“Isn’t he beautiful?” Her eyes shone.
“Um.”
“He” was quite possibly the homeliest dog Eros had ever seen, and given his millennia of walking the earth, he’d seen more than his fair share.
And yeah, maybe he was exaggerating, but this dog would never win any prizes for beauty.
He was about the size of a small fox, but his legs were short and his body shaped like the sausage Annie had likened herself to last night. But unlike Annie, who went in and out in all the right places, the dog really was barrel-shaped. He had a broad head, a square snout, and big ears, one of which stood straight up, bat-like, while the other flopped over on itself. His eyes were big and worried—one brown, one so pale blue it was almost white—and his tail was long and almost naked. The very tip of it twitched back and forth. Hard to tell whether it was a wag or just a nervous tick.
Annie was kneeling on the ground a few feet away from him, with what looked like a biscuit in her hand.
“What are you doing?” As if he couldn’t guess.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Annie said, turning her attention back on the dog. “C’mere, sweetheart!” She waved the biscuit enticingly and added to Eros, over her shoulder and in her normal voice, “I saw him when I came to work this morning. I left him a cookie.”
“A cookie?”
“One of yours,” Annie said. “Sorry. I figured he needed it more than you did. He must have eaten it, too, because it’s gone now. But I wanted to see if I could get him to take a biscuit.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to take a biscuit.” Who wouldn’t? Especially if it came with that melting voice.
She shot him a look. “I saw you talking to Harry earlier.”
Shit.
“I was civil,” Eros said.
“You didn’t threaten him or anything, did you?”
“Of course not.” He did his best to sound insulted, while he tried to determine whether anything that had transpired between him and Harry could be deemed a threat. “Why would I do that?”
“Because yesterday you asked me if I wanted you to hit him,” Annie said, her attention on the dog. “He asked me out.”
“He did?”
She glanced up at him. “Didn’t he tell you? You spoke to him.”
Right. For a second his mind spun, and then he settled on a story. “He wanted my advice.”
“About what?”
“You,” Ross said.
“Me? Why?”
“Because I run a matchmaking service. And because he’d noticed us talking yesterday.”
“What kind of advice?” Annie wanted to know.
“He regretted being so harsh last night. He’d had too much to drink and wasn’t thinking straight—felt bad about it all night. Couldn’t get you out of his head.”
It was impossible to tell from Annie’s expression whether she believed him or not. But her attention was on him now and not on the dog. Sensing it, the dog crept closer, picked the biscuit out of her hand, and retreated a few feet with it. “Good boy,” Annie said, and folded her hands in her lap while the dog crunched. “Did you believe him?”
“What’s not to believe?” She’d damn near taken up permanent residence in his own head; it was no stretch to believe that someone else could have thought about her all night, too.
There was silence for a moment, only broken by the dog’s chewing. “I said yes,” Annie said.
He already knew that, but hearing it still annoyed him. “He told me.”
The annoyance must have shown in his voice, because she tilted her head back to look at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Yes! “Why would I mind?”
“No reason,” Annie said, her cheeks warm. “I mean, last night was a fluke, right?”
“Sure.” A fluke he wouldn’t be repeating, now that he’d stuck her with Harry. Somehow he took no pleasure from that knowledge.
“You’re still on the rebound. Not ready to move on yet.”
“Right.”
“Right.” She got to her feet, startling the dog. It skipped back a few paces, limping.
“Something wrong with his paw?” Eros asked.
She nodded. “I just haven’t been able to get close enough for a good look yet. Maybe when I leave work tonight. Or tomorrow morning. If he’s still here.” She brushed off her jeans. They fit very nicely, he noticed.
“You aren’t taking him home with you?”
“No-pet policy,” Annie said. “I’ll lose my apartment if I bring home a dog.”
“So you’re just gonna leave him here?”
She bristled, and the look in her eyes—the mingled hurt and longing—cut him straight to the heart. “It’s not because I don’t want him, Ross. I do. I just can’t afford to lose my apartment. It’s rent controlled. I’ll never be able to find another one I can afford.”
Right. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of tonight,” Eros said.
She blinked. “Really?”
“Sure.” It had been a few centuries since he’d had any kind of a pet. You got attached and then it died, and when you’d been through it a few hundred times, it got old. “It’s my building. I can put anything I want into it.”
“Wow.” She just watched him for a second, while the shine in her eyes warmed him all the way to the core. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I like dogs.”
“Me, too,” Annie said and glanced over her shoulder. “I’d better…”
Go back to the bakery. “Thank you for the cookies.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. I like to bake.”
Right. “Have a good time tonight.”
The smile dropped. “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
He was sure she would, too. Once Harry got to know her, he’d realize what he’d been missing.
Maybe Harry would like the dog. Obviously he didn’t have a no-pet policy where he lived if he had a schnauzer. Somehow, Eros couldn’t quite bring himself to suggest it, though. So he just watched Annie as she made her way across the street, weaving between the cars waiting for the light to change, before he turned to the dog. “Let’s see what we can figure out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Her first clue that this wasn’t going to be her dream date—other than the clues rampant in the conversation when Harry had asked her—was when he was fifteen minutes late picking her up.
