beneath a tuft of black hair a moment before the friendly animal pushed her head under Elena’s hand to be petted.
“What breed is she?” Elena asked, rubbing Babe’s small head.
He shrugged as he bent to collect chunks of stuffing. “The vet said she’s mostly Shih-Tzu with maybe a little Pekingese mixed in somewhere a generation or two back.” Straightening, he grinned. “But I’m pretty sure she has a bit of Tasmanian devil in her too.”
Cuddling the furry little body, Elena smiled. “Whatever she is, she’s adorable. How old is she?”
“The vet estimated she was about six months old when I found her wandering around outside of Connelly Tower. She was starving, scared of her shadow and extremely grateful.” He laughed. “That was a little more than a year ago. Now she’s well fed, arrogant as hell and thinks she owns me, instead of the other way around.”
He left the room to dispose of the tattered pillows. When he returned a few minutes later carrying a leash, Elena noticed that he’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. “I hope you like Chinese food.” When she nodded, he looked relieved. “Good. I just called in an order for chicken noodle soup, rice and stir-fried vegetables. It should be here in about twenty minutes.”
He walked over to snap the leash onto Babe’s collar. His hand brushed hers as he fastened the snap, and heat streaked up her arm. Elena quickly pulled back.
She wasn’t sure why, but every time Brett touched her—no matter how brief the contact—warm tingles radiated from the spot. “Do you have someone to take her out while you’re at work?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t noticed her breathless tone.
Nodding, he lifted the dog from her lap and set it on the floor. “I have a dog-walking service that comes by twice a day.” He looked down at Babe. “Ready to go out?”
Elena laughed when the dog glanced up at him, then aloofly turned her head and, ignoring him, started for the door. “You weren’t joking when you said she’d give you the cold shoulder, were you?”
The long-suffering look on his handsome face was ruined by the grin he couldn’t quite hide. “I get no respect around here. No respect at all.” His expression turning serious, he added, “Just sit there and relax. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
After he pulled on his coat and allowed Babe to lead him out the door, Elena propped her feet on the ottoman and thought about the many complexities of Brett Connelly. Her first impression of him had been that he was exactly like her hedonistic ex-husband. A man who lived for the moment and ran from anything that interfered with his good time or required that he take on any kind of responsibility.
She shook her head. Normally she could gauge someone’s personality with complete accuracy within the first five minutes of talking to them. She had to. It was her job to assess people and decide whether they were as they appeared.
But she had to admit she might have been a bit hasty with her first impression of Brett. Not only had he shocked her with his heartfelt apology in the E.R. and later at her apartment, he’d proven his compassion and generosity by insisting that she stay at his place while the furnace in her building was being repaired.
Elena looked around at his condo, at the expensive furniture and original paintings. What self-respecting playboy rescued stray dogs then good-naturedly allowed them to destroy his things as if it were nothing more than a minor annoyance? Or promised to help a pregnant cop with no one to turn to and nowhere else to go?
When Babe jumped onto the middle of his stomach and started doing a tap dance, Brett opened one eye. “Don’t tell me you have to go out now,” he muttered. “It’s barely daylight.”
In answer, the little dog yipped, scampered up his chest and licked his cheek.
He scratched behind her ears. “Oh, so with one doggy kiss I’m supposed to forgive and forget the way you treated me last night?”
Babe curled up on his bare chest, rested her head on her front paws and stared at him with two guileless black eyes as she whined an apology.
He groaned. “Okay, you’re forgiven. I’ll take you for a walk. Just don’t start with the sad puppy eyes.”
Brett plucked the little dog from his chest, rolled to the side of the bed and placed her on the floor. As he pulled on his sweat suit, Babe danced impatiently at his feet. He just hoped she didn’t start barking to hurry him along. Elena was in the bedroom just across the hall, and he didn’t want to wake her. She needed rest.
He quickly tied his running shoes, picked up Babe and walked out into the hall. The door to the guest room was still closed, and he didn’t hear sounds of Elena moving around. Good. They hadn’t disturbed her.
Last evening, when he and Babe had returned from their walk, he’d found Elena curled up in the chair where he’d left her. He smiled, remembering the scene.
She’d looked so relaxed, sleeping like a baby, that he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. She probably wouldn’t be happy with him, but after he’d moved her overnight case to the guest room, he’d picked her up and carried her to bed. So sound asleep, she’d barely stirred when he’d removed her shoes and pulled the comforter over her.
But he’d been left with two very distinct impressions from having her small body pressed to his chest. The first was how soft and feminine she’d felt, and the second was how shocked he’d been by the degree of heat that had coursed through him. His body stirred at the memory, and his pithy curse made Babe turn around to give him a curious look.
Forcing himself to focus on his other impression of Elena’s body, he frowned. He didn’t have any experience with pregnant women, but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be a little sturdier than Elena. He’d been disturbed by how light she was and how fragile she’d felt in his arms. She couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds.
The doctor’s orders had been for her to start eating more regular meals, and it bothered him that she’d missed dinner last night. But he would see that she made up for it this morning. As soon as he returned to the condo, he would prepare a big breakfast and make sure she ate every bite.
Half an hour later Brett opened the door of his condo to the scrumptious smell of bacon frying. “Elena?”
“In here,” she called.
He quickly shed his coat and unsnapped the leash from Babe’s collar. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, walking into the kitchen. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, removing several strips of crisp bacon from the skillet. She looked around his feet. “Where’s Babe?”
Brett jerked his thumb in the direction of the living room. “Burrowed under what’s left of the pillows on the couch.” He noticed that Elena had showered and changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt with Chicago Police Academy silk-screened across the front.
“Why did she do that?” she asked, removing a carton of eggs from the refrigerator.
“She always does that to warm up after she’s been out.” He took the carton from Elena and placed it on the counter.
“I don’t blame her,” she said, smiling. “February in Chicago can be miserably cold.” She reached for an egg. “How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up, over easy or scrambled?”
“Over easy.” He took the spatula from her hand and guided her to the table in the breakfast nook. “But I’ll take care of it. You sit down.”
“I’m perfectly capable of cooking.” Her eyes narrowed. “Just as I would have been capable of putting myself to bed last night if someone had bothered to wake me.”
He’d figured on her having something to say about that. “You were tired.”
“That’s beside the point,” she said stubbornly.
“No,