Kylie took the pug through the playroom door. She turned to mouth to Nick, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
On her way out, Barry’s owner stopped to pet Bessie. Nick was too distracted to do more than nod to her. It barely registered when the woman called Bessie an adorable pookie wookie.
Nick was too busy trying—without seeming obvious about it—to look over Kylie’s head as she opened the door that led through to the playroom to see if he could catch a glimpse of Serena.
No luck.
Damn.
Yesterday he’d seen her tall, graceful figure from the distance. The day before he hadn’t seen her at all. Though he suspected she had known he was there and made sure she wouldn’t be seen.
How could he do his job when his prime suspect was being so uncooperative?
He felt frustrated. Impatient. Disappointed. He’d thought he was getting on well with Serena, maybe had even bonded some over the Joe Godfrey episode.
Hell, on what feasible pretext could he get in there to meet with her?
Kylie returned to take Bessie from him. “Your little girl has settled in so well,” she said, “she’s part of the gang.”
His little girl. He gritted his teeth. He forced his doting-doggy-daddy smile. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“She’s really adorable,” Kylie said. “C’mon here, sweet pea.”
Bessie responded by trying to lick Kylie’s face. Kylie laughed as she snaked her head back to avoid Bessie’s overenthusiastic pink tongue.
Kylie was a short, curvy blond with a pretty, dimple-punctuated face and a tendency to gossip that Nick did everything to encourage.
While Serena had been incommunicado, Nick had made it his business to subtly milk Kylie for any information he could about the staff at Paws-A-While. Full names. Backgrounds. Length of employment. Any possible clues as to their likelihood to commit fraud.
He already knew, for instance, that she herself was a single mom of an eight-year-old boy named Finn and a budgie named Tweety. Ironically, for the doggiest dog nut he had ever encountered, she lived in an apartment with a strict no-dog rule. Kylie made no secret of the fact she worked extra shifts to try save enough to move somewhere with a yard.
She also made no secret of the fact that she was fiercely loyal to her boss. Fiercely protective, too, even though she was only a couple years older. From the start, Kylie seemed to pride herself on picking up that he had more than a dog-kid’s parent interest in Serena, had slyly teased him without stepping over the line. But her interest in gossip didn’t extend as far as Serena’s private life. All Nick had been able to ascertain was that Serena had split from a long-term boyfriend and wasn’t dating anyone else.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, is Serena available?”
“Regarding?” she asked. Her knowing look made him cringe right down to the tip of his black polished oxfords.
Damn. He was here to work. Not to have to put up with this. He thought he’d left that kind of female game behind him in Booker River Valley where he’d grown up. There, every woman from the ladies at church to his own mom saw a single person as a challenge. An opportunity for potential coupledom. In fact, of his two brothers and one sister, he was the only one to have escaped from the valley matchmaker’s clutches. The last remaining Whalen sibling free to do what he wanted, go where he wanted, without the encumbrance of matrimony.
He had every intention of staying that way.
Out of a list of three valid excuses to see Serena he tried to think of the most plausible. This lying business didn’t get any easier. Even after years of training.
“Do you have concerns with the care we’re giving Bessie?” Kylie prompted.
“No. That’s all good. Bessie, the, uh, little cutie pie, couldn’t be happier. I just want to see Serena because . . .”
Because he damn well wanted to see if she really was as disturbingly attractive as he remembered. Because he wanted to see what it was about the woman that made her his first and last waking thought of the day. Because he had to see her to ascertain whether or not she was a ruthless criminal capable of ruining the lives of—among others—her first-ever doggy day-care clients.
And to bring her down if she was.
Kylie’s knowing brown eyes did not let up their intent focus.
“Because I want to talk to her about Mack.” It was as good an excuse as any.
Kylie’s expression showed both surprise and a sympathetic warming. “Mack. We all love Mack. I’d take him home like a shot if I could. Poor munchkin.”
Nick tried not to flinch at the thought of the massive animal being called a munchkin. The dog, with his reported capacity to chow down on copious quantities of junk, seemed more cyborg than munchkin. But then there was the animal’s knee. The injury made it only too apparent he was made of frail flesh, blood, and fur.
While Serena had been top of his mind in the days since he’d first checked in to Paws-A-While, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Mack, either.
The expression in those doggy eyes haunted him. He knew only too well what it felt like to be a prime specimen in good health felled by a sudden, agonizing knee injury. He bet his eyes, too, had looked miserable when he’d been waiting for his operation. Not that he’d wanted sympathy. No way. He was a guy. And guys got on with it. They toughed it out and they took the right meds and they did the physical therapy and they put weight on their knees too soon. Because they were guys.
He had no idea what a dog would think. But he knew pain when he saw it in those soulful eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “I want to talk to Serena about Mack.”
Kylie smiled. “Well, in that case, I’m sure she’ll change her mind about not wanting to see you.” She flushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth and she realized what she’d said.
So Serena had been avoiding him.
Because she thought he was a cop?
That spelled G-U-I-L-T whichever way you looked at it. He brought to bear all his skills and training to keep his face from showing any reaction. “Where is Serena?”
