“Yes, I was happy to hear he got married again. Even happier when I knew you loved her as part of your family.”
She arched a brow. “How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “Harper told me. Sent me pics of the wedding. It was obvious from your smile.”
Chloe shifted in her seat. “I don’t know if I like the idea you’ve been keeping tabs on me from across the country. It’s weird.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to be a stalker. I just wanted to share a piece of your life and know you were okay.”
She was silent for a while, mulling over his words. “I can’t shift so quickly into believing you cared about me. I’ve spent too long convincing myself you were a cheating, lying asshole.”
A laugh boomed out and she relaxed back in the seat. “Fair enough. Right now, I’m grateful I get to spend another evening in your company. Even better, I get to watch you in action.”
They drove into Tribeca, pulled up to the valet, and she exited the car to a sea of flashbulbs. Damn, she’d hoped this was small enough not to warrant press, but it seemed they knew she’d attend. The pack descended, throwing questions out as she tried to move slowly, keeping her smile bright and not looking forced.
“Chloe—what’s your take on the governor’s decision to cut the budget for educational expenditures?”
“Chloe—why weren’t you involved in the protests for Green Farms? Several people were arrested—did you disagree with their stance on humane treatment for farm animals?”
“Chloe—what designer are you wearing tonight?”
“Chloe—are you still seeing Drew Dinkle? Is this your new date?”
The questions peppered like bullets, but she paused briefly, looking into the cameras with practiced poise. “I think you’d find the governor’s position on education has always been supportive. He’s not cutting the budget, he’s moving more to online resources to be able to serve the schools in a changing environment. Advocates for Animals has a long-standing commitment to the ethical treatment of farm animals and has already filed suit against Green Farms.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly toward the camera. “And I’m wearing one of my favorite designers, à la Marshalls, off the rack. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She pivoted on her red heel and entered the doors, while the reporters kept calling out questions.
“Is it always like that?” he asked, his hand cupping her elbow as they climbed the carpeted staircase to the main dining room.
“Usually. It got worse after that awful magazine came out, naming me the Bachelorette of NYC. Ugh, who would’ve thought so many people read that trash?”
He cut her an admiring glance. “No man needs to read an article to know you’re the catch of the century, babe. I think it’s more than a miracle you’re still single.”
“What could be bigger than a miracle?” she quipped, moving toward the Tribeca Rooftop, where the gala was held.
They stepped out of the elevator and toward the table registering guests and checking invites. He stood close, and his fingers brushed hers, eliciting a tingle that shot through her whole body. “Fate. You were fated for me.”
She didn’t have time to respond. Chloe recited their names, and they were greeted with genuine warmth and led out to the magnificent terrace. Low, comfortable couches filled the space, along with a full bar and tables displaying arrays of cocktail foods. The beautifully dressed crowd mingled in various groups, and a large screen flashed pictures of the animals Sidewalk Foundation had helped, with dozens of local rescues covering upstate and the city of New York. It was a perfect evening for an outdoor party—the air warm but not too muggy, the sky a velvet ribbon dotted with star studs, and the brilliant city skyline sprawled before them in all its glory.
Owen caught his breath, his gaze sweeping over the city. Pride etched his face, as if he relished the feeling of being a native New Yorker and bearing witness to the grit, grime, and beauty of one of the most powerful cities in the world. It was an emotion Chloe recognized well. It was the reason her father pursued politics with a natural zeal; the purpose of why she wanted to make it a better a place for the animals who lived here. Realizing Owen held the same type of passion for the state he’d grown up in touched her. He belonged to this world, too.
And for Chloe, it was an important element she’d always wanted in a partner.
“I’ve missed this,” Owen murmured, a smile curving his lips. “I knew early on I’d never be a surfer or a true Californian. I enjoyed my time for what it was, but this is where I need to be.”
“Me, too. I’d planned to settle closer to the Bishop farm in the Hudson Valley, but I kept being pulled to work in the city. It seemed to call to me—there just aren’t enough shelters with the amount of abuse and neglect cases increasing. Plus, we initiated a new program to increase fosters.”
“I agree. It was another reason the Animal Defense Fund agreed to my transfer. They’re hoping to get some new laws in effect to strengthen penalties—especially pit bull and cock fighting rings.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s wonderful news. We could use all the legal help we can get. Vivian is always understaffed.”
“Another good reason to mingle and share our cause. Shall we?”
He held out an arm.
She took it without hesitation, reminding herself it was good for business.
Chloe ignored her softly sighing heart as he led her into the crowd.
Chapter Seven
Tonight seemed different.
Owen watched her shine, her tangible, positive energy flowing from her aura, urging everyone in her circle to get closer. He didn’t blame them. He’d been like a moth attracted to her light since the moment he’d met her, but now he enjoyed watching her thrive in the element she was meant for.
They made a great team. Between his legal knowledge and practical skill, combined with her ability to sell the Advocates for Animals group to people who didn’t know about their cause, toward the end of the evening they’d collected a few powerful contacts. The Spagarelli case was big, and many groups were grateful the organization was going hard for the civil suit—too many were easily dropped because of the overwhelming amount of cases.
