by Zoe Dawson
“Well, damn. I guess I should realize I need my beauty sleep before blurting out ungodly meeting times.”
“Are you already picking on Harper?” Poe Madigan asked from behind them as she followed her Jack Russell terriers, affectionately known as The Terrible Two or The Triple T for short. They came trotting into the park like they owned it. Edgar and Allan were notorious little brats.
Poe settled on the bench next to Callie as her dogs raced off. Poe was aptly named, with her blue-streaked hair, raven tattoo and the whole Goth vibe. She planned to open a veterinary practice when her hospital internship was completed in the spring, and Callie was sure Poe’s Cornell DVM would guarantee plenty of patients.
“Harper brings it on herself,” Brooke said, picking up the interrupted thread.
“I need to get a second job. New York is so much more expensive than Ithaca,” Poe announced, her face showing that she was already stressed about it.
“Oh, sweetie, I can help.”
“No, Harper, it’s not up to you to support me. I can make my own way. I didn’t bring it up to get sympathy. I just wanted to let you all know that I might not make it some Saturdays for our play date.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Callie said. “We’ll miss you and the triple T’s.” Callie slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulder and squeezed, giving her a reassuring smile.
“I don’t know what kind of schedule I’ll have, so don’t worry yet. Thanks, though.” Poe returned the smile and squeezed Callie’s hand, then wrapped her arm around Harper’s shoulders to give her a quick hug.
“Not to change the subject, Poe, but how did your first laser surgery go?” Brooke asked.
“Great. It was fascinating, and Dr. Martin let me do everything while he supervised. I can’t wait to do another one.”
“Would that be the cute Dr. Martin?”
Poe blushed and looked away. “He’s pretty cute.”
“Ask him out,” Harper urged.
“No. That’s not my thing. A guy should ask a woman out. Besides, I’m afraid I’ll just make some obscure reference. He’ll stare at me and not know what to say. Then, I’ll say something even worse. Then we’ll find it awkward whenever we’re together at work. Or he’ll just look at me and realize I’m a geek.”
“My date last night almost put me to sleep,” Callie said.
“How disappointing. But I can top that. I got a text from Sam, the guy I’ve been dating for a week. He said, and I quote, ‘Can I reserve u for our next date?’ Reserve me? What am I? A restaurant?” Brooke asked.
“Did he spell out you?” Poe asked.
“Nope. Used ‘u’ like we’re still in high school. What is it with guys who can’t spell out you? It’s not like the phone company charges you per letter,” Brooke said.
“It’s just plain lazy,” Poe chimed in.
“The boring date was something I could handle, but I had a close encounter with The Stud.”
“Owen McKay. He’s bad news. A love ’em and leave ’em bad boy,” Brooke said. “You’ve read the New York Scoop.”
“I know, but every time I get near him, I lose it. He has a black and white Great Dane that Jack lusted after to the point where he completely ignored me and yanked his leash out of my hand. That dog of his could really benefit from some training.”
“Callie, you’re getting off topic,” Brooke pointed out.
“Sorry. His dog tripped us, and we ended up on the floor and Mr. Gorgeous landed on top of me with his thigh right between my legs.”
“Owen is great in bed,” Harper said.
All conversation stopped while the group turned in unison to look at her. Harper laughed. “Oh! No! Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t get naked with him. I just heard that.”
“That’s a relief,” Callie said. “Wait. What am I saying? I got myself hurt constantly in college by all the bad boys I dated. It wouldn’t be smart to get involved with Owen. It would have been better if you had been intimate with him.”
Even though Callie acknowledged that Owen probably was a bad bet, she was secretly very glad Harper hadn’t done the deed with him. It would make him off limits, and part of her wasn’t against that, but another naughtier and less reasonable part of her was giddy.
“I don’t want to sleep with him, but you do,” Harper said smugly.
“He makes me melt.” All three women groaned. “I know, but it’s true.”
