Puppy Love

by Lucy Gilmore

  “You know what?” she said as she dropped her hand from his mouth. “I think you might be on to something.”

  “I am?” he asked before correcting himself with a cough. “I mean, I am. Of course. Always on top of things, that’s the Ford Ford way. And by on top, I mean—”

  “I know what you mean. I’m not an idiot. You mean your body moving over mine. You mean the two of us entangled in your sheets.” Her laughter this time was gentle but somehow all the more powerful because of it. No low-throated laugh, this. It was an intimate sound, a private one. One he could feel rumbling through his entire body. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “Do…what?”

  “It,” she said. “The horizontal mambo. The slap and tickle. The rusty moose.”

  He was fully on board with her suggestions until she reached the last one. Subduing a sudden choke of laughter, he asked, “The rusty moose? That’s not a real thing.”

  “Sure it is.” She blinked up at him. Although he suspected she was only toying with him, calling his bluff in hopes of scaring him away, she said this part with perfect solemnity. “Anything can be a euphemism for s-e-x if you say it right.”

  “Um, I don’t think so. There are some pretty freaky words out there.”

  She trailed her fingers up the line of his bare arm. Even though he knew she didn’t mean it, he couldn’t help but respond. God, it felt good to do this again—to flirt in earnest, to banter with a woman in hopes that it would lead to something more, instead of just using it as a shield.

  “Come on, Ford,” she murmured softly. “Wouldn’t you like to give me a taste of the ol’ rusty moose?”

  Yes. She was obviously onto something here. He’d give her a rusty anything if she kept looking at him like that.

  “Or maybe we could slip outside for some pickle juice,” she cooed.

  Absolutely. Pickle juice. Pickle juice sounded amazing.

  Those trailing fingers moved to his chest, where her palm lay flat against the rapidly increasing thump-thump of his chest. “Oh, Ford, I love it when you climb the broken ladder.”

  He should put a stop to this, he knew. There were too many phrases in the English language for her to throw out in that sultry voice of hers, too many ways for her to ruin inanimate objects for him forever.

  “The hairy knuckle,” she whispered, allowing a soft sound to escape her throat. “A lipstick smear. Tater tots.”

  “No, Lila,” he said with a groan. Was it his imagination, or was the room starting to grow blurry around the edges? “Not tater tots.”

  “Ta-ter. Tots.” She was careful to enunciate each syllable, her lips exaggerating the shape of the word. “Hot, salty wedges of potato.”

  Okay, he took it back. He took it all back. Where this woman and that voice were concerned, anything could be a euphemism for sex. In fact, if he didn’t do something about it, everything would be a euphemism for sex.

  “Well?” she asked, still arch. Her hand remained on his chest, her lips parted as they reached up toward his. “What about it?”

  “What about what?” he asked. At least, he thought he asked it. His mouth was so dry, all his blood coursing southward, that he wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing.

  “You and me, of course. Kissing. Cuddling. F-u-c-k-i-n-g.”

  Her mouth was so close that he could almost taste her. He knew exactly what he’d find if he gave in to the urge. The light mint of her toothpaste, the soft pink gloss that gave her lips a delicate sheen, the warmth of her mouth giving way underneath his… It was almost more than a man could be expected to bear.

  But bear it he did. He was already so far out of his depth with this woman, so much at a loss every time she walked in the door. He’d prove to her that he was more than just the neighborhood flirt—that he could, when it mattered, control himself.

  He could.

  “What’s the matter, Ford?” she asked archly. “Having a change of heart?”

  Nope. Not even a little bit. If it weren’t for his daughter in the next room, if he wasn’t so determined to show Lila that he was capable of restraint, this woman would see firsthand how he intended to repay her for defiling tater tots forever.

  Her scent drew him even closer, swirling his head and making him forget that he was standing in his living room in his pajamas. There were just two people, standing face-to-face, attraction pulsating between them.

