[The Sons of Lily Moreau 03] - Capturing the Millionaire

by Marie Ferrarella

  Just what he needed, Alain thought. “Well, tell him to unadopt me.” He frowned as he made his way carefully back to the sofa. Winchester hobbled right behind him, this time trying to stay out of the way and apparently get on his good side.

  Kayla transferred breakfast from the skillet to a plate, placing the former out of the way so that one of the dogs didn’t accidentally pull it down.

  She crossed to Alain and presented the plate of bacon and eggs to him. “Sorry, can’t make toast right now,” she stated, then nodded toward Winchester, who had lain down at Alain’s feet and was eyeing the plate of food wistfully. Winchester knew better than to try to snare a taste unless it was offered. “He really likes you.”

  Taking the plate, Alain snorted dismissively. He’d never had a pet, even as a child, and had no desire for one. “I think he just feels guilty about making me crash my car.” The moment the first forkful passed his lips, he realized just how ravenous he was. It took effort not to wolf the rest down.

  Perching on the arm of the sofa, Kayla smiled tolerantly at her unexpected guest. “Dogs don’t feel guilt.” “I guess that puts them one up on people.” Alain thought of the case he was currently handling. His client showed absolutely no shred of guilt that her share of the inheritance cut her late husband’s children completely out of the will. “At least some people,” he amended.

  “Everyone feels guilt,” Kayla countered. Ariel nuzzled her and she absently stroked the dog’s head as she spoke. “It’s just a matter of whether or not they act on it.”

  Intrigued, Alain raised his eyes to look at her. “What do you feel guilty about?”

  She hadn’t expected that question. “Oh.” She thought a moment. Taylor tried to nudge Ariel out of the way for some attention. She gave the old dog equal time. “Not being able to do enough to save these magnificent creatures.”

  Alain glanced toward the fireplace, where the other dogs were still eating, then back at the two who were vying for her favor. As far as he could tell, she was already doing more than enough.

  “You’ve got seven and a half dogs,” he pointed out, throwing in the “half” because of the dog she called Ginger, who looked obviously pregnant. “How many more could you be taking in?” Without being branded eccentric, he added silently.

  Her eyes swept over the animals. Alain saw the affection there and wondered why she wasn’t sharing that with someone who could appreciate and reciprocate it.

  “For every one I save,” she told him, a thread of sadness running through her voice, “I know that two or more get euthanized.”

  “But you choose to focus on the positive,” he asked.

  “I focus on the positive,” she confirmed. Otherwise, Kayla added silently, she probably wouldn’t be able to make it through the day.

  “What else?” he prodded. She didn’t understand what he was trying to get at. “What else what?” She’d stirred his curiosity, making him want to know things about her. It wasn’t very different from his usual approach to women, except that he felt a genuine interest in this one.

  “What else do you feel guilty about? In your private life, apart from dogs. What have you done or not done that creeps up on you in the dead of night to prey on your mind and haunt you?”

  That was as good a description as any she’d ever heard. And dead-on.

  “You are a lawyer, aren’t you?” she laughed.

  Now that she’d sparked his curiosity, he wasn’t about to give her a chance to turn this around. “We’re talking about you, not me.”

  When had that happened? “No, we’re not.” But even so, she reflected on his question. The only thing she felt guilty about was a time in her life when she allowed herself—in the name of love—to be bullied. She’d actually believed that if she did just what Brett wanted, they could live happily ever after. And in putting up with him, she had let everyone else down. Her parents would have expected more of her had they been alive to see what was happening.

  She’d allowed her fear of being alone to back her into a corner, to tolerate the intolerable and behave like someone she wasn’t. But she’d learned. Learned that there was no happily ever after possible with men like Brett, nor for the people in their lives.

