Valentine Pets & Kisses: Fourteen All-New, Sweet Valentine Romances

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Well, I did walk with him all the way to your place,” Jenna admitted. Melisa had volunteered to let Little Treat stay at her apartment since their mother was allergic to dogs, and Jenna was living at the family home during her visit to put together the show.

  “Then we should retrace your steps,” Melisa said. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Actually, you two should go on your date,” Jenna said. “I feel bad already. Now that we know where Little Treat went, I don’t need you two anymore.”

  Rob’s eyebrow raised and he squinted. “You don’t know where the puppy went. You have a theory, but it’s unproven.”

  Jenna pushed from the table, leaving her coffee cup. “I’m sure he went back. The lady said Little Treat always shows up for dinner first. He has a clock inside of him and he knows when it’s dinnertime, and he’s the first to stop playing and get in the chow line.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Melisa insisted. “It’s dark and you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone.”

  “No, not necessary,” Jenna argued. Her younger sister had pined after Rob all these years and had finally gotten together with him over Christmas. Rob was an Emergency Room doctor and it was rare for him to have a Friday evening off-duty. The last thing they needed was an older sister who couldn’t even keep a dog, much less a steady boyfriend. Not that she cared. The flakes who went out with her were only doing it to enhance their image—to get talked about in the fashion community, or maybe scam off an introduction to one of her fashion models. The worst were the athletes who one-upped each other on which supermodel they had as arm candy—not that she qualified since she was several inches too short and ten pounds too heavy.

  “I’m going now,” Jenna said. “Now that I have a plan of action, I’ll be fine.”

  Melisa cell phone rang, and she held up her hand to stop Jenna from leaving.

  “You have the puppy?” Melisa’s voice rose. “It’s a basset hound, right? Long brown ears, black torso, sausage shaped.”

  Jenna clasped her hands and closed her eyes, thanking God. Yes. Someone had found Little Treat. Connor would fall in love with the puppy and everything would go well with her show. Little Treat was her good luck charm. Her mascot, and even though he drooled a little too much, the lady at the rescue assured her that firemen loved drooling dogs. After all, they loved water. That made a lot of sense.

  Melisa hung up the phone. “Good news. Larry found the puppy and took him to his apartment. It’s not far from here. Just south of Golden Gate Park.”

  “Awesome.” Rob glanced at his watch. “Lacy and Brandon are at the Opera House already, and if we hurry, we can still meet them out front and have dinner.”

  “Great. Then you guys drop me off at Larry’s. I’m sure he’ll give me a ride back.” Jenna didn’t want to inconvenience her sister further. “I don’t want you to miss your opera.”

  Chapter 4

  “I can’t believe you’re Jenna Hart’s dog,” Larry said to Harley as he poured dried dog food into a bowl.

  Harley only grunted while he inhaled the food, crunching and smacking his lips. Crumbs flew from the bowl and when he shook his head, his ears flapped water from the water section of the bowl.

  “You’re a man’s dog. Look at you.” Larry scratched and bunched up Harley’s skin. “You slobber, you fart, you have bad breath. What would a fashion designer want you for? I’d picture her with a greyhound, or a fancy, sleek Afghan hound with long, flowing hair, all elegant and wearing a jeweled collar.”

  Truth? He didn’t want to give Harley back to the likes of Jenna Hart. She lived in New York City and was only home for the holidays, flying in to show her pretty face, then disappearing back to whatever fancy-smancy lifestyle fashion designers lived.

  A basset hound puppy didn’t fit.

  Harley slurped the water in the dish, splashing it all over the floor. He shook his head, belched loudly, and put his front legs on Larry, begging to be picked up.

  “Oh, you cutie pie, you.” Larry lifted Harley onto the sofa and switched on the basketball game. The dog settled onto his lap like he belonged there.

  Larry stared at the game flashing across the screen while he rubbed Harley’s back. What could he say to Jenna to let him keep the puppy? If she was trying to make some sort of reverse fashion statement with the dog, well, that would be insulting. Contrast the beautiful with the ugly.

