by Zoe Dawson
Chapter Two
“Oh, my God.” Her dark green eyes widened, and he was struck by how expressive they were. “Are you sure?”
His dog was going to have puppies, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He now was tied to this sweet, girl-next-door type he’d done his utmost to avoid. She didn’t have the white picket fence, but she might as well have. Sharks like him swam in dark, murky waters, just waiting to gobble up a tasty morsel like Callie.
When he’d discovered that his dog was pregnant and realized that the culprit had to be Callie’s Dane Jack, he’d thought about keeping mum. She wouldn’t have known. But his conscience wouldn’t let him. She had the right to know. But his problem was that Callie was too tempting and much too sweet for him. “Yes, I’m sure. There’s no other way she could be pregnant.”
He moved back and, just like an exotic scent on a restless wind, she followed him into his loft. He deliberately left the door open, as if that would protect her from him. “Were you planning to breed her?”
“No. I don’t know anything about breeding a Great Dane, nor am I interested in doing it.” Taking responsibility for Jill was more than he really wanted. But, he’d loved his Great Aunt Matilda, and he knew she hadn’t wanted him to be lonely. That had been the trouble with Matilda; her shrewd old eyes had missed very little.
“Then may I ask why she wasn’t spayed?” Her earnest expression only made him want to reach out and do something naughty to change it. His eyes slid over her, from her golden-brown hair down to her serviceable, flat-heeled shoes. He was a master at reading body language, especially female body language, and even as his eyes returned to her face, he noticed how she leaned toward him. He was sure she wasn’t even aware of it. It made his blood heat to a slow burn.
He dragged his hand through his hair, irritated with the whole situation. It was bad enough he had to be across the hall from all that temptation, now she had to become a part of his life. But it was futile to fight against it. “My great aunt had planned to breed her, apparently. She was a bit eccentric, but I loved her. She died five weeks ago and left the dog to me. I had no idea Jill hadn’t been spayed. Turns out it’s one of the reasons she is so unruly. Plus my great aunt indulged her shamelessly.”
“I’m sorry about your great aunt. What was her name?” The words were obviously heartfelt, and her eyes conveyed her genuine sympathy. He was both touched and terrified by her completely open compassion, the sympathy in her eyes, and the soft cadence of her voice. Really, he should run like hell in the other direction rather than spend any more time with this woman.
“Matilda is…was her given name, but I always called her Aunt Tilly.” He nodded, struggling against the sudden emotion that clogged his chest. That was the thing about grief. It snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking and wasn’t prepared.
“So, you must have had no clue that Jill was in heat.”
He heard the jingle of Jill’s collar tags and glanced down the spacious loft to see her emerge from his bedroom. She was a lean, lithe silhouette against the backdrop of New York and the setting sun. “No. But in retrospect, I can see that she’d been behaving differently.”
Catching her gaze traveling over his chest, he suddenly wished he’d taken the time to throw on a shirt before he opened the door. She wet her lips and everything in him tightened. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Jack is registered.”
When her words penetrated his aroused brain, he groaned. “Oh, man. Now I feel like I’ve stolen a stud fee from you.”
Callie laughed. “I wouldn’t say that you stole it exactly, but Jack’s sire and dam are champions, and my parents are the breeders. Jack-of-All-Trades is his sire and his dam is Pot of Gold. Jack’s registered name is Lassiter Run’s Jackpot.”
He might be portrayed as a ruthless rogue of a nightclub owner in the New York Scoop, and he would agree that some of it was true, but most of the rag’s stories about him were pure fantasy. But he wasn’t a thief and he certainly hadn’t meant to breed his dog to Callie’s. His thoughts returned to what she was saying and then it registered.
“Oh, crap. Jack-of-All-Trades? The champion Great Dane that has won more shows than any other Dane? Ha, great. Are your parents going to be angry?”
“How do you know about Jack’s sire?”
“My aunt. She followed all the dogs and their ranks. She loved to talk about it, especially at the end. I listened.”
“They’ve been planning on putting Jack to stud, that’s why he wasn’t neutered. I don’t know how they will take the news, but they’ll be thrilled that he can perform.”
Owen laughed and Callie smiled. His chest felt tight. Again.
“He’s only two,” she continued, “so my parents were waiting until he was a little older.”
