“I don’t want to hurt you,” she muttered, biting her lips.
That simple phrase and gesture tossed his insides like a bag of orphaned kittens thrown in a river. Was it true concern or arrogance? Did she think him easy? Desperate, or love-starved? Like she was a goddess bestowing herself on an ugly beast?
He stiffened his back and tensed his belly. “What makes you think I won’t hurt you?”
He expected a flippant remark. A toss of her hair. A sniff and an eye roll. As if he, the beggar, shouldn’t be choosy.
But she stared at him, intently with that ferocious intensity he found off-putting, unsettling, and so attractive. She was a designer, an artist, a creative soul.
And he was bare without a shirt—his striated skin on display—again like a butterfly pinned to a board. Under the magnifying glass. Perhaps she was memorizing each line and curl. Perhaps she’d design a paisley shirt, purple and red and white as the web of burns across his chest.
“What are you looking at, Jenna?” He was paralyzed under her gaze.
“The man who’s going to hurt me bad.” She ran her teeth over that lush lower lip he’d been devouring moments ago. “And there’s not a thing I can do about it.”
# # #
Jenna had gone too far. She should have left well alone. She’d wanted to kiss Larry—wanted to taste that fire inside of him and feel those arms around her. But lust had kicked in and she’d ruined the moment when she’d rode up onto his lap and rubbed herself against him, pressed him too fast for something he could not give.
He didn’t react to her last statement, the one about hurting her. Perhaps he didn’t understand how it was possible. Except he’d turned her down.
Gathering what was left of her dignity, she shrugged and glanced around the apartment. The television was still on. Little Treat was snoozing on the floor. The stale pizza was congealed on the coffee table and her plate of spaghetti was cold.
“Let’s take that piece of string and measure you.” She wiped her hands on her workout tights.
“For the tux?”
“Yes. I want you in the show.”
“You don’t have to.” He picked up his shirt and shrugged it over his head. “You have enough men.”
“But I want you to escort me. I want to come down that runway with you and Little Treat.”
“Wait, you’re going to hold a dog while wearing a designer evening gown?”
“Yes, he’s going to be one of my models. He’ll be my signature. Should I hold him in my arms or have him walk beside me?”
Larry shook his head and glanced at the lazy dog. “He’s cute and all that, but I think he goes better with leather and boots than a fancy dress.”
“It’s all about the contrast. That’s how art is. He’ll give me the illusion of being slim because he’s so chubby.”
“Ahh … I got it. That’s why you don’t want a greyhound or an Afghan hound walking with you on the runway.”
“Yep. Because I’d look like chunk-a-lard.” She eyed the plate of spaghetti oozing with sauce. “After the show’s over, I’d like to sample your lasagna, if the offer’s still open.”
“Will you take it with cannelloni?”
“Gladly, and gelato for dessert.”
“Great. It’s a date.” That endearing crooked grin of his spread across his face. “I will ply you with so much food, you won’t be able to roll out of here.”
“I may not ever want to roll out of here.” Jenna eyed the big, comfortable body and the warm brown eyes of the hero sitting in front of her. “Let’s get that rope and start tying me up.”
“You mean a measuring tape.”
“Thought you didn’t have one.” She tapped his arm as he stood.
“I just remembered, I have my foster mother’s sewing kit. I’m sure she has one somewhere in there among the pincushions and needles.”
“A sewing kit. Now you’re talking my language.” She punched him lightly on the bicep. “I think we’re made for each other.”
At that moment, Little Treat woke and shook his jowls, slinging drool on the floor. He lifted his little head and howled his approval. “Waaarroooh.”
Chapter 9
Over the next few days, Jenna flew around like a pigeon with her head cut off. The caterer mess was averted, but one of the models had to be substituted, and she had had to spend hours every day smoothing ruffled feathers with the celebrity invites, press, and photographers, in addition to stitching up her designs and having Irina parade around in them so she could fix any visual defects.
