Sheltering His Desire

by Allyson Lindt

  Chapter Two

  Tate shouldn’t have kissed her. That was possibly the stupidest thing he’d done in ages. His cock still ached, straining against his slacks, and he’d been seconds from telling her yes. He’d never done that before. Only partly because Jared would kill him. Largely because she deserved better than a cheap one night stand. On top of it all, she was a client. He never mixed business with pleasure.

  But the conversation was apparently over. She’d gone from stubborn to professional in a flash, face hardening, and him all but ignored. Thank God for small favors.

  Then again, that was one reason she was so good at running the shelter. She knew where her priorities lay. She’d started volunteering there when she was still in high school. During college, she took on more administrative tasks, along with helping the doctors and nurses, which translated into great experience for veterinary school.

  She’d officially become a doctor less than a year ago. When the owner had to sell three years ago, for personal reasons, Jared had loaned her the money to purchase the business itself. Well, technically Tate had loaned her the money through Jared, but she didn’t know that. Tate tried to offer, but she refused to owe him. Now she was looking to expand the place and buy the property it sat on, which meant she needed another infusion of capital. Hence the crowdfunding campaign.

  He followed her out of the office, staying a few feet back for his own sanity. Getting too close to that heady scent of soap would just screw with his head again. His footsteps slowed as he reached the front lobby of the clinic. The panicked woman near the front desk was probably just a little younger than his thirty-four, and she looked painfully familiar.

  He scanned the face against a list in his head. Not a business associate. Not a one night stand, or a friend of a friend. Where did he know her from?

  She looked up as soon as Alyssia drew close. Her words ran together. “He’s hurt, I don’t know how badly, but he won’t come out of the car, and he just keeps whimpering, and you have to help him, please.”

  Alyssia rested a hand on her arm, tone kind but firm. “We will. Show me.”

  He’d let them get to work. Lys had everything under control. But he couldn’t help following her to the SUV near the front door. And then it clicked in his head. The woman worked for a friend of his parents. Friend was a deceptive word. Her employer was sleeping with Tate’s mother. The country club’s dirty little secret that everyone knew. The woman was a housekeeper. She swung the back doors open, and a low growl echoed through the dark parking lot.

  “Come on, boy.” Alyssia’s voice was low and soothing, as she crawled inside the vehicle. A loud series of barks reverberated, and she scrambled out backwards, face pinched.

  “See?” Hysteria crept into the woman’s voice. “I can’t get him out. I don’t want him to bite me again. He already did it once when I was putting him in there. She held up a hand wrapped in gauze.

  “Tranquilizer?” Sara asked.

  Alyssia shook her head. “Not until I can take a look at him.”

  While they were conferring, Tate pushed through the small group. His chest clenched. It was the neighbor’s dog. Belonged to their teenage son. Even in the dim light, it was obvious he was in pain. Tate crawled toward him slowly, murmuring random reassurances in the softest voice he could. The dog whimpered, but didn’t pull away or snap. It felt like it took ages to close the distance, but it was probably less than a minute. He cradled the mutt and backed out just as slowly, trying not to jar any injuries or startle the animal.

  Three faces stared back in wide-eyed surprise. Alyssia recovered first. She didn’t say anything, just nodded toward the clinic. He followed without question into one of the rooms. He set the dog on the table, gently stroking his head and whispering more incoherent reassurances while Alyssia examined the dog, and then hooked him to an IV.

  “Okay.” Her quiet voice sounded loud and abrupt, shattering the stillness but not the tension. “Thank you. I need you out now, though.”

  He nodded and extracted himself from the room. He let out a long breath when he was in the hallway. “Cait,” he called to the pacing woman in the lobby. “What happened?”

  She tugged on her blonde braid, not meeting his gaze. “Nothing. I got clumsy cleaning his dog run. Left…something out, and, um…he got hurt.”

  Tate wasn’t even going to point out what a bad lie that was. He stared at her a minute longer, and her shoulders slumped. “I can’t tell you. I need this job. You can’t even tell them it was me who brought it in. Please.”

  It was times like this he had no idea how Alyssia did her job without surrendering everything fun and amazing about her personality. He jammed his fists in his pockets to hide his clenched fists. “Bryce Jr.?”

  Her nod was so slight it was difficult to see.

  He wasn’t going to yell at her. He understood where she was coming from. But it took more restraint than he thought he had to suppress his anger. If he had a reserve of self-control, he was pretty sure he’d eaten through it twice over tonight. “She’s not going to let the dog go tonight regardless. You might as well go home.”

  “No. I have to take him back.”

  “Not happening,” Sara broke in from her spot at the computer. “Not with injuries like that.”

  “But what am I supposed to tell them?” Caitlin asked.

  Tate sank into a nearby chair, his verbal filters failing fast. “A better lie than you told me.”

  *

  Alyssia didn’t know how many hours had passed. She’d splinted a broken leg, stitched up several cuts, and seen to the internal injuries before splinting most of the poor boy’s frame. She was exhausted, but her patient should pull through.