  Fortunately—or not—a blast of cold air from a poorly sealed doorframe jerked him back to a realization of his surroundings. It also stopped him before he made the mistake of cupping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a slow, deep kiss.

  Lila misinterpreted his move, a wry smile twisting her lips.

  “See?” she said, looking much more in command of herself than he felt. “You don’t really want me. You just can’t help yourself. I’m female, I have a functioning nervous system, and I’m not as old as either Emily’s grandmother or her principal. I don’t think you know how to act any other way. Can we move on now?”

  “That’s not it—” he began, his arm shooting out to catch her about the waist. He might have managed it, too, but she stepped out of his reach, her professional mien back in place.

  “It should take me about half an hour to get the tea party set up, which will give you time to shower and dress. The first guest will be arriving around ten, so we want to make sure Jeeves is ready before that.”

  “Jeeves?” The blood hadn’t returned fully to Ford’s brain yet, his pulse still thumping madly to keep up, which made it difficult for him to follow along. “What about Jeeves?”

  She waved a hand around the living room, not stopping until she reached the pile of her bags. “Puppy training? Doorbells? The whole reason I’m here?”

  “Oh. Right. That.” Understanding finally took hold, and with it, any chance Ford had of making it out of this thing with his heart intact. He stared at her. “Wait. Is that why you’re setting up this whole thing? The dress, the cookies, the secret guests—it’s to practice having people at the door without upsetting Emily?”

  “I thought it might be fun.” The blush crept back over her face. “I’m not experienced with kids, I know, and I’m not a particularly…warm woman, but the one advantage I do have in this world is my sisters. They’ll make up for anything I’m lacking, I promise. Just give me a chance.”

  This last part was offered in a whoosh of entreaty, as if Lila was making a deep, dark confession about a crime she’d once committed. Or, at the very least, an admission about what she proposed to do with those tater tots.

  “Are you kidding?” he asked, blinking down at her. “You’re fantastic with Emily.”

  Her cheeks were still suffused with color, her discomfort clear, but he couldn’t understand why. True, she treated Emily more like an adult than a child, but that was part of what made her—what made all of this—so incredible. Lila didn’t pander to his daughter, didn’t belittle her by assuming she wasn’t capable of doing anything she set her mind to.

  “That’s nice of you to say, but—”

  “But nothing.” He spoke more forcefully than he intended. Lila’s eyes widened, and her hand halted in midair, but she didn’t move. He didn’t want to draw close again—there was still too much energy thrumming between them to make that a wise choice—but he did soften his voice as he added, “Your sisters are always welcome here, of course, but Emily and I don’t need them. Not when we have you.”

  Lila opened her mouth and closed it again, teetering on the edge of response. Ford held himself perfectly still in hope that she’d decide to share whatever was on her mind, but to no avail.

  “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen them at work before,” she said with an airiness that didn’t match her eyes. “Believe me when I say that a tea party with my sisters is something neither you nor Emily will soon forget.”

  * * *

  “Ho. Ly. Crap.”

  Lila didn’t turn from her position at the kitchen counte
r, where she stood chopping up strawberries in a belated attempt to not go down in history as the dog trainer who sent a child into sugar shock.

  “Ho. Ly. C—”

  “Soph, you know they can probably hear you, right?”

  Her sister snaked a pair of arms around Lila’s waist and bestowed a kiss on her cheek. The gesture was an affectionate one, but it was also calculated to place Sophie’s mouth right next to Lila’s ear. Quieter this time, but still with that breathy squeal underscoring her voice, she said, “Ho. Ly. Crap.”

  Lila sighed. There was no way she was going to be able to live this one down now. Her sisters had seen Ford Ford in a tight, blue button-down shirt. They’d watched him hitch his even tighter slacks as he poured his daughter tea and discussed the merits of tulle versus satin for daywear. They’d been the recipients of his heavy-handed flirtation and long, fluttering eyelashes.

  Life, as she knew it, was over.