A Grammy award winning rap artist was put off by not getting front row seats and threatened to badmouth the show. A Silicon Valley former-CEO who was now a senatorial candidate was offended by the rap star being on the invite list and withdrew her support. Every actress, venture capitalist, and fashion magazine editor threw their people at her person—meaning Jenna, as she had no “people.”
But no matter how harried she was by day, or how much hair she tore from her head, or how many pins she stuck in her fingers, Jenna looked forward to her evening walk with Larry and Little Treat, who now went more by Larry’s name, Harley, than the name the rescue mother gave him because he was always begging for a treat.
She knocked on Larry’s door, bearing a loaf of homemade sourdough bread baked by her mother. She hadn’t spoken to Larry about that embarrassing kiss and almost-make-out session, and he’d been gentleman enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.
The door swung open and Jenna’s heart warmed over at the sight of man and dog. Larry held Little Treat with one bulging arm. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face and the ripped tank he wore was damp.
“Were you working out?” Jenna stepped toward the kitchen and peeked into one of the open doors. It was set up like a gym with a weight bench, stair stepping machine, and racks of dumbbells and barbells.
“Almost done. You’re early.” He sniffed at the scent of fresh, warm bread. “That your mom’s bread?”
“Sourdough with her original starter yeast, gathered in the last century.” She smiled and petted Little Treat who licked her wrist.
“Give me a sec to put away the weights and I’ll be with you.” He swiped his massive hand over his brow and grinned.
He was always so happy to see her, and it showed on his face and entire attitude. She patted his arm, wishing she could tip-toe up and kiss him, but it was for the better that they didn’t take their relationship further.
She wouldn’t hurt him. Couldn’t bear the thought, and life with her would be incredibly complicated, what with her schedule and the demands of her job.
He placed the puppy at her feet and sauntered to his weight room, giving Jenna a full back view of his muscular legs, wide back, and delicious tight behind. Jenna swallowed drool and reached over to pet Little Treat, who, of course was drooling for a different reason.
A few minutes later, Larry changed into a T-shirt and sweat pants and grabbed the leash. He eyed Jenna, who of course, was dressed fashionably—calf-height boots, pencil jeans, and a vintage boho crop top with a fringe over her waist.
The heat of his gaze sent prickling sensations zinging through her, but she held her breath and turned away from him to restrain herself from climbing over him. Larry was, after all, her brother’s best buddy.
“Okay, little guy,” Larry said to Treat. “Let’s take those stairs slowly so you don’t trip.”
Jenna chuckled to herself. “Puppies don’t do slow. Not even a basset hound.”
Little Treat bounced circles around Larry as he clipped the leash and as soon as he opened the door, the dog tugged and lurched forward. Of course, he got nowhere.
“You’re going to have to put him in obedience school,” Jenna said. She bounded after Larry and Treat who once again, undulated down the steps like a caterpillar on steroids, only to step on his long dangling ear and yelp, surprised at the sudden pain.
Larry picked the dog up and checked his ears, crooning to comfort the puppy. Pain forgotten, Litt
le Treat wiggled to get free and bounded happily with them toward the park.
Jenna found herself the object of Larry’s attention as he quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Aren’t you the one putting him in obedience school? He’s your dog, isn’t he?”
“Uh, yes, about Treat, or Harley. Has Connor warmed up to the idea of a puppy?”
Larry scratched his beard shadow and hummed. “I’m only the caretaker. You’re the one who wanted to use the puppy as inducement for him to participate in your fashion show.”
“When did I tell you that?” Jenna sucked in a wet breath. “You didn’t say anything to Connor, did you?”
“Kept mum for you, darling.” He grinned, a little too self-satisfied, and Jenna found herself liking the endearment a little too much.
“I know what.” She snapped her fingers as if she had a bright idea. “Let’s gift Little Treat, or Harley, to Connor for Valentine’s Day. In the back of his mind, he thinks I’m going to set him up with a date, but wouldn’t it shock him when the ‘date’ happens to be a puppy?”
