by EC Sheedy
He woofed once and wagged his tail.
A fur bag with attitude. Tessa adored him on sight and immediately picked him up.
Cuddling warm, soft puppies was one of life's gifts she never turned down. "A Rhodesian Ridgeback!" she said, noting the ridge of hair growing along his back in the opposite direction to the rest of his fur. She looked at Ned. "And a handsome one." Excited, she turned back to Rand. "Full grown he'll be a hundred pounds. Maybe more."
If he shared her enthusiasm over the pup's projected weight gain, it sure didn't show. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you mind telling me why you're here?" he asked her.
She stroked the velvet fur between the pup's floppy ears. "Ned said you'd recently got a dog—"
"Very recently." He glared at Ned.
Puzzled, she glanced first at Ned, who shrugged, then at Milton, who was rubbing his chin as if to camouflage a smile. What was going on here? She put the pup down, and it scrambled back to its post at Rand's feet.
She straightened and looked into Rand Fielding's unyielding face. "I'm a dog trainer," she said, enunciating with care as though speaking to someone both slow-witted and hearing impaired. "Ned said you needed one."
A silence fell, cool as the marble they stood on.
"Ned." Rand jerked his head to indicate a door behind them. "We need to talk." He started his turn, looked back briefly. "Milton, entertain the lady, would you?"
* * *
The kitchen door closed behind them, and Rand exploded. "What in hell were you thinking, giving me a dog?"
Ned ignored him, ambled over to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"I don't want a damn dog," Rand added. "Or the dog trainer who comes with him." The minute Rand set eyes on the Darwin woman, he'd figured it out. She was a player, whether she knew it or not, in another of Ned's matchmaking schemes. Having given up on the silk and satin type, the man was now serving up denim and cotton.
Ned hitched his hip against the counter, sipped his steaming coffee and let out a satisfied breath. "You know, Rand, I'm tempted to hire Milt away from you for his coffeemaking skills. Must be nice to wake up to every morning."
"Nicer than a whining pup."
"Ah, the dog."
"I want him gone. Take him back where you got him. Today. Better yet, send him back with the dog trainer."
Ned took another sip of coffee and turned the mug in his hands, making no reply. Rand summoned up some patience. It wasn't easy. No one got under his skin like Ned when he put his mind to it. But he was family—the last of it—not to mention the best acquisitions specialist in the country and one of the few people Rand trusted completely. Although he could live without the man's thoughtless pranks. "I repeat," Rand added for emphasis. "I do not need a dog."
"You don't need a dog." Ned set his mug on the counter. "But Tessa needs the work, and I promised her the job."
"You promised—" Rand raked his right hand through his hair, then fisted both hands on his hips. "Well, I don't want a woman around the place. In fact, I'd rather have the damn dog."
"Perfect. Because the woman is for me. The dog is all yours," Ned said.
"What in hell are you talking about?"
"I've been trying to get her to go out with me for months, but she won't. Says she's ice cream and I'm cherries jubilee or some stupid thing. That we wouldn't work out." He paused. "I need time to convince her otherwise."
"You want the woman so you buy me a dog?"
Ned shrugged without apology. "I already have two."
"You're nuts."
"I think I'm in love."
"Same thing. And you've been in love before, as I recall." Dimly, Rand remembered some woman from last year.
"Correction. I thought I was. But Tessa's different." He glanced at his feet before raising his eyes to meet Rand's. "The marrying kind. Maybe."
"So ask her and get it over with."
"Hard question to ask a woman who's never said yes to a dinner date."
Rand studied his cousin who was staring at his shoes, looking—yes—embarrassed. Amazing.
His regard for Miss Darwin shot up tenfold. The woman was clearly a pro. As a shareholder in Rand's company, Red Earth Holdings, Ned was a wealthy man. No doubt the woman figured a walk down the aisle would suit her better than a few fast rides in Ned's jag. And she was using the oldest, most effective trick in the book: playing hard to get. No point in saying so, of course. Besides, what Ned did with his private life was no business of Rand's.
