Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  A small voice sounded behind her. “Are you a princess?”

  For the second time this evening, Lila found herself whirling around, startled. This time, however, her gaze landed on a small girl standing just a few feet away.

  The first thing she noticed was that the girl appeared to be wearing a dress that was identical to her own. Bubble-gum pink. Sparkles. Tulle. All things that made a grown woman look like she was one magic wand away from a starring role in The Wizard of Oz, but looked perfectly at home on a six-year-old.

  The second thing she noticed was that the child had a pair of twin cochlear implants, one on either side of her elaborate updo. The small, purple-colored plastic pieces behind her ears attached to even smaller nodes via looped cords. They were, in Lila’s line of work, a fairly common sight. They were also a clear sign that this girl’s parents couldn’t be too far away.

  Upstairs in the ballroom, probably. Where Patrick is.

  “Oh, hello,” Lila said, somewhat taken aback. Surprise rendered her voice harsher than usual—a thing she regretted as soon as the words left her lips. The poor girl was obviously lost, staring up at her with wide, blue eyes that were swimming in tears. “I didn’t know there was anyone in here with me.”

  The girl didn’t respond, her breath once more catching on a sob. Lila’s experience with children wasn’t vast—she was much more of a dog person than a kid one—but even she could tell that a situation like this one called for tact.

  She fell into an unladylike squat so they were level with each other. Not only was getting down the first thing a puppy trainer did when approaching a wary animal, but the girl was watching Lila’s mouth with the intensity of long practice. Lila had enough experience with hearing service dogs and their owners to recognize that the girl most likely used a combination of her cochlear implants and lip reading to communicate.

  “Are you lost?” she asked.

  The girl nodded, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection.

  Lila held out a hand with her palm up to show she meant no harm and held it there. That was another good puppy-training trick. Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d feared. “Then you’re in luck. I’m not lost at all.”

  “You aren’t?” the girl asked, blinking at her.

  “Nope. I have an excellent sense of direction.” She held a finger straight up. “You go thataway.”

  The girl’s gaze followed the direction Lila was pointing, but she had yet to take Lila’s hand. “Through the ceiling?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Well, no. You have to take the stairs, I’m afraid. There’s an elevator around here somewhere, but I’m not sure where to find it.”

  That caused the doubt in the girl’s voice to increase. “You mean this isn’t your castle?”

  The Davenport Hotel, where the event was being held, was about as fancy as Spokane architecture got, but it was hardly what Lila would call a castle. “Oh, um. No. I think it’s owned by local real-estate developers, actually.”

  Apparently, that was the wrong answer. The girl’s arms clenched tighter around her stomach, a fresh bout of tears starting to take shape in her eyes. “I thought it was your castle.”

  Lila had no idea how she was supposed to respond. It wasn’t in her nature to lie to small children, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her sister Sophie would have been able to comfort the girl with kind words and a smile, and Dawn would have had her laughing within minutes, but Lila had always been better with adults than children.

  Then again, she’d also always been the kind of woman to dress sensibly and stand her ground when faced with an unexpected encounter with an ex-boyfriend. Clearly, today was an anomaly.

  “My castle is much bigger than this one,” she said, casting her scruples aside. “And it’s located in, um, a faraway kingdom?”

  It was the right thing to say. A look of relief swept over the girl’s face, the beginnings of a smile taking shape in the perfect bow of her mouth. “You are a real princess,” she said. “I knew it.”

  She finally slipped her hand into Lila’s. For some strange reason, Lila had expected the girl’s hand to be sticky—children were usually sticky, weren’t they?—but the palm pressed against hers was perfectly clean. And soft. It was a nice surprise.

  “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” the girl confided with a shy smile. “But a princess isn’t a stranger.”

