“I realize that. Now.” Emily’s guilty grimace set off warning bells in Rylee’s head. “Unfortunately, that member-of-the-family part is a problem,” she added.
“How so?”
She rested a hand on her belly. “Bob and I just discovered we’re pregnant. We don’t think we’ll be comfortable having Pippin in the house once the baby comes.”
Though not unexpected, the announcement angered Rylee. Too often people took on the responsibility of an animal then cast that responsibility aside when things proved complicated. Normally she took this type of thing in stride, but this was Pippin. She glanced down at him and anger bumped into dismay at the plea in his soulful, brown eyes.
She doesn’t want me.
Rylee scratched at a spot behind his left ear, the way he liked. “What are you going to do with him?”
Emily’s eyes held embarrassed anticipation. “We were hoping you’d have a suggestion.”
As though following the conversation, the Great Dane leaned against Rylee’s thigh and she sighed. “I’ll need his papers.”
Emily’s shoulders slumped with relief. “They’re in my purse.”
“You brought them with you?” Rylee shook her head. What? Did she have “Sucker for troubled Great Danes” written on her forehead? “What would you have done if I’d said I couldn’t help?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I’ve been in touch with a woman at a local Great Dane rescue, but I wanted to speak to you first. You’ve done wonders with him and I can see you love him. Despite what you think, I love him, too.”
When Pippin pressed even closer, Rylee looked down to find him watching her.
She doesn’t love me enough.
“Are you sure about this, Emily? The birth of the baby is a long way off and he’s smart. With a little bit of effort on your part—”
“I’m sure,” she interrupted. “Bob and I agree this is for the best.”
“Well, then. We may as well go get those papers.” Emily fell into step at Rylee’s side. Angry despite the resignation, yet admittedly a bit relieved, she cast a disgruntled glance Emily’s way. “I’m not refunding his tuition.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.” Emily met her gaze and smiled. “Thank you, Rylee. I know you’re angry and you have every right to be.” She rubbed Pippin’s sleek back. “He really is a sweetheart. I’m kind of hoping you’ll decide to keep him yourself, but if not, I know you’ll find him a good home.”
Twenty minutes later, Rylee tossed her cell phone on her desk and flopped back in the chair. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Across the room, Pippin stared at her, accusation shining in his eyes.
“It’s not like I’m tossing you out. I’m just making inquiries. You need a family. One with a little boy, maybe, who’ll need you to take care of him and love him as much as he’ll love you. If I kept every dog I came across who needed a home, I’d end up on the news like one of those crazy animal hoarders.”
But, I’m special.
She sighed. Yes, Pippin was special. Her connection with certain dogs was more intense than with others, a distinction she contributed to the animal’s intelligence. The whispering, as people referred to her unusual ability with dogs, normally manifested as a vague impression of the animal’s emotions. The link she and Pippin shared held no such ambiguity. His thoughts were as clear as if he spoke them aloud. Brian’s Doctor Doolittle comment wasn’t far off the mark in Pippin’s case.
As a nod to her responsibility as a professional dog trainer, she’d made the calls, inquiring after suitable placement, but she’d simply been going through the motions. Just as she’d anticipated the Wilsons’ ultimate decision to let Pippin go, she’d known she couldn’t do the same. Sil would roll her eyes, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn Pippin would be joining the family.
Rylee pointed at him. “I’m pack-leader, buster. What I say goes.” Joyful hope gleamed in his eyes. Rylee glanced toward the doorway and a vision of Pippin pinning Coop to the floor flashed through her head. “If you’re going to be sticking around, there are rules. And number one is no more jumping!”
He immediately came to his feet, padding around her desk to rest his muzzle against the crook of her arm. He brushed his large head against her in his version of a hug.
I love you.
A fatalistic smile curved her mouth and she leaned down to rest her forehead against his.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Eight
“Wow!”
Coop’s low compliment, echoed in his appreciative eyes, brushed over Rylee’s nerve endings like a caress.
