It leaped at her with joyous enthusiasm that might have been adorable in a Pomeranian but was frightening in such a large dog. Its immense paws found her shoulders, and a huge tongue lolled out. Partly laughing, and partly outmatched, she turned her face away, but the dog was not to be deprived of its kisses.
She lost her balance in her twisting effort to avoid the worst of the slobbering affection and went to her knees. The dog shoved her the rest of the way over, and she was completely pinned as the giant dog jumped on top of her and swiped at her face with a tongue about the size of a paint roller.
Jonas suddenly understood the lack of makeup and the casual outfit. His escape thwarted, he got back out of the car and strode up the walk. Before he reached them, the dog froze, cocked his head and took off running.
Jonas arrived at Krissy and offered his hand. Her laughter had dried up the second the dog took off, but she still had that “just kissed” flush on her face.
He was so irritated—with himself for being so aware of her or with her easy acceptance of the dog’s unacceptable behavior he wasn’t sure—that he might have used a little more force than was absolutely necessary to yank her to feet.
She fell against him, and her hair finally pulled completely free from the clasp that had held it so sloppily in place. It cascaded around her shoulders in a rich wave of color, scent and curl.
For the second time tonight he found the lusciousness of her curves pressed full-length against him. How much could a man take?
* * *
Krissy could feel the hard line of Jonas’s body and she tilted her chin and looked up into his face. The sudden downturn of his mouth—not happy to be rescuing her again—did nothing to detract from how handsome he was. In fact, it brought his every feature into sharp focus: the intensity of his eyes, the height of faintly whisker-shadowed cheekbones, the fullness of his lower lip, the faint cleft in his chin. His eyes trailed to her hair and then to her lips, before they came to rest, darkened, on her own eyes.
She knew he was every bit as aware of her as she was of him. Something unexpected sizzled between them.
She had opened herself up to being surprised by life and here it was.
She wanted to taste him. She wanted to kiss this man who was a virtual stranger. Was this the complication he had spotted so readily? Was this the danger?
Of course it was. She looked at the sensuous firm line of his lower lip. She should pull away, and yet she felt herself pull in closer, drawn to him helplessly, like a magnet to steel.
The bark of her dog in the distance jolted her out of her foolishness. She pulled away from Jonas and scanned the direction the dog had gone.
There he was, at the base of a tree, barking at the neighbor’s cat that was glaring at him from a low branch.
“Crusher!” she called.
“Crusher?” Jonas said with a groan. “Seriously?”
The dog spared her a glance. The cat took its opportunity and leaped from the tree. The dog bolted after it.
She took off after Crusher, and with a sigh of pure resignation, Jonas took off with her. When the dog and cat went over a fence into a neighbor’s backyard, Jonas put one hand on the fence and vaulted over it. She heard the distinct sound of his pants ripping as she scrambled after him.
She was fairly certain, as they dashed through darkened backyards, they were going to have their second encounter of the evening with the police.
Half an hour later, they finally cornered the dog and avoided arrest.
Jonas took off his belt to use as a temporary leash. There was a large tear in his slacks; the zipper had pulled clean away.
She started to laugh.
He glanced down at himself, and then back at her, sheepish.
“You’re blushing,” she crowed.
“I’m not,” he denied firmly.
“And you’re wearing tighty-whities!”
“I’m not!” he said.
“Well, what are they then?”
His blush intensified. He glared at her. “You said you wouldn’t be complicated, but here we are in the middle of the night discussing my underwear.”
But then a grin tickled the edges of his mouth, and then a snort of laughter escaped him. In a second, they were both laughing, doubled over with it, the dog bouncing between them, taking turns leaping on them and swiping their faces with his huge tongue.
At last, Jonas handed her the belt leash and pulled off his jacket, and tied it around his waist. He took the makeshift lead back from her when Crusher nearly yanked her arm off.
“Stop it,” he told the dog. Or maybe he was telling her to stop it, because she was still giggling, the moment effervescent with surprising delight.
The dog did stop. He quit pulling and walked quietly at Jonas’s side, which was a good thing, because Jonas literally had his hands full. Krissy laughed most of the way home as he tried to keep his dignity while he juggled the dog, his beltless pants and his coat cover-up.
It was as if there had been way too much sadness of late, and the laughter had been waiting. Once uncorked, it wasn’t going to be shoved back in.
Finally, they were back at the cottage.
He handed her the leash.
“Thank you,” she said.
They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. He looked at her in a way that made her uncharacteristic giddiness dry up and her heart stop.
“I have to go,” he growled.
“Yes, you do,” she said. Even though it was insanely late, and she had to teach in the morning, she had been thinking of asking him in for a drink.
He hesitated. “I was just thinking, that maybe we could
