Going All the Way (Kiss the Bride #1)

by Cynthia Cooke

  She grabbed his collar, and he followed her around the house and through her front door. She shut it behind them then stood there inside her living room surrounded by expensive contemporary furniture and all her art supplies, wondering what she was going to do with him now. What did she know about dogs? Especially big dogs.

  She didn’t have to think on it too long, because he walked over to her creamy white leather sofa and jumped up onto the cushions then stretched across the whole thing. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it when he dropped his head onto his paws and stared at her with those big, sad eyes.

  “You stay right there,” she ordered.

  She took a step toward the hall, stopped, looked back and wondered how she was going to get anything done.

  “Stay,” she said again, gesturing with her hands and hoping he wouldn’t mess with anything. It was going be fine, she told herself again.

  Who was she kidding? She’d just kidnapped the neighbor’s dog.

  Chapter Four

  Ryan was at his wit’s end and nothing was making Stu happy. He and the others had come up with one idea after another only to have Stu shoot them all down.

  “We need something fresh. Something innovative. Something that will speak to today’s Millennials. Nothing on this table is that,” Stu said, repeating himself over and over and discounting all their work. Even kiss-ass Chuck was getting weary. Stu finally left the room, and they could all breathe easier again as they continued to brainstorm ideas.

  It was way past lunchtime, and the way things were going, they’d probably be working through dinner, too. He had to get home to check on Riley, but there was just no way.

  “We’re ordering Indian, what do you want?” Chuck asked.

  Before he could respond, his phone rang. He looked down at the display and frowned. “I have to take this.” He got up and walked out the door. Once in the hall, he answered. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Burton?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Ms. Daniels from the Homestead Property Management Association.”

  His gut tightened. “Yes?”

  “We’ve gotten a complaint from the neighbor about your dog.”

  “Did you?” Carrie had complained about him. The thought bothered him more than he cared to admit.

  “Yes, and according to our rental agreement you don’t have a dog.”

  “I don’t,” he assured her. “I’m dog-sitting for my sister.”

  “Be that as it may, your dog is making quite the ruckus.”

  He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m in the middle of a big project at work. We’re having to work through lunch. I can’t get there.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Burton, but your neighbor is clearly upset. You need to go home and quiet the dog.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll take care of it right now.”

  “We’d appreciate that. And if the dog is going to be staying with you for an extended length of time, we will need you to make a pet deposit.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Not a problem. He won’t be there long.”

  “Good day, Mr. Burton.”

  He disconnected the line and swore as he paced the hallway, steeling himself for the onslaught of complaints before he walked back into the office. “I have to go home and take care of my dog. Apparently there’s been some kind of problem.”

  “What? No!” Chuck exploded.

  “You can’t,” Paul chimed in.

  “If Stu finds out, you’re toast,” Frank added with a grin. Ryan had the feeling Frank would like that.

  “I’ll be back in less than an hour.” Besides, he was the one hired to fix the company’s slow decline. He could afford to take a lunch.

  “And what are we supposed to tell Stu?” Chuck asked, his mouth pursing.

  “Tell him I had an emergency.”

  “This is never going to work,” Paul muttered.

  “Forty-five minutes. I promise.” Ryan ran out the door. What was wrong with Carrie anyway? Couldn’t she handle a little noise from a dog? He raced home, breaking every traffic law known to man, and twenty minutes later, peeled into his driveway.

  He ran into his house and through it, into the kitchen and toward the backyard. He didn’t hear anything—no barking or howling. He opened the sliding door, but Riley wasn’t sitting there waiting for him. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Ryan’s heart lurched into his throat. “Riley!” he called, and then he saw the gate standing wide open.

  “Holy shit!”

  He ran into the backyard, out the gate and around the front of the house, but didn’t see Riley anywhere. He wasn’t sitting on his front stoop, sniffing the neighbor’s bushes, or even running in the park across the street. Ryan stood in his empty front yard and called Riley again, his hand grasping the back of his neck as he looked up and down the road, trying to stave off his growing panic. What was he going to tell Celeste? She was never going to forgive him.

  “Ryan?”

  He turned and saw Carrie standing on her porch. “Have you seen my dog?”

  “Yes, he’s in here.”

  Relief sucker-punched him as he hurried up her stairs and through her front door.

  Riley was stretched out on her sofa staring up at him, his head peeking out of a big fluffy blanket. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Ryan turned to her, but before he could comment he noticed a big bowl of milk on the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What? I didn’t know what to do for him. It’s hot out and he was crying because you left him all alone. What were you thinking?”

  Okay, she had him there. He started to say something but took one look at her tight lips and the outrage darkening her eyes and started to laugh.

  “What is so funny?” she asked, looking more annoyed by the second.

  “So you gave him a bowl of milk? Let me guess, did you heat it up for him, too?” Clearly she was just as clueless with dogs as he was, so he could hardly blame her.

  Carrie crossed her arms. “He’s had a very traumatic day, and now I’m beginning to have one, too.”

