by Noelle Adams
“They must have been from the same litter, and they were used to each other. How would I have decided which one to keep? They were all so sweet. They needed me.”
He recognized a tenderness on her face he didn’t often see. He liked the look of it. “Did you know anything about dogs?”
“There were a lot of dogs in my hometown—mostly hunting dogs that were caged up outside and ignored most of the time. I never had a dog myself. But I read up on how to train them. I think I did a pretty good job.”
“You did,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t believe you trained them so well just by reading.”
“You can do a lot of things if you research them well enough. I like to do things well, if I’m going to do them at all. Theo, come!” At her sharp call, Theo reluctantly stopped chasing a bird and loped back over toward the others.
“Well, you did well by the dogs,” Andrew said, genuinely impressed and charmed by the way she glanced away from him as if she were embarrassed by the compliment. “Did your husband like them?”
“He didn’t really care one way or the other. He was happy for me to keep them.”
Since she’d answered the question so easily, he dared another one. “Did you two live separate lives like that a lot?”
She didn’t appear to resent the question. “Maybe. I guess you could say that. We got along really well. He was busy with work most of the time, and he traveled a lot. I was busy with the inn, so I never traveled with him.”
“Why did you marry him?”
She slanted him a speaking look.
“I didn’t mean the question to be insulting. You just don’t appear to have had a traditional marriage. I was curious. Did you even like him?”
“Yes. I loved him.”
For some reason, hearing her say that so matter-of-factly bothered Andrew. It was a ridiculous, unworthy reaction, but he felt almost jealous. Not because she shouldn’t have loved her dead husband, but because he’d never really thought she had. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“It’s fine. I know people think I married him for the money, but I really fell for him.”
“So it was a good marriage?”
She shrugged, looking a little awkward. “It was as good as any marriage. He wasn’t perfect. Neither was I. It…it took work.”
“What took work?”
“He was more controlling than I thought he would be. I don’t like to be controlled.”
He could tell she was telling the truth, since it seemed so hard for her to say. “Did you never think about leaving him?”
“He wasn’t a bad husband. Just not what I thought. But I was committed, and I don’t give up on my commitments. I’m not stupid about love. People think love just hits them like magic, but that’s really just the pheromones.” Her lips turned down in a sneer. “Real love takes work. It takes effort. He never hurt me, so I wasn’t going to give up on the marriage just because it was hard.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you should have,” Andrew said, thinking about her words and how different she was from anyone he’d met before. “And I agree that love takes work.” He was silent for a moment, thinking about the relationships he’d seen, good and bad. “But it still seems like you’re missing something.”
“Missing what?” She seemed to really want to know.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Risk. Trust. Giving yourself to someone else. It’s not just about working. It’s about putting yourself in someone else’s hands. Being vulnerable.”
She was silent, walking, staring ahead of her rather than at him.
He thought maybe he’d offended her, maybe she’d thought he was insulting her marriage. He hadn’t intended to.
When she didn’t say anything, he tried to break the tension. “And the pheromones are nothing to sneer at.”
She laughed, as if the amusement had surprised her.
They reached the beach and the dogs barked ecstatically, hurling themselves into the waves. Laurel and Andrew walked along the rocky beach, watching the dogs and occasionally chatting.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her face glowed in the warm sunlight, and she kept smiling at him, the feeling lighting up her face. Her dark hair was loose under her hat and it blew around her face and shoulders. Her skirt blew around her legs, sometimes high enough to expose her luscious thighs.
When a particularly strong burst of wind blew her hat off her head, they both went after it.
Andrew moved faster than Laurel, and he caught her hat when it blew against a large volcanic-red boulder farther down the beach.
Laurel reached him, her face alight with laughter. “I’m impressed with the speed with which you dashed to the rescue of my hat.”
“If I recall correctly, I dashed to your rescue the first day we met too.”
She blinked, as if in surprise.
“You had a flat tire,” he prompted with a smile.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“I liked rescuing you then. I’ll be happy to dash to the rescue any time you need it.” His words had been teasing, but as he gazed down at her, a wave of deep desire overwhelmed him.
He wanted to rescue her, from anything that might threaten her.
He wanted…her.
She stopped, her lips parting slightly as she recognized his shift of mood. “Andrew?” she breathed.
He smothered a groan and reached out for her, taking her face in both hands and pulling her into a kiss.
He might have taken her by surprise, but she responded immediately, pressing into his embrace and sliding a hand up into his hair. Her mouth opened to the advance of his tongue as the kiss deepened more quickly than he’d expected.
She was soft, yielding, and passionate, and she smelled like the sea air. His body hummed in pleasure as his tongue tangled with hers, and he slipped his hand down to her bottom to press her more snugly against him.
She made a husky sound of pleasure in her throat that turned him on even more.
He didn’t make any conscious moves, but he couldn’t stop kissing her. Soon he had her pressed up against the boulder, and both of his hands had slid down to her bare thighs, stroking up under her skirt to the flimsy fabric of her panties.
