"Come on, big guy." He tapped the cop in the shoulder.
"What?" Clarence had his gun drawn and was down on one knee in a firing position before Tyler finished talking.
"You were sleeping."
"Yeah? I couldn't figure out how to change the channel on your T.V. and there was a home decorating show on. It'd put anybody to sleep."
Clarence rubbed his eyes, then stared into the kitchen. "What the heck happened there? You and the chick have one of those Tom Jones food orgies or something?"
He glared at Clarence. "No."
The cop put up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no offense. I mean, if it makes you happy, why not do it? That's what I always say."
"I appreciate you bringing Harvey home and staying with him," Tyler said. "But unless you want to grab a mop and help out here--"
"Oh, no. That animal has caused me enough trouble already. See you around, Mr. Atwood. But not too soon, I hope."
Tyler followed the cop out the door, grabbed his snow shovel from the carriage house, and stepped back into the kitchen. A few minutes with the shovel and the worst of the damage was down the garbage disposal. He mopped up the rest quickly, then headed down the hall.
Time to help out with Harvey. Time to help Courtney.
He walked into the bathroom in time to meet a solid spray of soapy water.
Before he'd adopted Harvey, Tyler hadn't been aware that dogs could have facial expressions. Now he knew better. The animal was laughing at him.
Harvey rolled in the soap-filled tub, scrambled back to his feet, his paws scrabbling for purchase on the slick tub, then shook himself again.
Tyler was drenched.
Everything in the bathroom was drenched.
Most particularly, Courtney was drenched.
Water had turned her white top into a transparent vision. Beneath it, a lacy white bra hid absolutely none of the lush promise of her breasts, exposed the rosy pink of her nipples to his gaze.
A gaze she didn't miss. Courtney brought her hands in front of her body in a protective gesture--letting go of the dog who proceeded to shower them yet again.
Courtney ignored Harvey. "I feel like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest with you looking at me like that. Cut it out."
"Right."
He tore his gaze away--momentarily. But he was only human. He couldn't help it if he responded to her like a compass pointing to the magnetic north.
"You know, you may be a billionaire, but sometimes you're such a guy."
That was supposed to be an insult? If he could persuade Courtney to give his dog a bath every day, she could insult him all she wanted and he'd consider it a fair trade.
He pulled up the plug in the tub, grabbed the spray nozzle, and hosed Harvey down.
Harvey wallowed in the flow of water, taking an occasional drink from the nozzle, then shook himself one more time.
This time, Tyler was directly in the line of fire.
He wiped water out of his eyes just in time to see Harvey leap out of the tub and head for the bathroom door--the door he had left open when he had come to help out.
Courtney took off after the dog, stepped into a soapy puddle, and windmilled her arms.
Tyler caught her just in time to save her from going down--and collected a fist in his nose as payment.
Courtney looked anxiously toward the disappearing dog. "You shouldn't have left the door open," she said. "He'll damage your house."
"It's my house," he reminded her. "And he's done a lot more damage than a little water will do."
He could let Courtney go now--she had regained her balance. Instead, he savored her nearness, the smooth slick feel of her soapy, wet skin against his own, the friction of their wet clothing, heat from her body.
Despite their differences, despite the misunderstanding they'd gone through just a couple of hours earlier, touching, holding Courtney, felt right. He wanted to continue to explore the attraction, follow the sensuous pathways of Courtney's body.
He had a vague memory of promising not to pursue her. What had he been thinking?
"Jeez, you're bleeding like a stuck pig." Courtney yanked out of his arms and grabbed a washcloth from a towel rack. "Put this on your nose."
The pleasure of holding Courtney in his arms had washed away the minor pain of a bloody nose.
"Thanks."
"You're a bit of a mess, you know. You probably should get changed."
"Yeah. Once I check on Harvey."
* * * *
That had been a close call.
When she'd felt Tyler's arms around her, Courtney had melted into him, felt his desire pressing hard against her hip despite the fabric that provided a small degree of separation.
All of the water that Harvey spread had turned her into a wreck, but it had only made Tyler look stronger, sexier.
Only that instant of concern, when she'd realized she'd hurt him--made him bleed--had let her regain partial control of her senses and to pull away from him.
"I've got to go and change into something warm," she said.
"I'll make you an Irish Coffee while you're changing? It'll help you warm up inside too."
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she might just throw herself on him--again--and demand that he take her body.
"See you in a few minutes, then." He stepped out the door, on a mission to find his dog.
She trekked through his house surprised at the amount of water Harvey had left behind him. Fortunately, as Tyler had pointed out, it was only water. Even more fortunately, Tyler was rich enough that he could afford to have someone come in and clean up the water stains if he wanted to. If only he was rich enough to clean up the mess he'd leave when he finished with her heart. But Courtney didn't figure there was enough money for that in the world.
She glanced in at the kitchen as she walked past and was surprised that the floors Harvey had left covered with food now glistened. She hadn't been quite fair to Tyler, she realized, in assuming that he always let servants do the hard work. Despite his billions, he didn't mind getting down and dirty.
