[The Sons of Lily Moreau 03] - Capturing the Millionaire

by Marie Ferrarella

  Kayla placed a dish of food beside the dog, who merely turned his head away. “That’s beef stroganoff,” she told Winchester, just in case his keen sense of smell had deserted him. “Your favorite, remember?” But as she tried to coax him to sample at least a little, the dog turned his head to the other side. He had been eating less and less, ever since Alain had left. “Look, I know how you feel, but starvation isn’t the answer. Don’t make me force-feed you, Winchester.”

  His only response was to sigh.

  That made two of them.

  Chapter 11 When Alain first placed the call to Kayla, to his annoyance, he experienced all the nervous anticipation of the town geek asking the town beauty to the prom. So when he got her answering machine instead of her, he found himself doubly frustrated.

  Assuming she was out on call, he waited until the following morning to try again. And again. And still again. Each time, her phone rang ten times, then her recorded message came on, calmly asking for details and a phone number where the caller could be reached.

  He didn’t want to talk to a machine, even if it was her voice on the recording. He wanted to talk to her, to hear Kayla say his name. To hear the surprise in her voice because he’d hunted down her phone number and made good on his promise to get back to her about the fund-raiser.

  Where was she? Out on a call involving some sort of lengthy emergency with someone’s beloved pet? Or was she out all night with another man? Lying in someone else’s arms the way she’d lain in his?

  He knew he had no right to be feeling what he was right now. After all, the woman couldn’t be expected to sit by the fireplace, pining away for him.

  It didn’t change how he was feeling. No strings, remember? The way you always want it, right? He slammed his briefcase shut on the kitchen counter. The lid bounced a little before settling down again. If there were no strings, why the hell did he feel so damn tangled up inside? And why, when her answering machine came on after his fifth attempt to get her, did he feel something akin to molten lava bubbling up within him, ready to spill out on anyone and anything? She could just be out with a friend, not a man. Alain hadn’t a shred of evidence to support the wild, half-formed thoughts in his head.

  It was as if despite all his legal training, his sharp mind had somehow turned to pudding, of absolutely no use to him.

  He picked up the receiver again, then with a curse, let it drop back down in the cradle. There was no point in hitting Redial: he’d only get the machine. Disappointment infiltrated, leaving a larger imprint than he thought possible. He’d been anticipating giving Kayla the good news that he had gotten his mother on board about the fund-raiser, and that Lily was even now pulling it together. He wanted, he realized, to reappear in Kayla’s life, galloping up on a white charger and being her knight in shining armor.

  He wanted Kayla to be grateful to him. Hell, he wanted Kayla, pure and simple. Ordinarily, the impressions left by women who passed through his life faded rather swiftly. But this time, nothing had faded. If anything, it had increased. He vividly remembered every moment of their lovemaking.

  Remembered and longed for more. Maybe he was coming down with something, Alain thought. Even so, he picked up the receiver one more time. This time, when he got the recording, he left a message, doing his best not to sound as put out that she wasn’t there as he felt.

  Just as he started to speak, he heard the doorbell. He ignored it and left his message.

  “Kayla, this is Alain Dulac. I’ve got an update on that fund-raiser I mentioned to you. Give me a call back when you get in.”

  Whoever was at his door was now knocking. Alain quickly rattled off his cell number into the phone, then hung up. The knocking grew louder. He needed to get going or he’d be late for work. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with whoever was on the other side of his door. Probably some impatient fool who was going to offer to do his gardening for him at a cut rate.

  Or worse, it could be someone out to save his immortal soul by trying to convert him to the only true religion. He knew what his soul needed right now, and it had nothing to do with converting.

  Alain was feeling far less than friendly as he picked up his briefcase and crossed to the front door, ready to go out. Whoever was there had damn well picked the wrong morning to throw a sales pitch in his direction.

  A few cryptic words intended to send the intruder on his way hovered on his lips as Alain swung open the front door. He stopped dead, the words aborted.

