Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  Yet it was the truth. She’d thought there could be something more between them. She’d believed it. And then he’d dumped his stupid loan idea on her and reminded her that he paid her and she took his money. Which was fine in a business relationship, but not in a romantic one.

  Her phone rang a second time. Sending him to voice mail would be petty, so she took a deep breath, hoping that the sound of his voice wouldn’t cause her to start crying, and answered. “Hello, Hank.”

  “Hi,” he said. “Listen, Abbie—”

  “I got the check,” she cut him off, because yes, the sound of his voice made her want to weep. “Thank you. We’re all squared away.”

  “No, Abbie, we’re not.”

  Was he going to rehash the loan thing? God, she hoped not.

  “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and you’ve probably got plans. But I was hoping you could stop by my place this afternoon. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  She’d been aware of the date; the pizza place downstairs from her apartment had a silver foil valentine in the window, advertising heart-shaped pizzas in honor of the holiday. And of course the ads she’d seen elsewhere had hammered home that Valentine’s Day required the spending of copious amounts of money on gifts for loved ones. Abbie didn’t have a lover, though, and she didn’t have much money, either. No one was going to give her roses and chocolate, and she wasn’t going to bake a cake for anyone. Her only concession to the holiday was to pick up a package of heart-shaped dog biscuits to pass out to her canine charges.

  So no, she didn’t have plans for Valentine’s Day, romantic or otherwise.

  “Why do you want me to come to your place?” she asked.

  “It’s business,” he said. “I don’t want to go into it on the phone.”

  Oh. Business. “Fine. I have a dog-walking appointment at two,” she told him, her voice chilly. “I should be done by three. I could get to your place at three-thirty.” The middle of the afternoon. No moonlight. No starlight. Too early to open a bottle of wine. She’d be safe—if he had any romantic intentions, which he probably didn’t.

  “That would be great. I’ll see you then.” He disconnected the call without saying good-bye. Definitely not romantic.

  If they were no longer lovers, maybe she could accept a loan from him. The brick building on Seventh Street was still on the market; Abbie had checked with the realtor and driven past it multiple times. If Hank wasn’t her boyfriend, the complications about taking money from him wouldn’t exist.

  Yes they would. She couldn’t imagine seeing him without suffering emotional pain. Just endorsing the check he’d sent her had set her emotions into a tailspin.

  She ordered herself to think like a businesswoman, not a lover. She wanted to open her school. Hank wanted to lend her money. Time to grow up, put her feelings aside, and take care of business. If he still wanted to give her a loan, she ought to accept it. As long as they weren’t lovers—and they weren’t—she could take his money, just as she’d taken his money for walking Priscilla.

  She dressed in the least suggestive clothing she owned—a thick wool sweater, jeans, and her shell necklace for good luck—and headed out to attend to the day’s dogs. Her last appointment before visiting Hank entailed walking a sheltie who lived in Hank’s mother’s neighborhood. The dog was smart and obedient, and after a brisk walk together through the chilly afternoon, she rewarded him with a heart-shaped biscuit, leaving a second biscuit for him on the kitchen counter so his humans would be able to give him a Valentine’s Day treat when they got home from work. Then, steeling herself, she climbed into her car and drove to Hank’s condominium.

  He answered the door almost too quickly, as if he’d been watching for her through the living room window. They stood on opposite sides of the threshold, gazing at each other for a long, potent minute. He looked…well, of course he looked hot. He always looked hot.

  But also haggard. His dark eyes were shadowed, his hair was mussed, and his jaw was darkened by a stubble of beard. He had on a dress shirt and tailored trousers. Had he just gotten home from his office?

  Before she could ask, she heard a sudden chorus of familiar barks. “Priscilla?” she blurted out, hunkering down in time to greet the Yorkie-Spitz mutt barreling toward the front door to greet her.

  Priscilla clearly remembered Abbie. She yapped. She woofed. She sniffed Abbie’s bent knees and licked her hand.