  “Oh dear,” Lila murmured. It wasn’t her place to lecture children on stranger danger, but for all she knew, the girl would take this one successful venture and run off in the future with anyone claiming to be royalty. “Actually, I am a stranger. It’s important to be wary of grown-ups no matter what they’re wearing. You know that, right? A fancy dress doesn’t automatically make someone a princess. Just like a tuxedo doesn’t automatically make someone a prince.”

  In fact, now that she thought about it, there were lots of warning signs that could be worn on the outside. Take, for example, a man’s blinding smile across a crowded ballroom floor.

  “It’s all too easy for a person to hide their true nature behind clothes,” she added. “Clothes and makeup and shoes and a smile you know better than to trust, if only because no man has teeth that white unless there’s something wrong with him. I don’t care what anyone says or how many times they say it. You shouldn’t be able to see your reflection in someone else’s molars.”

  The girl tugged on Lila’s hand, pulling her attention down. She pointed first at her own ears and then at Lila’s lips before blinking expectantly.

  “Oh,” Lila said, dismayed. “I went on a bit of a tirade there, didn’t I?”

  “Emily might not have had the privilege of catching all that, but I sure did,” a male voice sounded from behind them, causing Lila to jump. Again. “And I, for one, am dying to meet this man. Does he gargle with bleach, do you think, or is it that new charcoal toothpaste everyone is going on about?”

  “Daddy!” The girl—Emily—dropped Lila’s hand and ran to the man, wrapping her arms around his knees. Her words were muffled by a sob. “I got lost.”

  He lifted the child into his arms and waited until her head was level with his before speaking. “Yes, I noticed that. But I see you found your time-traveling adult self and came to no harm. Strange that you never ended up buying a different dress. I thought for sure you’d outgrow pink sparkles.”

  Lila stiffened. He was making fun of her. This man, this stranger clad in a socially acceptable tuxedo, was making fun of her.

  “Daddy, she’s a princess.”

  “Is she?” He cast a scrutinizing look Lila’s way. “I didn’t know princesses could time travel.”

  “She rescued me.”

  “Well, that is what princesses do.”

  “I know.” Emily nodded as if that made perfect sense. “That’s why I let her help me.”

  “A wise decision,” the man said. And that, it seemed, was the final word on the subject. There were no lectures about wandering off on her own, no words of warning about what could happen to a little girl who trusted any crackpot in pink tulle. He merely shifted his daughter to his hip and continued his appraisal of Lila.

  It wasn’t an unappreciative appraisal, but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about it. There was something about the man’s glinting blue eyes and slow, spreading grin that shot like an arrow straight through her. Okay, so she wasn’t some six-foot underwear model in a well-cut tuxedo. Her jaw wasn’t a chiseled shadow that had been timed to remain steadfast at five o’clock. She didn’t have the sexy beginnings of gray starting to take over the winged sides of her well-sculpted brown hair…

  “I’m sorry—did you say something?” She blinked as the man’s grin deepened.

  “Yes. I asked your name, but you weren’t finished yet.” He cast a look down at himself and gave a rueful shake of his head. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? I feel like a penguin. But the invitation said black tie, so black tie it is. Emily’s a stickler for the rules. So, what
is it?”

  She blinked again. “The dress code?”

  “Your name.”

  “Oh, um. It’s Lila. Lila Vasquez.” Aware that her usual demeanor—the careful, upright professional she was in all things—was slipping, she stuck out her hand. And then was forced to keep holding it out. She’d somehow forgotten that the man was using both arms to hold his daughter, which meant he had to shift and shuffle before he could return the gesture.

  It didn’t help that the hand he eventually extracted was his left one, which bore no signs of a wedding ring. His palm was cool and dry, his handshake firm. He might be holding a kindergartner and masquerading as a penguin, but he did it with a level of confidence Lila could only admire.

  “Ford Ford.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re Lila Vasquez. This is Emily Ford. I’m Ford Ford.”

  “You’re Ford…Ford?”