“You’re smart to steer clear. Emotionally unavailable men don’t change,” Brooke said. “Now don’t give me that sad face. It’s for your own good.”
“But we all wish they would change,” Poe said wistfully.
Callie couldn’t agree more.
Just then Edgar ran up to a little girl who was holding an ice cream cone. Just as she bent down to pet him, Allan swooped in and stole the treat.
“Edgar and Allan,” Poe scolded. “I’ve told you no team tagging children!”
The Terrible Two ran off to enjoy the spoils and all four women broke out into laughter. Poe made amends by buying the little girl another cone and warned her to keep away from the little varmints.
#
Three weeks had passed since the incident in the hallway with Owen McKay, and Callie was still telling herself she was relieved that he hadn’t spoken to her or tried to ask her out. She knew her mind was strong, but her flesh was definitely still weak, even without renewed temptation.
But today when she got home from work, she found a note from Owen on her door. It said simply, “I need to talk to you.”
Callie left Jack safely locked in the loft and walked across the hall to knock on Owen’s door, determinedly ignoring the shiver of anticipation that coursed through her.
It seemed an eternity passed before he opened the door, but it was worth the wait. This time he was wearing only a pair of soft, faded jeans slung low on his hips, and nothing else. His features were just as gorgeous as she remembered, but his lean jaw was clenched tight. His dark hair was a wet, disheveled, enticing mess around his head, making it clear that he’d only just ruffled it with a towel after stepping out of the shower. He looked so sinfully sexy he literally took her breath away. The dreams and fantasies of Owen that she’d spun over the past three weeks paled in comparison to the real thing.
He folded his arms across his broad, bare chest and leaned against the doorframe, his entire demeanor tense.
“We have a situation here.”
“A situation?” Callie repeated, her heart starting to beat faster. Oh, God. Was he going to ask her out?
“Jack knocked Jill up.”
Her expectations went thump. “Whaaaaat?”
“Jill’s going to have puppies, and Jack’s the only possible father.”
Chapter Two
“Oh, my God.” Her dark green eyes widened, and he was struck by how expressive they were. “Are you sure?”
His dog was going to have puppies, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He now was tied to this sweet, girl-next-door type he’d done his utmost to avoid. She didn’t have the white picket fence, but she might as well have. Sharks like him swam in dark, murky waters, just waiting to gobble up a tasty morsel like Callie.
When he’d discovered that his dog was pregnant and realized that the culprit had to be Callie’s Dane Jack, he’d thought about keeping mum. She wouldn’t have known. But his conscience wouldn’t let him. She had the right to know. But his problem was that Callie was too tempting and much too sweet for him. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s no other way she could be pregnant.”
He moved back and, just like an exotic scent on a restless wind, she followed him into his loft. He deliberately left the door open, as if that would protect her from him. “Were you planning to breed her?”
“No. I don’t know anything about breeding a Great Dane, nor am I interested in doing it.” Taking responsibility for Jill was more than he really wanted. But, he’d loved his Great Aunt Matilda. “She didn’t want me to be lonely.” That
had been the trouble with Matilda; her shrewd old eyes had missed very little.
“Then may I ask why she wasn’t spayed?” Her earnest expression only made him want to reach out and do something naughty to change it. His eyes slid over her, from her golden-brown hair down to her serviceable, flat-heeled shoes. He was a master at reading body language, especially female body language, and even as his eyes returned to her face, he noticed how she leaned toward him. He was sure she wasn’t even aware of it. It made his blood heat to a slow burn.
He dragged his hand through his hair, irritated with the whole situation. It was bad enough he had to be across the hall from all that temptation, now she had to become a part of his life. But it was futile to fight against it. “My great aunt had planned to breed her, apparently. She was a bit eccentric, but I loved her. She died five weeks ago and left the dog to me. I had no idea Jill hadn’t been spayed. Turns out it’s one of the reasons she is so unruly. Plus my great aunt indulged her shamelessly.”