  Abbie reached into her purse and pulled out one of the valentine biscuits. “Hello, sweetheart!” she said. “I’ve got a treat for you!” She scooped up the dog with her free hand and rose. “Do you need me to walk her?” she asked Hank.

  “No. I invited you here because there’s someone else I want you to meet. Come inside.” He stepped back, allowing her to enter his home without having to touch him.

  Her vision took in the scattered dog toys in his living room, the fluffy pink dog bed in a corner near the fireplace, and beyond the kitchen door Priscilla’s water and food dishes. Before she could ask Hank whether Priscilla had moved in with him—the answer was pretty obvious—a woman sauntered out of the living room and offered her a smile. The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties, with stylishly wavy blond hair, impeccable make-up, and neatly manicured hands. She wore slim black trousers, a silky tunic, and dangly earrings that resembled waterfalls composed of diamonds.

  Apparently Hank had found a woman he didn’t have to buy. She looked rich. Also gorgeous.

  Abbie wasn’t surprised that Hank would have found a new girlfriend so quickly. He was successful, handsome, and charismatic. Abbie had wound up in his bed awfully quickly. Evidently, Hank moved fast.

  But why would he want Abbie to meet his new woman? Surely he wasn’t that cruel.

  “Abbie, this is Colleen Flaherty. Colleen, Abbie Harding,” he introduced them. Colleen smiled warmly. Abbie bit her lip. “Colleen is a client of mine,” Hank continued, leading Abbie further into the living room and stepping on what appeared to be a plastic T-bone steak, which emitted a loud squeak. He sprang away, glared at Priscilla—as if she’d deliberately left her toy in his path—and then continued. “Colleen is sitting on some cash reserves and she’s looking for investment opportunities. I asked her if she might be interested in something a little smaller than our usual projects at New Horizons.”

  “I adore dogs,” Colleen said to Abbie. “Isn’t this little one precious?” She reached out and stroked the fur between Priscilla’s ears. The dog let out a yelp, then wriggled out of Abbie’s hands and dropped to the floor, the heart-shaped dog biscuit clenched in her jaws. “Hank mentioned that you need financing to open a dog obedience school. That sounds like so much fun!”

  Abbie glanced at Hank, frowning as she tried to figure out the situation. Was this woman his new lover, or wasn’t she?

  “I’d be a silent partner, of course,” Colleen assured her. “And I’d have to run the financing past my advisors. But it just sounds like a hoot. Canine college!”

  “I think I’d be starting with canine elementary school,” Abbie managed, eyeing Hank again. He grinned, shrugged, and said, “Why don’t you two sit down and talk about it? I’ll go make some coffee.”

  Not sure what else to do, Abbie removed her jacket and sat on the couch. Colleen Flaherty settled into the thick leather upholstery beside her, angling her body so they could face each other. Priscilla dashed across the living room, leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs in her wake, and sprang up onto the sofa between them.

  If Priscilla were one of Abbie’s pupils, Abbie would have to teach her not to jump on the furniture. She moved Priscilla from the couch onto her own lap and rubbed her behind the ears, quickly calming her down.

  “I can see you’re good with dogs,” Colleen said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got in mind for your school?”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Hank stayed out of their way. He poured two mugs of coffee and carried them into the living room for Abbie and Colleen, then grabbed a third mu
g for himself and retired to the room off the kitchen that he used as a home office. If Abbie and Colleen were going to wind up in business together, he didn’t want to be a part of it. He didn’t want Abbie to think of him in the context of business at all.

  Colleen had contacted him yesterday, once again saying she was looking for investments. Her financial advisor wanted her to diversify her divorce settlement into assorted mutual funds, and she’d parked some of her money there, along with the money she’d handed over to New Horizons. But she was looking for something fun, as she’d put it. Something different. Something her sonofabitch ex-husband would never have invested in.

  He’d thought of Abbie’s school for dogs.

  He’d known Abbie wouldn’t drive to his office in Boston to meet with Colleen, so he’d convinced Colleen to come to his condo. And—miracle of miracles—he’d convinced Abbie to come to his condo, too. Now, he could only hope his financial matchmaking turned out well.