When Rand remained silent, Ned added, "This is important to me, Rand."
"She takes care of the dog and stays out of my hair?"
Ned nodded.
"And when this courtship of yours is over and your pre-nups are signed, you take the dog."
"Done."
Rand turned and strode to the kitchen door, tossing instructions over his shoulder. "If she's going to be on or around my property, tell her I require a background check. I want her file on my desk by the end of the week." He stopped, turned back to face Ned. "You know, I think you're ten kinds of fool."
"I figured you would."
"She'll take you, you know. It's just a matter of time."
Ned met his level gaze. "Her name's Tessa, Rand, not Andrea."
"Yeah, sure, if you say so." Rand looked squarely at Ned. "Anyway, be careful."
* * *
Fifteen minutes later Rand collided with the object of Ned's affection on his front step, her clutching the pup to her breast with two hands, him gripping his briefcase with one. With his free hand, he grasped her upper arm, a reflex action to stabilize them both.
"Sorry," she blurted, her eyes wide but smiling. "I didn't see you. I was cuddling little whozits here."
The sensation of wiry strength under his hand surprised him. So Tessa Darwin was an outdoor type. He pulled his hand back and stuffed it in his suit pocket.
"Whozits?" he echoed, pulling out his keys and stepping up to his car.
"He's your pet, Mr. Fielding." She kissed the pup's head. "Yours to love and yours to name." She looked at him expectantly.
The mister tab annoyed him. She was young, sure, but at a freshly minted thirty-eight Rand wasn't exactly in his sunset years. He glowered at her, although it didn't seem to faze her.
"So, what do you want to call him?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and a faint smile played along her lips.
Her eyes were blue, the silvery kind. The kind you expect in blondes, not brunettes. They were no-nonsense eyes, clear and direct. He forced his attention down to the squirming pup and pursed his lips. Not in concentration, but because he found pulling his gaze from hers difficult.
"Something strong, I think," she said, tilting her head. "These dogs are serious athletes. Or maybe African because that's where the breed originated."
He rubbed his chin. Naming the pup was the last thing on his mind. He watched it claw its way up the front of her T-shirt and start to lick her throat from base to jaw. She laughed and lifted her chin to keep the wet kisses from her face. Her neck was long, tanned and soft, he guessed. Like those lush lips of hers with the tiny mole to the right of them. Pretty. The woman was remarkably pretty. He inhaled, concentrated on the pup, not liking the direction of his thoughts. Ned was in for it. That was certain.
"So, what's it to be? Rover, Fido or Duke?" she said, obviously giving him no points for originality.
The pup made it clear to her cheek, tongue hard at work. "Licks. Call him Licks. Seems to fit."
"Not what I had in mind, but—" She smiled, rubbed a puppy kiss off her chin. "Come to think of it, it's perfect. Licks it is." She ruffled the pup's fur, looked at Rand's briefcase, and frowned. "You're leaving?"
"That's the plan."
"But when shall we talk?"
"Talk?" He put his key in the car lock.
"About the training. When to start. What my fee will be."
He opened the driver's door on his Mercedes and tossed his briefcase onto the passenger seat, anxious
to get out from under those silver eyes of hers. "See Ned about it. He's the dog man." He got into the car and was about to close the door when she put her hand on it.
"But..."
"But what?"
"He's your dog," she pointed out.
Guilt, unaccustomed and uncomfortable, stabbed at him. If he were alone he'd laugh. Here he was, prepared to finesse an inventor's valuable technology away from him without a qualm—and make close to forty million doing it—and this woman made him feel like crap over a small bag of fur. He attempted to soften his tone, wasn't sure it worked. "Look, I don't have time to deal with the dog right now. Take him to your place. We'll set something up later."
"Take him to my place?" she echoed, wide-eyed.
"Right." He shut the door and turned on the ignition. He hit the down button for the window. "Tell Milt or Ned to give you some cash for whatever you need."
