help.”
“You know what might help, Joe?” She had her hands at her sides, her phone gleaming like the flash of diamonds in the streetlights.
“Hmm?”
“If we don’t see each other again.” She turned on that amazingly sexy heel, her lean runner’s body so freaking hot. Her attitude, her everything all belonged to him, he knew it. He claimed it. But he had to let her walk away.
*****
Since the condo was just two blocks down along the water, K reached it in ten minutes. The lights reflected off the ocean, and the moon seemed closer somehow than it did in Chicago. It was this place, being so close to the water, that made her so damn emotional. She shook it off and walked into the building.
She waved to the doorman, but a different woman was sitting behind the desk. K introduced herself. “I’m K Aneko, Ms. Hartley’s attorney.”
“Patricia Pangia. Pleased to meet you. Any word? We’ve been worried sick. ‘Course when we call down to the hospital, they don’t tell us anything.”
“I saw Ms. Hartley, and she’s resting well. I’ll know more tomorrow about when she’s coming home.” She turned to the doorman. “She looked…fine.”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Ms. Hartley’s lived here a long time, so she’s like family. I’d be happy to take Princey out for his evening constitutional.”
“You would?” Once she had money, she’d tip him well. “Oh, thank you so much. What is your name again?”
“Luis Rodriguez.”
“Thank you, thank you. I will do it in the morning, though.”
“Why don’t you feed him, and I’ll come up in half an hour before I go home?”
Crap. Had to feed the pets. Made sense. “All right. Uh. I will be working from Ms. Hartley’s apartment for the next day or so.” She didn’t see herself leaving until her client was settled for at least twenty-four hours.
She was glad, too, that Joe hadn’t come back with her. It would have been awkward bringing him upstairs for an obvious booty call. And what was that nonsense about love? Men were not supposed to care about love .
But she’d sensed he wasn’t bullshitting her. All that therapy had to be going to his brain. Too bad.
His answering kiss had seared her mouth, and she could easily imagine ways they could pleasure one another with their mouths alone.
“Ms. Aneko?”
K realized the doorman was holding the elevator for her and shook her head free of one Joe Porter. She’d really wanted to trace all of his tattoos. With her tongue. Sigh.
“Thank you,” she said, walking across the marble tile floor. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
She entered Rita’s apartment and heard simultaneous barking and squawking. She went to the bedroom first, standing back so that Princey wouldn’t trample her and get her only jeans dirty.
It was a good idea in theory, but the Saint Bernard was a lover and had her flat on her back with wet sloppy kisses in seconds.
“Get off,” she said, pushing at his heavy, furry chest. He backed up and she swiped her face with her forearm. “Ew. Just–ew.”
He made a chuffing noise and sat down, his tail wagging at hyper-speed.
“You don’t have to be so freaking happy, okay?”
But his bright black button eyes said that yes, he did. She got up and led the way to the kitchen, the dog on her heels. Literally. She turned around and pointed a finger at him. “These are vintage,” she said. “Not one scratch, get it?”
“ Woof !”
She found the sealed plastic container of dog food, and scooped some in a bowl on the floor next to his water dish. He dug in like he hadn’t eaten in years, tossing the pink nuggets to the side as if they tasted bad.
Leaving him to it, K opened the slider door leading out to the balcony and the parrot. The bird eyed her up and down, then made a spitting noise.
“Nice,” K said. “I don’t suppose you’re the kind of bird that cusses like a pirate?”
“Pretty bird,” Lucky informed her, pecking at the wire on
“You know what might help, Joe?” She had her hands at her sides, her phone gleaming like the flash of diamonds in the streetlights.
“Hmm?”
“If we don’t see each other again.” She turned on that amazingly sexy heel, her lean runner’s body so freaking hot. Her attitude, her everything all belonged to him, he knew it. He claimed it. But he had to let her walk away.
*****
Since the condo was just two blocks down along the water, K reached it in ten minutes. The lights reflected off the ocean, and the moon seemed closer somehow than it did in Chicago. It was this place, being so close to the water, that made her so damn emotional. She shook it off and walked into the building.
She waved to the doorman, but a different woman was sitting behind the desk. K introduced herself. “I’m K Aneko, Ms. Hartley’s attorney.”
“Patricia Pangia. Pleased to meet you. Any word? We’ve been worried sick. ‘Course when we call down to the hospital, they don’t tell us anything.”
“I saw Ms. Hartley, and she’s resting well. I’ll know more tomorrow about when she’s coming home.” She turned to the doorman. “She looked…fine.”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Ms. Hartley’s lived here a long time, so she’s like family. I’d be happy to take Princey out for his evening constitutional.”
“You would?” Once she had money, she’d tip him well. “Oh, thank you so much. What is your name again?”
“Luis Rodriguez.”
“Thank you, thank you. I will do it in the morning, though.”
“Why don’t you feed him, and I’ll come up in half an hour before I go home?”
Crap. Had to feed the pets. Made sense. “All right. Uh. I will be working from Ms. Hartley’s apartment for the next day or so.” She didn’t see herself leaving until her client was settled for at least twenty-four hours.
She was glad, too, that Joe hadn’t come back with her. It would have been awkward bringing him upstairs for an obvious booty call. And what was that nonsense about love? Men were not supposed to care about love .
But she’d sensed he wasn’t bullshitting her. All that therapy had to be going to his brain. Too bad.
His answering kiss had seared her mouth, and she could easily imagine ways they could pleasure one another with their mouths alone.
“Ms. Aneko?”
K realized the doorman was holding the elevator for her and shook her head free of one Joe Porter. She’d really wanted to trace all of his tattoos. With her tongue. Sigh.
“Thank you,” she said, walking across the marble tile floor. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
She entered Rita’s apartment and heard simultaneous barking and squawking. She went to the bedroom first, standing back so that Princey wouldn’t trample her and get her only jeans dirty.
It was a good idea in theory, but the Saint Bernard was a lover and had her flat on her back with wet sloppy kisses in seconds.
“Get off,” she said, pushing at his heavy, furry chest. He backed up and she swiped her face with her forearm. “Ew. Just–ew.”
He made a chuffing noise and sat down, his tail wagging at hyper-speed.
“You don’t have to be so freaking happy, okay?”
But his bright black button eyes said that yes, he did. She got up and led the way to the kitchen, the dog on her heels. Literally. She turned around and pointed a finger at him. “These are vintage,” she said. “Not one scratch, get it?”
“ Woof !”
She found the sealed plastic container of dog food, and scooped some in a bowl on the floor next to his water dish. He dug in like he hadn’t eaten in years, tossing the pink nuggets to the side as if they tasted bad.
Leaving him to it, K opened the slider door leading out to the balcony and the parrot. The bird eyed her up and down, then made a spitting noise.
“Nice,” K said. “I don’t suppose you’re the kind of bird that cusses like a pirate?”
“Pretty bird,” Lucky informed her, pecking at the wire on
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