A tiny black tail disappeared under a dumpster.
Izzy strode to the industrial bin. Squatting, she tapped her nails on the pavement. “No more hide-and-seek. Time to come out.” Nothing. Going to her SUV, she came back with a handful of Goldfish and placed them by her feet. “I’ve got yummy food for you, you little brat,” she said in her most soothing voice. “Come on out.” Still nothing.
A car backfired one street over, and Izzy glanced down the alley. Growling, she clambered down onto her hands and knees, peering under the dumpster. She didn’t have time for this. Thank God she’d put her foot down when Ana had pleaded for a pet. Nothing but pains in the ass, every one of them.
A pair of eyes glittered in the dim light. Reaching out as far as her arm would allow, Izzy felt the soft swipe of a tongue on her finger. A pebble dug into the knee of her nylons, and she winced. She pressed her shoulders lower to the ground, her skirt riding up her thighs, and stretched farther under the dumpster. She gently encircled the warm body. “Got you.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a deep voice bellowed.
With a squeak, Izzy pulled the puppy out and toppled to her butt. Heart pounding, she looked up, over worn jeans stretched taut across muscled thighs. Up over a faded T-shirt that spanned a wide chest and broad shoulders. Up over full lips and narrowed eyes. The man carried a bag of garbage in his hand and a thunderous expression on his face.
He chucked the bag over her head into the open dumpster. Leaving his large hands free to clench into fists. “Where do you get off dumping your dogs like they’re garbage? You think you can abandon an animal without there being consequences?” Slapping one hand on the dumpster, he leaned over her, his frame blocking out the sun. “Not on my watch, you won’t.”
Clutching the puppy to her chest, Izzy opened her mouth, ready to come up with a good story. Something that would explain how she’d found the dogs without mentioning her illegal entry or just what she was doing in the neighborhood. She was a salesperson, after all. Getting people to believe in her was what she did.
No words came. The man’s eyes turned to slits, and her stomach hardened to lead. A burst of energy rocketed through her body, making her limbs tingle and clouding her brain. Shoving the puppy at the man’s stomach so he had no choice but to grab it, Izzy jumped to her feet and ran.
Chapter Two
Bradley Cohen clutched the wriggling bundle of fur to his stomach and snaked his other hand out. He grabbed the woman by the belt of her trench coat, his knuckles pressing into her lower back. She had some damn nerve abandoning her dogs by a dumpster like they were nothing but trash. And a hungry dog who’d recently given birth to a litter of puppies…? Beyond low.
The woman twisted in his grip, and he jerked her backward. Stumbling on her heels, she craned her head and stared up at him, eyes wide with fear.
He cursed. A smidgeon of his anger melted into disgust—at himself. No matter what she’d done, he knew better than to manhandle a woman. Releasing his death grip on her coat, he stepped around her, getting between her and her getaway vehicle.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He scratched the underside of the puppy’s jaw. “But it’s illegal to abandon your dogs. What’s your name?”
She tucked a hank of sleek black hair that had escaped her updo behind her ear. A flicker of recognition flared in his brain then drifted away. He didn’t know her, of that he was certain. He didn’t forget women with curves like hers, but something about her was familiar.
But this neck of the woods in central Michigan didn’t hold many residents. Three small towns made up Crook County: Clarion Township, Marysville, and Pineville. None of them boasted populations over twenty thousand, and all of their town centers were within twenty minutes’ drive of each other. His shelter, Forever Friends, was on unincorporated land between Pineville and Clarion. He could have passed by her in the grocery store or library every damn day.
“Why do you want to know it?” she asked.
“So I can give it to the police.” He’d thought that implication was obvious. Maybe she was a dumbass along with being cold blooded. It was a pity such a horrid person came in such a pretty package. Disgusting people should at least sport a wart or two. Or a nasty scar.
Brad rubbed his side. That wasn’t fair. He of all people should know not to wish scars on another person.
The woman shifted her weight. “You don’t have to call the police. They aren’t my dogs. I just found them.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You just happened to be driving down a narrow alley and decided to go peering under dumpsters for puppies?” He held the black-and-white pup up to her face, and the little guy gave an excited yip paired with a full-body shimmy.
The warm bronze skin between her dark eyebrows puckered. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. I found them in the empty apartment building down the street.”
“The Newgate Apartments?” He eyed the puppies in the crate and the emaciated boxer mix lying next to them and looked back at the woman wrapped in her trench, with an inch of navy skirt peeking beneath the bottom at her knees. She didn’t look like the kind of person to mistreat an animal.
Which was an absolutely asinine thought. Abuse wasn’t limited to a certain type of person. Stepping over to the crate, he lowered the puppy inside and picked up the plastic box. A large, shapeless bag was on the ground near the dog, and Brad swiped it up, too. He handed it to her. “Come on. Let’s take these dogs inside and you can tell me the whole story.”
“Inside?” She clutched the empty bag to her stomach. “I have to get back to work.”
And that’s when it clicked. How he knew her. “You’re Isabelle Lopez. I forget which real estate firm you work for, but I’ve seen your picture on the side of the local bus.”
“Izzy, with Goldstar Realty.” Reaching into her bag, she felt around and frowned. “I dumped the contents in my car. Excuse me a minute?” She strode to her glossy black SUV and pulled open the passenger door. She refilled her purse with what seemed like an endless supply of crap and paced back to him, a silver business card holder in her hand. She gave him a card. “I promise, these aren’t my dogs. I’ve never owned a dog in my life.”
He took the card, his fingertips grazing hers. “Well, that’s just sad.” He examined the neat font, the small head shot on the card that did nothing to capture her soft eyes. “What were you doing at Newgate Apartments?”
“Uh…” She rubbed her nose. “Why don’t we go inside as you suggested.” She pointed at the dog. “I gave her some Goldfish crackers and water, but she looks like she needs some real dog food.”
“And medical attention.” Resting the crate on one hip, Brad opened the back door and hollered inside. “Gabe! I need you out here.”
The sound of blues blaring from a radio ratcheted down. Gabe yelled, “Did you say something?”
“Yes. Get your butt out to the alley!”
Footsteps followed. “There’s no need to yell, asshole.” Gabe stepped through the door. “You can—” He broke off when he saw Brad had company and grimaced. “Sorry.” His gaze dropped to the dog lying with her head on her paws, and he knelt beside her. Running his fingers over the dog’s body, he asked, “Who do we have here?”
“Abandoned dog and her litter of”—Brad counted—“five puppies.”
“This dog is starving.” Gabe’s lips pressed into a white slash. He jerked his head at Izzy. “She responsible?”
“She