“In the day spa. I’ll go tell her—”
Nick took a decisive step forward. “I know where the treatment rooms are. Why don’t I just take Bessie through to the playroom and find Serena for myself?”
“But—” Kylie started to protest, then subsided. “Okay. Why not?” A knowing smile danced around her lips. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you.”
Did he imagine that Kylie then whispered under her breath, “Whether she knows it or not”?
He brushed off his irritation at the not-so-subtle machination but was conscious of her speculative gaze following him as he headed through the door to the playroom.
He knew from his tour on Tuesday that the spa side of the Paws-A-While business was accessed through an open doorway right at the back of the playroom. When he got to the top gate to the playroom he handed Bessie over to Adele (dance student and dog lover saving up for a trip to Europe). He watched his aunt’s little pooch scamper off to a group of small dogs without a backward glance.
Then he walked down the side of the fence that separated the playroom and through into the back rooms of Paws-A-While. To the right was Serena’s small office with the all-important computer that held the company’s files. Then to the left was a spacious area with a row of three treatment cubicles, each with a stainless-steel sink and countertop.
He saw Serena almost straight away. She sat at a high stool in the middle cubicle, holding a small black poodle. Her head leaned toward the animal while she did something to its front paws. As she worked, she crooned a litany of sweet-sounding words in her seductively mellow voice. Something along the lines of what a good little angel the poodle was, etcetera, etcetera.
He stopped in his tracks, greedy to grab the chance to observe her unawares.
Oh yeah.
She was every bit as appealing as he remembered.
She wore the shapeless Paws-A-While uniform
that covered so much all it did was make him wonder what lay beneath.
He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she had two buttons of her shirt undone. Just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of what he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about. Curves not coated in chocolate but bare and warm and soft to the touch.
Her hair was bunched right up on the top of her head, revealing the lovely lines of her neck. He noticed she had small, perfectly formed ears. He resisted the thought of how much he would like to trace their delicate curves with his fingers, then follow that with—
Serena looked up, her eyes widened, and she flushed. She must have sensed his presence, the heat of his thoughts. A flicker of something moved across her eyes and was gone before he could analyze what it was. Surprise? Guilt?
He couldn’t kid himself for even a second that it might be pleasure.
Coco realized someone was there before Serena did, letting the human know with a shiver of awareness and a pricking up of her ears. Serena turned to follow the miniature poodle’s gaze. Then felt her own shiver of awareness as she saw Nick Whalen standing there, quietly assessing her with those compelling blue eyes.
Their gazes connected. For a long, still moment it was as if all the noises of the adjoining playroom receded, the whimpers, the whines, the sharp, yipping demands, the deep, growly barks, the voices of her staff rising and falling with commands and conversations and the odd burst of laughter.
It was just him and her.
That hotter-than-hot Rottweiler guy.
She could feel the throb-throb-throb of the knowledge of her attraction to him as it pulsed through her veins, taking a flush high to her cheeks. She’d thought of him way too often in the days since she’d forbidden herself contact with him.
How long had he been standing there? Surely he hadn’t heard her debating out loud with Coco the merits of red as opposed to pink claw polish?
The little doggy diva loved to be spoken to, uttered soft, throaty noises in reply. Serena knew Coco was just responding to the attention she craved in her needy, poodle way. But Serena found it fun to pretend they were having a genuine conversation.
She suspected Nick Whalen would think it eccentric at the very least.
She cleared her throat. Channeled cool, detached professional. Someone totally unaffected by the six-foot-three hunk who towered over her. “Nick. Hi. Is everything okay with Bessie?”
“Yes, perfectly okay,” he replied. If testosterone had a sound, it would surely be his voice.
“You sound surprised,” she said, carefully putting down the claw polish when she realized her hand was trembling. Damn! Her brain and her libido seemed to be at war when it came to this guy. She slid her hands into Coco’s fur, and scratched her behind the ears, much to the poodle’s butt-wiggling delight.
“Surprised? Maybe. To be honest I didn’t think a dog would like being left all day with a load of strangers.”
“That she’d prefer being locked in a yard by herself? Remember, dogs are pack animals. It’s natural for them to enjoy the company of other dogs. And people, too. We’re part of their pack world.”
“So it seems. Kylie fixed me up with the password for the doggy day cam, too, so I can check on Bessie during the day if I need to.”
“Glad to hear Kylie is looking after you.”
Like she hadn’t heard every last detail of Nick’s visits from Kylie. The new client had caused quite a stir among the all-female staff.
“The day cam is a great idea. When I log on, Bessie looks like she’s really living it up. Is it possible to get a copy of the tape?”
She shook her head. “That would be an invasion of privacy of the other clients. Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Just an idea.”
“We have to be careful who we even give a password. The footage can be used as evidence in a canine custody battle.”
Doubt creased his forehead. “How so?”
“Putting the dog in day care can be cited as a sign of neglect of care by the partner suing for custody.”
