Puppy Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  “Glad to see you smiling,” Colin said from behind her. Instantly Tiffany frowned.

  “These are from you?”

  “Yes, a little welcome gift.”

  “That wasn’t necessary,” Tiffany whispered.

  Colin looked at her and closed his eyes, as if he were summoning the strength to deal with her. “Tiffany, we really should discuss a few things.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You made the decision for me to be here and there’s not a whole lot I can do about that, right?” Tiffany squared her stance.

  “Yes, I did make the decision, because I can.” His rich tone was arrogant and smug.

  Seriously? If she didn’t have a stack of bills on her counter and near to zero dollars in her bank account, Tiffany would love to give him a piece of her mind, or at least see how that severance package looked.

  * * * *

  Mackenzie stared at her with concern. “Tiffany, what’s going on with you? You aren’t acting like you.”

  Mackenzie had made a valid observation, Tiffany wasn’t being her usual perky self and it had everything to do with Colin Murphy. Tiffany grabbed her strawberry margarita and took a healthy chug. Ouch, brain freeze!

  She sat across from her friend and stared at the bowl of salsa. Chunks of tomatoes and green leaves of cilantro swam in the spicy mixture. She plunged a perfect tortilla chip in and scooped up an ample amount. Her throat burned and her tongue begged for water. Her margarita took care of that. Another icy sip and Tiffany saved her from the spicy invasion.

  “Mac, it’s just work.” Simple enough of an answer.

  Mackenzie nodded. “I know it has to be hard, but try to look at the positives. You got a pay raise, a promotion that most of the other assistants would die for and Colin sounds kind of hot.”

  That was a huge part of the problem. He was very hot. She’d only been his assistant for one day and thankfully he’d been occupied in a ton of meetings. Tiffany dreaded the time coming when she had to actually work with him, like possibly tomorrow. Maybe she would luck out and he’d be called away to more meetings or whatever else evil-doers who steal assistants do.

  “So, what new with you? Have you been talking to Jason?” Tiffany decided to turn the tables and steer the conversation away from her.

  She watched Mackenzie blink and swallow some of her drink. Jason, now that was a fine-ass man, tattooed and muscular and completely not Mackenzie’s type. He was a bouncer they’d met when they had been in Vegas during the spring on an impromptu girls’ trip.

  “Well, it’s funny. We talk just about every night,” she answered. Mackenzie paused and took another sip of her margarita. “I’m actually flying out to see him soon.”

  “Really?” Tiffany almost choked on her chip. That was an unexpected response from Mackenzie. Tiffany had no idea that Mackenzie was entertaining the idea of trying to carry on a long-distance relationship with this guy. Sure, he was hot, but with that said, it was doubtful he was being faithful in the city of sin. “Are you sure that’s such a great idea?”

  “I don’t see any other eligible men knocking down my door.” Mackenzie laughed and dove a chip into the salsa.

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  “So what do you think about Molly and Owen? Can you believe they are actually going to get married?”

  “It’s friggin’ nuts. We have so much to do. Dress shopping was a bust this weekend.”

  Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “You can say that again. It’s like pulling teeth trying to get her to try on anything.”

  Tiffany was thankful that Mackenzie didn’t go into their squabble.

  “If it were my wedding, I would be trying on so many dresses and shoes. I can’t wait until I get married,” Tiffany gushed.

  “Yeah, I didn’t quite get to the whole dress-shopping portion of the engagement with Gideon.” Mackenzie looked sad and it broke Tiffany’s heart.

  Tiffany reached for her hand and said, “Someday we won’t be old maids. The right guys are out there for us—somewhere.”

  “Yeah, true.” Mackenzie looked hopeful.

  “But just not in Vegas.” Tiffany shook her finger at Mackenzie and they both laughed.

  * * * *

  “Tiffany, please come here,” Colin asked.

  Tiffany’s door was cracked open and she sighed. She had been working hard to avoid him all morning but knew she couldn’t hide in her office forever.

  “Yes, Mr. Murphy?” she asked politely.

  “Tiffany.” He tossed her an annoyed look. “Colin, remember?”

