at your asking price, she’s still getting a deal. It’s worth every penny.” He leaned forward, his cropped red hair spiking upward, his gaze intent on Dylan. “It’s not too late. You can back out of this. I know I’ve been pushing for you to get back into the swing of things, but I wasn’t suggesting such a drastic change.”
Dylan hesitated for a moment. Was he making a mistake? Why was it so hard to let go? His gaze scanned the paneled walls. “No, there’s no going back. This is the only room I spend any time in.”
“But, Dylan, this house…it means so much to you. I know that better than anyone. Imagine what you could do if you dedicated yourself. You’re a natural. It’s a masterpiece, a sign of real creative genius. To just let it go…”
Dylan waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m an attorney, haven’t you heard? We don’t create. We tear things down, argument by argument. Besides, I’ve finally earned the old man’s grudging respect.”
A scowl marred Steven’s otherwise pleasant features. “It would do the old bastard good to have his plans go awry.”
“He’s my father. I’m the only one who can call him a bastard.”
“Ha! They were calling him that way before you were born.”
“Either way.” Dylan gestured at the room. “This house was a phase. I only managed it with your help. You’re the real architect. Besides, I’m good at what I do now.”
“But are you happy?”
“I buried all my happiness two years ago.”
Steven smacked his glass down on the desk. “Yes, it’s been two years. When are you going to snap out of it?”
Dylan narrowed his eyes on his friend. He picked up the contract. With a furious scrawl he signed his name across the bottom. “There. I’ve sold the damn house. How’s that for snapping out of it?”
Silence hung over the room.
Steven slumped back in his chair. “I do want to see you moving on. I just hate to see you sell this place.”
“It’s done. She wants to set the closing in a month’s time. So be it.”
“Not even a counteroffer? You should have asked for more.”
He shrugged. “I’ll pay closing. Let the witch have the place.”
“Witch?”
An image of Nikki McClellan floated in Dylan’s mind. “She must be one. That or…something.”
“By ‘witch’ do you mean ‘bitch’?”
“No, not that.”
Steven sat forward. “I get it. So your buyer’s a babe?”
Guilt still plagued Dylan, but the liquor had loosened his resolve. “When we were in the gardens, all I could think about was getting her into the hammock.”
“Excellent.” Steven nodded in approval. “This is definitely progress.”
“I feel like I’m being…unfaithful.”
“No! You’re not. Kathy would want you to be happy. This is a good thing. You should act on those impulses. God, it’s about time. Ask this witch out.”
“I don’t know what it is about her….”
“I think she’s just what the doctor ordered.”
“I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“Make it a no-strings affair.”
Dylan stared at his empty glass. “I can’t believe a woman like her would go for that.”
“It’s a new millennium. Women like their independence. You won’t know unless you ask. This is huge. Do you realize you’ve been like a dead man walking around here? You’ve been working way too hard. When was the last time you even thought about a woman? I’d about given up on you. I can’t wait to tell Rebecca. She’s been living for this day.”
“Whoa. I said that I find this woman attractive, but I didn’t say I was going to do anything about it. This is a big step.”
“But you’re giving it serious consideration. I can tell. You’ve got that spark back in your eye.”
Slowly Dylan nodded. Maybe Steven was right. Anything was better than the agonizing tedium his life had become. “We’ll see.”
“THERE HE IS, ALL FIXED UP.” Nikki handed the kitten to its young owner. “Told you we’d make him feel better.”
“He’s a big boy. He didn’t even cry. Just like me. I didn’t cry when I got my shots to go to kindergarten, right Mommy?” The six-year-old owner of the kitten beamed at her mother.
“That’s right, sweetie.”
“Well, Oliver’s all set.” Nikki scratched the cat behind his ear. A wave of calm flowed from the little guy as he gave a contented purr. “You ready to take him home?”
The child radiated with excitement. “Can we find him a special treat?”
“You got it, sweetie. Thank you, Dr. McClellan.”
Nikki bade mother, child and kitten goodbye as she walked them out of the examination room into the waiting area. Several people sat in the chairs against one wall while Janet, her receptionist, talked quietly on the phone.
Nikki paused, absently nodding at something Oliver’s owner said. A tall blond man stood with his back to them, bent over the sign-in sheet at the reception counter. Her pulse quickened. A familiar melancholy drifted to her, but it seemed different today than when last she’d experienced it—tamer somehow.
The man straightened, turning toward her, and she smiled, unexpected delight filling her. “Dylan, I thought that was you. What are you doing here?”
He nodded toward her groomer, Sarah Hendricks, who stood behind the counter, her gaze fixed admiringly on him. Sebastian made a feeble protest from her arms. “I decided to follow your advice and bring him in for grooming and nail clipping.”
“Oh.”
The man was a mystery. Had she imagined that heated look in his garden? He certainly hadn’t acted on it. In fact, when he’d come upstairs during her tour of his house, she’d gotten the distinct feeling he’d been angry with her. Thank God he’d accepted her offer on the house.
“He seems happy enough here.” He nodded toward Sebastian.
“He’s in the right hands. Sarah will take good care of him.”
Talking soothingly to the cat, the young woman finally tore her gaze away to head toward the grooming area. Nikki drank in the sight of Dylan. He wore a charcoal suit with a blue shirt that brightened the color of his eyes. His shoulders appeared broader, and he seemed to take up more space in her waiting area than he had in the expanse of his house.
His pleasure at seeing her swept over her, stealing her breath and warming her cheeks. She had never experienced this kind of intensity from anyone before. It was a desire so pure, her throat tightened with the beauty of it. It called to something deep within her, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch his arm. Even through his clothes she felt the connection.
“Thanks for bringing him in,” she managed at last before dropping her hand.
“It was the least I could do.” He traced his finger along her collarbone, sending a ripple of pleasure up her spine. “How’s the scratch?”
“Healing. I’ve had worse, rest assured.”
He nodded slowly. “This is a nice place you have here. Did I understand correctly that you own it?”
“That’s right. I had a little help from my great-aunt Emma. She