  He could barely hear the women’s voices through the closed door, but they seemed to be getting along. He tried to focus on the data on his laptop, yet a significant portion of his brain remained on Abbie, how beautiful she’d looked standing on his front steps, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes wary until Priscilla had sprinted toward her. Her expression had warmed not when she’d seen him but when she’d seen Priscilla. He’d suffered a pang of envy at that.

  Abbie was no longer working for him. Could they put their business aside and be lovers once more? That was all he wanted.

  No, it wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted Colleen to fund Abbie’s school, so she could see her dream become a reality.

  After about an hour, he heard a light tap on the office door. He rose from his desk and swung the door open. “I think we’ve got a plan,” Colleen said, beaming. Abbie stood slightly behind her, smiling tentatively. “I need to run it by my people first, but I think this is going to work out well. Right, Abbie?”

  Abbie nodded.

  “But now I’ve got to go. I have a date. Valentine’s Day, you know.” Colleen shook Hank’s hand, thanked him, and headed toward the front door, murmuring, “Where’s that cute little pooch of yours? Don’t spoil your dog, Hank. Abbie won’t stand for it.”

  Hank hurried after Colleen, barely avoiding stepping on Priscilla before he reached the front door. He held it open for Colleen, they exchanged goodbyes and promises to talk next week, and she was gone.

  He closed the door behind her and turned to find Abbie cleaning bits of dog biscuit from the floor. One thing he’d learned in the past few days—as if he hadn’t already known—was that Priscilla was messy.

  “You don’t have to clean up after her,” he said.

  “I gave her the dog biscuit,” Abbie said. “I feel responsible.”

  “It’s okay.” God, this seemed so stilted. He didn’t want to be discussing a dog biscuit with Abbie. He wanted to be kissing her.

  She straightened, a mound of biscuit crumbs in her cupped hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For telling you not to clean up after her?”

  “For introducing me to Colleen. I think we can make this work. She’s very enthusiastic.”

  “That she is.”

  “And for apologizing,” Abbie continued. “I should apologize, too. I overreacted when you offered to lend me money. You had good intentions. You were being generous. I—”

  “No,” he cut her off. “I shouldn’t have made that offer. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d feel about it. All I was thinking about was that…I wanted to be your partner.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine your wanting to be a partner in a dog training business.”

  “I wanted to be your partner,” he said, crossing to her, curling his fingers around her wrist, and tilting her hand so the crumbs would fall into his palm. “I wanted to be your everything. Not just your lover but your savior. I should have realized that the last thing you want is a savior.”

  “You wanted me to be indebted to you,” she confirmed.

  He nodded sheepishly.

  “You’re right. I don’t want a savior.” She rose on tiptoe and brushed his lips with a kiss. “A partner, though… That could work.”

  A wave of relief washed over him. He wrapped his arms around her, scattering the biscuit crumbs across the floor and not caring. They hugged, they kissed, and he felt as if his life was settling back into exactly the shape it was supposed to be.

  Except for Priscilla, who took grave offense at their embrace. She barked, she slammed into their ankles, she paused to nibble one of the fallen biscuit pieces, and then she barked some more. Hank reluctantly loosened his hold on Abbie. “I’m going to need your help with the dog.”

  “You can enroll her in my school,” she said. “Or arrange for private lessons.”

  “Private lessons sound good.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and Priscilla growled. “She’s still a problem.”

  “No,” Abbie corrected him. “Dogs aren’t problems. They’re the solution to problems. How come she’s living with you?”

  “It’s a long story, but she’s apparently my dog now,” he said, deciding Priscilla could growl herself into a canine case of laryngitis, for all he cared. “My mom fell in love.” His lips, touching Abbie’s, curved in a smile. “Like mother, like son.”

  Abbie’s lips mirrored his. “I love long stories. Almost as much as I love dogs.” Her smile was alluring. Incredibly sexy. “Almost as much as I love you,” she murmured.

  They kissed again. Priscilla continued barking, and they blissfully ignored her and kept on kissing.