“It might not be a good idea to give someone a dog if they don’t expect it.” Larry’s voice was grumpy, as if he’d had a brighter idea. “That’s how pets end up at the rescues, or even worse, the pound. Did you have a contingency plan? Like if Connor didn’t want the dog? What then?”
“Uh, well, I, uh, thought, my cousin, I don’t know.” Jenna splayed her hands out. “I’m so stupid. I didn’t think.”
“I’m surprised the lady at the rescue center gave Treat to you in the first place. What did you tell her?”
“That my brother, the Fire Chief at Station 22 was looking for a dog. She loves firefighters so she handed me Little Treat, said he was the friendliest one of the bunch and has an iron stomach. He’ll eat anything.”
Larry let Little Treat off leash in the meadow surrounded by hedges. The puppy bounced from tree trunks to the colorful tulip beds, his nose working a mile a minute, sniffing out the entire palette of scents in the park. Above them stood the restored remains of one of two historic windmills, its sails turning slowly in the sea breeze.
“For the record, you’re not stupid.” Larry touched Jenna’s arm, comforting her. “Many people don’t think things through when it comes to pets. They go with their emotion and forget the reality. Let’s swing by the station on the way back and see if Connor falls in love with this little bugger.”
“You’re not mad at me?” Jenna leaned closer, staring up at him with the windmill framed behind him. His hair tossed in the wind, and his shoulders were so broad, it appeared as if he were balancing the entire windmill on him, like Atlas holding up the earth.
“Why should I be? You’re a wonderful sister. I’m sure Connor will appreciate your intentions.” His lips were too kissable, and his words soothed her like a gentle balm.
“I hope so. He’s already allowing his fire crew to help in the fashion show. You can’t believe what a relief it is. I have a budget and with the guys taking care of security and escort duty, I don’t have to hire male models. Besides, even dressed in tuxedos, they’ll be a big draw, and we had to get a larger auditorium for the fashion show and bachelor auction because all the tickets sold out.”
“I’m glad for you.” He brushed her windswept hair from her face. “It’s all going to work out. I’ll do whatever I can to make it successful.”
“You and Harley are good luck for me.”
“Harley? You’ve decided to use my name for him? Finally?” Larry’s big brown eyes dilated as a sweet smile crinkled his eyelids.
“Harley’s much more manly than Little Treat. Besides, he does look like he’s wearing a motorcycle jacket.”
“Well then, you wouldn’t mind being my treat, would you?” He tilted her chin up and burned her with his adoring gaze.
She held back, waiting, wanting him to make the move, but if he took forever, she’d have to hurry things along. She was only in town until the day after Valentine’s Day. She’d already let three days slip by and she hadn’t asked him to be her date to the Valentine’s Dinner and Dance. It was a thousand bucks a plate, and tickets were going fast, especially since they’d announced the bachelor auction.
Many of the city’s wealthy women assumed they’d be squired by one of the firefighters, and the website was already inundated with comments and dibs for each of the men featured, including Larry.
She licked her lips nervously and tried to quell her rapid breathing as a new thought claimed her brain. Could she outbid a private equity investor or a neurosurgeon for Larry? What if he weren’t her date after all? What if Irina wasn’t the only bidder?
Jenna’s heart sank and she closed her eyes, swallowing the panicked flutter of her rapid heartbeat. “I’ll be your treat, Larry. Any time. Would you like to—”
Her words were cut off by his powerful lips, rough with his manly beard shadow, crushing into hers. Jenna opened her mouth and drank him in, winding her hands around his neck. Her knees weak, she hung on as she savored the slow and sensual way he kissed, wondering if it mirrored his lovemaking—burning hot and full of care.
To her, Larry was more than just a physical wonder. Inside that bear-like physique was a man who’d never hurt her intentionally, who’d take care of the weak and the needy, who’d protect her and Harley and his friends with everything he had.
A true hero. She’d never met one before. None of the flashy men in the fash pack cared about anyone other than their own appearance. It was dog eat dog, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. Tit for tat. Friends in your face, and back biting out of earshot.
