have decided to go exploring on his own, which wasn’t good, but then Gilly wasn’t around, either. The rat. She’d probably absconded with Desmond, taken him somewhere intimate and private.
Pumpkin’s mother followed Mercy to the suite, where Pumpkin greeted them with ferocious barking from atop her bed. Mercy opened the door and went inside. Surprisingly, Pumpkin’s mother didn’t. It took several minutes to calm the little tan dog down, but finally it was quiet again. Mercy was able to put Pumpkin on the floor. She proceeded to walk around, and there was no sign of a limp.
“She seems to be doing well.”
“I suppose so. But I still should have gotten a call.”
“Yes, you should have. I’ll look in to it and find out what happened. I’m sorry.”
Without a move to touch her dog, the woman turned toward the door. She took a step, then stopped. “I’m going out tonight, so you can keep her here. I’ll look in on her tomorrow.”
“I’ll keep my eye on her.”
The woman nodded once more, but instead of heading straight to the exit, she wandered down the line of suites. Finally, after looking at all the dogs, she made her way across the room and let herself out.
Mercy picked Pumpkin up. The dog trembled, but didn’t bark. After a few minutes of gentle petting, Pumpkin settled and seemed to enjoy the contact.
Something was off between owner and pet, but that wasn’t unheard of. “Poor little thing,” she whispered. “We’ll play tomorrow, you and me. We’ll get to know each other better.”
Mercy put her down, then left the suite, only to be surprised by Will Desmond. He stood just a few feet away, watching her. Mercy closed the door behind her, then turned to him. “Was there something else?”
He nodded. “I’d like to sign up to have you help me train Buster.”
She shook her head. “That’s the one thing we don’t do. Not yet, at least. But I can give you several referrals who are excellent.”
“No. I want you.”
The words, even in their proper context, made Mercy flush. For a split second she pretended—but then it was over and she walked to Buster’s suite to look in on the pup. He’d piddled on the floor and he’d found a long, stuffed dog to play with. He seemed content, not at all frightened. That was a good thing. “I’m sorry. I don’t train dogs.”
“You should. You’re amazing with them.”
“I respect them. I don’t see them as little furry humans.”
“So bend the rules. For Buster.”
“I’m sorry. When you come back tomorrow, I’ll have the referrals ready. I really have to get going now.”
Instead of turning around, instead of leaving, he moved closer. So close she could see the slight shadow of his beard, the hint of his dimples even with his face in repose. He was too good-looking by far. She stepped back.
“At least consider it,” he said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
She couldn’t move farther back even though his nearness was too much. Was that his cologne she smelled? No, it was too subtle. Soap. That was it. Her gaze shifted down but the dark smattering of hair on his arms teased her. Made her think of other parts of his body.
“I have work—”
“I know. I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll leave you, for now. Just please, think about it.”
She nodded.
“You’re lovely,” he whispered.
The slow simmer of blush that had filled her cheeks burst into a heat that burned. She didn’t care if he left or not. She was out of there.
Behind her, as she hurried to the grooming salon, she heard his measured footsteps. It was only when she was safe with a door and a room between them that she felt the trembling, immediately followed by a hot surge of humiliation. She was twenty-seven years old, and she still was a complete idiot when it came to men. Not that she was completely inexperienced, but then, none of her experiences had been very good.
She’d missed out on the whole flirting thing. For that matter, she’d never really dated, not like normal girls had. In the end, it was just easier to be with the animals. At least there, she knew just where she stood.
“GET ON TAYLOR'S case first thing in the morning,” Will said as he logged into his laptop. “That delivery should have been made yesterday.”
“Got it,” Anita said. She moved on to the next order of business in her usual professional manner.
Anita had been his administrative assistant for three years, and she was damn good at her job. She kept the distractions to a minimum and while they were friendly, she didn’t bother him with her personal life, or expect to know about his.
He’d formed the company eleven years ago, when he’d seen the signs that corporate wellness was going to become a matter of necessity. WD Fitness Equipment designed health facilities for businesses across the country. He had a great team working for him, but he was still the man in charge, and taking any time away from work was costly.
“I’ve made your reservations for the trade show in Paris. You’ll be leaving on the twenty-first.”
“Fine. Where are we with the end-of-month numbers?”
He listened as he glanced at the e-mails, at least sixty, waiting for him, then clicked over to Google. After typing in “diamond dog collar” he was surprised to find so many hits.
Anita said something that he made her repeat. When she was finished, he wrapped things up, anxious to get to his personal business.
“Will you be coming in tomorrow?”
“I’ll see. I might be able to come in around ten, but don’t make any appointments.”
He heard a phone ring in the background, and let Anita go. The office wasn’t far, just across town in SoHo, but until he knew exactly what was going on with Drina, he didn’t want to leave the hotel.
He went back to his online search, running down the list of hits. Although he didn’t see many links to diamond dog collars made recently, there had been several in the news from the 1920s. Evidently, diamonds on dog collars had been in vogue, and several well-known socialites had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to upstage their neighbors.
There were a few pictures, and one of them looked a lot like the collar he’d seen on Lulu. He’d call an old friend of his, a P.I. from Jersey, and get him to look into the possibility that the collar had been purchased at auction or if the transaction had made the news. He wished he could have turned this whole mess over to Ricky, but the matter required his personal attention. So while Ricky did the research, Will would do some digging the old-fashioned way—by getting someone to talk.
Not someone. Mercy.
He wondered again about her story. She really was lovely. Tall, slender but not ridiculously so, she reminded him of a colt. Skittish and headstrong, it would be a challenge to get past her defenses. But worth it, he thought. Not just because she would know about the collar, either.
He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get to the bottom of things here, but he wasn’t quite as anxious as he’d been this morning.
Mercy had been clear that she wasn’t going to help him train Buster. Will smiled as he recalled her delectable pout. He’d always liked a challenge, especially when the reward was so tempting.
3
THE HUSH ROOFTOP garden was as lush with fragrance as it was with beauty. Drina had found a small wooden table under a shade tree where she could drink her mimosa and stare at her still-empty journal. She closed her eyes as a warm humid breeze caressed her face, wishing as