She shot him a tight smile, went back to the pantry, and returned with a bag made for Adonis’s business. She offered it to the guy, who was holding tight to Adonis’s leash while the pooch lunged for the elevator. The man didn’t budge, despite the dog’s strength.
“Where’s Oliver?” he asked.
She frowned as she crinkled the plastic bag against her body. “You mean he didn’t tell you? He’s on a business trip. I’m house-sitting.”
“You his niece?” he asked after running a long gaze down to her feet, then up to her face again.
She laughed. “No, not at all. He’s one of my regulars. Odd, right? But we hit it off and he likes me, so…”
The man’s frown deepened, those gorgeous eyes darkening to stormy blue. “I’m not the dog walker.” He offered the leash but Adonis stayed in the hallway rather than coming back inside. “I’m an upstairs neighbor.”
“Oh. Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Rachel took the leash and wrestled with Adonis, who was much, much stronger than she. He knew it. The dog spread his feet wide and stood his ground on the carpeted floor.
“I suggest you find a way to keep him quiet at night while you’re out. I work from home and I can’t listen to him bark for hours.”
Hours?
“If I were anyone else, a noise complaint would be in your future. Oliver follows the rules. He wouldn’t like knowing you’re breaking a big one.” That low voice had dropped lower, the reprimand having the dual result of both pissing her off and making her feel a little tingly.
God. I need more sleep.
“No need to be rude,” she snapped. He blinked, surprised. Probably not used to being put in his place.
Look at him. He’s a wall. Who would stand up to him?
Then she remembered his kind smile, the way his hands rubbed Adonis’s flank with rugged gentleness. A shiver climbed her spine at the same time Adonis jerked hard on the leash.
She expelled a dainty “oh!” and lunged forward at the same time the man in the doorway caught the leash in one hand and her against him. Rachel found every part of her from thighs to breasts plastered to the giant’s body. Her palms flattened over two hard pectoral muscles hidden beneath the sweater, her legs bumping his legs, which felt as solid as two marble columns. She tilted her head, met those aqua blue eyes, and…and…remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet.
She shoved off his rock-hard stomach, slapping a palm over her mouth. Then she snatched Adonis’s leash and gave a hard tug. The dog turned with a sigh and paced back inside. Once he was clear of the door, she sent the hard-bodied hunk at the threshold a glare and slammed the door in his face.
Adonis yipped his disappointment at losing the chance to go outside.
“You’ll have to take him out now!” came a shout through the door. “Don’t blue-ball the poor guy after taking him halfway.”
Adonis wagged his tail so hard, he nearly took out a lamp. The hulk at the door was right. There was no way she could turn down the Dane’s pale eyes and smiling pink mouth, perked pointy ears, and lolling tongue.
“Fine,” she growled, and stomped for the bedroom. She snatched up her boots and hastily picked out her clothes, feeling both tired and cranky. Yet as she tugged on her coat, she found her mouth curving into a half-smile.
Blue balls.
Who was that guy?
* * *
Tag wasn’t hiding, per se, but he wasn’t making his presence known in the lobby of Crane Tower. Rather than take the elevator up, he took it down, grabbed himself a coffee, and waited.
Surely the blonde would be down with Adonis in tow any second now. As he took the second sip from his cup, he saw her. Well, he saw Adonis first since he was six feet ahead of her, leash a straight, taut line. The blonde’s hair was in a sloppy topknot, and she’d changed into jeans and a long red sweater. Her coat was open; her boots came up to her knees. Nothing special about her outfit, but he was hit with a blast of longing so acute, he froze in place.
Damn.
Like the first time he’d spotted her on the sidewalk, she’d once again struck him stupid. Him noticing a woman was not a rare thing, but neither did he stop and stare, dumbstruck. The moment he’d noticed her, and she’d noticed him, had been infused with a palpable buzz of electricity.
“That’s stupid,” he grumbled against the lip of his coffee cup, sliding behind a divider separating the coffee shop from the lobby.
She strode by in a plume of soft, floral perfume, Adonis in the lead and so focused on getting outside he didn’t give away Tag’s hiding spot.
Tag shook his head. There was no denying it. Oliver’s girl was cute.
“One of her regulars,” he mumbled to himself, sauntering over to the front desk after woman and dog vanished into the whitewashed landscape outside.
Regular whats?
But he knew. One look at the blonde’s smooth skin and blue eyes, even with her body covered from head to toe in flannel polar bears, Tag knew exactly what she and Oliver were regularly doing.
It was what any man in his right mind would regularly do with a woman who was as effortlessly sexy as she was.
“Whatever,” he said, determined to stop debating how dorky Oliver had landed a super-hot (and way too young for him) girlfriend.
“Talking to yourself again, Tag?” Fiona manned the front desk often, her shifts ranging from day to night to filling in for the afternoon staff. He’d been out with her a few times. She was brunette, savvy, and a great lay. A keeper if he were the keeping type, but then he’d let her go and she’d gone and now she was dating some dude with a law degree. Good for her.
“The blonde,” he said, tossing his chin toward the door she just exited. “She’s staying with Oliver. I think she works second shift. Can you let me know when she comes in tonight?”
“You mean spy for you?” Fiona’s eyes rounded playfully.
“A little intel is not spying, Fi.”
She tapped her keyboard, then said, “Rachel Foster. Says here she is a bartender.”
Rachel. The bartender.
“One of her regulars,” he said, his tone shifting into duh. He was a restaurant guy—how had he not put that together? They must’ve met at the bar where she worked. Maybe Rachel and Oliver had some sort of opposites attract thing going on. Who knew, maybe the guy was really charming in that setting.
Tag grimaced. He couldn’t picture it.
“I’ll let you know of her comings and goings,” Fiona promised. “Oh, and, Tag?”
“Yeah, doll.” He dragged his attention from the door to focus on Fi’s knowing expression.
“This wouldn’t happen to be personal would it?” Her voice had a singsong quality.
“She’s Oliver’s girl. You know better.”
“I do.” Nostalgia hung on those two words, like maybe she was remembering a time between them. He couldn’t call up specifics, only that she’d rated on his scale and she was all wrong for him.
That happened a lot.
“The dog has been barking nonstop. It’s not like him.”
Fiona nodded. “Ah. I bet he has separation anxiety. Whenever I leave my Pomeranian, Lola, she goes crazy. My dog sitter says she’s inconsolable for weeks.”