  “I love him. I want to marry him. I want to bear eighteen of his children and grow old watching him drink tea with every last one of them.”

  Lila was forced into a chuckle. “I think your bodyguard out there might have something to say about that.”

  “Who? Harrison?” Sophie waved off the love of her life with a laugh. “I’m sure he won’t mind. From the look of it, he’s halfway in love himself.”

  Lila peeked behind her, even though there was no need. She’d committed the tableau to memory—in fact, she doubted she’d ever be able to get it out of her head after this. Harrison, Sophie’s oversize fireman boyfriend, was dressed all in black and standing intimidatingly by the door. He refused by so much as a smile to show that he was enjoying himself in his self-imposed role as bodyguard to the Vasquez royal line, but he obviously was. He’d even demanded that Bubbles, his service Pomeranian, be given a share of the tea.

  Her sisters had gone all out, too. Sophie wore a crown on her head and ruby-red slippers on her feet. Dawn was in the lime-green bridesmaid dress for reasons that Lila was sure were meant to cause her acute embarrassment.

  And in the middle of them all sat Emily. As soon as she’d realized that her guests were ringing the doorbell one by one, each arrival timed to give Jeeves a chance to go through the training steps necessary for door alerts, she’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into her role as hostess/dog trainer.

  In other words, Lila’s plan had been a success. She was getting through to the client, training a puppy, doing the work that needed to be done. And if she just happened to be the least fluffy woman in the room while it happened?

  Well, so be it. Someone had to cut the strawberries and make sure the training stayed on track.

  “Dawn wasn’t kidding,” Sophie added with a not-so-discreet look over her own shoulder. “That man is next-level kinds of gorgeous. And funny, too. How is he still single?”

  “From what I understand of the matter, it’s by choice. He has plenty of opportunity, but he isn’t interested in most of the women he meets.” Lila spoke with what she hoped was quelling sternness.

  It wasn’t.

  “Oh, so he’s exactly like you.”

  Lila turned to face her sister, still with the knife in one hand. She probably looked deranged, holding out a weapon with strawberry-stained hands, but that seemed about right. She felt deranged. At some point in the last week, her life had gone from a quietly predictable routine of her own making to complete and utter chaos.

  And like the quietly predictable woman she was, she seemed to be the only one who noticed it. Everyone else was out there having the time of their lives.

  “He’s not the least bit like me. He’s just dedicated to his daughter, that’s all. He has enough going on in his life. He doesn’t have time to bother with romance.”

  “Bullshit,” Sophie said cheerfully. Without the least qualm, she plucked the knife out of Lila’s hand and took over the fruit-cutting task. “She’s a cute kid, I’ll give you that, but no thirtysomething man who looks like that one is going to take a vow of celibacy unless he has a good reason. Longing for the wife, maybe?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s that. He was able to crack jokes about her living at the North Pole, so I think they must have parted on amicable terms.”

  Sophie’s brow lifted in a perfect arch. “So you have talked about it?”

  Dammit. Lila could have kicked herself for being so obvious. For an ice princess, she was doing a terrible job of hiding herself away. “It came up in the regular course of conversation, that’s all.”

  “Sure it did. I mean, I usually wait until the second week of training until I plumb the depths of my clients’ previous relationships, but you’ve always been much more efficient than me.”

  “It’s the truth!” Lila dumped the fruit onto a platter and did her best to hide her suddenly flaming face. Okay, so her interactions with Ford had a tendency to strain the bounds of propriety, but it wasn’t as if she had any other choice. Dealing with a man like that one required all the ingenuity she had. He crushed formality with his ready smile and put her into a flutter with no more than a word. In fact, the only thing that seemed to work at all was treating him to the same cavalier flirtation he was inclined to show her.

  And, you know, every other woman he met.

  Lila had just wiped her hands on her apron when the doorbell sounded once again. It alarmed no one except her. Although the steady stream of guests to the door was the whole point of this exercise, she hadn’t invited anyone else to attend.