She jerked her mouth away from his, but it wasn’t because she wanted to pull away. She gasped, “Andrew,” and clawed at his back, as if she wanted him even closer.
He lowered his head to mouth her throat and grunted when she wrapped one leg around his hips, bringing his arousal into alignment with hers. She was just as eager as he was, wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and that knowledge did dangerous things to his body and his heart.
He cupped her bottom and pressed her against his groin rhythmically, catching her mouth with his once more and sinking into another hungry kiss. Suddenly remembering she’d been injured, he dragged his mouth away and rasped, “How’s your back?”
She gave an exhale that sounded like laughter. “It’s fine. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t stop, couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. He needed her desperately, and he couldn’t seem to get enough.
She writhed against him, rubbing herself shamelessly against the bulge in his pants. And her motion was so deliciously apt that he felt a flare of panic as the momentum of the pleasure surged forward. “Wait,” he gasped, afraid he was going to come just from this.
Laurel whimpered, grinding against him eagerly. “Andrew, please. I want you.”
“I want you too, but we don’t have a condom,” he managed to say, the fear of embarrassing himself dampening his ardor enough to realize another reality. “We better stop for now.”
She went limp then, dropping her leg back to the ground. She stared at him hazily, as if she couldn’t get her mind to work.
Andrew knew exactly how she felt. His arousal was tight and throbbing, and Laurel was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen—flushed, rumpled, and breathless.
“Right,” she said, shaking her head. “We definitely shouldn�
�t do that.”
“Not now. We can reconsider when we get back to the inn.”
“No,” she said, rubbing her face and straightening her clothes. “It would have been a mistake.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a mistake,” he objected, trying to sound easy and casual when he felt anything but. He was about to say something else when he heard a barking he didn’t recognize.
It was Persephone, he realized, when they both turned toward the barking.
“She’s scared,” Laurel said, pushing him out of the way so she could walk toward the dog.
Andrew came with her, and they saw Persephone standing on the beach, barking frantically and pointed away from them.
“There’s Circe,” Andrew said, seeing the other dog farther away. She was also barking, also sounding scared.
“Where’s Theo?” Laurel said, scouring the beach for the third dog. “Theo! Theo!” The last call was loud and authoritative, and it echoed down the length of the beach.
But Theo didn’t come back.
Chapter Eight
The fear in Laurel’s voice as she called for her dog quenched Andrew’s arousal quite effectively.
“I’m sure he’s just wandered off,” he said, trying to sound casual in an attempt to alleviate her anxiety.
She shook her head. “If he heard me, he’d come back. He must be too far away.”
“Do you think he chased a bird?”
“Probably.”
“Then we’ll go find him.” He put a hand on her back, nudging her forward, more worried for her than he was for the dog. Theo was smart, strong, and well-trained. He wasn’t likely to get in any trouble.
“What if he ran into the road?” Laurel whispered.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Can Persephone and Circe follow his trail?”
“Yeah.” She looked better now that she had a plan of action. When they reached the other dogs, she called, “Go find Theo. Where’s Theo?”
The two dogs barked in response, ran a couple of circles, and then took off down the beach.
The beach quickly tapered off into the cliff surrounding the caldera. Just before they ran out of beach entirely, the dogs scrabbled up an incline and started running again.
Andrew climbed up and then extended a hand down to help Laurel. They followed the dogs at a quick pace through the rocky landscape and scrubby plants—not ideal for walking—for more than a mile.
Laurel called the dogs back whenever they were getting too far ahead, and the dogs ran circles, their noses to the ground, until Andrew and Laurel caught up.
They didn’t talk, and occasionally Laurel would start to run. But Andrew kept a hand on her arm to slow her down. If her back went out again, this far from the inn, they would really be in trouble.
“Look!” Laurel said at last, gesturing toward the horizon. “There he is.”
Andrew saw the silhouette of the German Shepherd, his nose pointing out toward the sea. The dog appeared to be poised on the end of the cliff.
Andrew’s heart lurched when he saw a sea bird, maybe even the one Theo had been chasing all this way, swoop down from a height and fly not far from where the dog was standing, just off the edge of the cliff.
“Theo, no!” he called out loudly, his chest clenching with sudden panic.
At exactly the same time, Laurel screamed, “No!”
It was too late. The dog had already leapt for the bird.
For a moment, it looked like he’d keep his footing as he landed, his paws working frantically on the rocky edge.
He couldn’t, though. Andrew and Laurel stood frozen as the dog disappeared over the side of the cliff.
A few seconds after the sight processed, Andrew broke into a dead run, vaguely aware that Laurel was just behind him. Circe and Persephone were at the edge now too, peering down for Theo.
“Back,” he ordered them sharply. “Back.”
They backed away from the cliff immediately, either recognizing the word or just responding to the authority in his voice.
“Theo,” Laurel choked, reaching the edge of the cliff now and looking over. She gasped frantically, and her face dripped with perspiration.
In about the same condition, Andrew leaned over with her, dreading what he would see.