  He bent in a slight bow. “The one and only. Or so I hope. If there’s another poor b-a-s-t-a-r-d wandering around out there named Ford Ford, he has my deepest sympathies. And a heartfelt wish to give his parents a strong talking-to.” His smile warmed as he continued. “I recognize your name. Are you one of the organizers?”

  “Not an organizer, no.”

  “She’s a princess,” Emily interjected.

  “Yes, moppet. We’ve already covered that. She’s a princess and she rescues lost little girls and she doesn’t like men who smile with their teeth.”

  “I never said—”

  “She lives in a faraway kingdom,” Emily interrupted with all the certainty of a six-year-old safely ensconced in her father’s arms. They were strong arms, too, not wavering under their burden even once. “Were you at the ball, too?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was.” Lila glanced at the clock on the opposite wall and held back a sigh.

  As much as she would have preferred to stay hiding down here for the rest of the night, she was eventually going to have to suck up her pride and face the ballroom. Patrick would still be there, of course, but some things couldn’t be helped.

  “I should probably get back there before anyone notices I’m gone, but…” She cast a look down at her attire and bit her lip.

  “But you can’t possibly go without an escort?” Ford offered. Even though his arms were already taken up with Emily, he managed to crook an elbow at her. “It’s the least I can do after you rescued my daughter. She doesn’t take to just anyone, you know. You must be something special.”

  “Oh, I’m really not—” Lila began, more flustered than she cared to admit. She couldn’t tell whether it was the girl, her father, or the dress that was making her feel most out of her depth, but the room was definitely spinning around her.

  “If it’ll help, I promise not to smile any more than absolutely necessary,” Ford said with a shake of his elbow. “It’ll be nothing but frowns and glowers as far as the eye can see.”

  Because he wore a particularly attractive smile as he said this, Lila wasn’t fooled. She didn’t have a chance to call him on it, however, since he winked and turned his face toward Emily. “I specially requested The Hokey Pokey from the orchestra. It’d be a shame if we missed it.”

  “Daddy!” Emily protested with a giggle. “You did not.”

  “Of course I did. Why do you think it took me so long to come find you?” He gave up on the elbow and dropped a liberal kiss on Emily’s cheek instead. “I also asked them to play the Macarena, YMCA, and, I’m sorry to say, Gangnam Style. Emily doesn’t have the most sophisticated taste. I, on the other hand, am an arbiter of great music. I made sure to add the The Chicken Dance to our lineup.”

  “The Chicken Dance?” Lila echoed. She thought of the string quartet that had been hired for the evening and suppressed a laugh. She’d known the violinist to throw his bow at anyone requesting a composition not written before the eighteenth century. “I don’t believe you.”

  She should have known that playing into this man’s nonsense was a mistake. The moment the challenge left her lips, he turned to her with a lift to his brow. That debonair arch was all that was needed to take his tuxedo from attractive to full-on devastating. “Are you sure about that? I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.”

  She didn’t doubt it. She also had no plans to stick around and find out for herself. Even if she was in the habit of picking up strange men and their daughters—which she wasn’t—there was the small matter of work to get back to.

  “Well, I don’t know The Chicken Dance, so it’s no good asking me to join you,” Lila said primly. “And before you ask, I don’t know Gangnam Style or the Macarena, either.”

  Ford gave a gentle tsk and shook his head. “You seem sadly unprepared for a dance party like this one. What do you know?”

  She thought quickly. “The waltz.”

  “How very princessy of you,” he murmured with an appreciative twinkle in his eyes. As if suddenly realizing he was still holding a child in his arms, he gave Emily a light shake and added, “Isn’t that right, moppet? All royalty should waltz.”

  Emily’s only response was a giggle and a request for her father to put her down. “I’m okay now, Daddy,” she said as she began wriggling out of his grasp. “I promise.”

  He allowed Emily to slide down his side until she was planted on her own two feet. That, apparently, was yet another mistake, because she immediately bounced over to Lila and grabbed her by the hand. She gave a strong tug, which meant that unless Lila was willing to wrench a child’s arm out of its socket, she had to take a liberal step in Ford’s direction.