  Maybe it was a ploy to get men’s attention—a drop-dead gorgeous woman with a butt-ugly dog. Whatever her problem, he wasn’t about to let her solve it with little Harley. She’d always seemed high strung the few times he’d met her—not that she’d ever deigned to speak to him. Oh no. Miss Beauty Queen was always surrounded by slick guys—the type with gleaming teeth, smooth hair, sporting Italian suits and shoes, and driving European luxury vehicles.

  “I’m not going to let her use you,” Larry said to Harley who’d fallen asleep already. The puppy’s throat rumbled like the snores of an old man. “She’d probably put you in the garage and wear earplugs to go to sleep.”

  He pictured poor little Harley left out in the cold, his eyes large and droopy, while Jenna held a blond Pomeranian puppy whose puff-ball fur was scented with perfume. A jeweled collar would be full of tags, the most prominent, a heart shaped glittery one with the name Princess etched in rhinestone.

  Nope. Jenna was definitely not the type of woman who’d play tug-of-war with an old sock or pick ticks off a hound dog’s ears.

  The buzz of his doorbell jolted him from his dark musings. Larry gently moved the sleeping puppy and stood to get the door. It had to be Jenna. He wasn’t expecting anyone else.

  God help him, but he was too tired to deal with a high-strung female—no matter how pretty she was to look at. Jenna had none of the kindness of her sister Melisa, and all of the hard edges of a woman who only cared about her career—climbing the world of high fashion.

  Larry opened the door and glared at the bewitching beauty. Of course she was dressed in high style—teal colored tight pants, a low-cut white tank top under a strangely shaped batwing sweater, big colorful rocks around her neck and ankle boots.

  Only problem. She was truly beautiful and shapely, and her eyes were green and mysterious, and she was staring at him—studying his face and not saying a word.

  “Come on in,” Larry said in a gruff voice, turning the scarred side of his face away. He wasn’t a sideshow exhibit and he definitely wasn’t to be pitied.

  # # #

  Jenna hadn’t meant to stare. Actually, she’d never paid Larry any attention. Sure, she’d heard the stories of his exploits—how he’d saved five children from a raging house fire. He was a hero—a legend in the fire department. But she’d never truly considered him as a real, living, breathing man. A man who took all the air from her lungs.

  Big and tall. Solid, taking up the entire doorway, and ruggedly handsome, even with the web of reddish-purple scars and ridges, the mottled skin and missing ear. But his eyes were both whole, and he had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.

  So she stared like an idiot, until he backed into the apartment and cleared his throat. “You lost your dog?”

  “Yes, you found him?” She still couldn’t take her eyes off him, although he’d turned his face by now, keeping the scarred side away from her.

  “Not sure if it’s the same one. Did you have a collar on him?”

  “No, it’s right here.” Jenna dug into her purse. “I hadn’t put it on him yet.”

  Larry’s mouth tensed to a straight line and he all but glared at her, as if she said something to upset him.

  She stepped around him and found Little Treat sleeping on the couch. The sweet little thing was snoring, but his nose was still busy, twitching and sniffing. It seemed too big for his tiny face. He opened one lazy eye, then yawned and wagged his tail.

  “There you are,” she said, dangling the collar. “You ready to go home?”

  “How can you be sure this dog’s the exact one
you lost?” The man behind her challenged. His bulk blocked out the light and cast a shadow over her.

  Jenna picked up Treat and looked at his belly. “It’s a boy. Black body, pale tummy. Brown ears with a splotchy head, white feet and tip of tail. Of course I’d know my dog.”

  Treat obliged by licking her, leaving a trail of drool.

  “Eww,” Jenna exclaimed, blinking. Dog drool couldn’t be good for her skin, and the smell wasn’t sweet either. “Do you have a tissue?”

  “Tissue.” Larry snorted. He lumbered to the kitchen and returned with a box. “You sure this is the right type of dog for you?”

  She dabbed at the drool and narrowed her eyes. “Are you stereotyping me? You think I shouldn’t have a dog because I wear good clothes?”

  “He drools, and you don’t like it. He slobbers when he drinks and makes a mess when he eats. He’s not potty-trained and he’s still a puppy. He can’t hold it for long.”

