“Ford!” The dog kept going. “Ford!” Christ! So much for training.
Natalie’s front door opened, and there she stood. Herfingers flew to her lips, and out came a shrieking whistle. Ford froze, glancedover his shoulder, and did a one-eighty when she began clapping and trilling,“Come on, Ford!” He ran at her, ramming his head through her outstretched handsand square into her crotch, staggering her backward. She recovered and laughed,the sound plowing into T.J.’s chest as forcefully as his dog had plowed intoher legs.
T.J.’s strides chewed up the walkway. “Jeez, I’m sorry.Ford! Bad boy.” The dog ignored him outright. And who could blame him? He washaving a licking lovefest with an angel who cooed andcaressed. He buried his nose in her sweet spot again. Ha! Baddog, but fucking smart. That’s my boy.
She yanked Ford’s chin up. “He’s not a bad dog—he just needsto mind his manners.” To the dog, she said, “Who’s handsome and sweet? You are,aren’t you, boy?” She had an iron grip on the dog’s chin as his tongue windmilled, trying to land a slurp. “Can you sit, Ford?”
Damn if the mutt didn’t park his butt in front of her! Howthe hell did she do that? T.J. had only gotten him to do it a few times, and hesuspected it had been pure chance. Ford glanced at T.J. with a broad dog-smile,and he could’ve sworn the damn thing winked at him before turning all hisadoring attention back to Natalie. Yeah, I’m on to you, you fuzzy fucker.
She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Do you have a releasecommand?”
“Release command?”
“Yes. It’s what you say to release him from his sit.” Hereyes caught the afternoon sun and reflected it back in gold and copper. Liquidfire.
His brain froze. “Uh …” Not that he had a release command tobegin with, but he couldn’t even form a thought, let alone find a word to throwout there.
She leaned down to Ford. “Okay?” The dog stood. “Right.That’s a common one.”
“Yeah. Okay.” What just happened?
She grabbed Ford’s collar and beckoned T.J. to follow theminside. Unable to stop himself, he stood back, eyes flicking over her gorgeous,well-defined ass. T.J. felt himself tighten. No, not going there. Hefollowed said ass, dimly aware she led him through a living room, then akitchen, into a glassed-in patio. The sunporch openedto a winter-yellowed lawn where large, leafless trees ringed the perimeter. Twodogs ran from one corner of the yard and pressed wet noses against a glass doorseparating them from the patio. Their oscillating tails brought to mind theback end of a Chinese dragon dancing in a parade.
“Okay, Ford. Ready?” She opened the door, nudging the dogsout of the way, and released Ford’s collar. He surged into them, and the threedogs began a spirited smell-fest.
Sliding the door closed, she paused a moment and grinned atthe fur ball swarm. “I have a feeling they’ll do just fine, but we’ll keep aneye out to be sure.”
He pulled in her light, clean fragrance—vanilla? Flowers?—trying to keep his wits as he stood beside her, watchingthe dogs. They remained that way for some time. When the dogs flopped on theground, panting, she turned to him. “They seem to be getting along. We canwatch from the kitchen. I’ve got fresh coffee cake and coffee. Interested?”
“Absolutely.”
Though her kitchen was tight, it was tidy. White cabinetsand dark polished stone counters in a U-shape opened onto an area just bigenough for a wood table and two chairs. Cinnamon and something else that madehis mouth water hung in the air. She motioned him to the table, stretched to ashelf, and plucked down a cup, which she filled from a half-full coffee pot.“Do you take anything in your brew?”
He lowered himself into a straight-backed wooden chair witha puffy red seat cushion. Not frilly, but definitely feminine. “Just black,thanks. You make coffee the old-fashioned way.”
Her eyebrows knotted together in a question mark.
“You don’t do those single serves. Not that I’mcomplaining.”
She handed him the cup and smiled, and warmth pooled in hisgut. “Regular brewing is budget-friendly. Besides, I pound coffee like water, thoughI’ve reached my quota for today. If I have more, I’ll start twitching.” Shestuck out her tongue, crossed her eyes, and executed a goofy, jerkydance-in-place move, pulling a laugh from him before snapping back into normalperson mode.
“What was that?” he snorted.
“My twitchy self. Big slice?” she asked, knife poised over awhole coffee cake that looked homemade.
“Is there any other size? Please.”
“Good. Leaves less for me to eat.” She slid a plateful underhis nose and handed him a fork, then cut herself a small slice.
He pointed at his plate. “Did you make this?”
“Yep. I love to bake.”
Before he could censor himself, he blurted, “I love to eat.”
She grinned. “Well, good. I like baking for an appreciativeaudience.”
“Wait. You made this specially for …”
“For you? I guess I did.” She was standing, looking out thewindow, nibbling away, looking nonchalant as hell. Except … Wasthat color rising on her cheekbones? The notion she’d done this for him, andwas self-conscious about it, cracked something open deep inside him. Was thatgood or bad? Not sure.
He shoveled in a forkful, stifling a groan. Best damncinnamon-blueberry coffee cake he’d ever eaten in his life. “This tastesincredible. Do you make other stuff too?”
“Mm-hmm. How about you? Do you cook?”
“Nope. I just eat.”
Wow. Just, wow. She’s hot, smart, and cooks. The perfect trifecta for turning a guy into her tool. Goodthing he wasn’t in the running. Nope. Nor would he be.
“Looks like the dogs are doing great together.”
Intent on the food, he’d completely forgotten them. Some dogparent he was. “So does this mean Ford’s in?”
“It’s looking good. If you need to run errands or get backto work, you can leave him here for a while.”
He took in his surroundings.