  Kayla squared her shoulders, driving the memory away. She didn’t like to think about that period of her life, didn’t like thinking of herself that way—weak, submissive, constantly giving and never receiving. More than guilt, it made her feel ashamed. Ashamed and almost obsessively determined never to allow something like that to happen to her again. She had her dogs, her practice and her pledge to rescue German shepherds wherever she found them being neglected and mistreated. She didn’t need a man to validate her existence, to make her feel loved.

  Alain narrowed his eyes, locking them on hers. His gaze was penetrating.

  “C’mon,” he coaxed, and she could almost see someone on the witness stand being mesmerized by those eyes. “There has to be something,” he insisted quietly.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, as if was considering his question. “I feel guilty that I didn’t buy that generator when I had the opportunity.” She was evading the question, Alain thought, more intrigued than ever. The more she resisted answering, the more he found himself wanting to know what it was she wasn’t telling him. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” she replied innocently. “Power outages happen here about twice a year. Sometimes more. If I were operating on a patient…” Her voice trailed off. Not having a generator, now that she thought of it, was a serious oversight on her part. She needed a backup power source as much as a local hospital might. Just because her patients had four feet instead of two didn’t change that. The minute the roads became passable again, she should drive to the hardware store in Everett, the neighboring town, and pick up a good generator.

  She decided to turn the conversation away from her and back to him. “What about you?”

  Finished eating, he placed his plate on the table. Winchester looked up at him mournfully. With a sigh, Alain nodded, and the small dog went at it.

  “I never thought about getting a generator,” he quipped.

  Oh, no, he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “I mean what do you feel guilty about?”

  “Nothing.” To her ear, the response was automatic. Friendly, but with established boundaries that she could tell were not meant to be crossed. Okay, so she wasn’t allowed any further enlightenment into the mystery that was Alain Dulac. But at least her point was made. He didn’t like someone prying into his life any more than she did.

  But even as Kayla silently congratulated herself for not being curious enough to elbow her way into his personal life, she found herself wondering about him.

  “Maybe that’s why Winchester’s taken to you,” she said carefully, watching his expression. “He senses a kindred spirit.”

  Alain shook his head, not buying it. “He’s looking for a handout.” Kayla’s eyes dipped down to the plate on the coffee table. Everything but the rosebud design in the center of the plate had been licked off. “And he has pretty good intuition,” she concluded, with an easy smile.

  Alain’s eyes followed her line of vision. He flushed. Winchester had cleaned the plate and was looking hopefully at him again. That’s it, dog. There ain’t no more. “It was good,” he told her, hoping she wouldn’t say anything about his feeding the dog the last of the scraps. “Aren’t you having any?”

  She shook her head. “I tend to nibble as I cook,” she told him, rising from her perch, “so technically, I’ve already had breakfast.” Picking up the plate from the coffee table, she raised her brow in a query. “Want some coffee?”

  “Please.” The request was made almost worshipfully. And then he stopped. If she was offering him coffee, the stove had to have come back on. Which meant that he could use the phone to get someone to drive him home. “Is the power on?”

  She wished. But she’d tested the stove just before she’d begun to make breakfast, and nothing had turn
ed on. Kayla shook her head. “Nope.”

  He looked at her skeptically. “Then how are you going to make coffee?” “Same way the cowboys used to when they were out on the range,” she answered cheerfully. Kayla glanced at him over her shoulder just before she stepped into the kitchen to retrieve a battered aluminum coffeepot. “Haven’t you ever been camping?”

  “No.” The answer was given almost defensively, as if he felt that the admission unmanned him somehow in her eyes.

  Kayla stopped and looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding.”

  His defensiveness went up a notch. “Why would I kid about something like that?”

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “No reason, I guess. I just thought everyone went camping at some point or other in their lives.” She’d pegged him right. He was a city boy, born and bred. “City kids especially, just to get away from it all.”

  His eyes narrowed a tad. “And by ‘it’ you mean electricity and flush toilets?”

  She took no offense at his tone or the slight note of sarcasm in his voice. Instead, she just laughed.