  Kayla. And a dog.

  She summoned all her energy into her smile, wondering why she felt so nervous. This was only an errand of mercy.

  For who, you or the shepherd? “You need a dog.”

  Stunned, Alain stared at Kayla, the sunlight filtering through her red hair, creating an aura about her as if she were Venus surfing on a half shell. For a second, he was convinced that he was hallucinating. But she was still standing there after his heart had slammed twice against his chest. And hallucinations didn’t come with overly eager German shepherds, reared up on their hind legs, madly licking his face while their tails doubled as metronomes set to triple-time.

  Alain stumbled backward, whether from the force of the dog, or the surprise of having her materialize on his doorstep, he wasn’t completely sure. “Winchester, down,” Kayla ordered, giving the leash one hard tug. The dog reluctantly obeyed, dropping down to all fours again, but never took his eyes off the object of his affection, and his tongue remained at the ready to deliver another prolonged, hearty greeting.

  “You’re here,” Alain heard himself saying in disbelief. “Yes, I am.” She tugged on the dog’s bright-red leash again as Winchester, newly separated from his cast, gave every indication that for once he was going to openly disobey one of her commands.

  “How did you find me?” Alain asked in stunned surprise. He looked down at the barely harnessed ball of energy. “Did your dog track me?”

  “Your address was on the check you gave me for the organization,” she reminded him. As a lawyer, this man was not the sharpest she’d ever encounter. Winchester began to tug again, and she wrapped the leash around her hand twice. “And he isn’t my dog.” She saw Alain raise his eyebrow quizzically, and decided that made him look sensuously adorable. “Apparently, he’s yours.”

  “I don’t understand.” Out of the corner of his eye, Alain saw his neighbor from across the street on her way to deposit garbage into one of the dark-green pails at the side of her house. She was blatantly watching them, as if she’d tuned into her own private soap opera. The woman had always taken a very active interest in both his and his brother Georges’s life.

  Alain stepped forward and placed his hand on the small of Kayla’s back, gently urging her into his house. “Why don’t you and Winchester come in?” She was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to invite her inside. Why did he have to look so good? She was kind of hoping that the dire circumstances of their encounter had been what made him seem so attractive to her. But in the light of the Orange County sun, he looked even better than he had in Shelby.

  With a nod, she stepped inside his house, careful to keep herself between Winchester and him until the dog calmed down a little and got accustomed to seeing Alain again.

  That might go for both of you, she told herself wryly. “Thanks,” she said aloud. Alain closed the front door. He could almost hear the woman across the street sigh in exasperation. For the time being, he deposited his briefcase by the door. Looking down at the prancing German shepherd, he realized that the dog no longer had any bandages on his right front leg. “He’s all healed.”

  Kayla nodded. “I took the cast off on Friday.” She petted the animal, though Winchester hardly noticed. He was trying to get closer to Alain. With a grin, Alain ran his hand over the dog’s head. If he had any intention of stopping, Winchester wouldn’t allow it. The dog kept repositioning his head under his hand each time it passed over his fur. Alain laughed and continued petting.

  He looked back at Kayl
a, and something else occurred to him. There were no other dogs with her. “Where’s the rest of your posse?” “With friends.” She’d divided up the animals among other volunteers in the group, the way she always did whenever her rescue missions took her out of town. This time, she wasn’t all that certain she was going to be back before nightfall. “All except Winchester.” She nodded at the dog. “He wanted to come see you.”

  Alain’s mouth curved and the next words out of his mouth told her he was humoring her. The man didn’t understand animals. But he would. Winchester would teach him.

  “He told you that?”

  “As a matter of fact—” she smiled down at the dog, then raised her eyes to Alain’s face “—yes.” The second she looked at him, Alain felt something tighten within his gut. Damn, but he could get lost in those green eyes. He rallied as best he could. “I had no idea he was such a talented dog. How long has he been talking?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t need words to make yourself understood. He all but stopped eating when you left, and now he just mopes around all day.” She could see the denial forming on Alain’s lips, but she had more proof. “You left a handkerchief behind, and he carries it around with him wherever he goes.” To prove her point, she dug into a pocket of her jeans and produced a very mangled scrap of cloth.