  Calling him Mr. Murphy was her own way of getting her digs in. She enjoyed how much it irritated him and it also kept an invisible professional line drawn between them. Can’t he see that? They hadn’t discussed Saturday night and the horror of Sunday morning yet and it was almost as if it hadn’t happened. Maybe it didn’t? Is it possible that it was all just a drunken delusion? God, that would be wonderful.

  “Please sit,” he commanded.

  Tiffany sat down in the chair across from him. She stayed rigid, keeping her posture straight. He clasped his hands together and looked at her, studying her, which only caused Tiffany to grow more nervous. She could almost see the gears in his handsome head turning. He was silent, thinking. Tiffany waited for him to speak. Might as well take in the view. The man was gorgeous. It was as simple and as complicated as that. There were fine creases near the corners of his eyes that she imagined would bend as he laughed. His lips were more on the full side, definitely kissable. She had kissed them and right now wouldn’t mind another go at it. Then she saw him move his tongue across his lips, leaving a slight sheen as it passed. God help me.

  “Tiffany, we need to discuss a few things. I want you to fully understand what I expect.” His voice was firm but he seemed to choose his words carefully.

  A curt nod was her response and she became even more uneasy. Shit is about to get real.

  “I know you aren’t thrilled that you were selected to become my assistant. You’ve made that crystal clear. My first question is why? What is your aversion to me?” He looked like a wounded little boy. The pouty stare he gave her seemed as though Tiffany had just kicked his puppy or something. She’d had no idea he was sensitive. One minute he was this powerful man then next a complete softie. He was an enigma.

  “Mr. Murph—” she started.

  “Colin.”

  Fine, he can have this one.

  “Colin,” Tiffany continued, gathering her thoughts so she didn’t sound like an idiot. She could hardly think straight with him in the same room, much less with him only a few feet away. “I’m less than thrilled, I’ll admit. I have worked for Patty for years and feel that we make a great team.”

  “I know. I could sense that right away,” he agreed and motioned for her continue.

  “I wasn’t even given a choice in the matter,” she complained.

  “Tiffany, this wasn’t up for negotiation. I will decide where everyone is placed and I chose for you to be here. I only want the best.”

  Her train of thought had derailed. Stumbling over her words, she began, “Then there’s that other thing. You know?” Tiffany winced as the words left her mouth.

  He frowned and replied coolly, “Let me be clear on something. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  Wow. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her office. A sudden wave of disappointed crashed over her. Why? What had she expected him to say? Did she think he would profess his undying love and sweep her off her feet? No, he was the one in charge here. Any dreams of fairy-tale bullshit, a knight with an Irish brogue carting her off to his castle, were all dashed. It wasn’t until those words had been spoken—slaying the sleeping dragon that had been there since she’d seen him only days earlier—that Tiffany realized she might be in quite a pickle. The ridiculous attraction she felt for Colin drove her nuts. What if she wanted to mix business with pleasure? Again, Tiffany didn’t have much say in the matter and that was startin
g to piss her off.

  Chapter Five

  A soft tap on her door caused Tiffany to look up from the monitor in front of her. Her papers were all in neat rows and her concentration had been trained on the project.

  Colin was in a black suit—some faint pattern could be seen on the jacket—and a crisp white shirt made his skin tone appear more olive. Why do I have such a thing for suits?

  “Tiffany, I need you to drop everything and get my boy.”

  Boy? He has a son? This was news to her.

  “Okay, where?” Tiffany saw the relief in his eyes as he instructed her to go to his condo. He explained that she was to bring the boy back to their office.

  “Something happen with his babysitter?”

  “No, she just wasn’t able to watch him today.”

  “He’s all alone? How old is he?” Tiffany asked. As she grabbed her purse, worry started to build up inside her for this youngster.

  “He’s two, and I have car taking you to go get him now,” Colin answered as he spun around and left the room without another word.

  Tiffany’s mouth hung open, she was shocked. Two years old? He’d left a toddler by himself? What kind of man does that? So he could run a company, but he obviously failed as a father. Great, this was the guy she was attracted to. Awesome taste, Tiff.