His unsuccessful attempt at masking his “I can’t believe I’m hearing this” expression amused her more than it bugged her. He had a lot to learn about the canine subculture of San Francisco.
But she didn’t feel inclined to be his tutor.
Now, if he wants tutoring on how to please her, she would be delighted to oblige.
Ohmigod, where did that thought come from? And the tremor of anticipated pleasure that shivered through her? She gripped the fur on Coco’s neck so hard the little dog yipped.
She had spent the last three days trying to tamp down the temptation to fantasize about her sexy new client. Which was just the kind of disruption she’d been trying to avoid.
She’d done daily battle with herself to stay away from the check-in desk when she knew he was due to drop off or pick up Bessie. And now she had to admit to herself that she was losing the battle. She was so glad he had hunted her down she just wanted to sit and feast her eyes on his face.
“How’s Freya doing?” he asked with what sounded like real interest.
“She’s comfortable and happy. She watched Lady and the Tramp today.”
Serena saw he struggled with himself not to make a smart remark about the movie. “That’s, uh . . . nice,” he said. “What about her owner?”
She welcomed the chance to talk to someone about what had happened with Joe Godfrey. She had not told anyone else at the center about the new arrangement with Freya’s owners. Her staff would just tell her she was too much of a soft touch. She lowered her voice. Couldn’t help but notice when Nick lowered his head to hear her.
She took a quick, deep breath at his closeness. He smelled of leather and sandalwood and—was that pepper? Whatever it was, he smelled good. “You know, it’s awkward with Joe and me now? I guess he feels bad about not being able to pay, even though I’ve reassured him that I just want Freya to be okay.”
“That’s to be expected. Accepting charity would sit heavily on a guy like that.”
“I guess. It makes me kinda glad that the other client just took her dog away without any notice.”
“The other client? You lost another dog?”
“Yes. The Cavalier King Charles spaniel. That was a surprise. And not of the nice kind . . . He stayed here two days a week. Nice little dog.” She’d been stunned when the owners, the Landers, had given notice. But she could not have afforded to offer free day care to him, too. Not on top of Freya and Mack.
“What reason did they give?”
“‘Financial difficulties,’ according to him. But she said there had been some kind of fraud. Weird, isn’t it? You hear about these scamtype things but you don’t think it will happen to people you know. Or affect your business.”
She pulled a downward twist to her mouth. That made two dogs down; she couldn’t face the thought of what would happen if she lost any more clients.
“Yeah,” he said, without further comment, and the lack of expression on his face made her feel she was boring him.
“So, how can I help you?” she said, wishing she hadn’t confided in him. She knew she shouldn’t care what he thought of her, but it smarted that he might think she was dull. “Want to book Bessie in for a pawdicure like Coco’s?”
“Paw . . . pawdicure?” His gaze turned to the equipment on the countertop. Beside her was an electric claw filing tool, some clippers, cotton wool, and styptic powder in case of a too-close clip. There was also a caddy holding ten different new-season shades of polish. “That’s what you’re doing?”
It really was very difficult not to be amused by his daze of disbelief. But dammit, he was a dog owner. A person who owned a pocketbook pooch like Bessie should surely be more aware of these basic tenets of doggy fashion.
She nodded. “Not as frivolous as you so obviously think.” “Did I say it was frivolous? I know some dogs need their claws clipped regularly.”
“And some need them polished,” she said. She held up Coco’s
right paw. The little black claws were painted a glossy red. “The red looks very fetching against her dark fur, don’t you think?”
Nick made a strangled kind of sound that made Serena suppress a smile.
“So you prefer pink? I like pink, too. But Coco—”
“Why the hell would you put nail polish on a dog?” he growled.
“Claw polish,” she corrected him, aware she was provoking him.
But he didn’t bite again. Rather, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling in an exaggerated way. That only encouraged her to embellish her story, to see how much doggy nonsense he would take.
“Some dog moms like claw polish on their babies for special occasions. And Coco is going to a family reunion on the weekend. Coco used to be a show dog, and Maddy wants her to look her best.” She paused, waiting for his reaction.
“Family reunion? You mean people?” He put up his hand in a halt sign. “Don’t tell me you mean dogs?”
“Of course. What else?”
“What else indeed,” he said with a hint both of a groan and the grin that tempered the harsh angles of his face in a way she found so devastating.
“Coco and Brutus—”
“Brutus is the millionaire mutt, right?”
She nodded.
“And this poodle’s ‘husband’?” He made quote marks in the air with his fingers.
She nodded again. “They had five puppies. Maddy and Tom kept Tinkerbelle, but Maddy found it very hard to let Coco’s other babies go. In the end Tom laid down the law and found homes for them himself. Three of the partners in his law firm adopted a puppy each and his mom adopted the last one. Every so often they all get together with their dogs in Golden Gate Park.”
“So they can all sniff each other’s butts?”
“You mean, of course, the dogs?”
“Hold that thought. It’s not an image I care to take away with me.”
“The humans have a civilized picnic. The dogs run around and—”
He put up his hand in the halt sign again. “We all know what dogs do.”
Home Is Where the Bark Is Page 8
