Wild Thing

by Tawny Weber

  Suddenly, the dog pulled back. Andrea gasped. Before either of them could move, the dog gave a flutter of its lashes, then licked its tongue over his finger.

  “Hey,” he crowed in triumph. “Check it out. I think she likes me.”

  The dog’s licking turned to nibbles. The lashes fluttered faster. If Percy didn’t know better, he’d swear the dog was flirting with him.

  “Thank you for saving her,” Andrea said, her smile as warm as her tone. Her eyes were wide with appreciation, and enough admiration to make his ego swell right along with other body parts. “I owe you.”

  “No,” he said, intending to put that idea and the whole payment-for-services-rendered stupidity to rest. Before he could, though, the dog barked. Wriggling out of Andrea’s arms, it perched both front feet on the console and nudged at Percy’s shoulder with its nose.

  “She really likes you,” Andrea said, laughing. “I think you’ve found yet another female admirer.”

  “All the ladies love me.”

  Her laughter faded. Percy frowned. Suddenly, the energy between them wasn’t sweet and flirty. It chilled, as if she’d pulled away without even moving.

  “So, what do we do next?” she asked, lifting the dog back into her lap, shushing it when it growled, and fiddling with her hair. All without meeting his gaze.

  “Next?” Percy said absently, still trying to figure out what the hell he’d done to make her pull away from him. Again.

  “Next. Do you have a plan?”

  A plan? He barely had functioning brain cells, he was so confused. Frowning, he glanced in his rearview mirror. They weren’t being followed yet, but they still needed to get out of this neighborhood as soon as possible. Then they’d figure out who was behind all this.

  “We’ll head back to your place,” he decided. “You can settle the dog, then we’ll decide what to do.”

  He took the jerk of her chin as acceptance. Starting to get pissed because he had no idea what had changed, or how to change it back, Percy finally shook his head, put the car back into gear and headed for the freeway.

  Women. He’d thought he had them figured out, until he’d met Andrea. Why the hell was it that the one he wanted the most was the hardest to understand?

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST OVER, Andrea promised herself. Soon she’d be back at her sweet salon and this would all be over. She had no doubt that Percy would solve the case of whoever had masterminded Medusa’s theft.

  He was simply that good. At investigating. At kissing her crazy. And at making women fall all over themselves to get to him. At the time she’d agreed to his payment, all she’d been able to think about was being with him again. Tasting his warm skin, feeling his hard body move over hers. He made her feel things she’d only read about in books. He made her want to do things she’d always fantasized about. And he made her believe she was sexy enough for both.

  But he made other women believe the same things.

  Women much better suited for him than she was. If even for only one wild bout of incredible sex. Because what if it was only incredible for her? What if, as soon as he saw her naked, he realized he didn’t want her that much? It wasn’t as if that hadn’t happened before. How many blind dates had her sisters sent her on with guys who, as soon as they saw her, decided they were only looking for a friend? Or a couple of guys who actually asked her out face-to-face decided after a naked romp or two that there just wasn’t any chemistry.

  Andrea blinked fast to clear the burning tears from her eyes. Sure, she wanted closure. Yes, she wanted sex with Percy, even if it was only one more time. But mostly she wanted more. And there was no way she could con herself into believing she had a chance of getting it.

  Before she could come up with a way to break the deal, or even decide if she wanted to, Medusa struggled in her arms. Her eyes were fixed on Percy. The dog was panting as if he was a big bowl of ice water and she was hot and thirsty.

  “We’ll be home soon. Nobody else is going to chase you or grab you or scare you,” Andrea promised the dog. “Calm down. I’ve got treats for you if you sit quietly.”

  The dog gave one last lurch toward Percy, then with a huff, sat her bony little butt flat on Andrea’s lap.

  “Good girl.” Reaching down at her feet to find the bag of treats she’d tossed in her purse, Andrea gasped.

  Her purse. She’d almost forgot.