He sipped champagne, nibbled on appetizers, and enjoyed Chloe’s company. After the presentation, and a few live songs from Rob Thomas, music was piped in for some dancing. They’d chosen timeless oldies better suited to the older generation. Not his usual alternative style, but he always appreciated the classics loved by his grandfather. Sinatra. Bennett. Ray Charles. Elvis.
The memory of Judge Archie Bennett was a twist of love and regret. He wished he’d gotten his act together sooner, but in his mind, his grandfather had been immortal. Owen hoped he was looking down at him with pride, finally witnessing him living a life of both purpose and good-doing. Just like the judge had always dreamed.
A touch on his arm drew him back. “You’re thinking of your grandfather?” she asked softly, eyes gentle.
“How did you know?”
Her head jerked slightly. “Didn’t he love Can’t Help Falling in Love with You?”
“Yes. I can’t believe you remembered that.”
She smiled. “You used to tell me how he’d blast his music on the record player until you wanted to cry. That he refused to wear hearing aids so he’d turn it up.”
Owen laughed. “I was the only teenager to know every lyric of Georgia by Ray Charles. I asked for noise cancelling headphones for Christmas because I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“It must’ve been nice, though. Living with your grandpa.”
He nodded. “It was. I know I complained a lot, but looking back, I learned so much from him. He was tough but fair and never treated me like my opinions were meaningless. He always listened.”
“I love that your mom invited him to stay with you both. It must have helped him to be around family.”
“Actually, my mom needed him. There was no way we could keep the house with her sala
ry. Grandpa pretty much payed the rent.”
“I think it was a mutually beneficial experience,” she said. “He’d be lonely without you both, and you cared for him in his old age. I’d say you both won.”
He touched her cheek, grateful for the way she allowed him to see things, then dropped his hand like he’d been burned. Owen didn’t want anyone to start any gossip she didn’t need, and being together at this function could have stirred up some chatter. He might not want her to date Drew, but he also didn’t want to add to her stress. His voice came out ragged. “Sorry. Old habits to break. I know I lost the right to touch you.”
A strange expression flickered over her face. He held his breath at the glimpse of longing in her vivid blue eyes, but it was gone so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. “It’s okay. Let me introduce you to Regina at Rescue Dogs Furever.”
Regina was a birdlike woman with a long face and curly black hair that exploded around her head. Dark eyes regarded him with a cynical suspicion, as if she already suspected he’d disappoint her. He pegged her for early sixties. She wore a T-shirt type dress with dogs stamped over it, high strappy black heels, and carried a beaded black bag. Chloe made the introductions, and Regina turned toward him. Her voice held a biting sharpness. “Do you believe you can make the civil suit stick? Or is another abuser going to walk, go to the nearest pet store, and buy more animals to fill up her house again?”
“I’m here to make sure we get our day in court,” he said mildly, understanding her frustration. Animal law caused too many people to lose faith, in both the system and humanity. “We have a strong case, and if we can’t get her in jail, we’ll try to break her financially. Or at least make sure she can’t hoard more victims. I was able to get the temporary restraining order, so that was a turning point.”
She shook her head, and silver sequined earrings in the shape of tassels swung back and forth. “I just wish the courts would take these issues more seriously. They need bigger penalties. They need some damn judges who don’t throw the cases out! Or lawyers who don’t give up so easily.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Animal welfare isn’t the most popular segment of law. It doesn’t pay as well, and it’s definitely not glamorous, but the people who are involved give it their all. I’m actually working with the Animal Defense Fund to provide more education at the colleges and local level. Kids don’t know about the job opportunities for rescue, including law. I’ve signed on to speak in the fall to a bunch of schools to get them useful information on career fields.”
Regina stared at him for a while. Her face seemed to yield to a bit of softness. “A good idea,” she finally said. “We need better recruiting. And some damn legal support from lawyers who don’t look at our organization as some goodwill not-for-profit. We’re doing serious work. Hell, I just inherited a bunch of dogs from a puppy mill. Poor mamas never even saw grass—they were trapped in a cage being consistently bred. We’d love to shut that mill down permanently.”
Chloe jumped in. “I have some spots I can help fill with some of my fosters. Will that help?”
Regina nodded. “More than you know.”
“I may also be able to help,” Owen said. “I can reach out to my organization and see if we can assist with the case. We’ve been trying to exploit more mills—did the press get a hold of the story yet?”
“No, this was kept quiet,” Regina said.
“Blow it up.” Chloe and Regina regarded him with surprise. “Press is known to get us more supporters—the more noise the better with these cases. Do you know any reporters who’d jump on this type of story?”
“I’ve got a reporter at Huffpost who covers these cases—I’ll contact her,” Chloe said quickly.
“Good. And encourage pictures. It feels like exploitation, but this is the good kind—the more people see, the better they react, and that sometimes causes a cry for change,” Owen said.