  “And?” She folded the used tissue into a tiny square. “What’s your point?”

  He groaned as he squatted down to the floor, his knee creaking. “Come here, boy.”

  The puppy waddled toward Larry and laid his head on Larry’s large palm. His large eyes looked up at the man, so much so that the whites were showing.

  “Waarrooh,” the puppy whined softly as Larry rubbed his neck. “Wwwoooo.”

  And then it struck Jenna. This man wanted to keep Little Treat. He was in love with the puppy. But then, he was Connor’s best buddy, and if he loved the basset hound, then Connor would too.

  “You can’t have him,” Jenna blurted. “He’s Connor’s dog.”

  She bent down over the puppy and picked him up under his forelegs.

  “Hey, you have to support his rump,” Larry said, grabbing at the dog. “Basset hounds are prone to back problems, and they’re heavy for their height.”

  “I know how to take care of him.” Jenna turned away from Larry. “Thanks for finding him. Now, if you don’t mind, me and Little Treat had better be going.”

  Jenna put the puppy down and got on the floor to fasten the sturdy leather collar around Treat’s sagging neck. She rubbed his head. “You’re a sweetie pie. Let’s go home.”

  “Wait,” Larry said. “If he’s Connor’s dog, let me take care of him. I’m sure you’re busy with whatever you need to do with fashion. He needs to potty every three hours, including night. During the day, I work at the school. I can keep him in the basement and take him out when he needs to go.”

  Gulp. Jenna hadn’t thought about the puppy being a crimp on her busy schedule. She still had gowns to sew, and she also needed to go downtown and buy material whenever she ran short or inspiration hit her. Who knew if they’d let a messy little puppy into the fabric showrooms?

  Little Treat whined and lifted his leg. Did that mean he had to pee?

  “Well, if you put it that way, I guess Connor would appreciate it if you potty-trained his dog,” Jenna conceded, standing up quickly to get out of the way of any potential spray.

  One half of Larry’s face brightened with a grin. It was crooked due to his scars, but a spark warmed her heart and she found her pulse racing. It was ridiculous, of course. Larry was a family friend, a shadow of her brother. He was interested in Melisa before she started dating Rob. No, Jenna was plain dizzy from lack of food. She hadn’t even eaten the chicken strips she’d bought from the food truck.

  Jenna wiped her hand over her forehead and zeroed in on the door. Only the room tilted on her and she seemed to be walking sideways. Solid warmth wrapped around her with the woody scent of musk and grass. Her vision darkened from stars to nothing at all, but somehow, she didn’t hit the floor.

  Chapter 5

  Larry placed Jenna on the couch and lifted her legs so they were above her head to allow blood flow to rush to her head. Her sweater was loose, but her pants were definitely too tight. He unbuckled her waistband and loosened it, then yanked the heavy chain of polished rocks over her head to make sure nothing constricted her blood flow or breathing.

  Tucking his fingers to her neck, he checked her pulse. Still going, although shallow and fast. Small puffs of air traversed from her lips against the back of his hand.

  She was young and it was unlikely to be a cardiac arrest. Gently, he swept her silky blond hair from her sweetheart face. Lying still with her eyes closed, she looked like a very pale angel.

  He couldn’t help stroking her porcelain cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth, so unlike his pitted and scarred face. He should stop touching her. Should get a glass of water and throw it on her face, but could anyone blame him when faced with perfect beauty? He wasn’t being pervy, and he definitely wasn’t going to give her mouth-to-mouth since she was breathing on her own.

  He had better move aside before she woke and found him staring at her, touching her face, breathing a little too deeply, but he was rooted to the spot, hovering over her and watching, waiting for her to wake before he had to start CPR.

  Her eyelids fluttered slightly and a small gasp escaped her lips. Larry urged his muscles to back away, begged his mouth to say something. Anything but to look like an idiot drooling over a woman he could never have. One who would look at him with pity at best, or revulsion at worst.

  Harley whined softly at his side, licking Jenna’s hand, and she woke. Her eyes still held that half-dazed look, as if she wasn’t sure where she was and who she was with.