  The expression that came over his face was positively wicked. “My sense of adventure takes me in other directions.” For a second, her eyes met his. Kayla knew exactly what he was talking about. Unless her guess was wrong, Alain Dulac’s idea of adventure involved someone of the opposite sex and a minimum of clothing.

  She shook off the warm feeling that invaded her. “I’ll bet,” she murmured under her breath, then said audibly, “So, black?”

  Okay, she’d lost him again. “Excuse me?”

  “Your coffee,” Kayla elaborated pleasantly. “You take it black?”

  Good guess, he thought. “Yes.”

  “Coming up,” she promised.

  Kayla left the room and the dogs moved right along with her. All except Winchester. The small shepherd with the large cast remained behind, sitting by the sofa, as if he’d been placed on guard duty. Cocking his head, he managed to move it directly beneath Alain’s hand.

  “Not very subtle, are you?” he laughed. He began to pet the dog. After a beat, Winchester’s rear right leg started thumping. Intrigued, Alain switched from petting to scratching. Winchester’s leg responded by thumping harder, as if it had a mind of its own.

  “I think your dog is about to dance a jig,” Alain called out to Kayla. Rather than shouting back, she returned with a battered coffeepot, holding the handle with an old kitchen towel she’d wrapped around it. She smiled at him, or maybe it was the dog she was smiling at.

  “You found his sweet spot.” What would it take to find hers? Alain caught himself wondering. “Is that a good thing?” The leg was thumping almost frantically. He half expected the dog to fall over.

  “A very good thing as far as Winchester’s concerned.” She peered closer at the dog’s face as she came forward. “I think he’s smiling.”

  Now she was pulling his leg, Alain thought. “Dogs don’t smile.” “Oh, yes, they do.” She said it with such conviction, he began to think that she was serious. “If my computer was up, I’d show you a whole gallery of smiling dogs.” She placed the two large mugs she’d brought in with her on the coffee table, then poured what looked like liquid asphalt into each cup. Picking one up, she handed it to Alain. “Here you go. Coffee, black.”

  Their fingers brushed as Alain took the mug from her. He could have sworn that a spark of electricity flew between them, even if it was still conspicuously absent everywhere else.

  Outside, the wind had stopped howling, but the rain continued coming down, rhythmically pelting in huge drops against the window as if it never intended to halt.

  Holding the mug in both hands, Alain nodded toward the window. “How long does it generally rain here?”

  “Until it stops.” Kayla hid the smile that came to her lips behind her mug.

  Not about to accept defeat, he tried again. “And when would that be?”

  Lowering the cup, she said innocently, “When the clouds go away.”

  Very funny, he thought. “I can’t stay here indefinitely,” he told her. “No,” she agreed. “But less than twenty-four hours isn’t exactly ‘indefinitely.’” She knew that the laid-back answer was not the one he wanted. The man definitely needed to learn how to relax a little. She nodded toward Winchester, who hadn’t moved an inch since he’d planted himself in front of Alain. “Try petting him again,” she suggested. “It’s a proven fact that petting a dog or cat is very soothing.”

  “For who?” Alain challenged, with that same note of sarcasm that seemed to come into his voice effortlessly. “The dog or cat?” “For the human—although I’m sure the animal likes it, too.” She looked at the dog closest to her—Ariel—and stroked her noble head. Ariel leaned into her hand to get the full benefit of each stroke. “Don’t you, girl?”

  Alain could have sworn he heard the dog sigh, but that just might have been the sound of the rain hitting the windows. He was feeling somewhat better now, and stronger for having eaten something. He was more inclined than ever to get back on the road. “I don’t want to be soothed, I need to be on my way,” he told her, adding, “I’ve got a deposition to have transcribed, not to mention a get-together tomorrow.”

  “She’ll wait,” Kayla replied knowingly. God knew that she herself would—if she belonged in his world, she thought, then immediately discarded the idea. Kayla had learned that this was where she belonged. Cities were all right to visit, but nothing beat the warm feeling of a town small enough that people knew your name.

