by Lori Foster
Such a wonderful man. He was already worrying for the dog when he didn’t even know her. “Her previous owners kept her chained to an old car in the backyard. When they decided to move, they dropped her off at the shelter.”
“Bastards.”
“Yes.” Remembering the dog’s desolation put a very real pain in Marci’s heart. She pressed a hand there and her voice lowered. “She’s not the prettiest dog, Osbourne, but she has beautiful brown eyes and a gentle heart and she wants so badly to find a loving home. All she’s really known before now is neglect.”
Osbourne’s hand covered hers. “How about you call the shelter and tell them we’ll take her? If the snow doesn’t get too thick, we can go pick her up tonight.”
Well. If she hadn’t already loved him, that would have done it. “Really?”
“Yeah.” When she launched herself at him, he caught her and swung her around. Grimshaw went nuts again, barking and running circles around them.
Catering to the dog’s excitement, Osbourne lifted Marci into his arms and then sat on the floor. Both she and Grimshaw shared his lap.
They ended up playing for a good fifteen minutes before Marci recalled that Osbourne really did need to get some sleep.
She put a hand to his jaw. “You’re exhausted. Go on up to bed and Grimshaw will show me around.”
Reluctant, Osbourne glanced at his watch and winced. “Yeah, I suppose I could use a few hours.” He yawned and stretched. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
She patted Grimshaw. “We’ll be fine.”
“Don’t leave the house.”
Another order? “Excuse me?”
“Your reporter buddy might still be poking around. I don’t trust him. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe inside.”
“Oh.” His concern pleased her. “Okay, then. Now go.” She shooed him away.
Rather than leave, he bent to give her a sound smooch on the lips. “Make yourself at home.” Then, to Grimshaw: “Keep an eye on her, boy, and as soon as we can, we’ll go get you a woman friend.”
Whether or not Grimshaw understood, he yapped at that promise.
Later, when Ozzie awoke from a sound sleep, he noticed several things at once.
First was the time. He’d planned to sleep only a couple of hours to refresh him, and instead he’d conked out for five hours. It was nearing Marci’s bedtime now. Shit.
Next, he heard the barking, and not just Grimshaw’s bark. Another dog? He sat up, wondering if she’d gone out without telling him. He didn’t like that idea at all, and if they were going to make this work, they’d have to set up a few ground rules.
Then he inhaled the delicious scent that filled the air. Marci had cooked for him? His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything since that breakfast sandwich early in the morning.
As he left the bed, he also heard the chatter and laughter. Did she have company? Had that damned reporter come back?
In his boxers, he left the bedroom and went to the top of the stairs. He could hear music playing and Marci speaking, but she didn’t sound alarmed. Curious, he went to investigate.
The kitchen was empty, but a big pot of soup simmered on the stove, filling the air with fragrant steam. His stomach rumbled again.
Stepping back into the foyer, he listened, and realized the music came from the family room. One glimpse into the room, and he froze.
There in front of the television, with music videos turned on, wearing only a T-shirt, panties, and socks, Marci was doing aerobics. While she moved to the beat of the music, she talked to the dogs. Plural.
Grimshaw paid no attention to Marci’s prattle. He was too focused on a big, loose-skinned female dog sprawled on the floor. From Ozzie’s quick glimpse of the animal, she appeared to be a Labrador-Beagle mix. A few scars marred her beige fur, and she was missing the tip of one drooping ear. She lay flat on the floor, her head on her front paws. Her eyes—big, beautiful eyes, just as Marci had claimed—took in everything at once: Marci, the television, and Grimshaw.
Whenever Grimshaw got near her face, the dog half-cowered, and licked him.
Ozzie’s heart turned over.
He started to speak, and Marci bent from the waist, causing the words to strangle in his throat.
“Don’t worry, Grimshaw. I’ll explain to Osbourne when he awakens, and we’ll see what we can do. I’m sure he’ll agree, and it might even be a comfort to him, too. But I have to be careful. He thinks I’m a kook and I don’t want to do anything to encourage those sentiments.”
