Home Is Where the Bark Is

by Kandy Shepherd

  “Oh, Serena.” Now he recalled she had kept trying to interrupt his lavish exclamations of praise.

  “I . . . I wanted to impress you.” Her voice trailed away.

  She looked so woebegone, her makeup smudged beneath her eyes, her hair dampened into waves that fell over her forehead.

  He got up from the table and took the few steps needed to take her in his arms. “You impress me just by the fact you wanted to impress me,” he said. “If you get my meaning.”

  Wordlessly, she nodded.

  “What about the cookies?” he asked.

  “Maddy,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  Scratch that thought of Serena making a farmer’s wife. Not in the cooking department anyway. With her empathy with animals and her physical strength she might prefer to work outdoors with him.

  “I hope you told Maddy how much I liked the cookies,” he said.

  “She was delighted with the feedback; she was testing the recipe for her magazine.”

  “What about that amazing salad?”

  Serena pulled back to face him. A watery smile struggled to life. “All my own work. The avocado dressing is my mom’s recipe. You’d expect good salad in a vegan household, wouldn’t you?”

  “You can make that salad for me anytime.”

  “But not the lasagna.” Even she seemed to gag at the very mention of it. “I wonder what went wrong? It seemed so easy when Maddy did it.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never cooked lasagna myself. But the pasta sheets tasted kind of uncooked.” He decided to gloss over the inedible eggplant.

  “But Maddy didn’t cook them; she put them straight in the pan.” She paused, frowning. Then he saw the lightbulb moment illuminate her face. “I don’t think I bought the ‘no boiling required’ kind. That was it. I’ll go to the kitchen and check the pack.”

  She went to pull away from him, but Nick stopped her. “Serena, who cares? You tried.You impressed me.”

  “And next time you’ll cook.”

  “That’s right.”

  He used his index finger to tenderly wipe away the smears of black makeup from under her eyes. She sniffed. “I’m not great with onions,” she said.

  “Buy the frozen kind all chopped up,” he said. He was all for shortcuts when it came to cooking.

  “I guess,” she said, her eyes still vulnerable.

  He bent his head and kissed her. She kissed him right back, her mouth eager and responsive.

  And suddenly that other kind of hunger was the only thing on Nick’s mind.

  Twenty-two

  Nick was strong, he was tough, he was smart. He was, without a doubt, the most physically attractive man she had ever met. Tonight, in black jeans and a gray shirt, he was the hottest of the hot.

  But the tipping point for Serena was that Nick was kind.

  He could have reacted very differently to the lasagna debacle. On more than one occasion she had called him a liar. “Liar” was a fitting label for her tonight. But he had not chosen to use it.

  “The dinner was a disaster,” she murmured against his mouth, “not the kind of impression I wanted to make.”

  He kissed the side of her mouth in a way that sent shivers of longing through her body. “I can think of other ways to impress me,” he said.

  “Let me guess,” she murmured. “Should I start like this?”

  She slid her hands through his hair and angled his head down to meet hers. She pressed teasing little kisses along the line of his jaw, then stopped at the corner of his mouth. Then planted another line of kisses ending at the other corner of his mouth. She kissed his nose. Then the line of his cheekbone. Gently, she swept tiny, featherlight kisses over his eyelids. Only then did she kiss his mouth.

  What started as fun quickly turned urgent as her lips parted under his, her tongue darted in to mate with his. She pulled away. “I think I could impress you more if we were somewhere more comfortable,” she murmured.

  “The living room,” he said. He walked her backward until they reached the sofa and he gently pushed her down onto the seat.

  Soon kissing didn’t seem enough.

  As Nick kissed Serena, her throaty little murmurs of delight sent his senses into overdrive. He ached so much to make her his that it hurt. The part of his brain that wasn’t fogged with want began to think logistics. Stairs. Bedroom. Bed.