  Her stomach snarled. Maybe she should have taken Tate up on his offer for dinner instead of throwing herself at him like an idiot. Again. Apparently eight years was just enough time to forget the lessons of the past. Not that she would have had time to eat anyway.

  She stepped into the waiting room, eyes taking a moment to adjust. They only kept half the lights on overnight. Sara looked up from behind the reception desk, and they exchanged smiles. No words were needed. They’d been working together long enough Sara would get it. The exhaustion, the stress, and the relief that the first bad part was over.

  Alyssia halted in her tracks at what she saw next. Tate was seated in one of the plastic chairs, staring blankly at a magazine, not turning the pages.

  “What are you still doing here?”

  He jumped when she spoke, and whirled to face her. “Is the puppy okay?”

  She wasn’t going to acknowledge the adoration his question summoned. Especially since the dog was anything but a puppy. Tate’s clothes were a wreck. Dark streaks—she assumed blood—smeared his shirt, tie, and slacks. In that brief second, any of her lingering frustration from earlier evaporated. “He’ll be fine. Friend of yours?”

  He gave a weak smile. “We’ve met. He lives near my folks.”

  Her stomach protested loudly, and her cheeks burned when he raised an eyebrow.

  “No arguments this time.” He tossed the fashion magazine aside and stood. “I’m buying you dinner.”

  “There’s a 24-hour Mexican place around the corner,” Sara offered. “I’m having two cheese enchiladas.”

  Tate looked between the two, pausing on Alyssia. “Chicken nachos, extra cheese?”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” Alyssia didn’t even believe herself. “I have cookies in my desk drawer.”

  Tate shook his head. “When you’re not so tired, we’ll work on what ‘no arguments’ means. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  At least the place was drive thru, so no one would question why he was in blood-streaked clothes.

  Alyssia leaned against a nearby wall for support when he vanished out the door. A glance at the clock told her it was almost midnight. She was going to need some serious coffee if she was going to make it through the rest of the night. She had her other doctors rotate nigh
t shifts. Of the four on staff, they rotated out the months and weekends they worked graveyards, and she didn’t think it was fair to make them do what she wasn’t willing, so she was part of that rotation. She was three weeks in, and she’d adjusted just fine, but days like today reminded her why she’d rather be asleep right now.

  As if reading her mind, Sara nodded toward the kitchen. “He made a fresh pot of coffee just a little while ago.”

  Alyssia kicked away from her support and followed the aroma of consciousness.

  “Have I mentioned yet today how sexy he is?” Sara’s question followed her, carrying easily over the tile in the empty clinic.

  Alyssia was too tired to roll her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about Tate, because that meant thinking about him. And thinking about him meant regret, embarrassment, and a want she couldn’t sate. “Not for at least six hours.” She grabbed her mug from its spot near the sink, and filled it as full of coffee as she could. She followed that with generous helping of sugar and cream. Coffee threatened to escape as she stirred the mixture together. She took a long drink, not caring that it scalded her throat and tongue going down.

  “Did the police say when they’d be by?” she asked as she wandered back into the lobby. She didn’t have to ask if Sara had called. There was no question the dog’s injuries were at least partially intentional, and that meant filing a report. Unfortunately, it didn’t guarantee the felony conviction that should go along with the abuse, but it helped.

  “I told them you’d be gone by seven. They said they’d be in before then.”

  The chairs called her name, but Alyssia couldn’t sit down until she was a little more awake. “Did the girl leave a name?”

  “No. But Tate really does know her and the dog. Called her Cait. She asked us not to mention her.”

  Alyssia rubbed her eyes as a new wave of exhaustion washed over her. That was never a good sign. Dread joined her jumbled thoughts as Tate’s response about being friends with the dog floated back to mock her. Please, please, please let it not be someone powerful enough to do something like have the city change her zoning.

  The front door chimed, and Sara hit the button to release the afterhours lock and let Tate in. The moment he stepped through the door, the scent of chilies and enchilada sauce nearly knocked Alyssia over. She was hungrier than she realized. She had to force herself to not tear into the food the moment he set the box in front of her. He leaned against the other side of the counter as she and Sara dug in.

  “You’re a heaven-sent demon,” Sara told him.

  “And not eating,” Alyssia said once she realized it.

  He shook his head. “Some of us have to sleep tonight, not tomorrow morning.

  Right. She’d kept him up all night. “Thank you for everything. We’re okay, now.”

  He still didn’t move. His fingers twitched, and he stared at the wall behind her head.

  Was he really making her do this? Why did he have to spoil the moment? “And earlier is in the past, right?”

  “What?” He shook his head and finally looked at her. “Right. Earlier. Yeah. In the past.” His brow furrowed. “The dog’s name is Grim. He belongs to Thompson’s kid.”

  Alyssia’s appetite evaporated in an instant. He probably didn't have the power to get her zoning changed. Not directly anyway. But he did own a local TV network affiliate, which tended to be vocal about businesses he didn't like. He’d done editorial pieces on their place before, about how it was a waste of valuable retail space and community resources. Now she was about to potentially file criminal charges against his teenage son. She nibbled at her food, no longer tasting it. “Of course he does.”

  “He can’t do anything other than huff and puff. I’ll be back tomorrow night, we’ll get your campaign up and running, and the one side of the business will never touch the other.”