Guilt roiled inside him. She was a kook, but now he considered it cute. And sweet. She used her kookiness to help animals, even when it earned her disdain from others.
“It’s a miracle I’m here in the first place. Most guys are really freaked out by me. Do you know one young man I dated was so certain I’d flipped my lid that he went to Bethany and offered to help her get me committed!”
Torn between the luxury of watching Marci’s sensual, fluid movements in a state of undress, and hearing the painful reminder of how hurt she’d been, Ozzie didn’t know if he should speak up or slip away unannounced.
“Deep down,” she continued, “I think he cares as much about me as I do him. From the beginning I’ve felt connected to him.”
He’d felt that connection, too. And sometimes it spooked him, because Marci was so unlike other women. Not just unique but gifted in a way that defied all reason.
“It didn’t matter that I scared off other men, but I don’t want to scare off Ozzie. I want to try to make this work. It’s just that with him—I suppose because I trust him and care for him—I sometimes blurt things out, and then everything is ruined.”
Because he couldn’t tear himself away, Ozzie cleared his throat and asked, “So this is my new dog?”
Screeching, Marci straightened upright and pushed sweaty hair away from her face. Eyes watchful, she tried an uncertain smile and said, “How long have you been there?”
“Not long.” He eyed her up and down. “You look great, by the way.”
Both animals had jumped at the intrusion. As usual, Grimshaw went berserk, more so now that he had something to show Ozzie, meaning a new friend. Running between Ozzie and the other dog, he barked and pranced and acted much like an excited puppy.
The new dog stood, but she tucked in her tail and lowered her head, and basically tried to make herself as small as possible.
Then she peed on his hardwood floor.
Marci said, “Oops. Sorry about that. She’s still nervous. I’ll clean it up.”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll get it in a minute.” Doing his best to ignore Marci’s exposed legs and the way he could see her nipples through the tee, Ozzie went to one knee and held his hand out to the dog. “It’s okay, girl. Don’t be afraid.” Then to Marci, “Does she have a name?”
“Lakeisha.”
He smiled. “Did you name her that?”
She shrugged. “Her previous owners just called her dog, but Lakeisha suits her, and it goes well with Grimshaw.”
“I agree.” The dog watched him, then crept forward with hope bright in her big eyes. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you? It’s okay. I won’t bite, even if you do. C’mon. That’s it.”
She finally inched close enough for Ozzie to stroke under her chin.
Relying on Marci’s talent, he asked, “Am I winning her over?”
Marci eased over to sit beside him. “Yes. She’s more worried than afraid. This is all so new to her.”
Grimshaw plopped down by Marci and tipped his head at Lakeisha.
“Is he jealous?”
Laughing softly, Marci said, “No. He’s just trying to figure her out. He really wants to get to know her, but she’s shying away from him. Grimshaw is a very gentle dog. He doesn’t want to spook her, either.”
Lakeisha got near enough to sit by Ozzie. She kept her head low, her ears down, but the more he petted her, the closer she got.
“She likes you, O
sbourne. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yeah.” He rested his right hand on Lakeisha’s neck, and gave Grimshaw a few pats with his left. “How’d she get here?”
“When I called the owner of the shelter to say we’d take her, he offered to drop her off. He’s a friend and I think he was afraid we’d change our minds.”
Ozzie acknowledged that with a nod. “What is it you want to tell me?”
She pokered up and stared at him. “You said you hadn’t been there long.”
“I wasn’t. Just long enough to hear you tell the dogs that you’d talk to me about something. I’m starving and that soup smells awesome, but I want to hear what you have to say first.”
It wasn’t easy for Ozzie, because she sat beside him cross-legged, smelling of warm woman and wearing very little. But he sensed this was important and, like her, he didn’t want to blow things.
“Your grandmother always decorated for the holidays.”