“The exact reaction I was shooting for,” she said, smiling up at him where he stood framed in the open doorway.
“Mission accomplished.”
After the stress she suffered over her choice of dress for tonight’s date, his reaction thrilled her down to her toes. Classy casual, he’d said of the dress code for the retirement party they were to attend, and she’d settled on a little black dress that left her shoulders bare and skimmed her legs to mid-thigh. She’d gone for simplicity rather than sexy, but from his response, she’d achieved both.
She let her gaze roam over his stark black attire. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Talk about understatements. Leashed power came to mind. The collarless, black silk shirt, tucked into fitted black slacks, framed the tapered broadness of his chest, trim hips and long legs with mouth-watering results. She recalled describing him to Brian as movie star handsome. Tonight, he could’ve stolen the show on any of those red carpets Hollywood loved to roll out.
She stepped back, silently inviting him inside. Coop followed, craning his neck to check the hallway.
“He’s not here.” Rylee grinned. “Neither is Belle. Brian has them. He has a date with a dog lover and borrowed them as props.”
“The man’s a masochist,” he muttered.
She chuckled. “He practically grew up in Sil’s house so he knows how to handle dogs, but he may agree with that sentiment by the end of the night. Pippin was a wriggling mass of excitement when they left.”
“Do you loan out your client’s animals often?”
She crossed to the foyer table to scoop up her clutch purse and a light shawl. “That’s the thing. As of this morning, Pippin is no longer my client’s animal. He’s mine.” When she turned back, his eyes twinkled with humor.
“Still collecting strays?”
She joined him at the door. “I can’t seem to help myself. And you’re lucky Pippin isn’t here. He’d have a problem with that label.”
He grinned and bent to press his mouth to hers. Relief made her lightheaded. Her toes curled in her shoes at the rush of excitement racing through her system. Since that mind-blowing kiss in the kennel, he’d been keeping his distance, physically speaking. A state of affairs she found both confusing and frustrating.
He’d knocked her off-balance with his bold come-on. Despite her better judgment, she’d committed to exploring the irresistible magnetism between them. Her natural wariness hadn’t stood a chance against the smoldering promise in his eyes, but the passionless pecks he’d been doling out ever since failed to deliver on that promise. She’d gone back to wondering if she’d read him wrong after all.
But this, oh this...finally!
She combusted under his kiss. Heat and yearning converged, spreading outward from their fused lips to touch off hot spots as a brushfire of hunger consumed her. Sizzling fingers of pleasure drew a moan from her throat and she pressed close to his hard frame.
He answered her unspoken invitation without hesitation, his arms coming around her until he surrounded her with his strength and warmth. His tongue invaded her mouth like a marauder. Fingers spread, his palm rode the curve of her spine, sliding downward. The top of her head nearly popped off when those long fingers skimmed her tailbone to mold over one cheek of her butt. He squeezed the curve and her hips arched, bringing her into delicious contact with
the hard evidence of his reaction to their thrilling embrace.
Finally, her mind repeated. Oh, finally.
A moment later, she discovered her relief was premature. He abruptly broke the kiss, lifting his head, and dropped his arms from around her to step back. Denied his support, she locked her knees in an effort to avoid sliding to the floor on legs turned to gelatin.
Breathing heavy, they stared at each other, her eyes wide, his narrowed and hooded. A moment passed before she caught her breath.
“Not that I’m complaining,” she breathed, “but what was that for?”
“No reason, other than you’re lovely. I’ll be the envy of every man there tonight.”
The slight roughness of his voice did nothing to dowse the fire he’d sparked within her, but knowing she wasn’t alone in her discomfort was gratifying. Before she gave into temptation, suggested they skip tonight’s party and get back to stoking that fire, she heaved a cleansing breath.
“Why, Mister Reed,” she teased, letting her southern roots draw out the syllables. “You say the sweetest things.”
