“I’ll get it. You go on and start eating before your breakfast gets cold,” Ildaria called from her position by the coffeepot.
G.G. didn’t have to be told twice. He turned and carried his plates out to the bar, pausing with the swing door open longenough for H.D. to scoot through. He chose one of the booths rather than the bar. That way, H.D. could curl up on the seatnext to him. He’d barely settled himself and the dog when he realized he didn’t have any silverware.
Before he could scoot out, Ildaria came through the swing doors with two coffees, the cup handles caught through the fingers of one hand, and silverware clutched in the other. She also had a jar of marmalade and a jar of raspberry jam caught between her arm and one breast. The woman thought of everything. She was also showing her waitressing expertise.
The omelet was amazing, and G.G. gobbled it up pretty quickly, grateful that she’d not only suggested it, but had made itfor him. They then talked more about what the job entailed over their coffees, until Ildaria nodded and slid out from herside of the booth, taking his dirty plates and both their cups with her.
“All right, then. I think I’ve got it. I’ll take H.D. into your office and get started, so you can prep for tonight’s opening.”
G.G. wanted to protest that she didn’t have to go yet, that there was plenty of time. He was enjoying talking to her. Butthen his gaze slid to his watch and his eyes widened. They’d been talking for a lot longer than he’d realized. Three hourshad passed since she’d walked in with H.D. The clientele would start arriving soon.
“I gave H.D. the last container of food for breakfast,” Ildaria announced as G.G. picked up the jam and marmalade. “Wherewill I find the food for his lunch and dinner?”
“It’s in the refrigerator in my apartment,” G.G. said, giving H.D. a nudge to get him to hop off the end of the seat so hecould slide out of the booth. “I’ll run up and grab a couple now.”
“Okay.” She smiled and then turned away saying lightly, “Come on H.D., we’re going to the kitchen.”
The words were enough to make H.D. follow her. He even pranced happily at her side, his tail and ears flopping as he looked up at her and then ahead, before looking up at her eagerly again. The dog might not be able to talk, but he certainly understood a lot, and kitchen was one of those words he liked best since it usually meant food or a treat coming.
G.G. shook his head with amusement at the dog’s behavior, and then his attention slid to Ildaria, landing briefly on her sexyhigh-heeled shoes before moving up to her legs. The woman had killer legs with delicate little ankles and strong, slendercalves. She was also wearing stockings with seams down the back, which was just sexy as hell, he decided before followingthose seams up to her black skirt. Now he noticed there was a slit up the back, just enough to make walking in the pencilskirt possible. It reached halfway up the back of her legs, showing a hint of the top of her stockings so that he could tellshe was wearing thigh highs and a garter belt of some sort . . . which was sexy as hell to him. Damn. Who knew accountants/dogsitters could be so hot?
Down boy, he thought grimly. Lusting after Ildaria was wrong on so many levels. Not only was she an employee, which made her off-limits,but she was an immortal. Not for him.
Suspecting he’d have to remind himself of that often, G.G. set the jam and marmalade he was carrying on the bar and took thehall to the back of the building. He’d go up and get H.D.’s food . . . and maybe take a very fast, very cold shower.
Five
“Who’s a pretty puppy? Hmmm?”
G.G. paused in the doorway to his apartment at those words. Blinking, he glanced inside but all he could see was the end ofthe dining room table on the right at the far end of the room, and the back of his couch across from it on the left.
“Who’s a pretty puppy?”
Letting the door ease silently closed, he locked it and then started up the hall, passing the open door to the bathroom on the right and the closet on the left before the hall opened up to a large open space with the kitchen and dining area on his right and the living room on the left, both ending at a large wall of windows. What the building lacked in windows on the main floor, it made up for on the third and fourth floors. His apartment was one of two on the fourth floor. High, plate glass windows made up the outer wall here and in all the other apartments in the building. It made for a light, airy atmosphere that he usually enjoyed. But at the moment, he paid the view and the lighting little attention. Instead, his gaze found and fixed on the woman and dog in the open area between the gas fireplace and the coffee table in front of the couch.
H.D. was lying on his back on the large three-foot round dog bed. Ildaria was on her elbows and knees, her arm backs flaton the dog bed, cocooning H.D. between them, as she cooed, “Who’s a pretty puppy?” She then leaned down to nuzzle the happydog around the cheeks and neck, then gave him a smacking kiss on his chest between his front legs before raising up to cooagain, “Who’s a pretty puppy?”
H.D. was wriggling ecstatically, rolling his head from side to side with delight, and Ildaria’s bottom
