Man's Best Friend (4 page)

Yeah, right. And I'm next in line to the throne of England,
she thought crossly.

Ned roared out of the driveway, and Milton pulled up. He opened the car door for her. She got in. Licks sleeping against her breast, his easy puppy breathing in direct contrast to the frustrated pounding of her heart.

* * *

Ten days later Tessa slammed down the phone. She blew a long strand of hair off her face, and said a not-very-nice word to the dog chow calendar gracing the wall of her cramped office at Dawg's Inn. The penthouse kennel, she called it, because it sat atop the large chainlink enclosures.

Her calendar didn't seem to care that she'd called both Ned Coleman and Rand Fielding every day, twice a day, for the past three days.

Ned hadn't returned from his business trip, and the great man himself, Rand Fielding, didn't return her calls. The corporate secretaries who answered his phones at Red Earth Holdings from six in the morning until eight at night weren't about to tell Tessa whether he was in or out of the office. And when she managed to bypass his home telephone technology, Milton took her messages graciously and, she was certain, passed them on. Fielding was ignoring her, plain and simple. And that was intolerable.

She and poor little Licks—any dog without a loving human friend was poor in Tessa's eyes—had been dumped. Abandoned. And it just wasn't right.

Tessa pursed her lips and deliberated on a new plan of attack.

"No luck?" It was Marie Linden, carrying a vase of wild flowers.

Marie, along with her husband, Gordon, owned Dawg's Inn. Tessa had worked for them since high school. After her father's death, they'd taken her on full time. She adored them both—and was dismayed that Gordon's poor health had kept them away from the kennel for much of the past year. Lately, Marie had been hinting they'd soon have to retire completely and sell the kennel—a prospect Tessa dreaded.

She smiled at Marie. "No luck at all," she said. "I guess I'm going to have to storm the Fielding barricades."

"No time like the present." Marie set the flowers on Tessa's desk, started to fuss with them.

"Too early. He'll still be at his office."

"Anything to stop you from going there?"

A grin tugged at Tessa's mouth. "Not a thing." A bold assault on Fielding's elite secretarial guard by her and Licks held definite appeal.

She looked at her watch. Four p.m. She'd be in downtown Seattle in forty minutes tops. "You won't mind if I leave early?"

"Anything I should know about?"

"The Hamiltons are coming to pick up Roxsand. In about half an hour, maybe less."

Marie smiled. "I think I can handle it."

"Thanks, Marie." Tessa squatted and stroked Licks' head. He started to unravel from the tight ball he made of his growing body when sleep was serious business. She let him have a good stretch and picked him up. "Come on, baby. You and I are going to see your daddy."

She smiled into his fur. "And I'm sure our visit will make his day."

* * *

Two Union Square. One of the most prestigious business addresses in Seattle. Tessa should have known—and known, too, that his company would occupy the uppermost floors. She gazed up, oddly not in the least intimidated. An office building was all about business. And business is what brought her here. It wasn't like going to someone's home.

Acting like an angel, a calm Licks sat beside her. If she was going to confront Fielding, it better be now. With Licks, angelic behavior was temporary.

"Let's go," she said, giving a quick tug on his leash. "And don't even think of operating that overactive watering device of yours."

He rose and yawned mightily, as if reminding her that this venture was already cutting into his nap time.

Licks in tow, Tessa sailed past the main information desk toward the elevators. The frown on the young security guard's face said he wasn't sure about the rules on Ridgeback pups entering Two Union Square's elevators. But Tessa didn't give him time to check his policies and procedures manual. An elevator door opened, and she immediately stepped in and hit the button for the top floor. She sent a bright smile the guard's way as the doors closed.

More rocket than elevator, in seconds, those same doors swished open.

Incredulous, Tessa stared.

The waiting room was round, its floor glassy black marble. Stage center was a granite reception counter. Behind it a stainless steel backdrop—illuminated by some mysterious light—rose from floor to ceiling, carrying the company name in bold blood-red letters.

Leather chairs and sofas, all pearlized gray, formed two seating groups. A couple of lifeless white sculptures separated them. The walls were bare. There were no plants.

The place reeked of cold, hard, expensive class. The fleeting smile of the receptionist offered the only hint of warmth.

Tessa stepped out of the elevator and into Rand Fielding's world.

Chapter 3

"May I be of assistance?" the receptionist asked.

Tessa tore her eyes from the power statement that was Rand's business domain, gathered her wits, and said, "I'd like to see Rand Fielding, please." She couldn't wait to get out of there.

The woman behind the granite counter looked stunned. Tessa guessed it wasn't every day someone dropped by to see him, wearing jeans and a baseball cap. Tough. She was here. Rand was somewhere behind that stainless steel wall, and she wasn't leaving until she sorted out Licks' life.

Tessa gave the woman credit—her corporate smile barely slipped. "You have an appointment?"

"No, but I have his pup." Tessa smiled sweetly. "But if Mr. Fielding's busy, I'm happy to wait." She took a seat on one of the leather sofas and settled in. She glanced at the art-on-the-floor carpet, a plush black and white wool, no doubt worth a small fortune. "But tell him I can't guarantee the pup's bladder, so it might be a good idea for him to see me sooner rather than later."

After a slight hesitation, the receptionist picked up the phone and whispered something into it Tessa couldn't hear.