  She ignored the reminder they would have made more headway tonight if she hadn’t thrown a tantrum. The last thing she needed was to linger on the memory of the kiss. She was too busy trying to convince herself things really would be as easy as he said.

  Chapter Three

  The moment the shelter door swung shut behind the police officer, Alyssia sank into a nearby waiting room chair. She leaned the back of her head against the wall, closed her eyes, and let the rising sun warm her face. Exhaustion rolled through every inch of her body. She was pretty sure last night had been the longest night of her life. Of course, just like the second longest night of her life, it had started with Tate, and her making a fool of herself.

  She shouldn’t go there. But she was too tired to hold back the unwelcome memory. Exhaustion seeped through her, dragging the memory with it. That night, eight years ago. She’d just barely turned eighteen, and her date to senior prom had canceled last minute.

  When Tate found out, and asked if he could take her, she thought it was because he liked her. Teenage-her hoped he’d finally figured out she like-liked him, and he felt the same. She’d been in heaven the whole night. Some of her friends were dating college guys, but her, she got to show up with someone who was post-grad.

  He’d been the perfect date. Sweet, attentive, a gentleman. Her friends insisted that meant he loved her. At eighteen years old, and crushing hard, that was exactly what she needed to hear.

  She bit back a bitter laugh at the unwelcome rush of images and emotions. She’d thrown herself at him. Getting laid on prom night—all the movies told her that was a guarantee, and who better to lose her virginity to than the man of her dreams?

  Turned out he was just that kind to everyone, and that he’d only asked her as a favor to her brother.

  She sniffled and forced herself upright, shoving away the rest of the memory and the ache in her gut. Now she’d made the same mistake again.

  But had she? He’d been interested, she knew it. The kind of reaction he’d had to her last night. Even before she touched him he’d been turned on.

  “Ms. Tippins.” A familiar voice burned away the last of her wandering thoughts, and she snapped back to the now.

  Bryce Thompson. Sick dread made her insides lurch. She had a feeling he was about to become the bane of her existence. The older gentleman stood a few feet from her chair, not a single wrinkle or piece of fluff on his suit. His hands were clasped in front of him, and his dark eyes narrowed and locked on her.

  “Good morning.” She scrambled to her feet. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, he’d made it clear in the past he thought her shelter was a waste of resources. That he was planning to tear the entire building to the ground to make room for retail property. On top of that, she’d just finished filling out a police report that directly involved his family.

  Yeah, this was going to suck. She should have gone home as soon as she had the chance. It wouldn’t have been fair to leave her staff with this burden, though.

  His jaw-set expression never even twitched. “I understand you have my dog.”

  She could bend the truth a little. Tell him no, they didn’t have anyone’s dog until the animal was adopted into an actual caring family. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t make things better. “I understand the same thing.”

  “I’m here to retrieve him. How much do I owe you?” He pulled a checkbook from his jacket breast pocket.

  This was too easy. He was being too calm. Alyssia’s ill-ease grew, rolling through her and dragging more exhausted tension to the surface. “There’s no charge. I can’t—”

  “No wonder you don’t make any money here.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a sneer. “I’ll take him and leave then.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the morning volunteers—the guy was as solid as a brick wall and almost as wide as he was tall, and normally a total sweetheart—step forward. She met his gaze, but didn’t motion for him to stand back. Sweet disposition or not, his bulk was intimidating, and his presence made confronting Mr. Thompson that much less terrifying.

  “You can’t take him.” She pushed the words o
ut quickly, not talking over Thompson as effectively has he had with her, but still determined not to be interrupted again. “The new owners will pay whatever fees are associated with his care, and until then, he’s not ready to be moved. He’s still recovering, and will be for several more days.”

  “I see.” He scribbled in his checkbook and tore the piece of paper out. “Then I’ll be back when he can be moved.”

  “You can’t take him home.” Damn it, why wasn’t he listening to her? Frustration crawled under her skin like a million ants, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide her clenching fists. She dragged up every ounce of forcefulness she had, and crammed it into her voice. “He belongs in a good home where he won’t be hurt again.”

  He locked his gaze on hers, eyes hard and unyielding. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

  He set the check on the counter, and was through the front door before she could say anything else.

  A whole new wave of frustration crashed over her, mingling with everything else that had been the last twelve hours of her life, and sapping away her restraint. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep a string of profanities from spilling out. She grabbed the check off the counter, cringed at the four-figure amount he’d randomly chosen to write it for, a tore it into little tiny pieces.

  It didn’t solve anything, but the simple act made her feel a little better. A little.

  ****

  “Alan.” Tate stood at the front of the conference room. He capped the dry erase marker and set it on the tray of the white board before turning to his administrative assistant. “Do you have this?”

  Alan nodded, and Tate let his attention travel around the room, scanning the remaining faces. “Any other questions or concerns?”

  He was met with a series of shaking heads and smiles. He was lucky he had a solid team on this project. Technically they were all on loan from Skriddie as contractors. The lines of the new business venture were blurred, but he was close to making the crowdfunding venture its own entity.