Clearly there was one thing that power couldn’t command, and that was a misbehaving dog. Was there any better leveler?
She whistled to Valentine, who was having fun with his new friend.
His head came up and their eyes met across the expanse of grass. After a split second of thought he came bounding toward her, all long lines and lean muscle, and as graceful as a ballet dancer. She heard the muted thud of his paws on the soft grass, the rhythmic panting, and then he skidded to a halt in front of her, the rear end of his body moving with each swing of his tail, that canine barometer of happiness.
There was surely no more uplifting greeting than a wagging tail. It conveyed so much. Love, warmth and unquestioning acceptance.
He was followed by his new friend, the German shepherd, who skidded untidily to a halt at her feet, more bruiser than ballet dancer. He gave her a hopeful look, seeking approval.
Molly decided that for all his bad-boy tendencies, he was cute. But like all bad boys, he needed a firm hand and strong boundaries.
His owner was probably the same.
“Well, aren’t you adorable.” She dropped to her haunches to make a fuss over him, stroking his head and rubbing his neck. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin and the smack of his tail against the leg as he circled in excitement. He tried to put his paws on her shoulders, almost knocking her on her butt in the dirt. “No. Sit.”
The dog gave her a reproachful look and sat, clearly questioning her sense of fun.
“You’re cute, but that doesn’t mean I want your muddy paws on my T-shirt.”
The man stopped beside her. “He sat for you.” His smile was easy, his gaze warm. “He never does that for me. What’s your secret?”
“I asked nicely.” She stood up, conscious of the sweaty tendrils of hair sticking to her neck and annoyed with herself for caring.
“Looks like you have the magic touch. Or maybe it’s the British accent that does it for him. Brutus—” The man gave the dog a stern look. “Brutus.”
Brutus didn’t even turn his head. It was as if the dog didn’t know he was talking to him.
Molly was puzzled. “Does he often ignore you?”
“All the time. He has a behavioral problem.”
“Behavioral problems usually say more about the owner than they do about the dog.”
“Ouch. Well, that puts me in my place.” His laugh was a rich, sexy sound and heat ripped through her body and pooled low in her abdomen.
She’d expected him to be defensive. Instead, she was the one who was defensive. She’d built walls and barriers that no one could pass, but she was sure that this man with the dangerous blue eyes and the sexy voice was used to finding his way around barriers. She felt breathless and swimmy-headed, and she wasn’t used to feeling that way.
“He needs training, that’s all. He’s not very good at doing what he’s told.” She focused on the dog, rather than the man. That way she didn’t have to deal with the laughing eyes of his insanely attractive owner.
“I’ve never been too good at doing as I’m told either, so I’m not going to hold that against him.”
“It can be dangerous for a dog to challenge authority.”
“I’m not afraid to be challenged.”
That didn’t surprise her. One glance told her this guy knew his own mind and walked his own path. She also sensed that the smooth layers of charm and charisma concealed a core of steel. He was a man only a fool would underestimate. And she was no fool.
“You don’t expect obedience?”
“Are we still talking about dogs here? Because this is the twenty-first century, and I like to think of myself as progressive.”
Whenever a situation or person unsettled her, she tried to detach herself and imagine what advice she’d give as Aggie.
Feeling breathless and tongue-tied around a man can be uncomfortable, but remember that however attractive he is, underneath he has his own insecurities even if he doesn’t choose to show them.
That didn’t make her feel better. She was starting to think this man didn’t have a single insecurity.
It doesn’t matter how you feel on the inside, as long as you don’t show it on the outside. Smile and act cool and he is never going to know that he turns your insides to the consistency of pulp.
Smile and act cool.
That seemed like the best approach.
“You should try taking him to obedience classes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a thing?”
“Yes. And it might help. He’s a beautiful dog. Did you buy him from a breeder?”
“He’s a rescue. The casualty of a vicious divorce case up in Harlem. The husband knew that Brutus was the one thing the wife loved more than anything in the world, so he fought for him in the divorce. His lawyer was better than hers, so he won and found himself with a dog he didn’t want.”
Molly was appalled enough to forget about the strange melting feeling going on inside her. “Who was his lawyer?”
“I was.”
Lawyer. She’d missed that one on her list of possible professions, but now she wondered why because it was a perfect fit. It was easy enough to imagine him intimidating the opposition. He was a man used to winning every battle he fought, she was sure of that.
“Why didn’t he give Brutus back to the wife?”
“Firstly because she’d moved back to Minnesota to live with her mother, secondly because the last thing he would ever do was something that would make his ex-wife happy and thirdly because, much as his wife loved the dog, she hated him more. She wanted to make his life as difficult as possible so she made him keep the dog.”
“That’s a horrible story.” Molly, who heard plenty of horrible stories in her working day, was shocked.
“That’s relationships.”
“That’s one divorce. That’s not all relationships. So you rescued him?” That revelation exploded all her preconceived ideas about him. She’d assumed he was the sort who put himself front and center of his life, rarely inconveniencing himself for anyone, but he’d saved this beautiful, vulnerable dog who had lost the only person who had ever loved him. He might be handsome and a sharp talker, but he was obviously a good person. “I think it’s great that you’ve done this.” She rubbed Brutus’s head, sad that this animal had paid the price for people’s failure to work out their differences. When relationships fell apart the fallout was far and wide. She knew that better than anyone. “Poor guy.” The dog nudged her pockets hopefully and she smiled. “Are you looking for treats? Is he allowed?”
“He’s allowed. If you have a spare.”
“I always carry them for Valentine.” Hearing his name, Valentine was by her side in a flash, possessive and protective.
“Valentine?” The man watched as she fed both dogs. “Is he a man substitute?”
“No. Last time I checked he was definitely a dog.”
He flashed her a smile of appreciation. “I thought maybe you’d given up on men and settled for the love of a good dog.”
That was closer to the truth than he could have imagined, but she had no intention of admitting it to anyone, least of all someone who seemed to have the world at his feet. What would he know about