The Man Behind the Pinstripes

by Melissa McClone

  Becca pressed her lips together.

  The ring steward announced the competition.

  She took a deep breath and raised her chin.

  “You’re going to kill them,” Caleb whispered, his warm breath against her ear. “No one stands a chance against you and Snowy.”

  His words provided an extra jolt of confidence. Not needed, but nice. Very nice, actually.

  She fell in line with the six other handlers and their dogs.

  With a grateful smile in his direction, Becca squared her shoulders, then stepped into the ring with Snowy.

  It was show time!

  * * *

  Best in Show!

  Snowy—registered name White Christmas in Sunny July—had been awarded Best in Show.

  Pride flowed through Caleb. His chest expanded with each breath. A satisfied smile settled on his lips.

  The crowd applauded and cheered.

  He videotaped the award ceremony. Snowy pranced around as if he knew he was top dog, but Becca’s wide smile and joy-filled eyes defined the moment for Caleb. A photographer snapped official winner pictures with the judge. Handlers shook Becca’s hand. She juggled the gift basket, flowers and three feet long ribbon she’d been awarded.

  Caleb stood back, away from the entrance to the ring, and waited. He wanted to watch Becca savor the win.

  People congratulated her on the way out of the ring, but she gave all the credit to Snowy, who soaked up the attention as if he knew he’d be getting extra doggy treats tonight. Little Gianna and her mom hugged Becca.

  The crowd dispersed.

  Becca made her way to him, her arms extended outward with the basket and flowers and Snowy’s leash and ribbon in the other. “Best in Show!”

  “Congratulations.” Caleb wrapped his arms around her. Her breasts pressed against his chest. The feeling of rightness nearly knocked him back a step. Holding her felt good, natural. He didn’t want to let go. He chalked it up to working too hard on the baby product launch and not going out on many dates. He forced himself to drop his arms. “You killed it.”

  She blushed, a charming shade of pink. “Thanks, but Snowy did all the work.”

  Becca was too modest. But that was something he liked about her. “We need to celebrate. Bend has some nice restaurants.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to leave the dogs alone in the RV.”

  The dogs. He’d forgotten about them even though he couldn’t look anywhere without seeing one dog or twelve. “We can find a place that delivers.”

  “I’m all set for food for the weekend. I never leave the grounds of a show once I arrive,” Becca said. “I’m positive Gertie will want to celebrate when we’re home. She’s never had a dog win Best in Show. She’ll probably throw a party.”

  “Sounds like Grams.” But Caleb didn’t want to wait. He wanted to make tonight special for Becca. “But we can still celebrate here.”

  “I thought you were going to fly home tonight. Don’t you have to get to the airport?”

  “I was...am.” But Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted to leave now. “Unless you want me to stay.”

  “Don’t waste your entire weekend here. Fly home so you and your sister can have brunch with Gertie.”

  Caleb did that every Sunday. He would rather have brunch with Becca. Preferably after spending the night together. The idea of having a fling with her had been floating around his head since he saw her standing next to the bed Tuesday morning.

  She juggled the items in her arms.

  He took the basket and flowers from her. “I’ve got these.”

  “Thanks.” A smile brightened her face. She walked with a playful bounce to her step. Neither of which he had anything to do with.

  He wanted to be the reason she was so happy, but only dogs got that honor. He was at a disadvantage without four legs and fur.

  The light fragrance of the flowers tickled his nose, teasing him, as if the blossoms knew he wouldn’t be around in the morning, but they would be.

  People streamed out of the fairgrounds. Engines roared to life. Horns honked. Dogs barked. People were clearing out, returning to their hotels off-site. Others returned to their RVs parked in a special area at the fairgrounds.

  Becca placed Snowy into his pen under the shade of an awning then checked the other dogs. “Want a drink or a snack before you head to the airport?”

  “What makes you think I’m leaving now?”

  Her eyes widened. “I assumed you’d want to get home.”

  “Home is a three-thousand-square-foot loft in downtown Boise.” A quiet place—a lonely place—compared to the activity and noise here. He breathed in the fresh air. “This is a nice change. No need to rush back.”

  “You’re more than welcome to join me for dinner. I’m grilling hot dogs.”

  He did a double take. “Hot dogs.”

  “Does wiener dogs work better? Or how about Dachshund dogs?” she teased. “We’re at a dog show. A themed meal makes sense.”

  “What else is on the menu?”

  Laughter filled her eyes. “Saluki Slaw, Bloodhound Beans and Pekinese Potato Chips. Oh, and Corgi Cookies for dessert.”

  “Corgi cookies, huh?”

  “There’s also Bernese Brownies.”

  A quick thinker. He liked that. “Not a bad job coming up with those names on the fly.”

  And turning a meal into fun. He needed to have more fun.

  “Not bad.” A corner of her mouth slid upward. “Darn good if you ask me.”

  “You’ve convinced me to stay. I’ll fly back to Boise after dinner so I can still have brunch with Grams in the morning.”