  She started to unbutton his shirt, first one button and then another. Slid her warm, sure hands onto the bare skin of his chest. He reacted with a shudder that reverberated through his body in shock waves of excitement. Serena laughed against his mouth, a low sensual sound full of pleasure and promise.

  He pulled her tighter. Felt her heart pounding against his chest. Found the zipper on the back of her dress and tugged. Pushed her dress off the smooth skin of her shoulders and down to her waist. She wiggled to make it easy for him, kissed him more fervently as he brushed his fingers over the swell of her breasts. She gave a little moan of appreciation. Her hands slid down to rest at his waist. Then she hooked her thumbs into his belt.

  Sofa.

  Here. Right now.

  He broke from the kiss, eased her back against the sofa, feasted on the sight of her, that glorious hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, her mouth pink and swollen from his kisses, her breasts . . .

  Her breasts. Wrapped in a black, lacy bra, they were beyond perfect, her tight, aroused nipples pushing against the lace. Her body was even more perfect than the chocolate-coated images the ad campaign and calendar had hinted at. He cupped her breasts in his hands, thumbed the hard peaks, and she pushed herself closer with another of those insanely arousing murmurs.

  Serena.

  He kissed the delicate curve of her ear, bent his head to kiss the beautiful hollow of her throat, intoxicated by her scent. Pushed aside the lace of her bra—

  Only to feel her tense.

  With great effort he stopped, pulled back, struggled to get his breath under control.

  “You okay?” he managed to get out.

  Even the floor would be fine.

  She was looking over his shoulder. “We’re being watched,” she whispered.

  In an instant Nick was on full alert. Off the sofa. Crouched on the balls of his feet, tensed, his hands held flat in front of him ready to fend off danger. Fight if necessary.

  To meet the intense gaze of his dog.

  “Mack!” Nick growled.

  Pleased at the sudden attention, Mack made his ponderous way closer toward the sofa. His mouth was creased in his doggy smile, his tail wagging.

  “Stay!” Nick commanded.

  At the sound of stifled laughter, Nick turned back to Serena. She leaned toward him, her black dress rumpled around her waist, her breasts heaving with the effort of suppressing her mirth.

  “I meant we were being watched by a dog,” she said, her eyes bright with humor. “Not a stalker. But I so appreciate your readiness to fight for me.”

  That Serena could joke about a stalker was something Nick’s brain only scarcely registered.

  He turned back to glare at Mack. Already he loved the animal. But right now he did not appreciate the interruption.

  “Bed,” he commanded, pointing at the fireplace. “Now.”

  “Bed? Okay,” said Serena, her voice rich with laughter. “I’m good with that.”

  As Nick watched, stupefied, she stood up from the sofa. Her dress slid down the length of her hips and legs to pool at her feet. She wore only her bra, a triangle of black panties, and those follow-me-home shoes strapped around her ankles. Nick had never seen anything so seductive.

  Serena enjoyed the conflicting looks that played across Nick’s face. Impatience. Humor. Lust. And something else. Something warm and wonderful in those pale blue eyes that made her quickly step out of her dress and take the next few steps to reach him. She twined her arms around his neck.

  “I don’t want an audience; do you?” she murmured.

  He swallowed. “You mean the dogs?” />
  She nodded. “Much as I love them, I’d be happier if they were on the other side of a closed door.”

  He picked her up. All five-ten of her. As if she weighed nothing.

  “Bed it is,” he growled as he headed toward the stairs.

  Serena squealed. She protested. She laughed. But Nick did not put her down until they reached the top of the stairs. And she loved every second of it. He made her feel cherished, protected, and on fire with desire for him.

  He kicked open the door of his bedroom and pulled her in after him. She got an impression of white-painted walls with a big iron bed in the center, the linen in crisp, blue-and-white stripes. But her senses were too taken up with Nick to register anything else. His taste. His scent. His hard, muscle-packed body. The sound of his ragged breathing.