  Alain looked at the handkerchief skeptically. “Is he sick?”

  Winchester grabbed the handkerchief from her hand, then let it drop at Alain’s feet, raising his head and looking at his adopted master soulfully. “Lovesick, maybe.” Suddenly eager and playful, Winchester began to run in circles around him. Only Kayla’s sternly voiced command of “Winchester, sit. Stay,” finally stopped the whirling dog. Alain looked at him, stunned. “And I’m the object of this lovesickness?”

  She felt as if she was answering for both Winchester and herself. But he didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need to know that standing here, looking at him, was making her stomach knot. Nothing could come of this. They were from two different worlds, belonged to two different spheres.

  And yet…

  Kayla inclined her head. “Apparently.”

  Alain scratched behind the dog’s ear and Winchester slipped into dog heaven, thumping his foot in rhythmic ecstasy. “But I’m not a dog.” “Maybe lovesick’s the wrong word,” she allowed. It’s more applicable to me than the shepherd. “But he’s been listless ever since you left. Doesn’t play, doesn’t really eat, hardly drinks. Here.” She dug into her pocket and placed a few dog treats in his palm, closing his hand with both of hers. For a second, something leaped up inside of her. It stayed, levitating, as his eyes held hers. She reminded herself to breathe. “Offer him this.”

  “All right.” Alain no sooner held out the treats than Winchester snapped his jaws over the two bone-shaped crackers—taking care not to injure the fingers that held them.

  Alain instinctively pulled back his hand, then examined it. No marks, no pain. He looked down at the munching dog. Winchester devoured the treats like the hungry dog he actually was. “Wow.”

  Kayla folded her arms before her chest. “I rest my case.” Alain studied the dog for a moment. Granted, Winchester was a handsome animal, now that he looked at him, but that didn’t alter anything. “So what are we going to do about this?”

  She gazed at him, her conviction clear in her eyes. “I think that’s pretty obvious. He’s your dog.” And she doubted if anything would readily change that. The German shepherd had adopted Alain, instinctively knowing he would have a good home with him.

  But Alain was shaking his head. As if he believed he had a real say in the matter. “I don’t have any room for a dog.” Kayla didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she slowly looked around the space she was standing in. The living room had vaulted, cathedral ceilings that gave the impression of vast, open spaces. To the left was a staircase leading up to the second floor. Beyond the living room was a formal dining room. The kitchen, she imagined, was beyond that, and who knew how many rooms there were in total. When her gaze returned to his face, she didn’t try hiding the fact that she thought he was dead wrong.

  “You could fit my place in here twice over, with room to spare, and I have six dogs and nine puppies,” she pointed out.

  But Alain liked being free. That meant not having anyone depending on him for anything. He didn’t bother trying to reconcile this with the fact that he’d always felt he would be there for either of his brothers—or his mother—should the need arise. Be that as it may, he wasn’t ready to take on more.

  He tried again, knowing, somehow, that this might be a losing battle. “I don’t know the first thing about owning a dog.”

  There were books for that. And she could offer her services in the short run. The biggest hurdle had already been vaulted: the dog loved him.

  She grinned, stooping down to Winchester’s level and running her hands over his back affectionately. “That’s because you don’t own the dog, the dog owns you. I can give you a few pointers if you like, and he is housebroken and trained. Besides that, I’d say that Winchester pretty much made up his mind about you. If I take him back with me, he just might waste away, pining after you.”

  “You really think that?”

  There was no hesitation on her part. She was dead serious. “I really do.” Alain looked at her for a long moment. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d missed her. That he was actually indebted to Winchester because the dog had brought her back into his life, for however short a period. But he couldn’t. Something—selfpreservation?—kept the words from coming out.

