looked up at him. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. "You move pretty fast for a pencil pusher, you know that?"
A flush of heat crept up his neck. "I haven't always worked for your father." He scowled, annoyed as hell that he felt embarrassed.
She shoved the bag of leftovers towards him. "Did you ever work with dogs?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to take the food. "I'm more of a cat person."
"He's watching us, you know."
Trey shifted his attention to the dumpster. Sure enough, the straggly animal was peering at them around the corner of the trash container. Now that he thought about it, the expression in the dog's eyes looked anything but aggressive. It looked sad, like he'd hurt its feelings. Guilt gnawed at his gut.
He snatched the bag from her. "I didn't mean to scare him," he muttered.
"See if he'll take one of the sausages from you."
"Just go up to him?"
"Nice and slow. With one of the sausages."
It took nearly twenty minutes to convince Hamlet he wasn't going to hurt him. But by the time the food was gone the dog was laying next to him licking the sausage grease off his fingers.
Dakota watched them, the look of approval in her warm brown eyes doing crazy things to his concentration. He knew he should be coming up with ways to turn this new regard for him into an advantage, but hell if he could.
All he knew was that it felt good to have her looking at him like he was a hero. It made him want to be one. Stupid.
A strange ache settled in his chest. He rubbed the spot absently and wondered what his next move should be. Two failed attempts and three days closer to Jamison's deadline didn't give him a lot of options.
When in doubt, retreat and regroup.
Trey ruffled the dog's ears and stood up. "I better get going. Will you be okay?"
Her mouth pulled down a little at the corners and she climbed to her feet. "Sure."
"You can send the clothes to the Dartmouth Hotel, 2A," he said over his shoulder as he headed to the Ford. "When Tony comes for his truck, I'll give them to him."
As he pulled out of the driveway, he found it surprisingly difficult not to look back.
* * *
Dakota climbed the stairs and wished she weren't heading for her apartment alone. She still couldn't believe Trey had tried to defend her from Hamlet. It was crazy and...romantic.
He'd looked like a hero from an action movie, flying over the hood of the truck like that.
When in her life had a man ever made any kind of effort to protect her? Never, that's when. Jack had been sweet and gratifyingly amorous, but only so he could exploit her, not protect her.
Her father had been no different. When Mom couldn't give him what he wanted, he'd divorced her and kicked them out to live as best they could.
She knew Trey ultimately had his own best interest in mind, just like all the others. But in that moment, when he tackled poor Hamlet, that had been purely instinctive and she couldn't help but feel it showed something of the man underneath the armor.
The urge to be with him rose up through her body like a warm gust of summer air.
She knew he was a player; win-at-all-costs kind of guy like her father, but in the last twenty-four hours she'd also seen another side of him. Relaxed. Open. Even a little heroic.
When she was with him, she felt things she'd never felt with anyone before. Challenged. Desired. He was intoxicating.
Dakota unlocked her door and flicked on the switch, flooding her cozy apartment with light. How freeing it would be to enjoy a man like Trey with no illusions as to what he was after. If one knew a man's agenda then how could she be used by him? And if she in turn stated very clearly her own intentions, what was wrong with a few, mutually enjoyable encounters?
She closed the door and set her fake glasses down on the telephone table. She'd be free to explore these crazy, compelling feelings that had tormented her ever since she saw him again.
She'd be free to
A flush of heat crept up his neck. "I haven't always worked for your father." He scowled, annoyed as hell that he felt embarrassed.
She shoved the bag of leftovers towards him. "Did you ever work with dogs?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to take the food. "I'm more of a cat person."
"He's watching us, you know."
Trey shifted his attention to the dumpster. Sure enough, the straggly animal was peering at them around the corner of the trash container. Now that he thought about it, the expression in the dog's eyes looked anything but aggressive. It looked sad, like he'd hurt its feelings. Guilt gnawed at his gut.
He snatched the bag from her. "I didn't mean to scare him," he muttered.
"See if he'll take one of the sausages from you."
"Just go up to him?"
"Nice and slow. With one of the sausages."
It took nearly twenty minutes to convince Hamlet he wasn't going to hurt him. But by the time the food was gone the dog was laying next to him licking the sausage grease off his fingers.
Dakota watched them, the look of approval in her warm brown eyes doing crazy things to his concentration. He knew he should be coming up with ways to turn this new regard for him into an advantage, but hell if he could.
All he knew was that it felt good to have her looking at him like he was a hero. It made him want to be one. Stupid.
A strange ache settled in his chest. He rubbed the spot absently and wondered what his next move should be. Two failed attempts and three days closer to Jamison's deadline didn't give him a lot of options.
When in doubt, retreat and regroup.
Trey ruffled the dog's ears and stood up. "I better get going. Will you be okay?"
Her mouth pulled down a little at the corners and she climbed to her feet. "Sure."
"You can send the clothes to the Dartmouth Hotel, 2A," he said over his shoulder as he headed to the Ford. "When Tony comes for his truck, I'll give them to him."
As he pulled out of the driveway, he found it surprisingly difficult not to look back.
* * *
Dakota climbed the stairs and wished she weren't heading for her apartment alone. She still couldn't believe Trey had tried to defend her from Hamlet. It was crazy and...romantic.
He'd looked like a hero from an action movie, flying over the hood of the truck like that.
When in her life had a man ever made any kind of effort to protect her? Never, that's when. Jack had been sweet and gratifyingly amorous, but only so he could exploit her, not protect her.
Her father had been no different. When Mom couldn't give him what he wanted, he'd divorced her and kicked them out to live as best they could.
She knew Trey ultimately had his own best interest in mind, just like all the others. But in that moment, when he tackled poor Hamlet, that had been purely instinctive and she couldn't help but feel it showed something of the man underneath the armor.
The urge to be with him rose up through her body like a warm gust of summer air.
She knew he was a player; win-at-all-costs kind of guy like her father, but in the last twenty-four hours she'd also seen another side of him. Relaxed. Open. Even a little heroic.
When she was with him, she felt things she'd never felt with anyone before. Challenged. Desired. He was intoxicating.
Dakota unlocked her door and flicked on the switch, flooding her cozy apartment with light. How freeing it would be to enjoy a man like Trey with no illusions as to what he was after. If one knew a man's agenda then how could she be used by him? And if she in turn stated very clearly her own intentions, what was wrong with a few, mutually enjoyable encounters?
She closed the door and set her fake glasses down on the telephone table. She'd be free to explore these crazy, compelling feelings that had tormented her ever since she saw him again.
She'd be free to
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