could come along for the ride.
Nero shoved his head between the bucket seats and madly sniffed at Sydney, who had her hands protecting her face from his inquisitive tongue.
“Nero, go lie down,” Russ said in a loud, stern voice.
The dog gave him a surprised, injured look before reluctantly retreating to the cargo area behind the backseat.
“He’s gone now,” Russ said to Sydney.
She started digging in her purse for something. “Does he go everywhere with you?”
“Most places,” Russ answered. “But today he’s a stow-away. I think he likes you.”
“Likes me? He tried to take a bite out of my ear.”
Russ looked over at Sydney’s pink shell of an ear, which certainly didn’t bear any teeth marks. “In twelve years, Nero has never bitten anyone. He’s not about to start with you. He
“He was tasting me,” she insisted. She’d found a moist towelette in her purse and was energetically washing the side of her face, her neck and any other place with which Nero might have come into contact.
Russ sighed and tried to drag his gaze back to the road, which wasn’t easy since she was wiping her cleavage. He was pretty sure Nero hadn’t licked there.
Still, the Nero incident was a perfect reminder. Just when he was starting to like Sydney, she gave him another reason why he shouldn’t.
“What sane person doesn’t like dogs?” he couldn’t help asking. “What’s not to like? Dogs are the ultimate embodiment of unconditional love. Even if I’ve only been gone ten minutes, Nero greets me like a long-lost friend. He lives for someone to scratch him behind the ears or give him a doggy treat. Dogs have simple needs.” Not like women, he almost added.
“You can save your breath. No private detective likes dogs.”
From the corner of his eye, Russ noted the rise and fall of her chest. His initial guess had been correct. She was
He shrugged. At least Nero’s timely show of affection had taken Sydney’s mind off Russ’s family.
“Do you still want a snack?” Sydney asked, regaining her composure.
“That’s okay. We’ll be at our destination before too long, and I’ll grab something then.”
She tugged down the hem of her short skirt and put her seat belt back on, peering over her shoulder every so often to ensure the dog remained in the cargo area.
“How come you’re so afraid?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m not afraid of dogs. I’m just not fond of them.”
“So you’ve never been bitten?”
She hesitated. “Well, yeah, I was. Just one more reason not to like dogs. You can’t trust them. They may fool you into thinking they’re domesticated, but one false move and they’ll turn on you.”
“How old were you when you got bitten? Or was it more than once?”
“Once was enough,” she said with a shiver. “I was five. A neighbor’s chow jumped me when I was riding my bike down the sidewalk. He’d always been friendly before that.”
Russ knew about dogs and bikes. He’d been chased down a time or two by territorial farm dogs. “A moving bicycle awakens some dogs’ prey instinct. The chow probably thought you were a very large rabbit.”
“Exactly my point. At any moment, they can revert to the wild.”
“So can people,” Russ couldn’t resist pointing out. He’d seen enough dog-eat-dog behavior in Vegas to convince him of that. “But that doesn’t mean you should dislike and avoid all people.”
“I’m sure your dog is a sterling example for the whole species, but I still don’t trust him. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.”
Russ laughed. “It’s your loss, missing out on the love of a good dog. That’s okay. Both Nero and I still like you.”
She eyed him curiously, apparently not sure how to take his flirting. When he grinned back at her, she looked away.
Another spear of guilt needled him. What kind of a degenerate flirts with a woman he’s lying to?
“Did the chow hurt you badly?” he asked, feeling sympathy for the small child she once was.
“I spent a week in the hospital and another three years in and out of surgery.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.” No wonder she didn’t trust dogs. No wonder she was afraid- even if she refused to admit it. He glanced over at her, giving her a frank examination. “I don’t see any scars.” At least, none that weren’t covered up by clothing.
She reached over, took his right hand off the steering wheel, and placed it under her hair at the back of her neck. “Feel the bumps?”
He nodded, running his fingers along her skin as if he were reading braille. Bumps or no, her neck felt nice.
“I wear scarves for a reason. But I did have an exceptional doctor. He got rid of most of the scars.”
“But not the ones in here.” He lightly touched her temple, then quickly returned both hands to the steering wheel where they belonged.
“Dogs sense something in me-hostility, maybe. I give off some scent only they can smell. If I walk into a pet shop, all the dogs start barking like they have rabies.”
“Nero likes you. Why else would he kiss you on the ear?”
At the sound of his name, the dog’s head popped up from behind the backseat. Sydney stiffened, though she said nothing.
“Nero, lie down.”
Nero’s hopeful eyebrows fell as he disappeared once again behind the seat. Sydney relaxed.
Figuring they’d talked enough about dogs, Russ kept Sydney distracted by pointing out a landmark here and a rock formation there. She responded with seeming interest, sometimes asking a question or simply nodding thoughtfully.
“It’s beautiful out here, even in the winter,” she conceded. “Even a confirmed urbanite like me can appreciate that.”
After they’d been driving for about twenty minutes, Russ pulled off the main road and onto a rutted dirt road that challenged the Bronco’s suspension. Five minutes later, he stopped at a washed-out bridge that had once spanned Deer Creek, a ribbon of water with a steep, rocky bank.
Stately oaks, scrubby mesquite and maples crowded the road from both sides and climbed the distant hills, their brown, bare trunks interspersed with evergreen junipers. One thing Russ loved about the Hill Country was the way the landscape varied from bare, brown rocks to gentle hills and valleys coated with buffalo grass to lush woods.
“Wow.” Sydney gazed through the windshield at a landscape that was picture-postcard perfect, even when the trees were bare of leaves. “Is this a state park or something?”
“Actually, it’s private land owned by some hospitable friends of mine,” he said as he cut the engine. “But it butts up against a park creating an uninterrupted chunk of wilderness.” Big enough to support some of the threatened animals that needed large areas to range, like bobcats and cougars. But he wisely chose not to mention critters of any kind to Sydney. If she was afraid of old Nero, he couldn’t imagine how she would react to a cougar.
“Have we stopped here for a reason?” Sydney asked.
“No bridge.”
“Can’t we…go around?”
“Sorry, but from here we have to hoof it.”
“What? How far?”
“Only about four miles.” Not giving her a fair chance to object, he opened his door and jumped down, leaving her gaping.