Not Larry. Larry was the real deal. The real goods. The real thing.
Jenna kissed him like she’d never kissed anyone before. Freely, easily, lovingly, and above all, with a deep aching in her heart, knowing she’d have to choose his world or hers. There would be no compromise, because the fashion world was a cruel and icy place with no room for anything less than perfect.
He palmed both sides of her face and drew back, breathing hard, but grinning so wide, even the scarred half of his face appeared smooth.
“Whatever you were going to ask me,” he said, in a low voice that melted her knees all the way to her heart. “It’s yes. The answer’s yes.”
“You’ll be my Valentine?” Gah. How could this be the first words from her mouth.
“Yes, I’ll be your Valentine, and so will Harley. We’re both yours as long as you want us.”
She jumped up and snatched his lips with hers. No one had ever given her a blank check, and boy was she going to take her time cashing it.
# # #
“Woof, woof, wwaarooh,” Harley barked and squealed, as if guarding Larry and Jenna from an intruder.
Larry looked up from the kiss first, and his muscles tensed as prickles danced between his shoulder blades. They were not alone.
Sure enough, a man stood not ten feet from them snapping pictures with a giant, professional looking camera.
Larry shielded Jenna with his body. “Are you going to erase those pictures or am I going to do it for you?”
The man ignored him and turned to take a shot at his scarred side, so Larry rushed him. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and twisted the camera from his hands.
“Hey, get your hands off me,” the man said. He was one of those slick pretty boys with the upside down triangular fuzz under his lip and a pierced tongue.
“I’m going to hand your camera to my girlfriend and have her erase every shot you took of us. Then I’ll give it back to you.”
Harley growled a low, rumbling but cute purring sound as Larry gave the camera to Jenna.
“Jenna?” the man said. “I thought it was you.”
Jenna flipped the camera to review mode. “How many times have I told you, I’m off limits.”
The man pointed sharply at Larry. “Is he the reason you haven’t been returning my texts?”
She didn’t answer because she was intently deleting the pictures he’d taken of them.
“I don’t think the lady wants to speak to you.” Larry jutted himself toward the man who was a head shorter than him. Harley also puffed out his little doggy chest and barked.
“She will.” The twerp lowered his glasses and glared at Larry. “Monique hired me to do the photoshoot.”
“Only because you’re cheap.” Jenna shoved the camera at the man. “If you’ll excuse us, I have a dog to walk.”
She grabbed Harley’s leash and bent to buckle it onto his collar.
The photographer leered at her backside and said, “Is it my imagination or have you gained weight?”
Anger boiled over Larry and he blocked the man’s view of Jenna. “Leave her alone.”
“And just who are you? Her bodyguard?” The man sneered and made a point to stare at Larry’s scarred face. “Because I know she’s not your girlfriend.”
“She is who I say she is.” Larry almost growled along with Harley who was making motorcycle sounds, but cowering between Larry’s legs.
“Then join the club.” The man actually had the gall to stick out his hand to shake. “I’m Gustave from Paris, the city of lovers. There’s Quint, the Fashion News editor, and Max, the personal trainer, and sometimes, for old times sake, she hooks up with Evan, but not since he stole her designs and won last year’s Esmé Awards.”
Pow. Larry had never punched a man in anger, but there was always a first time for everything.
Chapter 10
“Oh, no!” Jenna flew toward Gustave’s ragdoll body on the grass. Terror rose in her heart, and she desperately hoped the photographer wouldn’t sue Larry.
Gustave’s brother was an attorney, and the man was petty enough to sue his own mother when she ran over his camera equipment. Of course, he’d just photographed her playing tongue hockey with a lover, but still—sue his own mother?
“Larry, you have to revive him. What if you killed him? You’re going to be in so much trouble.”
“He got what was coming.” Larry knelt on the ground beside her and checked the man’s pulse. “I hope I didn’t hurt him too much.”
Valentine Pets & Kisses: Fourteen All-New, Sweet Valentine Romances Page 6