  “It’s not a she,” he told her.

  “Oh.” Okay, she thought, he played for the other team. Nothing wrong with that, but it did seem like an incredible waste. “Then he’ll wait.” Alain knew what she was thinking—that he was in a hurry to meet someone socially. He set her straight. “I have a meeting with my boss. The whole firm is getting together. Over brunch.”

  She wondered if that was his firm’s version of an annual picnic. “If it’s over brunch, it can’t be that important.”

  The corners of his mouth curved. Her small-town upbringing was showing. “You’ve never been part of the corporate world, have you?”

  “No. Mercifully,” she added.

  But this was obviously important to him. She doubted if the car would be travelworthy for several days.

  “Tell you what. Since the lines are down, I’ll take a drive later to the next town to see if Mick can come out.”

  “Mick?”

  She was getting ahead of herself, she realized. “He’s the best mechanic in two towns.”

  Alain wasn’t naive enough to take that at face value. “Let me guess. The only mechanic in two towns.”

  She laughed and nodded again. “I made it too easy for you. But seriously,” she stated, “Mick is good.”

  Alain thought back to something else she’d told him earlier. “I thought you said that the roads were impassible.”

  There was no discrepancy in her statements. “They are. But I know an out-of-theway route.”

  As much as he wanted to be on his way, he didn’t want to have this woman’s demise on his conscience. “Maybe the rain’ll let up.” “It always does,” she allowed with a smile. “The question is how long it might take.” If he was willing to wait, so much the better. “We could give it a few more hours, see what happens.”

  He realized he was watching her lips as she spoke. And letting his mind drift to places his gut told him she wouldn’t want to go. “All right.” She moved to the other side of the sofa and fluffed the pillow. “And that’ll give you more time to rest.”

  He did feel more tired than he was happy about, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to her. “I didn’t exactly exert myself lifting the fork.”

  “And getting dressed,” she added, her eyes smiling down at him as she moved away from the sofa again. “Don’t forget about getting dressed.”

  “Not exactly considered an Olympic event in most circles,” he told her wryly.

  “All de
pends on how challenged the dresser is,” she said, amused. “You play cards?”

  The question took him by surprise. He thought of the weekly poker game Philippe held at his place. “Sure.”

  “Good.” She crossed to the side table and opened a drawer. “Then we have a way to while away the time.” Holding up a deck, she flashed him a smile.

  He considered himself a damn good player. “Might not be fair,” he warned her.

  She winked. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “We are talking about poker, right?”

  Sitting on the edge of the coffee table, facing him, she began to shuffle. “Is there any other game?”

  “No,” he agreed. “There isn’t.” A few hands turned into a marathon. Except for a few breaks made necessary by little things like eating, they played well into the night. Played and talked. For Alain, time had never moved so quickly. He forgot about the rain and all the places he had to be. Where he was was far more enjoyable.

  Chapter 6

  The next day found Alain eager to resume playing. He was down by eight hands and he wanted to get even.

  “You’re down by ten,” Kayla corrected, putting away the plates she’d used for their breakfast. “But who’s counting?” “You, obviously,” he replied. He was feeling somewhat better today, and since it was still raining and the power was still out, playing poker kept his hands busy and his mind from straying to other activities that had an even greater allure. “C’mon, stop stalling. My ego demands that I catch up.”

  She knew better than that. Over the course of the hours spent playing yesterday, she’d learned that while her handsome patient enjoyed competition, he liked winning even better.

  “Your ego demands that you beat me.” Kayla looked amused, but then her expression became slightly somber as she scanned the room, obviously looking for something.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

  Turning around, Kayla did a quick head count. “Have you seen Ginger?” The only name that was familiar to him was Winchester, who was still by his feet. Kayla had rattled off the other names to him yesterday, after he’d asked why she had so many dogs around. She’d told him about belonging to the German Shepherd Rescue Organization, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall the dogs’ names now. “Which one’s Ginger?”