  They kissed, urgently, hungrily. With impatient fingers she fumbled open the remaining buttons on his shirt, tugged it off him. She let him deal with his belt but helped him push down his jeans. They broke the kiss as he kicked off his shoes, followed by his jeans. Then he stood in just his boxers.

  She caught her breath. His body was magnificent. Broad shoulders, the muscles of his chest and arms pumped and defined. Just the right amount of hair on his chest. No wonder he had the strength to carry her up the stairs as if she were a featherweight. His legs, too, were muscled, long, and firm. She noticed a white scar on his right knee that stood out against his tan—no doubt the aftermath of his knee surgery.That was the only flaw in his masculine perfection.

  But Nick did not give her time to stop and admire him. He pulled her to him again. Skin against skin. Her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her hips against his. She thrilled to the evidence of his arousal. She was ready for him, too. Knew that from the very first day she’d seen him at Paws-A-While she’d wanted this, wanted him. Wanted him so much she trembled.

  He pulled her down to sit next to him on the bed, then untied her shoes, one after the other, making the act an erotic caress. Who knew her instep was an erogenous zone?

  Then he cradled her face between his large hands, tilting her to meet his gaze, warm now with passion and tenderness. His voice was deep and husky. “This is special. Us.You know that.”

  She turned to kiss the palm of his hand. “Yes,” she murmured. “I know that.”

  Her heart swelled with emotion so strong it thumped-thumped-thumped against her chest. But she felt incapable of articulating just how special this was to her. She would have to show him.

  Then he had her bra unhooked and there was nothing between them but their underwear. And then not even that.

  He lowered her to the bed. She gave herself up to bliss as he stroked and explored, discovered her most sensitive places, just what pleased her. His breath in the hollow behind her ears, his tongue teasing her nipples, his fingers trailing across the backs of her knees, her thighs, the curve of her hip before moving to more intimate caresses. He groaned his appreciation as she did the same for him, glorying in his body, exulting in his response. His rapid breathing, his tension, made her sense he was on the edge, straining to hold back. To wait until she was ready.

  No need. She arched against him, loving the feeling of his body against hers, the tickle of his chest hair against her breasts, urging him. “Now, Nick. Please.”

  He took care of protection. “Now,” he murmured as he entered her.

  She welcomed him to her body. She wanted him, oh, how she wanted him. She knew she was falling in love with him.

  So why did she freeze as soon as he started to move inside her?

  He was so strong, so heavy, and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart started to beat wildly, not with passion but with panic. Her old fears of being dominated. Of losing control. Of losing herself.

  Nick seemed to know straight away. He stilled. Raised himself on his elbows. Stroked the damp hair away from her forehead. “It’s okay,” he said in a deep, soothing voice.

  Then slowly, without breaking their intimate connection, he rolled her over so she lay on top of him. She pushed herself up so she straddled him. Immediately, the feeling of suffocation lifted. She took in a deep gulp of air. Then another.

  This was embarrassing. Not what this amazing man would expect from Serena St. James. But then, hadn’t Dave told her that her admirers would be disappointed at how the reality of her didn’t match up to her posters?

  She couldn’t even cook Nick a lasagna.

  And now this.

  Tears smarted her eyes. She bit down on her lip to stop its wobbling. Then turned her head away so Nick wouldn’t see. So she couldn’t see his disappointment. His anger, maybe.

  But he cupped his hand under her chin and gently turned her to face him. She made herself meet his gaze, dreading his reaction. All she saw was concern and compassion. Those qualities that so surprised her in this tough PI.

  “I . . . I . . .” she stammered. But he placed his finger on her mouth to hush her.

  “Hey, boss lady,” he said. “You set the pace. You be in charge.” He flung his arms behind his head in a gesture of surrender, his biceps rippling as he did so.

  “Really?” she said, amazed at the instant rush of arousal that dispelled the last of her anxiety.

  “Just think of me as your own personal sex slave.”

  This big, muscular, wonderful man her sex slave?