Chest expanding with his own cleansing breath, he curled his lips in a wry smile. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded, and by the time they arrived at the Irish pub just outside Time’s Square, the fire within her had cooled to embers, but fanning them back to life wouldn’t take much. Coop, on the other hand, appeared to have put the incident behind him. Cool and in control once again, he escorted her around the pub where she met many of his co-workers and friends.
“Coop says you’re a dog whisperer.” Lilly Watson grinned at Coop’s startled glance. “What? You did!” Beside her, Tim Watson attempted to hide a grin, his prizefighter’s face softening with humor as he winked at his slim, blonde wife.
Coop had introduced the couple as friends. Lilly, he explained, was the ex-model he’d spoken of in Elliott’s living room the night he’d come to dinner, and Tim worked with him at the D.A.’s office. Based on the flow of conversation over the last hour, their friendship was close. They traded amusing stories of their many outings together, their teasing affection contagious, and Rylee found herself laughing along with them.
Coop didn’t look amused at Lilly’s last comment, however.
“The whisperer thing was a joke,” he told Rylee, and turned back to Lilly. “I told you she trained dogs.”
“It’s all right, Coop,” Rylee reassured him. “I’ve been accused of whispering more than once. The title doesn’t bother me.”
“It wasn’t meant as an insult,” he added quietly.
She waved him off. “I don’t take it as one. The ability to understand the animals I work with makes me good at what I do.”
“Well, I find the whole thing fascinating,” Lilly jumped back in. “I’d love to see you in action sometime. Coop says you’re a wonder. And your aunt is Silvia Burke, of The Adam’s House Foundation?”
Rylee rotated her head and pinned Coop with a raised brow. “Aren’t you a Chatty Cathy?”
“Oh, don’t be angry with him, honey,” Lilly insisted, patting Rylee’s arm and drawing her attention away from the adorable flush of crimson flagging his cheekbones. “It’s a compliment, really. According to Tim, you’re all Coop can talk about these days.”
“Lilly,” Tim warned beneath his breath, but his mouth contorted into a tight line as if he were trying not to laugh.
“What? It’s the truth and I think it’s sweet. Besides, a woman appreciates knowing when a man is interested.”
“From the look on his face, Coop isn’t very appreciative.”
Rylee turned, along with both Lilly and Tim, and burst out laughing at Coop’s scowl. He shot Tim a steely-eyed promise of reprisal.
“Don’t look at me,” Tim laughed. “I haven’t been able to shut her up since you introduced us.”
“Believe me.” Coop narrowed his eyes at Lilly. “I’ve regretted that mental lapse more than once over the years.”
“Pfttt…” Lilly blew him a raspberry and tucked an arm through Rylee’s. “Come on, honey. I’ll introduce you around to some of the ladies.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper as she dragged Rylee away, smirking at both men. “There are a number of ladies here tonight who are dying to meet the woman who managed to get Coop out of the office before nine p.m. not just once, but twice in one week!”
The declaration sent a ripple of happiness through Rylee she shouldn’t be feeling. This thing between them had a definite shelf life, and her increasing emotions where Coop was concerned were bound to bite her in the ass when things ended. But knowing he’d been talking about her to his friends and changing his work habits to see her, thrilled her just the same.
Several hours later, the thrill turned to nerves. They bubbled up in her belly as she and Coop exited the cab in front of River View. Tonight was date number three, and while no official number existed, she’d heard three was the magic number one needed to reach before having sex with a new man, if they didn’t want to be considered a slut in polite society. To tell the truth, Rylee didn’t give a damn about the number, or for that matter polite society. After that earlier kiss, she’d gladly take the slut label.
She ached to get her hands on Coop’s athletic body, and while the extent of the ache should have scared the crap out of her, just as her increasing emotions did, she told herself not having sex in more years than she cared to count was part of the problem. Probably…possibly…okay, maybe.