Annie was ready and waiting by seven twenty, just in case he was early, and by a quarter of eight, she was ready to channel Fiona and chew up the furniture.
Had he forgotten the time? Maybe he’d gotten caught up in work and hadn’t realized it was so late? Work emergency? Hard to imagine what that might be for a CPA, but she supposed it was possible.
Or maybe he’d had some sort of accident on his way here? Hit by a runaway yellow cab, maybe, and now he was on his way to the hospital with a broken leg?
Or maybe the whole thing had been an elaborate joke. What Ross said had made sense, sure, but it was quite a turnaround from the way Harry had acted last night. Maybe he had decided to have some fun with her. Some sort of bet, maybe, with a few of his friends. Maybe they’d seen what happened. Maybe he’d bet someone that he could talk her around today and get her to agree to go out with him, and then he’d stand her up and make her feel even more stupid.
Would he do something that low?
She didn’t like to think so, but she honestly wouldn’t put it past him. He’d been pretty awful to her last night.
Really, what had she been thinking to even agree to this date? Oh yeah, looking for Mr. Right. If he stood her up and made a fool of her, she had no one to blame but herself.
When the buzzer finally rang at almost ten till eight, she wasn’t sure whether to answer it and tell Harry to go to hell or to pretend she wasn’t here and that she was the one who had stood him up.
In the end, common courtesy won out. She hit the button for the buzzer. “Yes?”
“Sorr
y I’m late,” Harry said. “It was Fiona’s fault.”
Right.
“Are you ready to go?”
Annie looked down at herself. High-heeled red shoes; black skirt; red, white, and black blouse… She could either put him in his place and refuse to go out with him or grow up and not let getting dressed up go to waste. “Sure.”
“I’m waiting,” Harry said and disconnected.
What a charmer.
Annie took her time putting on her coat and checking her lipstick in the mirror, before grabbing her purse from the hook by the door and her keys from the table and heading out the door.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs and looked in the direction of the front door, Harry was nowhere to be seen. It had taken her a couple minutes to navigate the five stories on the crazy stilettos, but surely he hadn’t gotten tired of waiting and left?
She opened the door into the misty dusk. “Harry?”
“Over here,” Harry said. Annie turned in the direction of his voice. He was over in a corner of the courtyard, along with a small whitish shadow that was busy investigating the bricks in the wall.
The courtyard floor was bricked, too, and she navigated it carefully. “Fiona, I presume?”
Harry hadn’t gone to much trouble for their date, she was annoyed to see. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a windbreaker. He filled out the jeans nicely, though, and she had to admit he did look pretty good in casual clothes—more so than he did in the mismatched jacket and pants he wore to work. Not all men could look like Ross in a suit, after all. It would be unkind of her to compare the two. Not when poor Harry didn’t have a hope of measuring up.
“Yep,” he said now. “You said you wanted to meet her.”
She had. Mostly to get a conversation started yesterday. She hadn’t expected him to bring Fiona on their date, however. If she’d known, she’d have dressed in something more comfortable.
“Ready to go?” Harry said and tugged on Fiona’s leash. The small schnauzer turned obediently and trotted toward the street, tail swaying.
“Sure,” Annie said and followed. Maybe he didn’t live too far away. Maybe they were on their way there to drop Fiona off before going to dinner. Maybe he was simply killing two birds with one stone.
“So where do you live?” she asked breathlessly after a block. They’d kept up a pretty good pace until now, with Fiona in the lead, running left and right to sniff fire hydrants and tree trunks and interesting stains on the walls. She pulled Harry behind her by the leash, while Annie brought up the rear, moving as quickly as she could on the red heels. It might have been nice if Harry had slowed Fiona to a walk and perhaps even offered Annie his arm, but he made no move toward either. She’d been looking at his back the whole way. Good thing his jeans fit well.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Oh. I live the other way.” He rattled off an address that, indeed, was in the opposite direction and a full ten blocks away. Obviously they weren’t going there. At least Annie hoped they weren’t. She wasn’t sure whether her shoes—or her feet—could survive the trip.
They were a couple blocks from the East River by the time Annie felt certain she knew where they were going. When Harry stopped at the wiener stand outside the entrance to the dog park, she was dismayed but not surprised. When he turned and asked her, over his shoulder, what she wanted on her dog, she was even able to answer him civilly.
“Everything, please.”
“Chopped onions?”
“Yes, please.” The more the better. Hopefully that would dissuade him from any thoughts of kissing her tonight. If he tried, she wasn’t sure she could be responsible for the consequences.
Harry turned away. Annie went back to looking at the dogs frolicking in the green grass. Fiona pulled on her leash and whimpered.
They ended up on a bench along the fence, where they could watch Fiona run and play but where they wouldn’t be overrun by dogs smelling dinner. Harry handed her a hot dog with everything and a Diet Coke—one he hadn’t asked her if she wanted. Annie really preferred the high-octane stuff—the aspartame gave her a funny aftertaste—but she thanked him as politely as she could while she reflected that he was really going all out tonight. Why, this date might set him back a whole eight bucks! Not to mention that the covert insult to her weight seriously rubbed her the wrong way.