  “Wait. No! I can’t go home,” she cried out in panic, hugging Medusa protectively close. “That man has my purse. My purse with my wallet and address and cell phone and contacts and everything.”

  “Damn.” Percy grimaced. “You told me that, didn’t you? I was too worried about getting you out of there to pay attention.”

  Panic gripped a tight hold on Andrea’s gut, making her want to throw up. “I can’t go home. He’s going to know where I live. He’s got my address. My mom’s address. Everything.”

  Her voice rose higher with each word, until the last came out in a squeak. Medusa, clearly having had enough drama for one day, put both tiny paws on Andrea’s shoulder to stand on her hind legs and gave a tiny growl. To soften her demand, she swiped her little tongue across Andrea’s chin.

  Overwhelmed by it all—being tied to the chair, terror for her dogs, Percy showing up, the rescue and the chase, and most of all knowing that Percy could never be hers—Andrea lost that bit of control. Tears, hot and angry, slithered down her cheeks.

  “No!” Percy shouted.

  It was hard to tell who jumped higher, Andrea or Medusa. Shocked, they both stared at him as, still driving, he waved one hand in a frantic gesture. “No crying. Not in my car. Not in my presence. I can’t handle tears. They make me feel like a big clueless doofus.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m just—”

  Before she could explain that she was feeling frustration more than anything else—at least, anything she was willing to admit—fueling her tears, Percy interrupted.

  “No. I’ll take care of things. I’ll rebook my plane ticket and go sometime next week. Don’t worry about that stupid deal, either. I’ll protect you and the dog free of charge. You’re the one who rescued her. I’ll solve this case, get that perp behind bars and make sure you’re safe before I go.” Despite the reassurance in his tone, the look on his face still said panic. “But you have to stop crying. Now. Not another tear or I’ll pull over and put you and that weird-looking dog-thing on the side of the road.”

  He wouldn’t. Her heart swelling with a warmth that scared her even more than the idea of the thug finding her again, Andrea knew Percy wouldn’t abandon them. Still, she wiped her cheeks and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath to get control of herself. No point in making her hero uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” she said as soon as she knew her voice wouldn’t crack.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced in the rearview mirror again, then shot her a frown. “Here’s the thing, though. He has your purse. If he has any brains, he has my license plate number. Which means we can’t go to my place, either. We’re going to have to hide.”

  “A hotel?” The idea of her, Percy and a hotel room held enormous appeal. Mostly enormous naked appeal.

  “No. I don’t think this guy has deep connections, but if he did, he could track my credit cards.”

  Worry once again smothered the fantasy in Andrea’s imagination. Before she could ask what they were going to do, Percy told her.

  “A friend of mine has a place in Pacifica. A condo overlooking the ocean. He’s overseas for a month or two. I have an open invitation, so we’ll go there. I’ll make some calls. We’ll figure this out.”

  “You really are a hero,” she told him quietly, finally admitting aloud how much she admired him. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Percy just shrugged, as if saving her
, her business and a dog worth almost as much as she owed on her house was no big deal. And to him, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was all in a day’s work.

  But to her? It was everything.

  Relief crashed through her like ocean waves, strong and intense. She was safe. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the leather headrest. As the warm sun beat down on her and the dog curled in her lap, she knew it would be so easy to fall in love with him. Because he was a hero. Because he always did the right thing. And, yes, because he was the sexiest and most incredible lover she’d ever imagined.

  The question was, did she love herself enough to take that chance?

  CHAPTER 7

  WITH A FRUSTRATED SIGH, Percy threw himself on the long leather couch and glared out the wide plate-glass window. The stunning view of the cliffs overlooking the Pacific did nothing to soothe his mood. It was as rough and gray as the ocean beyond.

  Tossing aside the phone he’d just used to cancel his heal-his-life vacation, he tried to figure out what to do next. The smartest thing would be to leave Andrea here, safe, and head back to his office where he had access to his computer and his sanity.