"But—"
He raised a hand to cut her off. "Speak to Ned, Miss Darwin, or to Milton." He tried to soften his tone. "One or the other of them will take care of you." With that, he gave the car some gas and raced out of the driveway, feeling like more of a dog than the one cradled in her arms—and not liking it a bit.
Damn the soft-hearted Ned, foisting her off on him. Tessa Darwin was a complication Rand didn't need.
His car phone rang and he picked it up, thankful for the interruption.
* * *
Tessa watched the powerful black car glide down the long driveway, exit the gate, and make a quick left turn. Once she got her breath back—it had nearly stopped again at his curt dismissal and abrupt departure—she was flaming mad.
What kind of man didn't like puppies? She didn't want to think about that. Too scary. Ned was crazy to bring her here.
Licks snuffled under her chin and dropped off to sleep. She gave him a hug.
This whole business was strange. Rand Fielding wasn't a dog person, so why had Ned given him one? And why was Rand keeping it? She rested her chin on Licks' head.
"Somebody once said the very rich are different from you and me, Licks." She rubbed his head with her chin. "Looks like they were right." But Tessa hated to think of a dog growing up here, unwanted and unloved. It wouldn't be right.
"There you are," Ned called to her as he started down the stairs. "Everything okay?"
When she started to answer, his cell phone rang. Frowning and nodding, he spoke into it, "Yes, I see... you sure, Rand? And Cullen will pick me up himself?... I'm on my way."
He clicked off and turned to her. "I'm sorry, Tessa, but something's come up. I have to leave immediately."
At least he had the charm to look a little regretful, unlike his boss. "Can you drop me off on your way?"
"No, sorry, I'm going in the opposite direction. Milton will take you and Licks home." He dialed, spoke into his phone while opening his car door.
Milton came out an instant later, shouldering himself into a light jacket and heading toward the garage beside the house.
"Your friend wants me to take the pup home," she said, beginning to feel like a bit player in a B movie. A movie in fast forward. One minute she was frolicking with a pup on the lawn and the next she was being hustled off the property.
"He's my cousin actually. And that would be best, if you don't mind." Ned turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Tessa, but this acquisition Rand and I have been working on has entered the time-critical stage. I'll be gone a week, probably longer. I'd really appreciate it if you'd look after the pup for me."
"For you?"
Ned frowned. "For Rand. He'll be here, but most of his time will be spent at the office. It wouldn't be fair to the pup."
"But it's fair to me." Tessa didn't mind taking care of Licks—someone had to—but she resented being imposed upon.
"No, it's not, but will you do it?"
"Yes, of course, I'll do it, but—"
"Thanks. I'll have my housekeeper drop off Pam and Lansky at the kennel, and I'll call." He got in his car, turned on the ignition, and put down his window. "Milt will give you everything you need for Licks, money for food, boarding, and your time. Rand is very appreciative." Ned was dialing a number on his cell as he talked.
Yeah, right. And I'm next in line to the throne of England, she thought crossly.
Ned roared out of the driveway, and Milton pulled up. He opened the car door for her. She got in. Licks sleeping against her breast, his easy puppy breathing in direct contrast to the frustrated pounding of her heart.
* * *
Ten days later Tessa slammed down the phone. She blew a long strand of hair off her face, and said a not-very-nice word to the dog chow calendar gracing the wall of her cramped office at Dawg's Inn. The penthouse kennel, she called it, because it sat atop the large chainlink enclosures.
Her calendar didn't seem to care that she'd called both Ned Coleman and Rand Fielding every day, twice a day, for the past three days.
Ned hadn't returned from his business trip, and the great man himself, Rand Fielding, didn't return her calls. The corporate secretaries who answered his phones at Red Earth Holdings from six in the morning until eight at night weren't about to tell Tessa whether he was in or out of the office. And when she managed to bypass his home telephone technology, Milton took her messages graciously and, she was certain, passed them on. Fielding was ignoring her, plain and simple. And that was intolerable.
She and poor little Licks—any dog without a loving human friend was poor in Tessa's eyes—had been dumped. Abandoned. And it just wasn't right.
