure I'm not a charity case?"

  "Well, for one thing, you're rich."

  Why in hell was money always the first thing a woman thought about? He was oddly disappointed in her, showing how irrational her presence had made him. "Go on."

  "You're also very good-looking. Handsome really. Those eyebrows of yours are wicked." She studied him closely. "Although some fresh air wouldn't hurt. You're way too pale."

  Before he formulated a defense for that—not that he needed one—she went on. "Then there's the room I'm in. Obviously it's a woman's room. Which means a woman sleeps there. Which means there is a woman in your life. Which means you're not a charity case." She smiled and looked pleased with herself.

  "What room are you in?"

  "Second floor, the one all done in green and cream."

  Andrea's room! Why had Milt brought her there?

  "Did," was all he said.

  She looked confused. "Did what?"

  "A woman did sleep there. My former wife."

  "Oh." She pulled her lower lip under her teeth, hesitated. "Should I be apologizing again?"

  "No. It was years ago."

  "Oh. Was it—"

  Her question was cut off by Milton's return. He rapped, wheeled in their main courses, two lit candles, and an open bottle of white wine. He also managed to dim the lights on his way in.

  He lifted the wine from its iced bed, gave a sweeping gaze to the pristine dining table, and shook his head. "Ah, as usual, I'm much too efficient."

  "Just pour, Milt," Rand muttered, leaving his expression to add a silent but definite then get the hell out of here.

  But Rand was more relieved than angry when Milt launched into a poetic description of the wine he was pouring for Tessa. It stopped her questions. No way was he going to talk about Andrea. The back of his neck went cold, then hot, and his gaze fixed on the spiraling stem of his own wineglass.

  Andrea. His illusion of love.

  Andrea. The woman his father had told him was trouble from day one, then proved how right he was.

  Andrea. His former wife—a mistake still being measured every day of his life.

  One thing was certain. There'd never be another—wife or mistake.

  He downed the last of his wine as if it were cheap rye and he an even cheaper drunk. Blasted expensive stuff was so smooth it denied him a decent burn. When Rand felt himself wanting something stronger, he set the glass on the table and pushed it away from him. As an escape he preferred work.

  He looked up in time to see Tessa give him a questioning look. He glanced around. During his short painful trip down memory lane, Milt had left; dinner, Bernini wine, and Tessa in his wake.

  "I won't ask any more questions, if that's what you're worried about," she said, surprising him with her perception.

  "Good. Any answers I'd choose to give would spoil a good meal." He gestured to their artfully presented dinner of roast lamb and a trio of perfectly cooked vegetables. "Shall we eat?"

  * * *

  Tessa sprawled on her back against emerald satin sheets and stared at the ceiling.

  What a strange and awesome man.

  For the first time in her life, Tessa wished she were... more. More beautiful, more mysterious, more interesting. More anything that might attract an emotion other than the wariness that cooled Rand's gaze whenever he looked at her. Her mind and body had thrummed since leaving the dining room, and her walk with Licks had done nothing to steady her. Obviously she had a crush. A silly, go-nowhere crush on the most unattainable man imaginable.

  She thrashed over onto her side and rested her cheek on the back of her hand. She'd laugh at the idiocy of it if she could, because she felt like a kid with a nickel told to buy anything she wanted at the local Toys-JI-Us. Nothing funny in that.

  Wouldn't the man in the room down the hall freak right out if he knew the direction of her thoughts?

  She rolled to her back. Then again, maybe he did know. Maybe that's why he was so cautious around her. God, she hoped she wasn't doing what Annie and Mom called "that Tessa thing," where every thought she'd had since she was born showed on her face. Mom had always said her eyes were movie screens, too big and easy to read.

  She flushed. Wouldn't that be awful—and embarrassing for him. Careful, she'd have to be more careful. Maybe take a few lessons in cool from her new employer. She punched her pillow and closed her eyes. She needed this job, the money would mean a big boost to Annie's college fund. No foolish infatuation was going to get in the way of that.

  Two seconds later she heard it.

  Rap. Rap. "Tessa?"

  She sat up. It was Rand. She was sure of it.

  "Tessa? Are you awake?"

  She tossed the goosedown duvet back and stepped onto the rich carpet. Because her flannel nightgown was thicker than army blankets, she didn't bother with a robe.

  She put her mouth to the door. "What is it?"

  "Can you come? Licks is sick."

  Chapter 5

  Tessa flung open the door, leaping-sheep flannel nightgown forgotten. "What's wrong with him?"

  "He's making odd sounds. Whimpering mostly."

  "Show me." She followed Rand down the long hall, worrying all the way.

  In Rand's dimly lit room, she couldn't miss his four-poster bed, its deep burgundy covers wildly askew, the impression of his head on the pillow. To make that much of a jumble the man must sleep as if the mattress were a bed of coals. Or not sleep at all.

  The only light, other than a pale swath of moonlight coming in from the window, was a bedside lamp.

  A stack of books rested precariou
sly on his cabinet, an unfolded newspaper lay on the floor.

  Earlier, when she and Milt were here setting up Licks' crate, it was just another fancy room in a house full of fancy rooms. Tonight, it was Rand's bedroom. He walked past her, and she caught the scent of musk and man. It numbed her knees.

  She realigned her spine and her good sense. She was in his bedroom as a professional, not a woman anticipating—

  Licks cried from the corner, yanking her from her sinful thoughts. He sat in his crate, pawing at the mesh door and wearing his most forlorn, abandoned-puppy look. She unlatched his door, and he bounded out. She picked him up to hug and in return was given an enthusiastic if soggy kiss.

  While she looked him over, Rand hovered behind her shoulder like a consulting surgeon.

  His attitude change made her smile. Displeased at the idea of having Licks and his portable bedroom in his room, Rand had suggested, strongly, that Tessa take him to her room. Licks was his dog, she'd told him firmly, and if Rand refused to allow him to sleep alone in the laundry room—which pleased her mightily—it was his room or no bedroom at all.

  "I'm taking him outside," she announced, stepping away from Rand and his intriguing scent. She and Licks needed some fresh air. Fast.

  "You're kidding," Rand said with a worried frown. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

  "Tell that to a puppy bladder."

  "You think that's the problem?" He sounded dubious.

  "It's a safe bet. Pups are like kids. It takes a while before they can make it through the night, and they hate to dirty their sleeping area."

  "Maybe, but I think I should call a vet." He reached over to stroke the pup's head.

  This was the first time Tessa had witnessed Rand show physical affection, and he rose ten points on her admiration scale. "Let's let Licks decide, okay?"

  "Okay, let's go." He gestured at the door. She led and he followed.

  Tessa carried the pup downstairs and out the front door. She set him down on a gravel patch she'd spotted earlier beside the garden shed.

  Rand looked on like a worried papa as Licks sniffed out an appropriate spot. It didn't take him long, and in short order, his business was done. When he started to wander off, intent on a midnight adventure, Rand scooped him up and held him like a to-be-burped baby against his shoulder. While Rand's big hand stroked down his back, Licks nuzzled his nose into Rand's neck.