Stealing Carmen
Page 8
“Find some leashes, baby,” he sighed in surrender. Hadn’t even put up a fight. Next thing he knew she’d have him taking her out to dinner and a movie. It’d be after the sex though, that was for damn sure.
Pulling out his checkbook, Jack went to the desk. Writing the check, he left it on the computer keyboard with a short note.
Thank you for keeping my dogs for me. Hope this covers your trouble. My address is on the check if you have any questions.
Jack Jones
The check was for two thousand dollars.
Around eleven that night Jack surveyed his surroundings. They were in her half of the building tangled on the couch with just a blanket over them. The room was lit by a multicolored Christmas tree and the TV.
Two large dogs slept on the floor having eaten a mountain of the dog food he’d driven an hour to find. It seemed that despite wolfing down the food as if they hadn’t been fed in a week, both beasts were eager to please.
The shepherd mix was still mostly a puppy. His paws said he’d be eating double soon. Even though he was young, he grasped a good thing when he had it. The hound was a mature dog and displayed a keen sense of opportunity too. Strays recognized each other, Jack mused. They all had a home as long as the woman was in it. She made them a family.
Carmen was snuggled in his arms, asleep and smiling. His hands on her warm body contracted a fraction and she mewed softly in response. The news was coming on TV because the Christmas movie she’d wanted to watch was over and he was a happy, naked bastard.
Jack smiled. She’d given him Christmas. He sincerely hoped she realized both he and the dogs were counting on her doing it again next year, for as long as they lived.
About the Author
Hello everyone. If you’re reading this, I hope it means you’ve enjoyed reading one of my books. If you have some other opinion of them, feel free to lie to me anyway. I hereby absolve you from all possible guilt and consequences for flagrant, adjective, saturated lying to the author.
I’m a chronic fantasizer. Every good romance novel ended too soon. After a while, I started making up stories when I had a few minutes to while away. So now, instead of sitting around with a blank look on my face, I’ve taken to writing them down.
Because of my father’s job, we moved every three years in my early life. My first memories are of Bermuda, and then we were in several African countries. It was a wonderful childhood. I gained a rich cultural background in the world community, but never learned to spell. As an adult, I avoided writing at all costs, embarrassed over my limitations.
But the writer will not stay silent forever. She broke out, and insisted on learning the mystical world of grammar and spelling. Haven’t mastered all of it yet, but they let me write for you anyway. Bless every editor on the planet. They give dreamers a place to send fantasies and save us the embarrassment of owning our shortcomings.
Gail welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Gail Faulkner
Darius
Full Ride
Into His Keeping
Jamie’s Cherub
Romeo
Slip Knot
Wanna Play
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com