goodness . It gave her something else to focus on instead of Dexter’s perfectly shaped lips and arresting light-brown eyes.
“Dammit,” Asia cursed as she read the text message. “I need to go.”
Dexter nodded toward the phone. “Was that one of your ex’s issues, too? Did he have a problem with you being married to that BlackBerry instead of being married to him?”
His eerily accurate remark hit its target. Asia pushed away from the table and stood.
“Do you need some time to consider my offer?” she asked as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll need to know rather quickly. As I mentioned earlier, the company mixer is Friday night.”
His hazel eyes sparkled as one eyebrow arched in amusement.
“Consider me your rebound guy.”
Chapter Five
Dexter strengthened his hold on the four dog leashes clutched in his fists as he steered his pack around a cluster of kids blowing and catching bubbles. He traveled along the base of the hill that led to the Prison Ship Martyrs Monument in Fort Greene Park, his favorite dog park in Brooklyn.
Two teens on skateboards whizzed by and set all the dogs to barking and struggling to break loose.
“Heel,” Dex commanded.
He usually enjoyed his late afternoon groupings, but today Dex was counting the minutes until he could return the dogs to their owners. He’d left a message on Alena’s voicemail soon after leaving the Wall Street–area coffee shop this morning, and he had a feeling the half-dozen times his phone had vibrated in his pocket in the past half hour was Alena returning his call.
As the scorching July sun beat down on him, Dex swiftly made his way through Clinton Hill, delivering dogs from that neighborhood before heading back to his own. He’d just turned the corner of Sixth Avenue when he spotted Alena walking up from the Bergen Street subway platform.
“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” she asked from several yards away.
“Hello to you, too,” Dex said when he caught up to her, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She slapped him away. “Move. You smell like dog. Now who is this woman who offered you ten thousand dollars to shag her for a month?”
“Who said anything about shagging her?” Although that thought had crossed his mind about a hundred times since he’d left Asia earlier this afternoon. “And does anyone use the word ‘shag’ anymore?”
“Cut the bull,” Alena said. “Let’s go to your place so you can shower and tell me about this.” She looked down at his feet. “Hi, Roxie. Stay away from my shoes.”
Roxie let out a yelp. She and Alena had a love-hate relationship. Alena hated Roxie. Roxie loved Alena’s designer shoes.
She filled him in on a new story she was working on for her blog as they walked the several blocks to his building. Once inside his apartment, Alena headed straight for his fire escape, coming inside a moment later palming a ripe Black Krim heirloom tomato from his clay pot garden.
Dex filled Roxie’s water bowl and then headed for the bathroom. He left the door ajar so he could continue to listen to Alena while he stripped out of his clothes. Just as he shucked his sweats and briefs down his legs, Alena walked into the bathroom.
“Hey,” he said. “You mind?”
She pointed to his crotch. “You have the wrong equipment, remember?”
Dex grinned.
One of the most profound insights that arose from those weeks Alena had spent as his client was that her previous relationship hadn’t lasted because her ex was the wrong sex.
She leaned against the door jamb. “So, what’s the deal with this chick? Is she ugly?” she asked before biting into the plump tomato.
“Ugly shouldn’t even be a word in her vocabulary.”
“Is she gay and doesn’t know it?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, stepping into the shower.
“So what’s her deal?” Alena called.
“I think she’s just not used to being dumped,” Dex shouted over the noise of the running
“Dammit,” Asia cursed as she read the text message. “I need to go.”
Dexter nodded toward the phone. “Was that one of your ex’s issues, too? Did he have a problem with you being married to that BlackBerry instead of being married to him?”
His eerily accurate remark hit its target. Asia pushed away from the table and stood.
“Do you need some time to consider my offer?” she asked as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll need to know rather quickly. As I mentioned earlier, the company mixer is Friday night.”
His hazel eyes sparkled as one eyebrow arched in amusement.
“Consider me your rebound guy.”
Chapter Five
Dexter strengthened his hold on the four dog leashes clutched in his fists as he steered his pack around a cluster of kids blowing and catching bubbles. He traveled along the base of the hill that led to the Prison Ship Martyrs Monument in Fort Greene Park, his favorite dog park in Brooklyn.
Two teens on skateboards whizzed by and set all the dogs to barking and struggling to break loose.
“Heel,” Dex commanded.
He usually enjoyed his late afternoon groupings, but today Dex was counting the minutes until he could return the dogs to their owners. He’d left a message on Alena’s voicemail soon after leaving the Wall Street–area coffee shop this morning, and he had a feeling the half-dozen times his phone had vibrated in his pocket in the past half hour was Alena returning his call.
As the scorching July sun beat down on him, Dex swiftly made his way through Clinton Hill, delivering dogs from that neighborhood before heading back to his own. He’d just turned the corner of Sixth Avenue when he spotted Alena walking up from the Bergen Street subway platform.
“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” she asked from several yards away.
“Hello to you, too,” Dex said when he caught up to her, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She slapped him away. “Move. You smell like dog. Now who is this woman who offered you ten thousand dollars to shag her for a month?”
“Who said anything about shagging her?” Although that thought had crossed his mind about a hundred times since he’d left Asia earlier this afternoon. “And does anyone use the word ‘shag’ anymore?”
“Cut the bull,” Alena said. “Let’s go to your place so you can shower and tell me about this.” She looked down at his feet. “Hi, Roxie. Stay away from my shoes.”
Roxie let out a yelp. She and Alena had a love-hate relationship. Alena hated Roxie. Roxie loved Alena’s designer shoes.
She filled him in on a new story she was working on for her blog as they walked the several blocks to his building. Once inside his apartment, Alena headed straight for his fire escape, coming inside a moment later palming a ripe Black Krim heirloom tomato from his clay pot garden.
Dex filled Roxie’s water bowl and then headed for the bathroom. He left the door ajar so he could continue to listen to Alena while he stripped out of his clothes. Just as he shucked his sweats and briefs down his legs, Alena walked into the bathroom.
“Hey,” he said. “You mind?”
She pointed to his crotch. “You have the wrong equipment, remember?”
Dex grinned.
One of the most profound insights that arose from those weeks Alena had spent as his client was that her previous relationship hadn’t lasted because her ex was the wrong sex.
She leaned against the door jamb. “So, what’s the deal with this chick? Is she ugly?” she asked before biting into the plump tomato.
“Ugly shouldn’t even be a word in her vocabulary.”
“Is she gay and doesn’t know it?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, stepping into the shower.
“So what’s her deal?” Alena called.
“I think she’s just not used to being dumped,” Dex shouted over the noise of the running
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