He let out a thick exhale when he realized it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
Like most of the Santorini cliffs, this one didn’t descend straight into the sea in a vertical drop. It dropped in stages and leveled off in a narrow outcropping several feet down.
That was where Theo had landed. He’d seen them now and was whimpering and trying to scramble up the steep rock face back toward the top.
He collapsed every time he put weight on his back legs.
“He hurt his leg.” Laurel knelt onto the ground and leaned down toward him. “Good boy, Theo. I’ll get you. Good boy.”
Responding to her voice, the dog heaved himself up again and attempted another clumsy climb. He got farther this time before his leg gave out, and he slid backward so fast Andrew was afraid he’d keep sliding over the narrow ledge.
“No, stay, Theo,” he said sharply, when the dog managed to stabilize. “Stay.”
Laurel had made a sobbing noise when Theo started to slide back, but her voice was controlled as she said, “You stay, boy. Good boy. I’ll come get you.”
Then she started to climb down the side of the cliff.
Andrew managed to process her intention just in time. He reached down to grab her by the waist. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurel. You can’t go down after him.”
“Yes, I can,” she insisted, never looking away from Theo. Streaks of tears were drying on her face. “He’s my dog. I have to get him.”
“He’s too heavy for you, and your back is still injured. You’ll never be able to do it.” Andrew wiped his face with his forearm so the sweat wouldn’t drip into his eyes.
“Yes, I can. Let go of me! I’m not going to leave him there to die.” She was fighting his grip on her now.
Andrew almost choked on his surprise and impatience. “Damn it, Laurel. Do you think I’m just going to leave him there? Let me do it.” He tightened his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “Let me do it for you.”
She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes—and he couldn’t quite understand what she was thinking.
Then she whispered, “Please help him.”
Since his forearm wasn’t working, Andrew wiped his face with his shirt, sizing up the situation as quickly as he could.
He thought it wouldn’t be particularly dangerous for him, since the ledge was wide enough to stand on safely and the jagged surface of the cliff would be easy to climb. The cliff leveled off again in another outcropping several feet below the one the dog was trapped on, so even if Andrew slipped, the fall wasn’t going to kill him.
“Be careful,” Laurel whispered as he started to lower himself down.
Ridiculously, Andrew was encouraged that, this time, she seemed to be worried about him rather than just the dog.
“Stay,” Laurel ordered, when Theo started to get up again as Andrew’s feet found the solid rock of the ledge.
He knelt down next to the dog and felt the furry body quickly. A sharp whimper alerted him that the back right leg was the one injured. Nothing else seemed to be hurt.
“It’s just his leg,” he told Laurel, managing to sound confident despite his breathlessness. “He’ll be fine. This is going to be a little tricky. If I lift him up to you, do you think you can take him?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“You better sit down rather than leaning over, or lifting him will hurt your back. He’s pretty heavy.”
She did as he suggested, and he carefully leaned over to pick up the dog.
Theo squealed in pain when Andrew accidentally put too much pressure on the injured leg.
The sound of the dog’s pain was sickening, and Andrew had to pause momentarily to recover. Then he tried again, this time
avoiding the injured leg.
“Be still,” he said, when Theo thrashed in his arms in what was obviously an attempt to help climb.
When the dog grew still again, he adjusted his hold and lifted him higher, until he was on the level of Laurel’s arms, which were reaching out to take the dog.
“If you grab his leg and it hurts him, you’ll have to just ignore it. It’s more important to get him up,” he said, effort evident in his voice despite his attempt to keep it level. His arm muscles strained as he lifted the dog higher than was easily accomplished.
Andrew was worried about Laurel. He knew she was strong, but this was a lot of weight for her to take in this position. She looked so fragile and anxious as she reached out.
She didn’t hesitate, though. Her legs hung over the side as she sat on the edge, so she was able to use her lap for leverage as she took the dog’s full weight in her arms.
Then she seemed to be trapped in her position, not quite strong enough to heave the dog up far enough to turn her body or shift Theo onto the ground beside her.
“Andrew,” she mumbled, hugging the dog to her as he started to wriggle. “I’m going to drop him. Help.” She was exerting so much effort to hold him she shook with it.
Andrew climbed up the side as quickly as he could, too quickly to be careful. He scraped up both knees on the rocks and got a jagged cut on his forearm from a sharp protruding edge.
He was up in just a few seconds, though. Then he was taking the dog gently from her arms.
Laurel gave a little sob of relief and collapsed back onto the dirt. She reached over to stroke Theo as Andrew placed him gently on the ground beside her.
“It’s just his leg,” Andrew told her. “We should get him home quickly. It might be broken, or he might have torn a ligament or something, but we’ll need to get it treated.”
“How can we get him home?” Laurel asked, pulling herself up to her feet. Her eyes focused on his face almost trustingly, as if she genuinely believed he would have an answer. “He can’t walk, and I don’t think we can get a car here.”
Andrew was used to being envied. He was used to being desired, indulged, and catered to. And he was used to being dismissed as useless.
