Man's Best Friend (7 page)

He looked up in time to see Tessa give him a questioning look. He glanced around. During his short painful trip down memory lane, Milt had left; dinner, Bernini wine, and Tessa in his wake.

"I won't ask any more questions, if that's what you're worried about," she said, surprising him with her perception.

"Good. Any answers I'd choose to give would spoil a good meal." He gestured to their artfully presented dinner of roast lamb and a trio of perfectly cooked vegetables. "Shall we eat?"

* * *

Tessa sprawled on her back against emerald satin sheets and stared at the ceiling.

What a strange and awesome man.

For the first time in her life, Tessa wished she were... more. More beautiful, more mysterious, more interesting. More
anything
that might attract an emotion other than the wariness that cooled Rand's gaze whenever he looked at her. Her mind and body had thrummed since leaving the dining room, and her walk with Licks had done nothing to steady her. Obviously she had a crush. A silly, go-nowhere crush on the most unattainable man imaginable.

She thrashed over onto her side and rested her cheek on the back of her hand. She'd laugh at the idiocy of it if she could, because she felt like a kid with a nickel told to buy anything she wanted at the local Toys-JI-Us. Nothing funny in that.

Wouldn't the man in the room down the hall freak right out if he knew the direction of her thoughts?

She rolled to her back. Then again, maybe he did know. Maybe that's why he was so cautious around her. God, she hoped she wasn't doing what Annie and Mom called "that Tessa thing," where every thought she'd had since she was born showed on her face. Mom had always said her eyes were movie screens, too big and easy to read.

She flushed. Wouldn't that be awful—and embarrassing for him. Careful, she'd have to be more careful. Maybe take a few lessons in cool from her new employer. She punched her pillow and closed her eyes. She needed this job, the money would mean a big boost to Annie's college fund. No foolish infatuation was going to get in the way of that.

Two seconds later she heard it.

Rap. Rap. "Tessa?"

She sat up. It was Rand. She was sure of it.

"Tessa? Are you awake?"

She tossed the goosedown duvet back and stepped onto the rich carpet. Because her flannel nightgown was thicker than army blankets, she didn't bother with a robe.

She put her mouth to the door. "What is it?"

"Can you come? Licks is sick."

Chapter 5

Tessa flung open the door, leaping-sheep flannel nightgown forgotten. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's making odd sounds. Whimpering mostly."

"Show me." She followed Rand down the long hall, worrying all the way.

In Rand's dimly lit room, she couldn't miss his four-poster bed, its deep burgundy covers wildly askew, the impression of his head on the pillow. To make that much of a jumble the man must sleep as if the mattress were a bed of coals. Or not sleep at all.

The only light, other than a pale swath of moonlight coming in from the window, was a bedside lamp.

A stack of books rested precariously on his cabinet, an unfolded newspaper lay on the floor.

Earlier, when she and Milt were here setting up Licks' crate, it was just another fancy room in a house full of fancy rooms. Tonight, it was Rand's bedroom. He walked past her, and she caught the scent of musk and man. It numbed her knees.

She realigned her spine and her good sense. She was in his bedroom as a professional, not a woman anticipating—

Licks cried from the corner, yanking her from her sinful thoughts. He sat in his crate, pawing at the mesh door and wearing his most forlorn, abandoned-puppy look. She unlatched his door, and he bounded out. She picked him up to hug and in return was given an enthusiastic if soggy kiss.

While she looked him over, Rand hovered behind her shoulder like a consulting surgeon.

His attitude change made her smile. Displeased at the idea of having Licks and his portable bedroom in his room, Rand had suggested, strongly, that Tessa take him to her room. Licks was his dog, she'd told him firmly, and if Rand refused to allow him to sleep alone in the laundry room—which pleased her mightily—it was his room or no bedroom at all.

"I'm taking him outside," she announced, stepping away from Rand and his intriguing scent. She and Licks needed some fresh air. Fast.

"You're kidding," Rand said with a worried frown. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"Tell that to a puppy bladder."

"You think that's the problem?" He sounded dubious.

"It's a safe bet. Pups are like kids. It takes a while before they can make it through the night, and they hate to dirty their sleeping area."

"Maybe, but I think I should call a vet." He reached over to stroke the pup's head.

This was the first time Tessa had witnessed Rand show physical affection, and he rose ten points on her admiration scale. "Let's let Licks decide, okay?"

"Okay, let's go." He gestured at the door. She led and he followed.

Tessa carried the pup downstairs and out the front door. She set him down on a gravel patch she'd spotted earlier beside the garden shed.

Rand looked on like a worried papa as Licks sniffed out an appropriate spot. It didn't take him long, and in short order, his business was done. When he started to wander off, intent on a midnight adventure, Rand scooped him up and held him like a to-be-burped baby against his shoulder. While Rand's big hand stroked down his back, Licks nuzzled his nose into Rand's neck.

"You think I overreacted." Arrogance and defensiveness seasoned the statement, and his gaze met hers directly. "That I shouldn't have called you."

"No," she muttered, having trouble finding her voice. "You were worried. That's why I'm here."

"Hmm." Rand continued to stroke Licks gently with his long sure fingers. Licks stretched, sighed, and tucked his front paws under his chest, reveling in every caress.

But then who wouldn't?