  His laughter died, and he took a step toward her. “I’m sorry. I appreciate all your help with Riley.”

  “Uh huh.” She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, doubt written all over her expression.

  “I do. More than you know.”

  “I hope so, because I can assure you taking care of big furry babies is not on my resume.”

  He stared at her expressive eyes and captivating mouth. Suddenly, he couldn’t help wondering what was on her resume. What made this woman tick?

  “So what are the chances that you and I could…” He saw the skepticism harden her gaze and quickly amended what he had been about to say. “Catch a drink sometime. A cup of coffee? Dinner?” As soon as the word dinner slipped out of his mouth he wished he could pull it back in. A drink was one thing; dinner implied something more than he wanted to give. Dinner meant date, and he didn’t date. But that didn’t mean they could have a nice, casual, no-strings-attached drink.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I need time to settle in, catch my bearings.”

  He looked around at her house, at the plush throw rugs and glass tables that highlighted a black and white décor. She already looked pretty settled. Especially compared to his place, which still had boxes scattered through every room.

  “What happened the other night—” she hesitated.

  Was incredible. He opened his mouth to say it, but she continued: “Never should have happened.”

  He looked into her captivating brown eyes and felt his chest tighten. Maybe that night was reckless, but it was also exciting. She was exciting. When he came back to the closet with his prize in hand only to find her gone, the blow had almost been physical. He hadn’t wanted the night to end, and if he had his way, they’d soon get to try again. “I’m not sorry it did,” he said, and took a small step toward her.

  Just then, Riley jumped of
f the sofa and knocked over a basket of paints. It rolled across the floor, spilling little pots and tubes everywhere.

  “Oh, no.” Carrie scrambled over and picked up the jars.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m getting my shorts chewed at work, is there any chance you can keep Riley for the rest of the day?”

  “Keep him?” A look of mild horror crossed her face.

  “Yes, he obviously loves you. He’s real easy, and you’ll be great. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “I suppose. I guess. I don’t—”

  He stepped forward and kissed her cheek, lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary. For a brief second he wanted to kiss her again, to grab her in his arms and taste those very inviting lips. He restrained himself. “Thanks,” he said with a slight catch to his voice. “You’re a life saver.”

  She opened her mouth in protest, but he turned and hurried out the door before he changed his mind and swept her into the bedroom. Roses, he thought. She was saving his life by keeping Riley, more than she even knew. He’d have to bring her roses.

  …

  Carrie stared after Ryan as he ran out the door.

  Did that just happen? She brought her fingertips to her cheek, which was still tingling. How was it possible that she stood there speechless and let this man leave without taking his dog just because of a kiss—a silly little kiss on her cheek? A kiss that had her heart hammering and her stomach fluttering? She collapsed onto the sofa. Obviously something was wrong with her. Not only did he get her hormones surging, but he rendered her speechless, and apparently brainless, too. And why was it so hot in here? She checked the thermostat on the wall. 69 degrees. Maybe she was coming down with something. That had to be it.

  She walked into the kitchen and pulled down her vitamins, taking an extra multi and a vitamin C. Riley was looking at her. “What? One can never be too careful.”

  He barked.

  “I’ll take that as an agreement.” She walked into her office, stared at the boxes of her books and papers, at the computer still in parts on the floor, at the tangle of cords—and she turned and walked back out. She wouldn’t deal with that today. She would not check her emails. She would not think about working. She would paint. That’s what she had planned to do, and just because she had a visitor, she shouldn’t let herself become sidetracked.

  She walked back into the living room, picked up her easel, and sat before a blank canvas. She opened a jar of blue paint and stuck her brush in it, lathering it across the sheet She opened another jar, this one grey, and after a couple of hours an image of the ocean started to take shape and she felt better.

  “Pretty color, isn’t it?” she asked the dog, who was lying on the floor and watching her with one eye open. “In fact, it almost looks to be the same blue-gray shade of your daddy’s eyes.”

  She froze. Then she dropped the brush and stood. She squinted at it from a distance, then looked back at the dog, and then back at the canvas again.

  What was it about this man? Not only did he manage to escape without getting holy hell for abandoning his dog, but then he’d left the poor thing with her for the rest of the day. And not only had she let him, but now he was filling her thoughts even when he wasn’t present. She pulled the canvas down off the easel and replaced it with a new one. She would paint something different. Later. “I need ice cream,” she announced.

  Riley jumped to his feet, tail wagging. She smiled at him. “Are you telling me you want some too?”

  He barked and did a little excited dance, then caught sight of his tail and chased it for a moment before running straight at her.

  “Whoa, boy.” She grinned and held out her hand to keep him from jumping on her, but he kept all four feet on the ground. He was a good boy. It was just going to take her a little while to get used to having a dog around.