It took more than two minutes to cross the fraction of Tyler's mansion that separated the front bathroom she'd chosen to bath Harvey from the guest suite where she'd left her clothes.
Harvey was in his crate, looking mostly dry after his efforts. He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself, which he certainly should. He had known better than to raid the refrigerator like that. And he should have known to keep his splashing inside the bathroom.
She yanked off her wet clothing, tossed them over a hanger and hung them in an antique armoire, and bent down to lecture the dog.
"You keep acting out like that and Tyler is going to fire my butt. How the heck am I supposed to use him as a reference if I can't even get a golden retriever mix to behave? You're supposed to have good manners bred into you, you know."
Harvey hung his head. She knew he felt badly and felt guilty herself for lecturing him. When dogs act out, it's a call for attention.
"You've got responsibilities," she reminded him. "Barton plans on visiting you tomorrow, but if his mother learns that you're going to teach him irresponsible behavior, she'll put the kibosh on that plan. I'd expect that icebox raid from a puppy, not from a full-grown two-year-old dog."
Harvey hung his head lower, then rolled over, exposing his neck to her in a clear acceptance of her dominance in their relationship.
"I can't find Harvey. Have you seen him?" Tyler's voice sounded just outside the door.
Harvey rolled back to his feet, trotted to the door, and opened it.
"I, uh, oops."
Courtney hadn't seen Tyler at a loss before--hadn't even guessed he could become nonplussed. .
She almost laughed, until she stopped to think what might be causing his problem.
She'd pulled on a pair of panties and a top, but she hadn't buttoned the shirt before she'd gone to confront Harvey--or put on a bra. She was hanging out like a topless dancer cruising
for extra tips.
"I'm putting your coffee by the door," Tyler said as he backed away. "Harvey and I will be in the living room." He backed out. She couldn't help noticing that he kept his eyes on her until he reached the corner, though.
Courtney grabbed the steaming Irish coffee and drank down a couple of whiskey-laden swallows before switching out the top for a sweater and yanking on a pair of jeans.
Feet bare, she padded down to the living room. She couldn't blame this one on Tyler. He couldn't have known that Harvey would open the door when Courtney was undressed.
The really strange thing was, she hadn't minded giving Tyler an eyeful. She had always controlled her privacy strictly. The few times she'd had boyfriends, she had insisted on turning the lights out before she undressed. But with Tyler, she seemed capable of anything, savoring the hungry look in his eyes when he saw her naked or nearly naked. She was turning into a person she didn't recognize. Still, the braver personality Tyler had helped her unveil was also a part of her. In a way, she actually welcomed the change. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life in painful shyness, more comfortable talking to animals than to humans.
Tyler was on the phone when she made her way into the living room. His own drink, untouched, sat beside her.
"That isn't acceptable," he explained with the patient tone in his voice that indicated he must have said these same words a dozen times before in the conversation. "Those bonds do not belong to my mother. They aren't her property to transfer."
He paused, listened, slowly shaking his head.
"We have nothing further to discuss. I have contributed generously to the symphony in the past and I had intended to continue doing so. But two hundred million goes beyond generosity. I intend to invest that money in my business."
He paused again. "All right. Tomorrow. But if we can't reach satisfaction then, I'm afraid I'll have to involve the lawyers."
Tyler pushed the disconnect button and turned his considerable attention to Courtney. "I didn't intend to walk in on you just then. The door came open."
"I know. Harvey opened it."
He bent down and scratched the dog behind the ears. "It was a treat for me, Harvey, but you've got to be considerate to both sides in these decisions, you know."
Harvey turned his face and winked at Courtney.
She knew dogs don't wink. She knew that they can understand some words--there was scientific evidence of that--but they had limits. Still...
Time to change the subject. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Bruno Franklin, the Symphony President. They don't want to give the money back."
"You're kidding. Don't they know it was… a mistake?"
He sighed. "Yes, I explained that to him. And I explained that without that money, a lot of Philadelphia workers are going to struggle along on unemployment when we could be building something really cool. It turns out that the symphony board and I don't completely agree on our city's priorities."
Courtney was still mystified. "But how could they just keep those bonds? Don't you have to sign them or something?"
He ran his hands through his dark hair. "They're bearer bonds. That means they don't have names on them. Anyone can cash them in. My mother is claiming that they were her property, that I had nothing to do with them."
"That's ridiculous. She can't get away with that."
"I know that, but Bruno didn't want to hear it. I wasn't able to get things sorted out over the phone. So I agreed that we'd meet at the symphony board reception tomorrow. I hope you don't mind."
"What's this 'we' stuff?" Courtney was a working girl from a working-class family. She might listen to classical music on the radio sometimes, but that didn't mean she did symphony shindigs. It certainly didn't mean she was ready to be Tyler's date at the kind of social event that would put her in the society pages and that would send local gossip columnists researching her background.
Even as she acknowledged how wrong it would be to attend, she felt a small thrill that he wanted her there with him.
Tyler set the phone back in its cradle and brushed a thumb against Courtney's cheek. "You were here when my mother broke in. It might take a witness to persuade them."