  Panic replaced the laughter in Becca’s eyes. She shot him a what-have-I-gotten-myself-into smile. She tugged her bottom lip with her teeth. “Win-win.”

  She was a good sport. “Those are the games I like.”

  Except he wasn’t sure what he was doing with Becca right at this moment. There was no reason for him to stay and every reason in the world to go. Hot dogs weren’t his typical Saturday night dinner fare, but he was more interested in the company, Becca’s company. And, how could he turn down a Corgi cookie?

  Win-win any way he looked at it.

  * * *

  After dinner, Becca stood at the RV’s sink. She placed the paper plates and plastic utensils from dinner in the garbage. She kept a smile on her face, but tension wreaked havoc inside her. Awareness of Caleb flowed down her spine and pooled at her feet. She slanted a glance over her shoulder. “I’m almost finished.”

  Caleb sat in one of the leather lounge chairs. His legs were extended and crossed at the ankles. His gaze on her. “You’d be finished if you’d let me help.”

  Cleaning up after dinner gave her something to do with her hands other than combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her clothes. Being around Caleb made Becca self-conscious about her appearance, about everything. It wasn’t anything he did—he offered to help prepare the meal and clean up. Or anything he said—he was easy to speak with and complimentary. It was just...him.

  She placed the now-dried pans in the cabinet above. “There wasn’t much to do.”

  “Maybe not in the kitchen,” he said. “What about the dogs?”

  She checked the clock on the microwave. “I need to take them for walks.”

  Caleb rose. “I’ll go with you.”

  “What about your flight?”

  He took a step toward Becca. His tall, athletic frame made the spacious and luxurious RV feel like a pop-up trailer. “It’s Grams’s jet. There’s no set departure time until I tell them I’m ready.”

  “Must be nice.” Becca was still trying to get used to Gertie’s top-of-the-line RV, purchased specifically for dog shows. She held out a plastic cont
ainer containing the leftover cookies. “Want more?”

  “If I eat another bite, I’ll need a crane to get me out of here.” He patted his flat stomach. “I forgot how good hot dogs tasted.”

  “Must be a big change from the haute cuisine you eat.”

  “Prime rib is about as fancy as I get,” he said. “I take after my grandfather when it comes to food. Gramps was a meat-and-potatoes man. Much to the chagrin of Grams, who liked to experiment in the kitchen the way she does in the lab. We usually ended up with two dinners when I was a kid. One for Gramps that our cook made and one for the more adventurous appetites that Grams provided.”

  “Which did you eat?”

  “Both. I took one bite of whatever Grams cooked. Sometimes more. Only once did I spit it out. I made her promise never to tell me what it was.”

  “Growing up with Gertie must have been interesting.”

  “It was never boring. But no matter how busy my grandparents were with Fair Face, we always ate dinner together. That was our special time.”

  “Sounds nice.” She felt a twinge of envy, even though she knew she’d been loved. “My parents worked multiple jobs so eating meals together didn’t happen much.”

  “That had to have been rough.”

  “It’s all I knew.” She put the lid on the cookies, then set the container on the counter. “My folks worked hard to make ends meet so it was difficult for me to complain.”

  “You get your work ethic from your parents.”

  She nodded. “I wish things were easier for them. Maybe someday...”

  “Invite them to visit you at Grams’s house.”

  “Gertie suggested that, but my parents don’t have the same days off,” Becca said. “I emailed them pictures. They thought the estate looked like something from a TV show. The grounds impressed my dad. His dream is to have a lawn to mow.”

  “We’ve always had gardeners to take care of that, but I thought the rider mower looked fun.”

  “I take it your loft doesn’t have a yard.”

  “No. There’s a terrace with planters and a lap spa. Grass would be impractical.”

  She exited the RV. Caleb followed her out. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. Street lamps along the roads that now doubled as walkways around all the RVs lit up the area.

  “Well, if you ever want a lawn up there, there’s always Astroturf”

  He gave her a look. “You can’t mow Astroturf.”

  “Vacuum it.”

  “Vacuuming doesn’t sound like fun.”

  “Let me guess—you’ve never vacuumed.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Their lives were so different. Too different. She couldn’t forget that even if she liked talking and being with him and wondering what kissing him would feel like. “Try it sometime. Vacuuming is a good way to clear your mind.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  She locked the RV door. “Maybe means you won’t.”

  A sheepish grin spread across his face. “Wouldn’t want to offend the team that cleans my place.”

  Whoa. He lived in a completely different universe than her. “You have a team of cleaners?”

  “Doing my part to stimulate the economy.”

  Okay, that was funny. She liked his sense of humor. With a smile, she shook her head. “Working for Gertie sure has given me a glimpse into how the other half lives.”

  “What do you think so far?”

  His question didn’t sound flippant, but why would he care what she thought? Few people except her parents and Gertie did.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked.

  “No, not at all.”

  “So...”

  He sounded genuinely interested in knowing Becca’s opinion. “Honestly, it’s been nice,” Becca said. “Gertie is eccentric and loves luxurious things, but she’s more grounded than I imagined someone as wealthy as her to be. It’ll be hard to leave behind.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Planning on going somewhere?”