  What was she thinking? No, it wouldn’t. This was a one-time deal. Obviously Ryan was a smooth operator, and she was much more attracted to him than she thought. Either that or she was completely sex-starved. She would regain control over her life. And she would start with her new neighbor. When he came home tonight, she’d hand over Riley, give him a piece of her mind for abandoning the poor guy, and then she could finally get back to finding her bliss. And her bliss did not involve him.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning Carrie woke early to make up for her disastrous painting session from the day before. The half-finished blue-grey tumultuous ocean picture mocked her from the corner, but she wouldn’t go back to it. This would be a new painting. A fresh painting with bright colors and happy thoughts. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get the colors blended right. The vision in her head was not translating to the canvas. She was tempted to toss it into the trash and start fresh. Again. She stood, stretched, refilled her coffee and was contemplating her options when the doorbell rang.

  Welcoming the diversion, she answered the door. Ryan stood on her porch, a large bouquet of gorgeous, deep red roses in his hand. They smelled heavenly. She inhaled deeply, and then narrowed her eyes. “What are those for?” Roses from men, especially red roses, usually meant one of two things: ‘I fucked up’ or ‘I want something.’

  “Consider these a thank you for taking care of Riley yesterday. You were right for giving me hell last night. I wasn’t thinking when I left him all alone outside all day. I appreciate everything you did for both of us.” He smiled that wide, charming smile of his, and she relaxed. A smidgen.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She took them from him and stepped back. “Come on in.” She turned into the house, leaving the door open so he could follow her.

  “Painting?” he asked as he approached the canvas on the easel next to the dining room table.

  She grimaced. “Trying to.” She put the roses in a vase and placed it on the table. She eyed the full coffeepot at her elbow and sighed; he’d brought her flowers, which meant she had to be a gracious host. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I would love some,” he said. “But I can’t. I have to get to the office. We’re working on a big project and no matter what we come up with, the boss isn’t pleased.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” she said absently as she stared at the roses—lush and beautiful—and started getting inspired for a completely different painting. Thank goodness.

  He looked at her canvas and the mess of blue and yellow paint. “Maybe what you need is a distraction.”

  She turned back to him and grinned. “Really?” Here it came, the sexual innuendos, the promises of a night she’d never forget, the jokes about fueling her inspiration. “And exactly what did you have in mind?” she asked, like she didn’t know. Though, suddenly a distraction with him did sound tempting. A little. No, she’d stay firm, no matter how strong the temptation. She had to focus on reinventing her goals and doing what makes her happy—alone.

  “I could really use your help with Riley again,” he said.

  Stunned, she looked up at him as reality crashed to the pit of her stomach. He wanted her to watch his dog. Nope, she hadn’t been expecting that. Though why, she couldn’t imagine. Of course that was what he wanted. Not her naked in his bed, no, he only wanted her dog-watching skills.

  “I know you’re busy,” he continued, oblivious to her self-flagellation. “I just don’t know what to do with him. He refuses to go outside.”

  How had she gotten him all wrong? She looked at the flowers again, her cheeks warming. She’d been right the first time. He did want something.

  “I can’t.” Her disappointment morphed into anger at herself. “Not today. I have to focus on my painting.” She gestured at the mess on the canvas. “I wasn’t able to get much accomplished yesterday.”

  “Riley is a really good dog. If he bothers you, lock him in the bathroom,” he pressed.

  “What?” Surely she didn’t hear him right. Lock him in the bathroom? “That’s outrageous.”

  “He doesn’t mind. Really.”


  All thoughts of having sex with him instantly vanished from her mind. This guy couldn’t be for real.

  Ryan shrugged. “He much prefers that to being left outside.”

  She was tempted to say yes just to rescue the poor dog, but if she did, he would be back again tomorrow, and the day after that, and before she knew it she’d be a professional dog sitter. Last month she was the director of advertising for a Fortune 500 company, and now look at her.

  Tears burned behind her eyes. Were all men the same? Only in it for what they could get out of her? And why did she keep letting it happen?

  She wasn’t going to be maneuvered and manipulated again. Not this time, and certainly not by someone she barely even knew. She strode toward the front door and placed her hand on it, holding it open for him. “I’m sorry, Ryan, but I can’t watch your dog. Not now. Not ever.”

  His look of surprise as he walked past her out the door was priceless. She was fairly certain he hadn’t a clue what he’d done. “Idiot,” she muttered as she shut the door behind him, and then walked over to the table, picked up the roses, and deposited them straight in the trash.

  She was done doing a man’s bidding. From now on the only person she was going to try to please was herself. She had to start taking care of herself because there sure wasn’t anyone else around to do it for her.

  Only that wasn’t working out so well, was it?

  She just had to focus—on her goals, her painting, her exercising program, on relaxing. She could do this. She had to do this. She did five quick jumping jacks, leaned down and touched her toes, and swept her hands in a wide arc over her head on a deep breath, then let it out as she dropped her hands back to her side. Better. Now back to work. She sat before the canvas, got out another jar of paint, and went back to work.

  Twenty minutes later she was about to pull her hair out. Riley was whining and crying on the other side of the wall, and she couldn’t think over the ruckus. That damn Ryan had actually locked the poor guy in the bathroom. Images of his big brown eyes filled with anguish haunted her thoughts. She threw down her brush and ran into the bathroom.