  The craziest thing would be to stay here with a woman who, while she ran hot and cold, only made him hot. He couldn’t spend more than five minutes with her without the images of her body, naked, filling his mind and making him want to revisit every delicious inch of her. Sometimes she looked at him as if she’d enjoy that just as much as he would.

  Other times, she looked at him the same way his mother used to when he’d bounced through the house with too much enthusiasm and broke one of her prized vases. With disappointed sadness and angry resignation.

  With his mom, he knew he got that look because he’d been a hyper kid who never seemed to remember the house rules. But with Andrea? What the hell had he done? He was a good guy. He treated women well. Damn well. Hell, he could offer up a list of references from women who’d swear that he was the best thing since fat-free cookies. Women usually loved him. And he loved them right back until it was time to say goodbye.

  But Andrea? He hadn’t clue one what he’d done to push her away before. Nor what put that distant look of disappointed resignation in her eyes just recently. But he’d bet money she’d shot him that same look just before she’d walked out, leaving him sleeping alone in bed with a satisfied smile and no clue that they were through.

  He glanced toward the kitchen where she had scurried soon after they’d reached the condo. After borrowing his phone to check in with her assistant on the status of the other dogs in her charge, she’d claimed she had to feed Medusa. But she’d been in there awhile, and the dog—he was only using that term so as not to hurt Andrea’s feelings—was sitting on the floor. Staring. At him.

  It was seriously the freakiest thing he’d ever seen. And that was before Andrea had put a tiny pink monogrammed diaper on it. Because the dog was due to come into heat, Andrea had told him when he’d laughed. When she’d started to explain calendars and calculations and potential messes, he’d actually begged her to stop. She’d snickered all the way to the kitchen.

  “Don’t you want your dinner?” he muttered at it, wishing it’d stop with the obsessive stares. He was starting to feel like a cartoon steak waving in front of an animated lion with its ribs poking out.

  As if that was the signal she’d been waiting for, the weird-looking animal jumped onto the couch with a graceful leap that sent her dreadlocks flying, one of them smacking Percy on the cheek. It planted its two front paws on his shoulder and stared. Just…stared.

  Percy swallowed. The thing was only about a foot tall. It was naked, for crying out loud. With seriously bad hair. So why was it so intimidating?

  “You should go see Andrea,” he said, wanting to shoo it away, but afraid to hurt it. Small dogs were scary. All fragile and, well, girlie. This one, with its flirtatious looks, wild hairdo and nude body, was even girlier than most. Toss in an insane price tag and this was one animal he’d rather not mess with. “Go on, get your dinner. And put some clothes on.”

  The dog gave him another of those lash-sweeping looks, seemed to sigh, then climbed onto his lap and curled around three times before settling into a half naked, half furry, diapered ball. Percy stared in horror as if a ticking bomb had just landed on his crotch.

  Uh-uh. No way.

  “Andrea,” he yelled.

  The dog tucked its head into his side, its little chin resting on his belt.

  “Andrea!”

  She came running out, her hair flying behind her and her eyes filled with fright. “What? Is he here?”

  Percy grimaced. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

  “No. Nothing to worry about.” He glanced at his lap and cringed. Nothing much. “Can you get this, um, her off me? How long does it take to toss kibble in a bowl?”

  With one hand still on her chest as if trying to calm a racing heart, Andrea took a deep breath, then glanced at the dog and smiled.

  “I think she likes you.” She took her sweet time crossing the room, but didn’t take the dog. Whether it was because the animal was on his lap and she was afraid he’d jump her bones if her fingers brushed his thighs, or if it was simply to torture him, he didn’t know. “And she doesn’t eat kibble. Tonight’s dinner is pâté. I had the pureed liver in a cooler in her bag, but had to steam carrots and broccoli and sauté the spinach to add to it.”