Of all the things she might have said, he hadn’t expected that. “Yeah, so?”
“Grimshaw misses it. He wants to see the decorated tree and the lights, and he wants to hear the music. Did you know your grandmother always had a real tree and Grimshaw had a terrible time resisting the urge to mark it?”
Ozzie stared at her. “How do you know that?”
Her expression went blank.
“Did you see photos of the house during the holidays?” He didn’t know of any photos left lying around, but he wanted to be sure.
“No.”
Lakeisha rolled to her back, and Ozzie absently scratched her belly. “So, tell me, Marci. How did you know?”
Staring down at her twined hands, she whispered, “Grimshaw has those memories.”
“And you’re a pet psychic.”
Her shoulders sank. “I won’t apologize for who I am.”
“Of course not.”
She frowned at him. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Grimshaw knew your grandmother as well as you did. He knows that she was very proud of you, and that she made special cookies for you at Christmas.”
“She always sent a batch home with me.”
“He has memories of playing in the snow with you. You’ve always been good to him and—”
Ozzie bent and took her mouth in a gentle kiss that sufficiently hushed her. “I like who you are, Marci Churchill.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” Rather than belabor that point, he added, “And you’re sexy as hell when you’re sweaty.”
“Sweaty?” Her brows pinched together, then shot upward. “Oh, I forgot!” She jumped to her feet and plucked the damp shirt away from her breasts. Fidgeting, she said, “I think I’ll go shower while you eat.”
He pushed to his feet, too, then stared down at her. “Tomorrow we can put up the lights. Maybe not all of them, since it’s so close to Christmas already, but enough to make Grimshaw happy. And we can go find a tree. Granny always took one from the property. Not the best, you know. But a scraggly one that looked like it wouldn’t have made it anyway. With the right decorations, even a half-dead tree looks nice.”
Her smile lit up the room. “I’d love that.”
“I’ll clean up Lakeisha’s mess. Go get your shower.”
“You don’t mind?”
“She’s my dog now, right? I know she needs time to adjust. It’s not a big deal.”
She looked at him with naked adoration, then touched her fingers to his chest. Shyly, she asked, “What about you? Do you want to shower?”
An invitation? “Will the soup keep for another hour or so?”
Her eyes darkened. “I’ll turn it on low.”
Marci knew she should feel a little timid. After all, her sexual experiences were limited, and she’d never been with a man like Osbourne. But all she felt at that moment was anticipation. She wanted them both naked, now. She wanted his body against hers, she wanted to taste him—she wanted to feel him inside her.
He wore only snug boxers, and she loved looking at his broad chest, his strong shoulders. And his abdomen. The man had an impressive six-pack that begged to be stroked.
Locking her fingers together, Marci cautioned herself not to rush him. Earlier, when they’d made love, she’d been such a twit. First, his size had startled her, but Lord have mercy, she’d known only average men, and there was nothing average about Osbourne.
Then, within minutes of him touching her, she’d forgotten her worries and had been ready to climax. She’d tried to hold back, without much success. Luckily, he’d been just as aroused, and in his own release he hadn’t even realized how uncontrolled she’d become.
She wasn’t a wild woman. Sex for her had been pleasant, but not overwhelming. With Osbourne it was…explosive. Mind-blowing. So very, very special.
“You’re okay?” Osbourne asked.
She nodded, cleared her throat, and said the first thing that came to her mind. “That tub doesn’t look big enough for both of us.”
He smiled. “We’ll have to stay close, won’t we?” He bent to turn on the shower, and the small room began to fill with steam.
Old-fashioned black and pink ceramic tiles surrounded the narrow tub. Osbourne parted the clear shower curtain, and when he straightened and faced her, his expression was hard and dark with desire. A quick glimpse down proved he was already hard, and it was all she could do not to reach for him.
He stood within inches of her. She’d pinned up her hair to keep it from getting wet, and Osbourne smoothed back a wayward curl. “The dogs are outside playing, so we shouldn’t be interrupted.”