Tessa pursed her lips and deliberated on a new plan of attack.
"No luck?" It was Marie Linden, carrying a vase of wild flowers.
Marie, along with her husband, Gordon, owned Dawg's Inn. Tessa had worked for them since high school. After her father's death, they'd taken her on full time. She adored them both—and was dismayed that Gordon's poor health had kept them away from the kennel for much of the past year. Lately, Marie had been hinting they'd soon have to retire completely and sell the kennel—a prospect Tessa dreaded.
She smiled at Marie. "No luck at all," she said. "I guess I'm going to have to storm the Fielding barricades."
"No time like the present." Marie set the flowers on Tessa's desk, started to fuss with them.
"Too early. He'll still be at his office."
"Anything to stop you from going there?"
A grin tugged at Tessa's mouth. "Not a thing." A bold assault on Fielding's elite secretarial guard by her and Licks held definite appeal.
She looked at her watch. Four p.m. She'd be in downtown Seattle in forty minutes tops. "You won't mind if I leave early?"
"Anything I should know about?"
"The Hamiltons are coming to pick up Roxsand. In about half an hour, maybe less."
Marie smiled. "I think I can handle it."
"Thanks, Marie." Tessa squatted and stroked Licks' head. He started to unravel from the tight ball he made of his growing body when sleep was serious business. She let him have a good stretch and picked him up. "Come on, baby. You and I are going to see your daddy."
She smiled into his fur. "And I'm sure our visit will make his day."
* * *
Two Union Square. One of the most prestigious business addresses in Seattle. Tessa should have known—and known, too, that his company would occupy the uppermost floors. She gazed up, oddly not in the least intimidated. An office building was all about business. And business is what brought her here. It wasn't like going to someone's home.
Acting like an angel, a calm Licks sat beside her. If she was going to confront Fielding, it better be now. With Licks, angelic behavior was temporary.
"Let's go," she said, giving a quick tug on his leash. "And don't even think of operating that overactive watering device of yours."
He rose and yawned mightily, as if reminding her that this venture was already cutting into his nap time.
Licks in tow, Tessa sailed past the main information desk toward the elevator
s. The frown on the young security guard's face said he wasn't sure about the rules on Ridgeback pups entering Two Union Square's elevators. But Tessa didn't give him time to check his policies and procedures manual. An elevator door opened, and she immediately stepped in and hit the button for the top floor. She sent a bright smile the guard's way as the doors closed.
More rocket than elevator, in seconds, those same doors swished open.
Incredulous, Tessa stared.
The waiting room was round, its floor glassy black marble. Stage center was a granite reception counter. Behind it a stainless steel backdrop—illuminated by some mysterious light—rose from floor to ceiling, carrying the company name in bold blood-red letters.
Leather chairs and sofas, all pearlized gray, formed two seating groups. A couple of lifeless white sculptures separated them. The walls were bare. There were no plants.
The place reeked of cold, hard, expensive class. The fleeting smile of the receptionist offered the only hint of warmth.
Tessa stepped out of the elevator and into Rand Fielding's world.
Chapter 3
"May I be of assistance?" the receptionist asked.
Tessa tore her eyes from the power statement that was Rand's business domain, gathered her wits, and said, "I'd like to see Rand Fielding, please." She couldn't wait to get out of there.
The woman behind the granite counter looked stunned. Tessa guessed it wasn't every day someone dropped by to see him, wearing jeans and a baseball cap. Tough. She was here. Rand was somewhere behind that stainless steel wall, and she wasn't leaving until she sorted out Licks' life.
Tessa gave the woman credit—her corporate smile barely slipped. "You have an appointment?"
"No, but I have his pup." Tessa smiled sweetly. "But if Mr. Fielding's busy, I'm happy to wait." She took a seat on one of the leather sofas and settled in. She glanced at the art-on-the-floor carpet, a plush black and white wool, no doubt worth a small fortune. "But tell him I can't guarantee the pup's bladder, so it might be a good idea for him to see me sooner rather than later."