She waited for him to start talking to her—he had asked her out, after all, not vice versa—but when the silence lengthened and he didn’t speak, she said, “Fiona looks like she’s having fun.”
Harry nodded.
“How long have you had her?”
“Two years,” Harry said, around his hot dog.
“Is she your first, or did you grow up with dogs?”
Fiona was Harry’s first.
“Did you always want one?”
“I heard chicks like dogs,” Harry said.
Annie blinked. “Is that so?”
“Well.” Harry shrugged. “Look at you.”
Point taken.
The conversation lagged after that. Harry didn’t seem interested in finding out more about Annie, and since she didn’t want to do something regrettable, like hitting him over the head with the remains of her hot dog if he said anything else she didn’t like, Annie left him alone. After ten minutes or so, Harry whistled for Fiona and they headed home. They had only a block left to go before they arrived at Annie’s apartment building when she broke the silence. By then her feet were screaming in agony and she was past the point of caring about maiming Harry. “I saw you talking to Ross earlier.”
Harry didn’t look at her, although she thought she saw his cheekbones turn a shade darker. “Who?”
“Eros. The Greek guy from the matchmaking agency across the street.”
“What about it?” Harry said.
“Was this his idea?” He’d said it had been Harry’s but now she wondered. Harry might be socially backward and he might really have asked Ross’s opinion on how to approach her, but if he’d been sincere, oughtn’t he at least to have tried to talk to her? His behavior tonight had come across as rude and disinterested more than awkward but sincere.
“It wasn’t mine,” Harry said with unflattering promptness.
Great. “Ross asked you to ask me out?”
Harry shrugged.
“How much did he pay you?” Enough for a hot dog and a Diet Coke?
“Nothing,” Harry said.
“Surely you didn’t ask me out out of the goodness of your heart.” He’d made his views of her pretty plain last night. God, how stupid did she have to be to have believed he meant what he’d said earlier? “What did you get out of it?”
If he’d said, “Dinner with you,” she might have forgiven him. When he said, “Dinner with Brita,” it was all she could do not to stop, take one of her shoes off, and stab him in the heart with the heel.
“I see.” Her voice was half choked. With anger, not tears; hopefully Harry realized it.
“Sorry,” Harry said without sounding it.
“I’m sure you are.” Although not as sorry as Ross would be, once she got through with him.
They reached the corner where they’d have to turn to get to her apartment, and Annie stopped. “I’ll walk the rest of the way by myself.”
“I’ll be happy to—” Harry began.
“Thanks for dinner.” Annie smiled tightly.
Harry didn’t answer, but he did look guilty, so maybe there was a small part of him that realized what a jerk he had been.
“Have a good time with Brita. I hope you’re nicer to her than you’ve been to me.”
“I will be,” Harry said, which just put the icing on the cake. Annie thought of a reply that would have reduced him to a puddle of grease on the ground, but it would have reduced her to tears at the same time, and she was damned if she was going to cry in front of him, even if they were angry tears, so she kept her mouth shut.
“Good night.”
She turned and walked away
without giving him a chance to respond. After a half a block, when she threw a quick glance over her shoulder, he was nowhere in sight.
Probably couldn’t get away from me quick enough. Bastard.
It wasn’t his fault, though. Or not entirely his fault. He’d made his feelings clear last night. It was her own stupidity that had allowed her to believe he’d changed his mind today.
That and Ross, who apparently had put Harry up to this.
If she should kill anyone, it should be him.
What the hell had he been thinking? He’d slept with her last night; where did he get off trying to fix her up with someone else today?
Talk about not being able to get away from her quick enough.
It was still early. She should go give him a piece of her mind right now. Along with a piece of her stiletto. Get right up in his face and tell him exactly what she thought of him and his misguided attempts to match make. Threaten to sue him while she was at it. For mental anguish. Take him for everything he and his precious matchmaking agency were worth.
Mind made up, she hobbled past the entrance to her own building and kept going.
Chapter Fourteen
Eros poured himself another glass of ambrosia, put his feet back up on the table, and toasted the photograph of his ex-wife, propped against the wine bottle, as the strains of Beethoven filled the air.
Sometimes he missed the old days, when everyone knew who he was and gave him the respect and worship he was due. There was no sitting alone at home back then. And he missed the old country, with its olive groves and sunshine and blue ocean. Fresh air to breathe and real dirt under his feet. None of that in New York.
Then again, the old country wasn’t doing so well these days, and the last few centuries had brought some pretty decent innovations, too. Air conditioning. La-Z-Boy technology. Surround sound. And Ludwig van Beethoven.
Life was good. He had all of the above, plus a bottle of very good wine. And he was getting over Psyche. He’d gone home and pulled out a couple of the old snapshots, just to see how he felt. Imagine his surprise when he realized he could look at them—at her—without wanting to kill her (or the Viking) and without wanting to get drunk. Another point in his favor: he wasn’t going overboard on the ambrosia. Most nights, he’d have polished off a bottle or two by now, while this was only his second glass.
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