  Serena laughed, a throaty, joyous laugh. Felt an exhilarating freedom. And an immense gratitude that he understood her so well.

  She narrowed her eyes in mock command. “Okay, sex slave. Lie back and listen.You are there for my pleasure.You only move when I let you move. You only touch when I say you can touch. Do you get that?”

  “Yes, boss lady,” he growled.

  The gleam in his eyes showed he was as turned on as she was. Hey, this could be fun. She started to move rhythmically against him. It felt so good. He felt so good.

  He let her find her own pace, her own rhythm, as she rode him. “Now you touch . . .” she started, but suddenly she couldn’t find her breath. “Oh!”

  Pleasure started to ripple through her in ever-tightening waves. “Nick,” she gasped. He took that as an order. And when he thrust up to meet her, his power and strength sent her soaring into climax, crying out his name and urging him to come with her.

  Nick woke hours later, hungry. Not for Serena. He would always be hungry for Serena. That was a given.

  No. He was replete with sexual satisfaction. Making love with Serena had been everything he’d dreamed of and more. The second time had been even better than the first. By the third they’d gotten to know each other’s rhythms as if they’d been together for years. But he needed food. The day had started so early at the airport. Dinner had been a no-show.

  Serena slept with her head on his shoulder, her dark hair spilling across his chest and one long, smooth leg resting over his. He slid out of bed so as not to disturb her. She gave a little murmur of protest deep in her throat but then nestled into the pillow to sleep again.

  He went downstairs to the kitchen. Thawed a frozen pizza in the microwave and then slid it into the oven, turned to the highest setting. He watched it through the glass door of the oven, willing the cheese on top to bubble and cook quicker.

  Then was surprised by warm arms sliding around his waist from behind.

  “Do I smell pizza?” Serena murmured.

  He turned around. She wore a towel wrapped around her. It just covered her breasts and barely covered her bottom. Replete? Who said he was replete?

  “Want to share?” he asked.

  “I’m starved,” she said.

  Tempted as he was to divest her of the towel then and there, he decided he needed fuel to keep up his stamina. Being her sex slave was demanding work.

  They sat on barstools in the kitchen. She must have been as hungry as he was for she ate in silence interrupted only by appreciative little murmurs that were maddeningly like the noises she made when she was aroused.

  “Enough,
” she said finally, leaving her last slice only half eaten. “Thank you.” She licked her lips and sucked on her fingers. Nick felt his eyes glaze as he watched her. He put down his own slice half eaten, too.

  She looked him in the eye and smiled. She knew exactly what he was thinking, the minx.

  “Just what I needed,” she said.

  She got off her stool and turned away. The towel started to slip from her body. She looked back over her shoulder at him. The expression on her face was just like in the posters that had made her famous.

  “Are you coming back upstairs?” she asked. “I hope so. Because it’s my turn to be your sex slave now.”

  Twenty-three

  Of all the jobs Nick had dreamed about during the long years at college and his training at the FBI, tying Halloween bandannas around the necks of a posse of pampered pooches wasn’t one of them.

  The bandannas were black, printed with orange, glow-in-the-dark pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns and the Paws-A-While logo in one corner. As bandannas went, they were quite stylish. He didn’t even object to wearing one himself as the Paws-A-While staff had been instructed to do on October 31.

  The bad news was that he wasn’t great at tying bandannas on dogs, especially ones that protested. The good news was that Serena noted the trouble he was in and came over to help him.

  He looked up from where he was tying a bandanna around the neck of the sad-eyed basset hound. Even though the dog was placid enough, she still moved around enough to make it difficult for Nick to tie the square of fabric the way the boss lady had directed.

  Serena smiled as she knelt down next to him on the playroom floor. The smile she reserved for dogs was nothing compared to the smile she gave to him, her lover. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have fallen head over heels just because of that smile.

  “Need some help?” she asked in her soft, husky voice.