  Jeeves performed his part to perfection as everyone went about the normal business of enjoying high tea. As soon as he heard the sound of an arrival, his curly black ears pricked up and his little body went rigid, just like a butler preparing to answer the door. Since he was never far from Emily, he was able to dash to her side and press his nose against her hand in a matter of seconds. Emily performed her part, too, looking to her father for permission before following Jeeves to the door.

  “More company?” she squealed, remembering to thank Jeeves for his good work before using both hands to turn the knob. “Hello, and welcome to my—”

  Her voice cut out the moment the door swung open to reveal the newest addition to the party. “Hello, Em-ee-lee!” Helen spoke in an overly loud, overenunciated voice. “How nice to see you again. And looking so grown up in that dress. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Only Lila was looking at Ford as his neighbor descended upon them, so only Lila noticed the flicker of weary resignation that crossed his expression before being replaced with a beaming smile. It was as good an indication as any that the face he showed to the world wasn’t representative of his true feelings.

  He was a nice man, obviously, and cared enough not to let anyone see just how wearisome he found their company, but it would serve her well to remember it. A smile doesn’t mean he likes you. A laugh doesn’t mean he cares.

  “Oh,” Emily said, her shoulders falling. “It’s Ms. Helen.”

  Ford did a much better job of greeting the newcomer. “Hey, Helen. You’re just in time. We’re about to start spinning plates to work off all this sugar. Apparently, Princess Dawn here is something of an expert.”

  Princess Dawn dipped into an elegant curtsy. “I spent six months traveling with a circus once. You should see what I can do with flaming swords.” She paused and frowned. “Actually, you shouldn’t. I’m a little out of practice. There’s a good chance I’d light the curtains on fire.”

  Once again, it spoke volumes about Helen’s personality that none of these greetings—not the dismay on Emily’s face or the flaming circus stories, which had the misfortune of being true—caused her the slightest hesitation. “Oh, really? You should come practice at my house. All my belongings are made of fireproof materials. Boys, you know.”

  None of the Vasquez sisters did know, since they’d grown up in a brother-free zone, but Lila could appreciate the wisdom of such a precaution.

  “Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Helen held out a small white en
velope. “I only wanted to drop this off for Princess Lila. It’s an invitation to my annual Christmas Eve block party. Seeing as how you’re one of us now, I thought you might want to join in on the fun. It’s pirate-themed this year, but I’m sure your usual attire will work just fine. No need to go all out.”

  Lila stood in the space between the kitchen and the living room, her feet frozen and her head in a whirl. One of us? Pirate-themed? She might have remained in place indefinitely, but Sophie lifted the plate from her hands and gave her a nudge.

  “‘No need to go all out’ means that she’s hired professional actors, and nothing short of our arrival under billowing sails will do,” Ford said as though all of this were perfectly ordinary. Because who didn’t invite virtual strangers to their weirdly themed holiday parties? “I’ve already rented a parrot and taught him every swear word I know.”

  Helen released a trill of laughter. “Oh, Ford. As if you would.” She pressed the envelope into Lila’s hand. “Don’t bother to bring anything. Just the pleasure of your company will be enough.”

  “Um, I’m not sure if I’ll be free—”

  “These must be your sisters,” Helen said as though Lila hadn’t spoken. She took in the room’s inhabitants without blinking. “I can always tell. My, you’re an attractive bunch. Is this a celebration of some sort?”

  “A training exercise, actually,” Lila said, grateful for the distraction Helen’s question provided. Work. She was here to work. It would do them all a world of good to remember that. “We’re teaching Jeeves about doorbells.”

  Helen’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh dear. Did I ruin everything, coming when I did?”

  “Not at all,” Ford said politely. “In fact, we’re in your debt. You gave us an opportunity for extra training. Why don’t you stay and have some cake?”

  Helen seemed to hesitate, glancing anxiously from face to face before finally settling on Lila’s. “I don’t know. This looks like a family gathering. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”