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Too bad. The joyride would have been fun. Mary could use a laugh or two right now.
Guinevere kept her appointment with the grass quickly, and Mary turned to head back to her house before her luck ran out.
She didn’t get far before it did.
Chapter Two
It’s a Dog Meet Dog World
G
UINEVERE TOOK OFF. ITwas hard to argue with a Saint Bernard who had decided she wanted to be there, not here. Mary didn’t know how to stop her runaway train on four legs because Guinevere never did things like this.
Mary ran to keep up, and Guinevere slowed just enough to allow it. With one last lunge, the Saint Bernard brought herself nose to nose with a Basset Hound. The stubby-legged fellow had to raise his headtonearlyarightangletodohispartinthemeet and greet.
Perhaps his magnetic presence explained Guinevere’s unusual behavior. He was a beautiful boy. On the other hand, Guinevere shouldn’t be in heat yet, so the strength of her attraction to the Basset Hound counted as odd.
If this was the canine version of love at first sight, Marywasworried.Shehopedherdogwouldn’tsuffer thesamefateMaryexpectedforherself:whoosh,fall inlove;whoosh,he’ddepartsoonafter,justlikemen had done to all the women in her family.
The dogs wheezed in their anxiety to catch every particle of scent from each other.
Mary wheezed, too, catching her breath after trying to keep up with Guinevere. She bent over to let her lungs expand more easily. She had to get to the gym, right after she got The Interview. Right now, though, she needed to catch enough breath to be polite and say hello to the Basset Hound’s proud papa.
“Our dogs are striking up quite a friendship,” Mary finally said as she straightened. Then she tilted her head up. Way up. At almost as right an angle as his dog had needed to match Guinevere’s hello.
Too much of an angle. It gave her a big crick in her neck.
She untilted her head and tried to step back so she could look at his face instead of his chest. The dogs, however, wouldn’t budge one fraction of a leash length. In fact, Guinevere leaned heavily against the back of Mary’s knees, which nudged her even closer to the man.
Mary clutched at her coat to make sure the secret of her state of undress was safe.
“Ma’am, get your dog under control. Please.”
Huh. That was abrupt, even if Mary had been too busy with her coat to pay quite as much attention as she should to the tangle the dogs were making with each other. Not to mention the tangle of Mary and the Basset Hound’s dad.
Risking permanent neck damage, she tilted her head again to take stock of the man she was now embarrassinglycloseto.Tall,darkandhandsome,all six glorious, hunky feet of him.
Guinevere shifted a bit, giving Mary just enough room to maneuver for a peek to the side and back. Wow. The man possessed a butt of such elegant perfection that “va-va-voom” might have been invented to describe it.
It was difficult to take in more, because her eyes kept wanting to linger wherever they were. If she weren’t a lady, sort of, her tongue might be hanging out as much as her dog’s.
Pulling herself together, she took in the sight of the whole man. He was impeccably overdressed — snowy white shirt, full three-piece suit and tie — for seven o’clock in the morning, which said something about his taste for decorum and control. Definitely too much starch.
Too bad for him, but he had a riot of black curls. Any woman in her right mind would want to add to the chaos by running her fingers through one curl after another.
The thought made Mary realize her fingers were tingling in anticipation. Uh-oh. That shouldn’t be happening. Her fingers should be thinking about, tingling about, stroking a book out of a computer keyboard, not dancing through a man’s glorious hair. She had a job to create if she wanted to pay the electricity bill for that computer.
But his earlobes. His plump, alluring earlobes. Theywerebeggingforsomeseriousexplorationwith mouth, tongue, and teeth. Wait! No! She wanted his earlobes?
To be fair to herself, it wasn’t surprising she would have difficulty with this particular temptation. She’d always had a special interest in earlobes. Her own were so sensitive she was sure they’d be explosive in the hands — well, mouth, actually — of the man who would be The One for her.
It ran in the family. Some spot, expected or otherwise, turned into a wild erogenous zone with the guy who was The One. Something else ran in the family too: The One would leave. Always. Not long after he arrived.
Here’s hoping this guy wasn’t The One. With her luck,he’dbegonebeforeshefinishedhavingherfun just looking at him.
This man had heavy, shaggy eyebrows over obsidian eyes and a hint of five o’clock shadow already showing at seven o’clock in the morning. Such interesting planes on that face, rugged and strong. And familiar. From where? Mary’s mind ran down some possibilities as she enjoyed the view.
When she hit possibility number five, it clicked. Oh, no. It couldn’t be.