  “Not in the near future, but I want to be a full-time handler. Care for the dogs in between shows. Teach handling classes to kids and dog owners.”

  “You can make a living doing that?”

  His disbelief didn’t surprise her. “The top handlers in the country make over six figures a year.”

  “I had no idea people did this as a full-time job.”

  “A few do,” she said. “Most work other jobs and handle part-time or as a hobby. Some save money so they can take time off.”

  “Saving for a rainy day.”

  She couldn’t believe he remembered their conversation in his office. “Yes.”

  “You realize you could have a lucrative career working for Grams, especially if the dog-care products take off. You’d earn more than you’d make as a dog handler.”

  Becca shrugged. “I never set out to be a business person.”

  “You care about what you do. You’re not just out to make a buck.”

  “No, but having a few bucks in the bank doesn’t hurt.”

  He smiled. “You belong here. In this dog-show world.”

  “I think so.” She hoped this was where she belonged. “I appreciate Gertie giving me the opportunity to show her dogs.”

  Becca attached Maurice’s leash to his collar and released him from the pen. The dog ran straight to Caleb.

  “You have a new friend,” she said.

  He rubbed the dog’s head. “It’s only because I have no dog hair on me. Maurice needs to mark his territory.”

  “As long as he’s not marking it another way.”

  Caleb gave her a look. “Don’t give Maurice any ideas.”

  Becca peeked in on Snowy. The dog slept soundly, his back leg jerking as if dreaming. She would take him out later.

  “Come on, Blue.” She removed the gray eighteen-month-old puppy from his pen. “Time for your walk, boy.”

  Caleb walked next to her with the dogs out in front, leading the way.

  A man, a well-known handler from California, walking four beagles, greeted them with a nod and a hello.

  Caleb looked back at the dogs. “Some people show the same type of dogs. Why doesn’t my grandmother stick to one breed?”

  “Gertie loves all dogs, not a particular breed. She also owns dogs others weren’t sure about or gave up on. She could have the pick of most litters, but she’d rather choose a dog who needs a second chance.”

  “Why would they need a second chance? They’re purebreds.”

  “Yes, but not every purebred meets the breed standard. Reputable breeders have those dogs neutered or spayed and placed in homes as pets.” Becca pointed to Blue. “This guy was the runt of the litter. No one expected him to be show quality, but your grandmother saw something in him and took a chance. Now he’s on his way to being a champion.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Caleb said. “Grams has always been fond of strays.”

  “No kidding. She took me in.”

  “My sister and me, too.”

  “You weren’t strays,” Becca countered. “You’re family.”

  Caleb shrugged.

  “Gertie treats her rescue and foster dogs the same as her show dogs.” Becca could tell he didn’t want to talk about this. “Your grandmother has a big heart.”

  “So do you.”

  His words meant more than they should. Becca tried to down play the fluttery feeling in her stomach. “It’s easy with dogs.”

  “There was that little girl Gianna today.”

  “Just trying to be nice.”

  “Is that what you’re doing now? Being nice to me when you wish I’d left hours ago?”

  Becca didn’t know what she was doing. Feeling. But she didn’t like how Caleb saw
right through her, as if her every thought and emotion were on display especially for him. They were too much in sync, able to understand each other even though they were in very different places in life.

  He made her feel vulnerable, a way she’d felt for three long years in prison. A way she never wanted to feel again. She tightened her grip on the leash and looked up at the sky full of twinkling dots of lights. “Lots of stars out tonight.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “You’re supposed to pretend you don’t notice and play along.”

  He stopped walking to allow Maurice to sniff the grass. “What if I don’t want to do that?”

  “You’re the kind of guy who plays by the rules.”

  “Normally, yes.” He moved closer to her until she could feel the heat of him. “But this isn’t normal.”

  She fought the urge to step back. “Being at the dog show?”

  Caleb stopped inches away from her. “Being here with you.”

  The light from the streetlamp cast shadows on his face. He looked dark and dangerous and oh-so-sexy. Becca swallowed. Last time she’d thought that about a guy she’d ended up in jail. That might not be what would happen to her next, but she shouldn’t take any unnecessary chances and do something stupid again.

  His gaze locked on hers. “Do you want to keep playing by the rules?”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. She should step back. Way back. Put distance between them. For her own good. And his.

  But her feet wouldn’t move. She remained rooted in place, waiting, hoping, anticipating.

  Caleb tilted his head down, bringing his lips close to hers.

  Becca rose up and leaned forward.

  Their lips touched.

  So much for rules.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her hard.

  Hot, salty, raw.

  His lips moved across her, skillfully. His kiss possessed, as if staking a claim and declaring she was his.

  Becca had never felt that way before. She shouldn’t like it, either. She was independent. She didn’t need a man to give her value. But at the moment, with tingles reaching to the tips of her toes and fingers, possession seemed a small price to pay.

  Pleasurable sensations pulsed through her, heating her from the inside out. He deepened the kiss. She followed willingly, arching toward him.