Sam kept his focus on his dog’s broad head. “Guess I’ll be right over to fix that fence. I’m sorry he jumped into your yard. C’mon, Leo, inside. Now.”
The dog followed him, happily tossing their pretty neighbor his most charming dog grin.
It was embarrassing, that’s what, a tough guard dog with his tongue lolling like that. That kind of affection would lead a guy to heartache. Didn’t the dog know that?
“Leo? That’s his name?”
That was Kirby’s voice, dulcet with amusement, calling him back, making his shoes pivot so that he turned toward her, as if he had no say in it. As if his feet were in charge.
“What’s wrong with the name Leo?”
“Nothing, exactly.”
Leo danced at the tinkling warmth of Kirby’s laughter. Sam had to admit he liked the sound of it, too. Soft, not grating. Gentle, not earsplitting.
“It wasn’t what I expected from a big dangerous-looking dog like that.” She held out one hand and Leo dashed straight for her, gazing adoringly at her while she scratched his chin. “Is he purebred?”
She was captivating. He couldn’t seem to figure out a way to answer. He was a big tough guy. He knew how to speak. What was wrong with him?
You’re in trouble, man. His game plan was going to be blown to bits if he didn’t thank her and exit stage left. All he had to do was haul Leo through that door, close it, and he’d be safe. Unattached. Distant.
But did he do that? No. Did he summon up his best drill-sergeant impressions and sound harsh and mean so that she’d never look at him again with those sparkling eyes full of hope? It’s what he should have done.
But did he? No. He wanted to hear her laugh again. Against every instinct he had, he advanced when he should have retreated. “So what would you have named him? Wait, I know. Something fancy. Like Prince or Duke, maybe.”
“Now you’re mocking me.” She thrust her gently rounded chin just high enough for the wind to sneak beneath the fall of her silken hair and ruffle it.
The wispy locks caressed the side of her face and made him wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.
“No, I like people names for dogs,” she added. “They have feelings, too.”
“Let me guess. You’ve got one of those pampered little dogs. With carefully brushed hair tied up with a pink ribbon. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“A cocker spaniel, right?” He’d recognized the note and type of bark earlier, when she’d been unlocking her front door.
“How did you know?”
“I just do. I’m gifted.” Oh, that made her laugh. “What? You don’t think so?”
“Gifted isn’t the word I’d use. Irritating. Annoying. Arrogant.”
“Ouch. Calling me names already? That doesn’t bode well for our future together as next-door neighbors.” He liked the way a little wrinkle furrowed between her brows right at the bridge of her nose. “You’re mad because I’m right.”
“I’m not mad, and there’s nothing wrong with having a polite dog.”
“My dog doesn’t have to be well mannered. Not with his good looks. He’s naturally adored no matter what.”
Was Sam Gardner talking about himself, too? “Yes, but good looks can only take a guy so far.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He braced his hands on his hips, a fighting stance, broadening his shoulders, drawing tight his chest muscles.
He looked as invincible as steel, but there was a tenderness in him, a kindness that shone in the chocolate warmth of his eyes, that gleamed like a promise in his deep rumbling voice. “My dog is good-looking and at the top of the food chain. Look at him. Big teeth. Bred for fighting. He’s a trained guard dog.”
“He’s a thief. He helped himself to most of the dog biscuits.”
“I can get you another box. Hold on.”
“I don’t want you to reimburse me with dog treats. I was just—” Okay, so Sam Gardner did meet another criterion. He could make her laugh.
But that didn’t mean he was a good man. For example, he might not be a responsible pet owner. “Didn’t you notice Leo was gone from your yard?”
“One minute I looked out the window and he was fine. But the phone rang and he must have escaped while I was talking to my lady love.”
“You were talking with your aunt, huh?”
“How did you know that?”
“I’m gifted—what can I say?”
“You overheard me through the open windows when you were bringing Leo back.”
“And you heard my dog’s little bark.”
Sam chuckled, low and deep, studying her with a gaze so intent, it was as if he could see her soul, and she shivered, feeling exposed. Way too exposed.
She took a step back, confused, not at all sure she liked this man. He definitely wasn’t anything close to her ideal of Mr. Right.
What she knew for sure was that it was time to leave. “Goodbye, Leo. It was nice meeting you. Come over any time to visit.”
“I’ll be fixing that fence. It’s next on my list,” Sam informed her as she held out her hands and the big dog laid his face in her open palms.
“I’m glad. This is a quiet neighborhood, but there’s always a car now and then that’s driving too fast and isn’t watching for kids or pets.” She knelt, her hair falling all around her face and her shoulders and tumbling down over her nape, to let Leo kiss her chin. “Good dog, good boy.”
Sam’s heart stopped beating. He’d never seen such gentle hands. Slender and fine boned, with long tapered fingers. She looked like kindness personified, and it rocked him to the core—as if he’d taken a direct blow from a grenade launcher.
Leo gazed at her again with adoration, and while Sam wasn’t about to do the same, he could see there was something endearing about her. With her head bent forward, he could see the careful part of her hair—perfect, not a strand out of place.
See? She was just what he thought. The perfect woman with a perfect life looking for the perfect man to marry.
He wanted nothing to do with that.
To make it clear, Sam stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. He kept them there as Kirby rose like a flower to the sun, straight and elegant and lovely, and smiled at him. Hers was a smile that could melt the polar ice caps with its loveliness. Then she moved away and out of his sight.
The scent of her perfume, something light and floral and sweet, remained.
He was alone. And that was good. His life was fine the way it was.
Leo nudged his knee.
“C’mon, boy, let’s go grab some lunch. Then we’ve got to get busy. We’ve a lot of work ahead of us.”
The dog loped up the back steps, dashed across the porch and into the house. He bounded and hopped impatiently while Sam grabbed his wallet and his keys.
The empty house echoed around him, lonely.
As his life was meant to be.
“Ouch!” Kirby sucked her fingernail, a casualty of trying to open the new box of tea. The wrapping remained untouched, despite her torn and bent nail.
What did they make this stuff out of? Invisible steel? Forget breaking another fingernail over this. She was going for the big guns.
She