So she wasn’t tempted with any of the other men she had dated since Marcus to accidentally trip them and rip their clothes off in the process, but that didn’t prove anything. Not one of them pressed her buttons the way Coop could with just a look. Cooper Reed brought out her inner slut and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Women had needs, just like a man, and faced with a limited number of opportunities to make use of his magnificent body, she couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
“I like your friends,” she said, crossing the courtyard to her door.
“I like them too,” he replied dryly. “Most of the time.”
“I liked Lilly especially.” She tossed him a grin over her shoulder while sliding the key into the lock. “We’re having lunch next week.”
“Good God.”
She laughed, pushing open the door and entering her condo. He didn’t follow and she paused, spinning around. “Would you like to come in?”
Please, say yes. Oh, God, please, say yes!
“Unfortunately, I can’t. I have a brief due in the morning.”
Stomping her foot in frustration or bawling like a baby would be bad form. Nor could she screech at him like a fishwife, though any of the three were bound to make her feel better. She settled for a grumbled, “I see.”
“I have a full docket tomorrow so I won’t be able to see you, but I’d like to see you Friday if you’re free. Dinner?”
She considered telling him to go to hell and slamming the door in his face. She also considered doing some of that tripping. “Friday is fine.”
He leaned toward her and she clenched her teeth against yet another disappointing goodnight kiss. As if changing his mind at the last moment, he straightened and brushed a fingertip over her lips.
“Goodnight, Rylee. Sweet dreams.”
The jerk had the gall to whistle as he walked away.
Chapter Nine
“I just don’t get guys.”
“Food, sports, sex,” Brian replied. “What’s not to get?”
Rylee perched on the lone stool at the counter of his tiny, galley kitchen, legs crossed, rhythmically slapping an open-backed sandal against the heel of her bouncing foot. Belle lay in the corner while Pippin slurped water from an oversized cereal bowl. Across the room, Brian selected a shirt from the mound of clothes piled on a chair in his studio apartment. He pressed the garment to his nose before tossing it aside to select another.
“I get the food and sports part,” she said. “The sex part is where I’m having trouble.”
; He paused in his sniffing. “It’s like riding a bike. You were engaged, Rye Bread. Are you saying you and the mama’s boy never went for a spin?”
She narrowed her eyes at the teasing gleam in his baby blues. “I’m not discussing the mama’s boy or what he and I did or didn’t do together, with you. And I wasn’t talking about the rudiments of the act. I was talking about the concept of sexual attraction.”
“What about it?” He buried his nose in another shirt.
“Why would a guy kiss the bejeezus out of a woman one minute, then treat her like a…a sister the next?”
His arm dropped to his side and he faced her. “Is that a rhetorical question or a personal inquiry?”
“Personal. I’ve decided to give Coop a shot.”
“I knew it!” He pointed at her, gripping the dangling garment. “Your eyes go all girly when you look at him.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a girl.”
“Not to me, you aren’t.”
She stuck out her tongue and he chuckled.
“As for deciding to give Coop a chance, good for you. It’s about time you put the mama’s boy behind you.” He tossed the shirt aside and bent for another.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I have a date.” He straightened, sniffed, and with a nod pulled the shirt over his head to cover his bare chest.
“A date where? At the Laundromat?”
He grinned and crossed the room to the refrigerator. Pulling out two beers, he handed one across the counter. “So, he kissed the bejeezus out of you. Most women would consider that a good thing.”
“Bejeezus kisses are a very good thing. The trouble is he hasn’t followed up on them.” She picked at the label on her bottle with her thumbnail. “I hate when guys give mixed signals.”
“What about you?” He sipped his beer. “Women give mixed signals all the time. Maybe he thinks you’re not all that interested.”
She snorted. “Not possible. I’ve had my best flirt on, but I must be doing something wrong. Mostly I’ve just made him laugh.” She spoke over Brian’s snicker. “So, help me out here. I don’t expect this fling to last. We’ve already been on three dates, and except for two very promising kisses that ended up going nowhere, I may as well have been out with you.”
That Dating Thing Page 7