A shiver rippled along Tessa's flannel-covered spine—and she sure wasn't cold. She'd made the mistake of looking at Rand again. That boyish defensiveness in his face, shadowed by a man's rough early morning beard, near stopped her heart. So while he concentrated on Licks, she concentrated on him.

His unbuttoned cotton shirt parted in the night breeze, revealing powerful chest muscles. His pale coloring might indicate too much time spent indoors, but the man worked out.

A lucky Licks rested his paws on a thatch of silky chest hair. Tessa followed its dark trail until it disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. Jeans with the top button undone as if he'd slipped into them in a hurry. Naked.

Whoa, girl!

Tessa quickly closed her eyes and frowned. What was wrong with her? She'd never taken stock of a man like this. Never felt all skittery and out-of-control looking at one.

Rand gave her a puzzled stare. Did he see what she was thinking? Where she was looking? She glanced away. Too late. He gave her a knowing look and a half smile, but it slid from his face so fast, she thought she'd imagined it. Just as well, because if he ever smiled at her full-force, she'd need an ER team to resuscitate her. She shivered.

"You' re cold?" he asked, shooting up a disbelieving brow, scanning her winter sleepwear as if he'd never seen a flannel nightgown before.

She'd have sniffed with indignation if she knew how, but her neck heated instead. "A little," she lied.

"Let's go in," he added. Surprisingly, he reached for her hand.

Not surprisingly, she took it. Big, firm, and enfolding, and the exact temperature of the heat choking her throat like a tight woolen scarf. Cold? Not a chance. He led her toward the door, and she followed on shaky legs.

Daft. That's what she was.

That's what Annie, a devout worshiper at the shrine of common sense, would say. Annie had picked up the word somewhere and now used it to describe any human activity she didn't agree with. Getting all mushy over some guy definitely fell into the unacceptable category. The Darwin women were never supposed to be daft. No, sir. They were strong, independent—impervious to the love virus, or so her sister maintained.

Tessa had always gone along with the idea—until that devilish night wind laid Rand Fielding's chest bare, and she discovered a powerful attraction for the male pectorals.

Of course, what she was feeling wasn't close to love. More like a major lust attack.

They stepped into the dark kitchen and without a word, Rand led her to a set of stairs she hadn't known were there. Hazy but well-placed night lights lit their path up the stairs. Rand didn't let go of her hand until he reached the door to his room, and he was forced to make a choice, drop her hand or the sleeping pup.

Their physical connection broken, Tessa took a step back. "I'd better—"

"Hush—" Rand dipped his chin toward Licks. "You'll wake him."

Tessa knew that even the screech of train brakes wouldn't do that, but she shut up anyway.

"Wait here." He disappeared into his room while she craned her neck around the doorjamb to keep her eyes on them. What she was waiting for, she didn't know. Nor did she much care.

Rand placed the pup into his bed with care, stroked him softly, then latched the crate door. He came back into the hall and closed the door carefully behind him. He gestured toward her room. "Shall we?"

He was walking her home... a walk consisting of about fifty feet of carpeted hall. She'd have laughed, if her laugh muscles weren't as rubbery and useless as the rest of her.

When they reached her rooms, she didn't open the door, and he didn't turn to go.

"I'm sorry—" he began.

"Thanks—" she said, stopped, embarrassed to have talked over him.

"I shouldn't have—" he tried again.

"It's okay, I—" she blurted, timing off once more.

Silence.

Tessa, hands clasped behind her, slumped against the door. Rand studied her as if she were a wrapped package given him by a stranger. Wordlessly, he moved closer, and the scent of him, the heat of him, the maleness of him immobilized her. Not that she wanted to go anywhere.

What she wanted was for him to kiss her.

Although she was pretty sure she'd die from it.

She lifted her chin and met his dark gaze. For once she hoped her emotions were obvious. No way did she want him to not get her message.
Kiss me...

"Do you know what you're asking for?" He tilted his head.

Yes!
She wanted to yell, one of those rooftop yells that would wake the neighborhood, but she restrained herself and gave what she hoped was a subtle nod of her head. Subtlety didn't come naturally to her.

He rested his palm on the door, his forearm so close it grazed her ear.

More silence. She lifted her eyes to meet his, saw indecision, a raw kind of pain.
Say something,
she begged inwardly. Or better yet, do something.
Kiss me...

He leaned his mouth close to hers, his lips so near hers she tasted his breath.

She tried to speak. Couldn't. She wanted to close her eyes, to trust she knew what was coming. His troubled gaze didn't let her.

He touched her hair, buried his fingers in it, lifting it and smoothing it behind her ears.

"This is a bad idea," he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. "A really bad idea." Again his mouth touched hers, so softly, so deftly, every cell in her body shivered to attention. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she was certain he'd hear it.

With his mouth against hers, she closed her eyes, let go, and gave herself to the growing need his lips coaxed to life. He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry, slowly, expertly. She opened to him, heard herself moan when the tip of his tongue flashed against the corner of her mouth.

Her senses responded all at once, aroused by Rand's drugging kiss. His tongue probed, his teeth nibbled, his lips teased—then demanded.

Still they were inches apart, one of Rand's hands against the door above her head, the other gripping her waist. Tessa's hands were clasped behind her as if handcuffed to the doorknob. They weren't close enough. Not nearly. She needed the heat of him, hard against her. But Rand kept a slight but definite distance between them.