The only warning that he had before Jill sailed over the sofa like an Olympic-class hurdler was the jingle of her tags. She sprinted out the door and made a mad dash to Callie’s door.
The dog’s shoulder hit Callie, and she twisted away and landed with a thump on his dark mahogany floor as a whoosh exploded from her. She pushed herself up and snapped, “That dog is a menace.”
“I’m sorry,” he responded as he reached down and helped her up. Owen could hear Jack whining and pawing on the other side of Callie’s door.
Jill snuffled along the edge of the threshold, pacing back and forth.
They walked into the hall and Owen grabbed Jill’s collar. “This is a mess, but the worst part is that I’m freaked out about Jill.”
Callie stopped in front of her door and said, “Quiet, Jack,” but the crying continued. “What do you mean?”
“I have a pregnant dog. Does she need special food? Vitamins? What happens when she goes into labor? ‘I don’t know nothin’ about birthing no puppies.’”
Callie laughed. “Calm down, Prissy,” she said, continuing Owen’s Gone With The Wind joke. “We’ll fetch a doctor to help out.”
“Ha ha.”
Callie sobered. “Have you had her checked?”
“At a clinic, and I’m not taking her back there. I don’t have a lot of confidence in their ability to handle my dog.”
“Well, I have a friend who is doing her DVM residency at St. Mark’s Veterinary Hospital. I’m sure she would make a house call.”
Owen felt relief flood him. “That would be great.”
“She could recommend a vet from the hospital, too, because you’ll want to take her for regular checkups during her pregnancy.”
“I really appreciate your help with this.” He looked away as he struggled to balance his desire to avoid getting close to this woman with the needs of his dog, and the sneaky, self-sabotaging inclinations of his traitorous body. Finally he decided it was better to take the plunge. “Would you be willing to provide Jill with some training?”
Initially, Callie looked wary. He couldn’t really blame her, given that he hadn’t exactly planned to ask until his mouth opened and the words popped out.
“Of course,” she finally said and dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card.
Owen took the card, allowing his fingers to slide along hers. They tingled as she pulled her hand away.
And then he had to laugh immediately at her business name. “Sit Happens. Clever.” Their chance bond was as unexpected as it was unwanted, and her adorable sense of humor only made the situation more difficult. At least for him.
“I have three girlfriends who are great at brainstorming. You should have heard some of the names they came up with. But a little humor is a good thing, and my business is thriving, as you’ll see when you bring Jill in for her first lesson, say on Monday.”
“So you’re Manhattan’s dog whisperer?”
Callie chuckled.
“Monday’s fine. How about eleven?”
She nodded. “I also think my parents will want to see Jill. Do you mind coming with me when I go to Harrison tomorrow afternoon? I can bribe you with a delicious, homemade meal. My mother is a dream
cook. It’s only a half hour outside the city.”
“Will there be dessert?”
“Of course.”
“I’m in, then, and it’s the least I can do.”
“Owen?”
He turned to find Celeste Hearne, his new club manager standing at his elbow. He looked back at Callie and saw her eyes shutter as they traveled over the stunning woman. “Callie, this is Celeste.”
Callie nodded at her in greeting. “I need to feed Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Owen wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that Celeste was his business manager, not his current squeeze, but he kept quiet. It was better this way. Better she believed him to be the playboy the Scoop followed avidly. He wasn’t into commitment, and Callie was the type of woman who would expect it. Owen knew that he’d only break her heart.
Owen gazed after her anyway as she slipped inside her loft, having to fight an agitated Jack, who gave her a very mournful doggie groan as she shut the door on his ladylove.
“I thought you went for the more…glamorous type, Owen.” When he just gave her a stern look, she shrugged and continued. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you wanted to go over the recent figures for the club, and I couldn’t reach you on the phone.”
“No, it’s fine.” He indicated she should precede him into the loft, dragging Jill with him and shutting the door. Jill eyed him, and then the door, and then him again with a very sad look on her face, but Owen ignored it. When she finally lay down in front of the door, he transferred his attention to Celeste.
As recently as last week, he’d been toying with the idea of getting her into bed. She would understand the score, but now he felt uninterested for the first time in his life. Callie’s lovely face and her heartfelt genuineness filled his imagination, and he shook his head abruptly. A part of him longed for that, but it just came with too many strings.
“Let’s get to those numbers,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended, as Celeste followed him into his home office.