  “I’ll get right on it,” she said, still in shock. But she grabbed her purse and ran to the garage as quickly as her Louboutins would allow. Colin had instructed that someone would take her there and he was waiting. She arrived, only slightly breathless, and when she saw the company vehicle with the driver holding the door for her, she jumped right in. Then they were off.

  The black SUV rounded the parking structure with a loud squeal. The driver must have been instructed to hurry. Tiffany waited for him to park, then he raced to the passenger side and held the door open for her. The building itself was ancient but once she got inside, she saw that it had been completely remodeled with a modern flair. Everything was high end, from the smooth marble flooring and spotless glass that allowed the Seattle morning sunshine to bathe the walls. Stunning was an understatement. This was the kind of place where only one type of people lived—rich. Not that Tiffany wasn’t aware Colin was loaded, but this place reflected his expensive taste that much more.

  She took an elevator to the penthouse. Using the key that had been given to her by the driver Tiffany unlocked the door. She didn’t know what to expect. A scared little boy, for one thing, and her heart ached for this child Tiffany hadn’t even met yet. Maybe it stemmed from the absence of her own father. He had worked so much that he’d hardly been home. She knew that he had just been trying to provide for their family, but Tiffany would have loved to have spent more time with him. She grew up before either of them really had a chance to establish a relationship.

  “Hello?” Tiffany called out once inside.

  Much like in Molly’s studio, she was greeted with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a black baby grand piano and even more spotless glass. The gorgeous inside of this home screamed filthy rich. This was no place for a child, even with the proper care of a nanny. It was cold, sterile and way too elegant.

  There was no answer and Tiffany’s stomach sank. Where is this kiddo? She began to venture farther inside the spotless and expensive living room. There was no evidence of a toddler living here—no stray toys in bright colors or sippy cups left about. Tiffany decided to move to the left toward a dimly lit hallway. Perhaps the child was in a bedroom hiding. Tiffany wanted nothing more than to be a mom. Maybe when the planets aligned and she met the right guy, not just some sperm donor, then Tiffany would have her chance at motherhood. Tiffany thought she possessed natural mothering instincts. Sure, there were things she needed to work on—and it was true that she wasn’t smothering like Mackenzie—but loving a baby was not one of them. Panic started to grip her as she called out again to no answer. She peeked into a room off the hallway, a guest room that was no doubt professionally color-coordinated by a designer—gorgeous and inviting. Tiffany went as far as taking a quick look under the bed. Not even a dust bunny. Closing the door, she moved on to the next room. It was an office, fairly standard and actually quite boring, nothing grand or exquisite about that room. Tiffany looked everywhere—up and down, in and out, high and low. She crossed back into the living room and walked down the opposite hall to the right. There was a room with stacked boxes, all lined up neatly against the cream-colored walls. Probably from his recent move, she gathered. Tiffany checked the bathroom, even behind the glass shower door and there was no toddler hiding. Where is he? Now she was terribly worried. ‘What if’s started to sprout in her mind. Tiffany began to pray that he would appear or make some kind of sound so she could locate him.

  At the end of the hall there was a large door, Tiffany opened it and called out again. Nothing. Then her eyes locked with a droopy pair of chocolate brown ones. He howled at her, his bottom lip jutted out a little along with several teeth from his under bite. Tiffany pulled out her cell phone and immediately called the office—more specifically, Colin’s desk.

  “Hello?”

  “Colin, I think we have a problem. There’s no child here, just some sad looking dog.”

  “How is he?” Concern was heavy in Colin’s voice.

  “The dog? I don’t know. Fine, I guess. But your son is not anywhere to be found.”

  What the hell is Colin’s problem? Why isn’t he freaking out? He should be here instead of her. Tiffany’s blood began to boil. She was more than just mad. She was disgusted.

  “That is my boy.”

  “The dog?” Okay, now she was confused. The dog is his son? Tiffany felt like she was missing a very large piece to the puzzle.

  “Yes, that’s Sir McCartney.”

