With a slow shake of her head and a smile curving her mouth, she reached out and touched a finger to his curved lips. “You’re a cynic,” she chided.
It’d been a long time since someone had touched him, unexpected or otherwise. A very long time, and he wrapped his finger around her wrist to hold her to him, letting his eyes drift closed.
“For how big and tough you are,” she said very softly, “you have a kind mouth.”
He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “You should know it’s not kindness I’m feeling at the moment.”
“No?” A brow arched, and the light in her eyes spoke of amusement, along with a flash of heat. “What
Dangerous territory there. Nothing new for him. He did some of his best work in dangerous territory. “Guess.”
Still smiling, she leaned in so that their lips were nothing but a whisper apart. Even surrounded by a duck, two puppies, and a potbellied piglet, she still smelled amazing. He wanted to yank her in and smell her some more, but he held very still, absorbing her closeness, letting her take the lead.
When she spoke, every word had her lips ghosting against his, her breath all warm, chocolately goodness. “I’m more of a doer,” she whispered, and kissed him.
She tasted as good as she smelled. Then almost before it’d even begun, she pulled back. “Thank you.”
He had no idea what exactly she was thanking him for now but he was all for more of it. Their connection, light as it’d been, had still carried enough spark to jump-start his engines. “For…?”
“For driving me all the way out here.” Again she was letting her lips brush his with every word. “And for not being a serial killer.” She was staring at his mouth. “And for… everything.”
Not wholly in charge of his faculties, he took over the lead, pulling her in until she was straining over the console before covering her mouth with his.
With a low murmur of acquiescence, she wrapped her arms around his neck, angling her head for the best fit, deepening the kiss.
Which worked for him.
He lost track of time, but when she pulled back, breathless and panting for air, she licked her bottom lip as if she needed that last little taste of him.
He knew the feeling. He was more than a little flummoxed by the loss of blood to his brain. She’d felt good. Good and soft and willing. He had one hand low at her back, the tips of his fingers tucked into the waistband of her pants, against warm, satiny skin while his other hand cupped her jaw.
“Gotta go,” she whispered, and pulled free. Twice she tried to grab the door and missed. Leaning past her, he pushed it open for her.
“And we’re still at least a hundred yards from the water,” she muttered. “Imagine if we got
He heard himself laugh. “It’s not the water.” He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was positive it wasn’t the water.
“Cynic,” she repeated without heat, looking both flustered, and aroused.
An incredibly appealing combination that made him want to haul her onto his lap and show her
She snorted and it was the craziest thing, but hell if he didn’t feel the tug of attraction for her all the way to his toes.
Yeah. Definitely dangerous territory.
“Wait here.” She slipped out of the truck and vanished inside the kennels. Twenty seconds later she was back with her insurance card. “Keep it, I have another.” She wrapped Abigail’s leash around her wrist and grabbed the box. “Thanks for the ride, stranger.” Then, with a flash of a smile, she sauntered off in those baggy Carhartts toward the kennels, looking for all the world like a princess going into her palace.
Three
L ilah Young forced herself to cross the yard and get all the way to the front door of the kennels before allowing herself to glance back at the truck.
He was still there: Brady Miller, pilot, photographer, kisser extraordinaire, slouched behind the wheel, hair still messed up from her fingers, watching her.
Letting out a low breath, she pressed a hand low to her abdomen. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she whispered.
“Quack,” Abigail said.
With a low laugh, Lilah opened the door and managed a smile at her business partner, Cruz Delgado. “I’m back. Again.”
Cruz’s perfectly toned hard body was still where it had been two minutes ago when she’d come running in- sprawled flat on his back in the center of their greeting room, with Lulu on top of him.
Lulu was a lamb that thought she was a puppy. She belonged to one of their clients who was out of town for a few days, and she sometimes needed a little extra TLC in the middle of her day. Okay, all of the time she needed a little extra TLC. Lulu was a ’ho for TLC. “How many times do I have to tell you,” Lilah said to the lamb. “Cruz is mine.”
From the floor, Cruz grinned, then pushed Lulu off of him and sat up. His silky dark hair fell into his face, but he shoved it back, flashing laughing melted-chocolate eyes Lilah’s way. “She was feeling lonely. We were playing tag. She won.” He rose to his feet, scooped Abigail up, and disappeared into the back. When he returned without the duck, he took the box from Lilah’s arms next and smiled down at the three sleeping babies. “They were good for you?”
“Not even close, the little heathens. Don’t get me started.”
Cruz looked out the window at the truck turning around in the front yard. “So where’s your Jeep?”
She didn’t really want to talk about it, not when she could still hear Brady’s truck’s motor, just the sound making her nipples hard. “The Jeep’s on Main. Don’t ask. Today’s crazy enough. We have a full house, and I have a message that there’s a new rescue at Belle Haven.”
She and Cruz had rotating shifts that allowed the kennel to be open for enough hours in the day to be effective. They traded off between two shifts-six A.M. to two P.M., and noon to eight P.M.-with part-time help from high school kids on the weekends and as needed.
Lilah typically took the early shift because Cruz didn’t do early. But he had a gig tonight in Coeur d’ Alene, where he moonlighted as a bass guitarist in a cover rock band, so he’d come in at six o’clock.
Along with the kennels, Lilah was the go-to person in town when there was an abandoned animal. There was no official humane society in the area, so if an animal needed temporary shelter, she was it. This came mostly from her inability to bear seeing anything suffer and the fact that she got far too attached to every animal she met. The rescue part of the business was extremely nonprofit and depended on grants and donations, so Lilah-along with Cruz-worked hard to keep the kennels afloat.
Their only source of income. A typical workday began at the crack of dawn with the day’s client files spread out in front of her. She reviewed all the pets coming in or going out and decided where they would be kept. The facility had several sections: the outside pens, the inside pens, and the inside playroom, where the friendly, well-adjusted animals could hang out together under careful supervision. The not-so-friendly and grumpy older clients, were separated out from the pack and dealt with individually. It was usually those animals that claimed Lilah’s heart the fastest.
Part of the morning’s record-keeping process always involved reviewing any other important events such as vet appointments, client visits, and employee notes. In today’s case, there’d been an abandoned dog dumped off at Belle Haven, the veterinary center a half mile down the road.
Belle Haven was run by her two closest friends, Adam and Dell. They were holding the dog for her. She’d pick him up and care for him until she placed him in a foster home. But first she looked herself over. “I got up too late to grab a shower. I’m going to go take a quick one now before I head to Belle Haven.”
“Need me to soap your back?”