In seconds the leader of the palace guard, clad in an eye-searing red suit and wearing mile-high heels, strode into the reception area. "I'm Charlotte, Mr. Fielding's executive assistant," she said. "I'm sorry but he's busy right now. Can we set up an appointment for later this week?"

"I don't think so." Tessa stood and placed Licks on the carpet—the white section. When Licks began his usual sniffing expedition, she added, "I'd rather wait."

The woman's gaze dropped from Tessa to Licks. "You say this is Mr. Fielding's, uh, animal?"

"Yes, ma'am. His very own new best friend."

A quick frown, followed by an executive decision. "Follow me, please."

* * *

"Uh-huh. Yes. Next Friday." Rand swiveled his chair to face the spectacular view of Mount Rainier.

With the sun hitting its peak, its snow-covered slopes glowed pink in the late afternoon air. He took no notice. He switched the telephone from one ear to the other, irritated by the pressure of the receiver. Still he resisted Charlotte's suggestion of a headset, hating the idea of looping a wire over his head and having his ear on constant call. No. He'd stick to the phone.

He rubbed his forehead, tried to concentrate, and wondered why, lately, guys like this—a banker trying to do business with Red Earth—were so hard to take.

When he heard a soft rap and his office door click open, he swung his chair around, glad of the diversion. He was surprised to see Charlotte mouthing an "I'm sorry," a sober but determined-looking Tessa Darwin, and Licks, all standing inside his double doors.

His brows knit in puzzlement and he nodded an okay to Charlotte. She left, closing the door behind her. The banker in his ear droned on.

What the hell was Tessa doing here? Hadn't Milton paid her?

He scanned her from baseball hat to sneakers; noting long, dark shiny hair, most of it sticking out the hole in the back of her cap, fresh skin, and a straight set-to-stubborn jaw. He liked that. Temper in her eyes, hot with an edge of tough. He shifted in his chair, uneasy under her unfaltering gaze.

He liked that, too.

She had on jeans, well-worn, that showed off her healthy, very curvy, body. She'd look even better in a satin nightgown, or better yet, nothing at all. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, she glared at him, as if she knew the direction of his thoughts to the next stop sign. She looked ticked off. Not the usual response when he looked at a woman.

Their gazes locked, as they sized each other up.

His hearing suddenly shut down. The banker's words sounded faint and far away. Rand's breathing coarsened, and his mouth went powder dry. He reached for the pitcher of water on his desk, waving her and the pup toward a sofa several feet from his desk.

He hadn't experienced a sexual response that powerful in years—and it didn't seem to be mutual.

Tessa sat on the front of his black sofa as if it were a launching pad and she a fighter jet. But she didn't look as though she wanted to fly; more like she wanted to fire a few missiles.

He studied her mouth, a wonderful, full mouth which, he remembered, was lopsided when she smiled. Right now she was absent-mindedly biting her lower lip, which caused a beguiling dimple to appear and disappear from her cheek. Beguiling was the right word to describe her, he thought. As well as beautiful, spirited, and determined.

Poor Ned really was in for it.

And judging from the tightness behind his zipper, so was Rand.

"Uh-huh, next week," he said into the phone, keeping his eyes on Tessa. "Call Charlotte. She'll arrange it." He hung up but didn't get up. He steepled his fingers and looked over them, leveling his gaze to hers.

"I don't often see people without appointments," he said.

She didn't flinch, merely stood, walked over to his desk and put The Gift smack in the middle of it. The pup, looking ten inches higher and ten pounds heavier than Rand remembered, swaggered over two sets of financials to say his hellos. Rand shoved them aside but couldn't deter the animal from landing in his lap and striving to lick off the beginning of his day's-end shadow.

"I don't often get handed a dog—" she fished into her pocket, pulled out a crumpled paper, and slapped it on his desk "—and a check without so much as a would-you-mind."

Rand picked up the check. "This is for his keep. If you need more—" He didn't finish.

She glared at him. "Money is not the point."

"Then what is?"

"The point is Licks—"

"Licks?"

She looked puzzled, then disappointed. "You're kidding. You don't remember his name? The name
you
gave him?"

"Right. Licks." He scratched behind the pup's ear and was rewarded with a satisfied moan. He was kind of cute.

"The point is," she repeated at a read-my-lips pace, "Licks is your dog, not mine. The idea is that he bond with you, not me. Something he can't do if he's with me and you're—" she looked around, exasperated "—here!"

"I work here."

This time the look she gave clearly indicated he was too stupid to live. "That has nothing to do with the problem at hand."

"Which is?"

"You and I need to spend some time together."

"We do?" Rand studied the soft flush working its way up Tessa's long neck. He spotted another tiny mole, this one just under her chin. She rubbed at her throat as if to rub away the heat.

"I mean for Licks' sake," she added firmly.

Before he could answer, his phone rang. He picked it up. "Tell him I've left for the day."

Rand stood, clasped Licks to his chest and looked at the pretty dog trainer from across his desk. She might be angry, but she was also right. Neither he nor Ned had been fair.

And it was amazing she hadn't cashed the check. Damned amazing.

"Come on," he said. "We'll sort this out over dinner."

"I don't want—"

"Didn't you say we should spend some time together?"

"Yes, but—"