The firm set to her mouth made that very clear. But as her eyes followed his hand still stroking her dog, there was a softness in her expression that he had not seen before.
She stepped back for him to enter. “Honey will have to entertain you while I get dressed.”
David stepped through the jungle of her entryway, the dog trotting happily at his heels. He noted the shiny hardwood floors, the large bear that held her shoulder bag and keys, the whimsical frog wastebasket.
When she stepped past him to close the door, he caught a whiff of her freshly washed skin and hair. He reminded himself that the sudden tightening of his stomach muscles was normal, natural, nothing to be concerned about.
“The living room is that way,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
She padded across the bare wood floor and easily sprinted up the spiral staircase to the second floor. She was lithe and agile and displayed none of the physical clumsiness that had plagued her that morning. He felt reassured. He didn’t want to worry about her, but he had.
He’d decided to meet with her at her home because he wanted to get a deeper sense of who she was. Understanding a client was important. A woman’s home often reflected her more strongly than any other aspect of her life. Especially a woman who lived alone.
He already knew of her struggle to be taken as a serious professional, her hard-held independence, her deep need for privacy. Still, he had a feeling there was a lot more to know.
David thought he’d prepared himself for whatever he’d find, but when he entered her living room, he hadn’t expected to be walking into a shrine. From floor to ceiling, the walls were covered in dramatic, larger-than-life photographs of wildlife, giving him the impression that he’d been transported into the wilderness.
A majestic eagle soared over a diamond-blue waterfall. An elk herd fed on dewy grass in the dawn light. Furry bobcats ran across snow-covered forests. White-tailed deer glided through golden meadows. A brown bear lunged at pink-bellied salmon leaping up an emerald stream. The room vibrated with movement, with wild beauty, with life.
He barely noticed the furnishings. A nondescript couch and chair, a coffee table and several throw rugs—all in muted greens, grays and umber. Nothing distracted the eye from the dramatic scenes on the walls.
And that was when he knew. This was the living room of a woman with a deep respect, reverence and love for nature. Those beautiful pictures were not an extension of her work. Her work was an extension of herself.
SUSAN SHOULD HAVE KNOWN that David would be one of those rare men who actually showed up when he said he would. She rubbed her wet hair with the towel, well aware the effort was futile. An hour under the blow dryer would be required to dry the long strands in the humid air. She didn’t have that kind of time.
She settled for rubbing the moisture out of her bangs, and swept the rest into a golden scarf, tied turban-style around her head. She pulled a pair of clean black sweats out of her closet and hurriedly put them on.
Just because he was in dark-blue slacks and the collar and cuffs of a dress shirt peeked out of his blue sweater, there was no reason for her to dress up.
Damn, he did look good, though.
Still, this was her home. She had a right to be comfortable. She was not going to change anything just because he had the bad manners to invite himself over. But instead of reaching for her comfy, beat-up slippers as she normally would have, she opted instead for a pair of socks and her new walking shoes.
When she came down the stairs a couple of minutes later, she found David sitting on the couch with Honey beside him. His face was turned toward the dog, so she couldn’t read his expression. But there was a relaxed set to his shoulders and his long legs were comfortably stretched out in front of him. He was stroking Honey.
She stood at the edge of the living room silently watching them. She wanted to be put out with David, but she found that difficult. He was being so nice and attentive to Honey. A man who liked her beloved pet couldn’t be all bad.
“Is he a good watchdog?” David asked, obviously aware she was standing there although he hadn’t taken his eyes off Honey.
She stepped into the room. “I doubt he’d do anything to a burglar except beg for attention.”
He glanced up at her, the look on his face almost friendly. The edge of his lip twitched. Was that the beginning of a smile?
She waited expectantly, suddenly very curious to see what a smile would do to his face. But none was forthcoming.
“He’s munching on my fingers,” David said. “I think he’s hungry.”
“We eat at this time,” she said, happy for the opportunity to bring up the subject.
“Then, you’d best eat,” he said, not a hint of apology in his voice.
“Come on, Honey,” she called, shaking her head. “Go get your dinner bowl.”
Honey didn’t have to be told a second time. He barked his excitement as he flew off the couch. She followed the dog into the kitchen. She heard David enter a moment later as she was taking Honey’s meal out of the refrigerator. She unwrapped the steak and placed it in the bowl Honey held in his mouth. Honey expertly lowered the bowl to the kitchen floor and dug in.
“Steak for dinner,” David said. “Honey’s a lucky dog.”
“He’s a loved one,” Susan said, staring down at the ball of fur.
“That’s what I meant,” he said. “Get your coat. You can take your pick of Italian, Chinese or a steakhouse. They’re all within a twenty-minute drive.”
“I’m not dressed to go out,” she said, looking up in surprise.
His impressive height and massive shoulders dwarfed her small kitchen. The overhead light played through the thick, rich brown of his hair.
“You look fine to me.”
There was absolutely no readable expression on his calm face, but his voice told her he meant those words.
She knew then that he had intended to take her out to dinner all along. Damn. She wished he had said something. She would have dried her hair and worn something suitable. How thoroughly annoying this man could be.
She looked away from him and turned toward a cupboard.
“I was going to have some soup and a salad,” she said. “There’s enough for two if you’re hungry.”
She fiddled with the dishes and waited through the stretching silence, slightly appalled at the sudden impulse that had her inviting him to share a dinner with her here.
“I’ll make the salad,” he said.
He hadn’t offered. He’d told her. She did not appreciate the caveman approach. A spark of annoyance skittered across nerve endings she recognized were already taut. A small, reasonable voice inside her tried to suggest that he might have offered to make the salad as a way of being helpful. But she didn’t really want to listen to that voice at the moment.
She felt him move behind her to the refrigerator. Felt the cool air as he opened the door. Felt the impressive breadth of him that blocked a lot of that cool air. He was crowding her, and she didn’t like to be crowded.
But what Susan really didn’t like was her sudden suspicion that David might actually be a considerate man. She hadn’t been prepared for that. The possibility threw her off balance in a most unexpected and disconcerting way.
SOUP AND SALAD, she’d said. Sounded simple enough to David. But as he was fast discovering, nothing about Susan was simple.
She’d added sliced apples, pears, grapes and then finely chopped almonds, walnuts and pecans to the assortment of greens he’d put into salad bowls. Instead of salad dressing, she topped off the blend with sharp, shredded cheddar. The