  If Ford Ford looked good, he smelled even better. He wasn’t, like so many of the other men upstairs, doused in expensive cologne. Instead, he carried the light scent of aftershave and what she could have sworn was peanut butter.

  She was so distracted by this bizarre yet compelling combination that she missed it when Emily took her father by her other hand. Without waiting for either of them to guess what she was up to, she took herself out of the equation. That left only the pair of them, standing much closer than was appropriate, their fingers lightly touching. Every instinct Lila had warned her to jump back, but something about Emily’s wistful expression gave her pause.

  “Pretty please will you waltz with my daddy?” she asked. “I never saw a princess dance in real life a’fore.”

  There was something especially beguiling about the way Emily made the request. She didn’t wheedle or plead, the way Lila always assumed children of her age did, and she didn’t resort to a tantrum. She just blinked up at them with an expectant look in her big blue eyes. Her face was still puffy and red from her earlier tears, her careful hairstyle now falling around her ears.

  Waltzing in a pink ball gown with a man she didn’t know was the last thing Lila wanted to do right now—or, you know, ever—but at the sight of those innocently tumbling curls, she felt herself faltering. She caught Ford’s eye.

  Had he turned to that easy flirtation again, said something dashing and ridiculous, she would have turned him down. She had places to go and people to avoid, and it wasn’t in her nature to place herself in situations where she felt this far out of her depth.

  But he looked almost as embarrassed as she felt, his grin turned rueful. “I’m not very good, but I’m game if you are.” He gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder. “What can I say? She’s never seen a princess dance in real life before.”

  Lila didn’t bother demurring further. How could she? At this point, she had nothing else to lose. She was already wearing the dress. She’d already fled the ball in shame and disgrace. And she already knew what—or who—was waiting for her upstairs.

  It’s not as if this night can get any worse.

  “Why not?” she said and gave what she hoped was a regal bow of her head. “I’d be delighted.”

  She was rewarded with a dazzling smile from Ford and a yank on her hand. She was propelled into his arms, which came up to provide a frame worthy of any dance teacher’s beginni
ng waltz instructions.

  The music from upstairs was too quiet to trickle down, and Lila had never been very good at humming, so the only backdrop to their movements was the shuffle of their feet and the trickle of the fountain in the distance. There was something acutely disconcerting about doing a music-free waltz with a strange man, especially when his daughter stood a few feet away with a look of pure rapture on her face. Lila felt stiff and awkward, but at least her footwork was solid.

  Well, it was solid until Ford started gaining confidence in his own steps. As they reached one side of the room, his hold on her waist tightened. That firmer touch, the press of his hand on the narrowest part of her, his body so long and lean against hers—it was impossible not to feel a little light-headed.

  Matters weren’t helped any when Ford leaned close to her ear and murmured, “Thank you for doing this. I know you’re probably itching to get back, but you’re the only reason Emily’s not sobbing into that ficus right now.”

  Her breath caught. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Are you kidding?” he countered. His mouth was so close to her skin that she could feel the whisper of his words on her neck. There was an intimacy about it, a warmth she hadn’t been expecting. “You made her night. H-e-l-l, you probably made her whole week. This sort of thing might be ordinary for you, but we don’t run into beautiful princesses every day.”

  It went against all of her scruples—and even more of her common sense—to reward a heavy-handed compliment like that, but her eyes snapped up to meet Ford’s. What she saw there wasn’t flirtation or amusement or even laughter at her predicament. He looked, well, sincere.

  “Oh.” Her heart gave a flutter, her body gliding and moving with his. “Um. You’re welcome?”

  This time Ford did laugh, but it was a soft chuckle that was reflected in the light of his startlingly blue eyes. Lila thought that perhaps their steps slowed, that the music—was there music?—came to an end and the dance was over. But he still had his hand wrapped around her waist, his torso pressed lightly against her own.