  The best he could do was fall back on an excuse. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  She wanted to believe him, but if that was the case, if he had been trying to get her, what had kept him from succeeding? “Oh?”

  He shrugged, suddenly feeling awkward. He never felt awkward. What was she doing to him? “I guess you were on your way here.” “You called this morning?” When he nodded, she was more than willing to believe him, even as she told herself that the man was a smooth talker and was probably only saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

  And she did; she wanted to hear that so badly. Wanted to hear that he missed her. That he had felt at loose ends, the way she had ever since he’d left.

  “Why?” she asked, holding her breath, telling herself that she was an idiot—but she just couldn’t make herself run for cover. Not yet. “That fund-raiser I mentioned.” Was it his imagination, or did she look a tad disappointed? He’d thought for sure this was the best way to get on her good side. Alain forged on. “My mother thinks it’s a great idea.”

  Try as she might, Kayla couldn’t quite picture the very flamboyant Lily Moreau heading up a fund-raiser for abused, abandoned German shepherds. But if the woman was actually willing, who was she to question that? Heaven knew they could use the money. Kayla’s own bank account was swiftly dwindling because the animals needed so much. So many who came to her attention were sick, hurt or both.

  She nodded. “That’s great. Any idea when it might be?” “Saturday night.” The man was nothing if not full of surprises. She couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly. “This Saturday night?”

  “Yes.” Alain gauged her tone. There was a note of hesitation in her voice. “You have plans.”

  “No, nothing out of the ordinary,” she qualified quickly, not wanting him to know that she spent the most social night of the week at home, grooming her dogs. If the truth be known, she hadn’t gone out with a man, much less to bed with one the way she had with him, since she had left Brett. She had no time to invest in a relationship, only to be disappointed. Her dogs gave her all the affection she needed.

  Or had, until Alain set her bed on fire.

  She squared her shoulders like a warrior. “But I would have appreciated a little bit of a warning ahead of time.”

  “I did try calling you this morning,” he reminded her. His eyes narrowed just a touch as he added, “And last night
.” She hadn’t gotten in until almost midnight. When she’d walked through the door, the dogs had surrounded her. All except Winchester. That was when she’d more or less made up her mind to bring him with her on her run down to the shelter in Anaheim. “Last night Jake Walton had a sick cow.”

  He supposed that made sense. Still, the type of animal surprised him. “You treat cows?” “I’m a vet,” she reminded him. “Sorry, I thought you just worked on dogs.” Damn, that sounded lame. He sounded lame. Where was all that charm that came so easily to him? Where was that magnetism that he’d been told all but radiated from him? Why did he feel like some awkward schoolboy because the woman who’d kept popping up in his head when he’d least expected it had done the same on his doorstep?

  Kayla supposed, if she lived in a city, she would have narrowed her field. But she was the only vet for miles, and that broadened her playing field. “Dogs are my specialty, but I pretty much treat any animal that needs me.”

  “And lawyers,” he interjected.

  She had no fondness for lawyers. Brett had been a lawyer. “I wasn’t treating a lawyer, I was treating an injury.”

  Winchester had turned his attention to the briefcase on the floor. Rescuing it, Alain remembered what he’d been doing when he opened the door. Leaving.

  “I’ve got to get to work, but why don’t you make yourself at home? I should be able to be back before six.” He would make sure of that. “We could—” Kayla stopped him before he continued and got completely entangled in the wrong idea. She didn’t want him thinking that she’d used Winchester as an excuse to see him. That would be putting all the cards in Alain’s hand.

  “This isn’t exactly a social call,” she told him.

  The way she said it had him pulling up short. “Oh?”

  “I had to come down to see about a German shepherd they’re holding at the Anaheim shelter. She’s scheduled for termination—” God, she hated the way that word tasted in her mouth “—by the end of the week. Since I was going to be down here anyway, and it seemed like you were the cure for what ailed him, I thought I’d drop off Winchester with you first.”