  “Um, so there’s no two year old here?” Tiffany needed verbal confirmation for her brain to process what was going on. This man had acted like his son had been left unattended. Now, she’d come to find out, it’s a friggin’ dog.

  “He’s two.”

  “The dog or the boy?”

  “Sir McCartney.”

  Tiffany squinted as she looked at this brown and white wrinkled creature that was now pancaked on the bed. An enormous flat pink tongue was visible and loud snoring began, drowning out her thoughts. “So there is no boy?”

  “He’s my boy,” Colin answered.

  “I mean like a real child, Colin.” Now she was annoyed. This must be some sort of prank or game to him. Well, she was not interested in playing. “This is ridiculous. You made it seem like you had a son, Colin, not some dog.”

  “He’s more than just some dog. Now kindly please escort him back here.” Colin hung up.

  Tiffany didn’t hate dogs. Well, maybe she did a little. She was definitely more of a cat person. Just ask Mr. Sprinkles, her overweight and cranky old cat. All he expected was his food bowl to be full and for her to change his litter box. In exchange, she was rewarded with an occasional snuggle or purr. It was a simple relationship.

  Dogs were gross. Cats were independent and clever. Dogs were always jumping on you and chewing on things, right? The one before her didn’t look like he could jump at all, but the slobber that was dangling from his loose flaps was icky. How exactly was she supposed to take this dog back to Colin? He expected her to bring this chunky thing into their office? Had he lost his mind?

  “Hey you,” Tiffany started. The brown eyes looked up at her, but the dog didn’t move. “Sir McCartney, you need to come with me.” God, am I really saying this? Is this even in my job description?

  She noticed a furry little nub wiggle on his back side. Where is its tail? Don’t all dogs have a tail that wags? This was not a normal tail and Tiffany was starting to think that this might not be a normal dog, either.

  * * * *

  “There he is, my little Pauly. Who’s a good boy?” Colin cooed.

  Something was very wrong with this picture. He was a grown-ass man and speaking to this stubbor
n animal with such worship.

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. No, this dog was a complete pain in the ass. It had taken forever to get him off his bed and to finally come with her. This flat-faced pup was a brat and now Tiffany could see why. Colin was on the ground scratching Sir McCartney’s—or Pauly’s, whatever the heck his name was—meaty sides.

  “I thought his name was Sir McCartney?” Tiffany asked. Not that she needed to know or even cared. It was more to break up this ridiculous love fest.

  “It is. Sir Paul McCartney.”

  “But you just called him ‘Pauly’, right?”

  “Yeah.” Then Colin looked at her and it was like a light bulb went off in his head. A gentle smile replaced the smirk he he’d just been wearing. “You don’t know who that is, do you?”

  “The dog?”

  “No, Sir Paul McCartney.”

  “Um, isn’t that the dog?” Tiffany bit down on her bottom lip. She started to feel stupid.

  Colin rose off the floor and dusted himself off. “Paul McCartney? You know, from the Beatles?”

  Tiffany wasn’t so great at trivia or names. She had heard of the Beatles but couldn’t name a song by the band. It just wasn’t her style of music—or at least she didn’t think so.

  “Wow, seriously?” Colin put his hand over his mouth then rubbed his jaw. The speckle of growth was apparent on his face—dark, shadowy and incredibly sexy.

  Tiffany shrugged. “So your dog is named after some singer. That’s cool, I guess.”

  Colin shook his head and seemed about to explain when Tiffany started for her office. She peeked back and saw Colin look down at the dog and say something under his breath. She would have loved to have asked what he’d just said, but why? It was probably some snide remark about her having no clue about the origin of his name. Right now, she just wanted to wash her hands after handling the yucky mutt.

  * * * *

  Sir McCartney, aka Pauly, became a regular fixture in the office over the next few days. He would lay spread out next to Colin’s desk. He’d quit howling at Tiffany every time she passed, which was greatly appreciated. So, not only was Tiffany trying very hard to avoid Colin, but now she had to not make eye contact with this dog. His big brown eyes always looked sad. They would follow her each time she had to pass by. It sort of creeped her out that he was always watching her. He was beyond lazy—never moving, just sleeping. And he snored, loudly.