“I’m sorry about your great aunt. What was her name?” The words were obviously heartfelt, and her eyes conveyed her genuine sympathy. He was both touched and terrified by her completely open compassion, the sympathy in her eyes, and the soft cadence of her voice. Really, he should run like hell in the other direction rather than spend any more time with this woman.
“Matilda is…was her given name, but I always called her Aunt Tilly.” He nodded, struggling against the sudden emotion that clogged his chest. That was the thing about grief. It snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking and wasn’t prepared.
“So, you must have had no clue that Jill was in heat.”
He heard the jingle of Jill’s collar tags and glanced down the spacious loft to see her emerge from his bedroom. She was a lean, lithe silhouette against the backdrop of New York and the setting sun. “No. But in retrospect, I can see that she’d been behaving differently.”
Catching her gaze traveling over his chest, he suddenly wished he’d taken the time to throw on a shirt before he opened the door. She wet her lips and everything in him tightened. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Jack is registered.”
When her words penetrated his aroused brain, he groaned. “Oh, man. Now I feel like I’ve stolen a stud fee from you.”
Callie laughed. “I wouldn’t say that you stole it exactly, but Jack’s sire and dam are champions, and my parents are the breeders. Jack-of-All-Trades is his sire and his dam is Pot of Gold. Jack’s registered name is Lassiter Run’s Jackpot.”
He might be portrayed as a ruthless rogue of a nightclub owner in the New York Scoop, and he would agree that some of it was true, but most of the rag’s stories about him were pure fantasy. But he wasn’t a thief and he certainly hadn’t meant to breed his dog to Callie’s. His thoughts returned to what she was saying and then it registered.
“Oh, crap. Jack-of-All-Trades? The champion Great Dane that has won more shows than any other Dane? Ha, great. Are your parents going to be angry?”
“How do you know about Jack’s sire?”
“My aunt. She followed all the dogs and their ranks. She loved to talk about it, especially at the end. I listened.”
“They’ve been planning on putting Jack to stud, that’s why he wasn’t neutered. I don’t know how they will take the news, but they’ll be thrilled that he can perform.”
Owen laughed and Callie smiled. His chest felt tight. Again.
“He’s only two,” she continued, “so my parents were waiting until he was a little older.”
The only warning that he had before Jill sailed over the sofa like an Olympic-class hurdler was the jingle of her tags. She sprinted out the door and made a mad dash to Callie’s door.
The dog’s shoulder hit Callie, and she twisted away and landed with a thump on his dark mahogany floor as a whoosh exploded from her. She pushed herself up and snapped, “That dog is a menace.”
“I’m sorry,” he responded as he reached down and helped her up. Owen could hear Jack whining and pawing on the other side of Callie’s door.
Jill snuffled along the edge of the threshold, pacing back and forth.
They walked into the hall and Owen grabbed Jill’s collar. “This is a mess, but the worst part is that I’m freaked out about Jill.”
Callie stopped in front of her door and said, “Quiet, Jack,” but the crying continued. “What do you mean?”
“I have a pregnant dog. Does she need special food? Vitamins? What happens when she goes into labor? ‘I don’t know nothin’ about birthing no puppies.’”
Callie laughed. “Calm down, Prissy,” she said, continuing Owen’s Gone With The Wind joke. “We’ll fetch a doctor to help out.”
“Ha ha.”
Callie sobered. “Have you had her checked?”
“At a clinic, and I’m not taking her back there. I don’t have a lot of confidence in their ability to handle my dog.”
“Well, I have a friend who is doing her DVM residency at St. Mark’s Veterinary Hospital. I’m sure she would make a house call.”
Owen felt relief flood him. “That would be great.”
“She could recommend a vet from the hospital, too, because you’ll want to take her for regular checkups during her pregnancy.”
“I really appreciate your help with this.” He looked away as he struggled to balance his desire to avoid getting close to this woman with the needs of his dog, and the sneaky, self-sabotaging inclinations of his traitorous body. Finally he decided it was better to take the plunge. “Would you be willing to provide Jill with some training?”