  Percy’s mouth dropped. “That dog eats better than I do.”

  “Such is the life of a diva.” Andrea laughed. “You should see her breakfast.”

  Unless he got to work on solving the case, he’d be seeing just that. While he had his own breakfast with Andrea. An amazingly appealing proposition.

  Percy looked at Andrea. She’d either used her fingers or a brush she carried in the dog’s bag, because her hair flowed like a silken curtain over her bare shoulders. The tempting curves of her body were softly highlighted by the cut of her dress, her shapely golden legs bare beneath the purple fabric. How bare? he wondered, eyeing the tiny straps holding up the bodice. Obviously unaware of his thoughts, her eyes gleamed with humor as she took in the sight of him and the dog. But it was the sweetness of her smile that grabbed him. Hooked him.

  “So,” he said after a few more seconds of silence, his voice low and husky.

  “So?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

  “So why didn’t you return my calls?” he asked casually. So off-the-cuff that it took a few seconds for her shoulders to stiffen as the import of his words sank in.

  He wanted to ask why she’d left in the first place, but a man had his pride. Very little, apparently, but his ego was desperate to cling to something.

  Andrea’s eyes went wide, and she nibbled at her bottom lip in a way that made him want to beg.

  Then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I need to feed Medusa now. Not rehash something that just…well, yeah. Doesn’t matter.”

  He wanted to demand that she answer.

  He wanted to say it mattered to him.

  He wanted to beg her to give them a real chance instead of always running away.

  But all that would smack of desperation. And no matter how desperate he felt, he’d be damned if he’d look it, too.

  So he just shrugged. “So feed her.”

  Andrea arched her brow at his surly tone. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to kill him by leaning over so the bodice of her dress gaped, showing him that yes, indeed, she was perky enough to go braless. Percy’s mouth went dry. His body stirred. Then she reached for his crotch. He almost groaned.

  Before she could touch him—oh, please, yes, touch him—there was a low, rumbling growl. His lap vibrated. He glanced down to see the dog, teeth bared, glaring at Andrea.

  “Medusa, stop that,” she ordered fi
rmly. The dog growled again, curling tighter into Percy’s lap with her tiny claws. Tiny claws that were, despite the heavy denim of his jeans, too close to anything he wanted pierced.

  “Hey, now,” he said, scooping the dog up in one hand and holding it out at arm’s length. “None of that.”

  “Sorry,” Andrea said, reaching out to take Medusa, who growled again and tried to scramble her way up Percy’s arm. “I’ve never seen her like this. She’s temperamental, of course. But she’s usually pretty sweet with me.”

  Sweet or not, she wasn’t going to Andrea. Since he didn’t want her scrambling over his head, Percy set her on the floor with a small thud.

  “Go eat,” he ordered.

  The dog stopped growling. She looked at Andrea. Then she looked at him. She fluttered her eyelashes again and with a swish of her long, sweeping tail and a toss of her dreadlocks, she turned and pranced toward the kitchen and her waiting gourmet dinner.

  “Well, then,” Andrea said with a baffled laugh. She stared at the open doorway to watch the dog sniff at the plain bowl. Medusa stepped back and glanced toward Percy, then gave a growl before digging in. “And she’s even eating out of stoneware instead of Meissen. I’m impressed.”

  Gratified at her appreciation—finally something she admired about him—Percy preened a little, giving her his most charming smile before patting the leather cushion next to him in invitation.

  Her gaze shifted from amused to intrigued, heat flaring in those gorgeous eyes. She wet her lips, glancing from him to the couch and back. Weighing the possibilities—which were obviously sexual. And the consequences—which only she had a clue to.

  “You’re surprisingly good with her,” she said, buying time.

  “The ladies, they all love me,” he admitted.

  It was like watching a switch flip. Her eyes went from flirty, sweet and considering to chilly and distant. Her shoulders stiffened, chin lifted and even though she didn’t take a step backward, she might as well have.