  He waited for the horror to dawn on her, the scream followed by the quick shove against his chest and a sneer of disgust to mar the angelic face, but none came.

  Instead, Jenna reached up and touched his scarred cheek, her eyes pinned on him, piercing him like a butterfly to a display. Her finger trailed along the ridges and over the stringy scar tissue, around his bald spots and toward his missing ear.

  Other than nurses, no one had ever touched his scars. Perhaps no one had dared, but then, no one had gotten close enough.

  Concern flickered in her eyes, and she studied him. Her fingers felt good and comforting, and brought tears to his eyes. He swallowed hard, willing himself to turn aside, but he was glued to the spot like the baby monkey in the psychology textbook who’d never been touched before.

  Her eyes mirrored his, wetting as she blinked. “Does it hurt?”

  He nodded and she withdrew her hand.

  “I mean, not right now. It’s stiff and sometimes if I laugh too hard and stretch it. But now, it’s fine.” He was sputtering, wishing he could catch her hand and put it back on his face.

  “That’s good.” She shrugged and looked around, patting herself. “I must have fainted. You unzipped my jeans?”

  “Basic first aid. Loosen clothes to get blood circulating.”

  She sat up so suddenly her head almost bumped his chin. “Where’s my agate statement necklace?”

  “On the table. I needed to check your pulse.”

  She zipped up her jeans by lying back down and wriggled off the sofa. “You weren’t touching me, were you?”

  Larry raised both hands and shook his head. “Nothing. I checked for your pulse and breathing and loosened your clothing. Lifted your legs onto the arm of the sofa. All common procedure for first aid.”

  She hefted the necklace, more suited for a geology lesson than a fashion statement, and put it back around her neck. “I have to go.”

  “You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go to the hospital to get checked out. You didn’t hit your head because I caught you, but unexplained fainting could be a symptom of something more serious.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes and shot him a smirk. “Oh, so now you’re an ER doc too?”

  “I used to be a firefighter.” He crossed his arms as a slow burn worked its way from his chest to his face. So, she belittled him and saw him only as a school janitor.

  “I know.” She smiled brightly. “I was just playing with you. Thanks for saving me from a concussion or something worse.”

  “Sure.” He unwrapped his arms and rubbed the
back of his neck over the rough patch of grafted skin. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you faint often?”

  “Only when I’m starving and there’s a firefighter around to save me.” The color had definitely returned to her cheeks. Was she flirting with him? How could that be possible?

  But then, beautiful women flirted unconsciously. They had no idea what kind of effect they had on men. She was only being friendly to her brother’s buddy. Whatever, he could pretend she was interested. Then, maybe she’d touch his face again or even give him a thank-you hug.

  “Then you’re in luck.” Larry forced his voice to sound carefree. “Because I’m a firefighter who happens to have a pan of lasagna in the refrigerator.”

  “Ohhh … I love lasagna, except I can’t have any. I have to fit into this gown I’m designing, and it’s tight right about here.” She pinched herself below her waistband.

  Larry couldn’t help running his eyes that direction. She was as slim as a greyhound, well not exactly. But he certainly hadn’t pinched anything when he’d let down her zipper.

  “I could whip up a salad, but then you’ll be drooling over my lasagna. My foster mother was Italian and she taught me how to make a mean lasagna along with bruschetta, calzoni, cannelloni, carpaccio, minestrone, parmigiana, cannoli, and gelato.”

  “Now you’re showing off.” She laughed, and to Larry, it was like the sound of musical chimes. “No wonder Connor’s your buddy and you, Little Treat, you better get lots of exercise or you’ll be dragging your belly down the runway.”

  “So, what’s it going to be? Antipasto salad with genuine Genoa salami and Kalamata olives drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and cave-aged balsamic vinegar, or a plate of my classic meat and sausage lasagna in a sourdough bread bowl?”

  “You’re definitely showing off.” Jenna picked up her purse and hunted for her cell phone. “As much as I’d like to partake, I simply can’t. I’ve a fashion show in two weeks and I absolutely have to fit into my signature gown, which I should be working on right now, instead of playing search and rescue with you.”