Initially, Callie looked wary. He couldn’t really blame her, given that he hadn’t exactly planned to ask until his mouth opened and the words popped out.
“Of course,” she finally said and dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card.
Owen took the card, allowing his fingers to slide along hers. They tingled as she pulled her hand away.
And then he had to laugh immediately at her business name. “Sit Happens. Clever.” Their chance bond was as unexpected as it was unwanted, and her adorable sense of humor only made the situation more difficult. At least for him.
“I have three girlfriends who are great at brainstorming. You should have heard some of the names they came up with. But a little humor is a good thing, and my business is thriving, as you’ll see when you bring Jill in for her first lesson, say on Monday.”
“So you’re Manhattan’s dog whisperer?”
Callie chuckled.
“Monday’s fine. How about eleven?”
She nodded. “I also think my parents will want to see Jill. Do you mind coming with me when I go to Harrison tomorrow afternoon? I can bribe you with a delicious, homemade meal. My mother is a dream cook. It’s only a half hour outside the city.”
“Will there be dessert?”
“Of course.”
“I’m in, then, and it’s the least I can do.”
“Owen?”
He turned to find Celeste Hearne, his new club manager standing at his elbow. He looked back at Callie and saw her eyes shutter as they traveled over the stunning woman. “Callie, this is Celeste.”
Callie nodded at her in greeting. “I need to feed Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Owen wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that Celeste was his business manager, not his current squeeze, but he kept quiet. It was better this way. Better she believed him to be the playboy the Scoop followed avidly. He wasn’t into commitment, and Callie was the type of woman who would expect it. Owen knew that he’d only break her heart.
Owen gazed after her anyway as she slipped inside her loft, having to fight an agitated Jack, who gave her a very mournful doggie groan as she shut the door on his ladylove.
“I thought you went for the more…glamorous type, Owen.” When he just gave her a stern look, she shrugged and continued. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you wanted to go over the recent figures for the club, and I couldn’t reach you on the phone.”
“No, it’s fine.” He indicated she should precede him into the loft, dragging Jill with him and shutting the door. Jill eyed him, and then the door, and then him again with a very sad look on her face, but Owen ignored it. When she finally lay down in front of the door, he transferred his attention to Celeste.
As recently as last week, he’d been toying with the idea of getting her into bed. She would understand the score, but now he felt uninterested for the first time in his life. Callie’s lovely face and her heartfelt genuineness filled his imagination, and he shook his head abruptly. A part of him longed for that, but it just came with too many strings.
“Let’s get to those numbers,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended, as Celeste followed him into his home office.
#
The fact that she had been right about what type of woman Owen went for didn’t make her feel any better. Wow, those gypsy eyes, and that perfect face, not to mention her dark, curly, just-out-of-bed hair and hot, slamming bod. Callie realized she didn’t stand a chance against exotic-looking Celeste.
Wrong, wrong, wrong! She shouldn’t be thinking about Owen at all. She stalked into the kitchen, feeling downright infuriated as she prepared Jack’s dinner. He hadn’t followed her in, so she suspected he was pouting. Well, let him pout. That female dog was freakin’ out of control. The way she jumped over the couch like a gazelle was truly something to behold. But no dog owner should put up with that kind of behavior.
Unless. Callie wondered if she was a natural for agility training. Owen looked pretty athletic, with all his tight muscles. He actually might enjoy bonding with Jill that way. She’d broach the subject and see what he thought.
“Are you hiding from me, mister?” Jack made another grunting noise and Callie couldn’t help but smile. She was glad he couldn’t see her. “You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do, young man.”
She pursed her lips and made rapid kissing noises as she set his bowl down. Jack came to the kitchen door and gave her a sheepish look. “Dinner,” she said and pointed to the bowl. He walked over and sniffed it, and then looked at her with his expressive brown eyes and his adorable droopy lips.