So much for that fantasy. Tyler just needed a witness. Courtney told herself she shouldn't have expected anything like Tyler's public recognition of her as his date. He might want to go to bed with her but that didn't mean he wanted a relationship. Of course, she'd as good as told him she wouldn't be sleeping with him again.
Her disappointment must have shown on her face.
"Of course, I'd want you along anyway. I like your company."
Too late, Tyler. She didn't say it out loud but she thought it. He was a masterful businessman and it was no wonder he'd been able to talk investors into plowing money into a business that most of America had abandoned as a lost cause. But Courtney wouldn't be fooled. A man from Philadelphia's upper crust may have an affair with a wrong-side-of-the-tracks sort of girl like Courtney, but he doesn't invite her to symphony functions--or take her home to momma--as anything but a hostile witness.
"You look like you just bit a lemon." Tyler's voice was filled with tease. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "You're probably worried about what you'd wear since you didn't bring all your stuff. Hey, we'll go out tomorrow and buy you something fancy. It'll be fun."
Courtney made herself smile. It would be fun to spend time with Tyler, to dress up in thousand-dollar outfits and parade herself for his approval. And his attitude toward money, that it was a tool they could use for enjoyment, was a refreshing change from her own background where money was to be hoarded, guarded, and begrudged when it had to be spent at all.
"If McKinsey hasn't left for Paris yet, we can invite her to come along," he continued, completely convinced that Courtney was under his spell. "She's good with shoes and purses and all of that sort of girly stuff."
Which meant Tyler assumed Courtney wasn't good at that sort of stuff, either. Well, he was right. She had learned fashion accessorizing from the magazines that had already been in her waiting room when she'd first rented her office. She still didn't appreciate his rubbing her face in it.
"I'll think about the symphony thing, and the shopping," she said, turning her back on Tyler. "But right now, I feel pretty tired. It's not every day I get arrested, you know."
He quirked an eyebrow. "I don't suppose--"
She didn't need to wait for the end of his question. "I'm not spending the night with you. Come on, Harvey. Let's go."
"Harvey can stay with me," Tyler said. "He's my dog, my responsibility."
Harvey looked back and forth between his two people, obviously torn. Finally, but with his tail dragging a bit, he stepped over to Tyler and laid his head along Tyler's calf.
She should have rejoiced that Harvey was finally showing loyalty where it was due--to his master. But the dog's grudging affection for Tyler was a poignant reminder that she was the guest here, if not the servant. Tyler and Harvey were family and she would be leaving them soon. As soon as the workers finished painting her building, she'd move back in and get on with her life.
Two years before, when she'd first started her business, the office and its couch had seemed like the ultimate luxury. After just a few days with Tyler, she was afraid it would feel more like a prison cell than a home.
Chapter 8
Tyler had expected a quiet dinner with the members of the symphony board. Instead, the city's so-called elite had turned out in force, the alcohol was flowing, and food looked to be something a long time from arriving.
He was welcomed as a prodigal son, congratulated on his generosity, praised for his choice of a mother, and generally given the red carpet treatment. It was a choreographed effort. One designed to appeal to his ego. His mother's fingerprints were all over it.
Tough. No sucking up in the world could be worth two hundred million.
Courtney had hung back at first.
He knew she was a strong wo
man. She had stood up to him, let him know what he was doing wrong with Harvey when every other animal trainer had yielded to his wishes and his money--even when he'd had the wrong attitude. But Courtney wilted under the concerted gaze of two hundred of Philadelphia's upper crust--even though he'd warned her that much of that crust was dramatically overdone.
Speaking of overdone, he barely suppressed his wince when Carmela sashayed up to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips.
He managed to extricate himself before she got her tongue into action. Carmela had a talented tongue, but he didn't find the memory at all desirable now. Probably because he knew how faked and contrived everything was.
"Courtney, this is Carmela Geironela. Carmela was recently appointed to the symphony board. Carmela, Courtney Zane."
Courtney offered a hand and, after some consideration, Carmela took it.
"I understand you are some sort of animal sitter."
"Ms. Zane is a pet psychologist," Tyler corrected.
"Ah. How perfectly lovely, and hardly common at all."
Tyler tried to remember when he'd dated Carmela--or why. Surely it had been a while. Although she had the blonde hair and long elegant body he'd always found attractive, there wasn't much beneath the surface.
"Carmela, I'm trying to get a moment with Bruno Franklin but he seems to be avoiding me. Perhaps you could run along and herd him this way."
"But I'm supposed to--"
"Now would be good."
Carmela did run along although Tyler didn't have much hope that she would bring the symphony President to him. This entire event seemed to be designed to delay his chances to talk to Bruno--and to make the so-called donation more official.
"You didn't tell me there would be so many people here." Courtney looked beautiful, of course. Her long dark hair and short, energetic body provided a pleasant contrast to the languorous blonde elegance of most of Philadelphia society.
"Bruno led me to believe that we would be meeting with the symphony board, only. But I must say that you and McKinsey did wonderfully with that outfit. You're simply stunning."
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