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  About the Author

  Judith Arnold is the award-winning, bestselling author of more than a hundred published novels. A New York native, she currently lives in New England, where she indulges in her passions for jogging, dark chocolate, good music, good wine and good books. She is married and the mother of two sons.

  For more information about Judith, or to contact her, please visit her website. Feel free to check out her other books and sign up for her newsletter.

  About the Magic Jukebox

  The Magic Jukebox sits in the Faulk Street Tavern in the quiet seaside town of Brogan’s Point, Massachusetts. No one knows what classic rock songs will come out of the jukebox when a coin is inserted, but every now and then, the jukebox will play a song that casts a spell on two bar patrons—a song that will change their lives and open their hearts to love.

  Check out the other books in the Magic Jukebox series

  Changes

  Antiques dealer Diana Simms is engaged to her longtime boyfriend when she finds herself inside the Faulk Street Tavern. The song “Changes” emerges from the jukebox and casts its spell on her. It also captivates Nick Fiore, a local boy who’s arrived at adulthood the hard way, after a tour through the juvenile justice system. Now he’s dedicated his life to helping other troubled kids. He has no business even looking at a beautiful, well-bred woman wearing a diamond engagement ring. But once they’re bewitched by the jukebox, he and Diana must change their lives, their goals, their dreams and their hearts.

  True Colors

  When she finds herself homeless, artist Emma Glendon accepts the invitation of her best friend to share a rental house in Brogan’s Point. But their absentee landlord, Nick Tarloff, has come to town from his home in San Francisco to sell the house, which will mean evicting his tenants. Nick is a high-tech brainiac and a self-made millionnaire. Emma is a painter and a free spirit. They have nothing in common—except the jukebox, which plays “True Colors” and forces them to recognize their own true colors, colors that can match and blend magnificently, if the magic of the jukebox has its way.

  Wild Thing

  Monica Reinhart is a good girl. A hometown girl. After college, she returned to Brogan’s Point to help run the family business, an oceanfront inn. She’s never done a wild thing in her life. When Ty Cronin sails into town, his wildness intrigues her. When the jukeb
ox plays “Wild Thing,” that wildness infects her, and soon she finds herself doing things she never would have imagined. But Ty could be big trouble. She hardly knows him. She mustn’t trust him. Yet once she’s taken a walk on the wild side with him, how can she go back to being a good hometown girl?

  Heat Wave

  Caleb Solomon’s office air conditioner is on the fritz. Although not his choice, he winds up meeting with a difficult but profitable client in the pleasant chill of the air-conditioned Faulk Street Tavern. It’s there that high school teacher Meredith Benoit finds him. Due to a silly prank, her job and her reputation are in jeopardy. She needs a lawyer, fast. But the Magic Jukebox starts playing “Heat Wave,” and a hot wave of passion crashes over Caleb and Meredith, catching them in its undertow and carrying them off.

  Moondance

  Cory Malone and Talia Roszik married as teenagers after Talia became pregnant. Their marriage didn’t last, but their love for their daughter did. Fifteen years after their divorce, Wendy Malone is graduating from high school, and Cory has traveled to Brogan’s Point for the occasion. But Cory’s and Talia’s plans—and their emotions—are thrown into turmoil when they hear the Magic Jukebox play “Moondance.” Can a single song make them forget all the hurt and rediscover the love that once brought them together?

  Take the Long Way Home

  Maeve Nolan left Brogan’s Point ten years ago in anger and pain, planning never to return. She hadn’t known that Harry, her sweet, silver-haired friend, was a billionaire, but her unexpected inheritance from him lures her back to town. If she’s going to remain, she will have to mend her tattered relationship with her father, Police Detective Ed Nolan, and his girlfriend, Gus Naukonen—the owner of the Faulk Street Tavern. She’ll also have to deal with Quinn Connor, Brogan’s Point’s one-time golden boy, who’s changed his life but can’t escape the expectations the folks in town have of him. When the tavern's Magic Jukebox plays “Take the Long Way Home,” it casts its spell on Maeve and Quinn. Can they find home in each other’s arms?