Regina nodded, regarding him with a gleam of respect. Owen felt like he’d climbed a mountain. Something told him this woman didn’t like too many people—another human loss from volunteers who’d seen too much evil from the human race. “Thanks. I’ll contact you both tomorrow.” She glanced at both of them. “You two are a power couple. The kind we need more of.” They chatted for a while longer before Regina got called away. When he faced Chloe, she was smiling.
“You charmed her. Very few do.”
He cocked his head. “Why? She runs a thriving shelter and wears dog clothes. That’s my kind of woman.”
He relished her laughter, the sound like tinkling bells in his ears. “She’s had some run-ins with men who don’t take her seriously. Let’s just say lawyers are not her favorite.”
“Then I’m glad I get the opportunity to change her mind.”
She was looking at him like she used to. His heart hammered hard in his chest, and it took all his willpower not to move closer, cup her chin, press his lips to hers, and ease into the kiss they were both craving. He stood his ground, fighting impulse, and then Fate took a hand and changed everything.
The strains of the smoky, rich melody poured over the speakers. They both froze, the song as familiar as breath, haunting as a misty dream that made him ache all over. Couples moved to dance under the star-streaked night sky, and he stared at her, caught between the memories of the past and his fantasies for the future.
His gaze drilled into hers. “Dance with me.”
Her lips parted. “I don’t think we should.”
Owen moved on pure impulse, driven to hold her once again, while Etta James crooned At Last and spun them into a magical web. He reached out his hand to her. “Dance with me, Chloe,” he repeated.
He waited, half expecting her to walk away, leaving him alone, his hand reaching out to only empty space and a past he couldn’t overcome.
Her body shuddered as she dragged in a breath.
She placed her hand in his. He led her a few steps to the open space and gently took her into his arms.
The scent of wildflowers and sunshine filled his nostrils, and within moments, she’d settled against him with a naturalness confirming she’d always belonged to him. He lowered his head to her ear, his arms wrapped around her lithe body like a lover rather than co-worker or friend. The world fell away, and he was once again at the wedding. They’d been dancing and laughing to Prince, having fun on the floor, until Etta James suddenly belted out her rich, sexy voice, singing about a forever love under a night sky. Awkward, shaky with the need of a teen desperately crushing on a girl of his dreams, he’d reached out his hands in invitation, and she’d stepped into his arms.
“I always wondered why you said yes to that dance,” he murmured, pressing his palm to the small of her back. “You never seemed interested before. Treated me like a younger brother. Yet, suddenly I got to hold you, and I was never the same again.”
A tiny gasp escaped her lips. She tilted her head up and their cheeks brushed. Her grip tightened on his shoulders and he tamped down a groan as the fire hit his body and exploded in tiny licks of flame. “I don’t know. I always liked you, but it was never romantically until that dance. The way you looked at me with your heart in your eyes. The gentleness in how you touched me. And then you said—”
“Thank you for this past summer. You changed me, and any guy who doesn’t treat you like the best thing he has doesn’t deserve you.”
She stumbled. He eased her closer. “Yes.”
“I was so clumsy with words. I finally managed to ask you out by the end of the song. I can’t believe you agreed to go on a date,” he said.
“It wasn’t what you said, Owen. It was the way you said it. Like you really meant it. Like I was special.”
He pressed his lips against her temple. “Because you were. You are. Knowing I made you question that by leaving will haunt me forever.”
The last of her resistance faded and she melted against him. His thighs brushed hers. Her breasts pushed against the wall of his chest. His lips coasted over he
r face in light brushes as they fell into the song, into the night, into each other. Time slowed, stilled, stopped. Light streaked the sky, Etta James crooned about finding the one, and Owen tumbled all over again, on this night, in this moment, holding the woman he’d always loved and always would.
When the song ended, he stepped back, still holding her hand. Her blue eyes were wide, a bit stunned, as if she’d experienced the same emotions. Wild hope surged and shook through him. God, he wanted her. Needed her. He whispered her name, sensing she was on the verge of giving him back a part of herself, of giving him a second chance to protect her heart.
Instead, she slowly retreated, her hand slipping from his grasp. The wall slammed down between them, and Chloe turned away, shoulders squared as if leaving a battle she’d just barely won. “It’s late. I think we better go. I need to hit the rest room, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Chloe—”
Her name hung on the breeze as she walked away from him.
Chapter Eight
The flowers came the next day. This time, the blooms were a rich, creamy white, looking almost like an Instagram photo, the open petals tinged with a touch of dusty pink. The vase was square and crystal cut. The card read, Can’t wait for tonight.
This time, Owen didn’t mention the delivery. He kept his distance, immediately launching into work mode and trying to catch up on the leads they’d been given from last night’s fundraiser. He’d already contacted the Animal Defense Fund and agreed to get help for Regina and the puppy mill case.
Chloe went through the motions and tried to convince herself it was for the best. Last night had been too intense. Dancing with him to their song created a storm of emotion inside. Her mind blurred and her body came alive, practically zinging under every stroke of his hands, glide of his hips, and burning stare that reminded her of how good it had been between them.
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