Marci cleared her throat. “Do you have a condom in here?”
He shook his head. “We’ll start here, but finish up in the bedroom. I’m not going to be rushed this time.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You’re not still nervous?”
“Nervous?” She wanted to jump him.
“You know, most women who comment on my…proportions, do so with excitement. I wasn’t expecting it to worry you.”
Marci licked her lips and gave him a dose of honesty. “I was startled, that’s all.”
His big hand cupped her face. “But now you like it?”
Her smile came easily. “Don’t be silly. I want you, Osbourne Decker. It doesn’t matter if you’re big or small, or somewhere in between. You’re still you.”
For the longest time, Osbourne just stared at her. He had an odd, arrested look on his face. Then he gave a wry smile. “Well, I prefer big, but thank you for the sentiment.”
Without her realizing it, he’d caught the hem of her T-shirt, and before she could think to say anything he whisked it off over her head. For only a moment, he admired her breasts, saying, “You are so beautiful.” Then he bent to tug down her panties.
While on his knees, he cuddled her bare behind, drew her forward for a sizzling kiss to her navel and a slow lick down…
“Osbourne.” Stumbling, Marci stepped out of reach and climbed into the shower. The warm water trickled down her body, doing little to help compose her. From the inside out, she trembled.
Wearing a sexy half-smile, Osbourne stood again. “Shy?”
She shook her head. “Sweaty. From my workout. Perhaps we should shower first—”
He laughed. “You taste good, Marci.” After shoving down his boxers, he joined her in the shower. “But I want a better taste.”
She’d never survive this. “Okay.” Marci put her arms around him and kissed his mouth. But Osbourne allowed that for only so long. The man seemed intent on devastating her.
Using the fragrant bar of soap, he lathered his hands and washed her all over, taking his time on her breasts, her belly, her behind. The soap made his fingers slippery, adding to the sensations.
This time when he knelt, Marci braced her back against the cool tile wall and planted her feet apart. Anticipation built, but Osbourne only looked at her, stroked her belly with the backs of his knuckles, trailed his fingertips through her pubi
c hair.
Her heart threatened to punch through her ribs. She couldn’t take much more of this. She was about to encourage him to hurry things along when, after gently parting her, he leaned forward and closed his mouth over her.
“Oh, God.”
There was no prelude, no easing into things. His hot tongue moved over her, in her, and his teeth nibbled on her most delicate flesh. Marci squeezed her eyes shut and moaned.
To keep her close and still, Osbourne opened one hand over her backside. With the other, he touched her and teased her. It was enough. It was too much.
Slowly, with infinite care, Osbourne concentrated his efforts on her clitoris while working his fingers deep inside her.
Somehow, he kept her upright through the orgasm, even though her legs felt useless and her bones were like noodles. When the sensations began to fade, Osbourne stood with her and cradled her close.
Marci had no idea what to say. “Thank you” didn’t seem appropriate. “Wow” would be an understatement. “Your turn” was a given.
“Let’s dry off and head to the bed.”
Marci nodded, but she couldn’t quite stand on her own.
Chuckling, Osbourne reached for the towel and did all the work for her. By the time he finished, she’d recovered enough to walk to the bedroom under her own steam. As they went down the hall, they heard the dogs back in the kitchen, and it sounded like they were playing.
Marci felt good. Really good. Things were coming together nicely.
And when Osbourne put on his condom and stretched out over her, it was even better. Now, she thought, if only it lasts.
Six
It was nearing midnight, and Ozzie couldn’t keep his thoughts—or his hands—off her. Marci curled into his side, her naked thigh over his, her head in the crook of his shoulder. Cuddling with her left him with a deep sense of inner peace, and a physical sense of desperate need.
She was quiet, but she wasn’t asleep, not with her hot breath brushing his skin and her inquisitive fingers busy on his chest.