When she came through the door, the woman paused, a look of curiosity on her face. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
About five minutes came to mind, but Martin didn’t offer one of his biting comments. Instead he wondered why she gave him that questioning look.
She stepped closer. “What can I do for you?”
He motioned to the door. “You might change that bell to a siren.” Okay, so he’d let that comment sneak out.
“Great idea. Now what can I do for you as far as our dogs are concerned.”
Martin noted the sarcasm in her voice, but with it, the flicker of a grin.
The grin faded as she studied him. “I think I know you.”
A frown burrowed onto his face.
“I don’t really know you, but I’ve seen you.” Her probing gaze raked across his face.
Martin’s eyebrow tugged upward.
She gave a knowing nod. “At Steph’s wedding. You’re Martin Davis, right? Nick’s brother.”
That explained the look. “Yes, the infamous Martin Davis.”
She didn’t blink. “I’m Emily Ireland.”
Martin eyed her slender hand reaching toward his. He grasped it, surprised her grip was stronger than he’d expected. He gazed into her eyes. Beautiful eyes, wide-set and the color of dark chocolate. Her straight dark brows lifted at the ends, giving her an impish look that caught him off guard. His mind snapped back, and he mumbled a nice-to-meet-you comment, although he wasn’t really sure if that would prove to be true. For all her innocence, she made him feel on edge.
Emily released his grip with a new expression more confounding than the last. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for another dog?”
Ah-ha. She had all the dirt on him from Steph, naturally. “Is that a problem?”
Her uneasiness deepened. “No. It’s…it’s good.”
Martin figured she was trying to make up for her earlier comment. He watched her squirm a little and rub her palms together as if trying to decide what to say or do next.
Martin shoved his hand into his pants pocket unable to understand why looking at her left him confused. Worse than confused. He wanted to give her a hug and suggest they start over, but it would ruin his apparent reputation. “I want a dog, but definitely one quieter and less work than Suzette. I’m sure you’ve heard about those problems.”
She flashed him an uneasy look. “Yes. You gave her to your brother.”
Martin’s brows knitted, sensing an undertone from this impish woman. “Suzette was rambunctious.” Her knowing gaze tripped his pulse.
“Dogs are until they’re trained.”
Her knowledge of him crept under his skin, and he itched to know more about her. She had the upper hand, and he didn’t like it. Maybe he could grill Nick. But subtly. If not, Nick would be all over him to know why he was asking about a Time for Paws employee.
Her demeanor softened, and Emily motioned toward the doorway. “I think I know the perfect dog for you.”
Martin arched his brow, curious why this dog was so perfect. Probably it was old and three-legged.
Emily didn’t let his look slow her down. She pointed again. “Through that doorway.”
He headed for the door, giving up on trying to understand the subliminal feelings charging through him.
Emily moved ahead, her hair brushing against her baggy shirt. Hidden beneath, he sensed, was a woman who was hiding something. Her look was direct, but the flicker behind her intriguing eyes made him wonder. If he asked Steph, she’d be on him like a bloodhound.
As soon as Emily opened the door, a din of woofs and whines rose to greet them. Martin strode past her, glancing inside the pens as tails wagged and noses pressed against the wire fencing of the upper door while the shorter dogs leaped to see above the Dutch door’s solid bottom. Martin paused and took a good look at the inside of the pen. “The dogs have furniture. That’s odd.”
Her demeanor changed and took on a businesslike manner that let him know she’d been offended by his comment. “Coming here is traumatic enough for them, so we try to make the dogs as comfortable as possible.”
“Apparently.” He didn’t let her browbeat him.
“The dog I have in mind is down here.” She strutted ahead, her attitude decisive.
Martin followed her down the aisle, gazing into the dog pens. When she reached her destination, a tender look filled her face. She motioned to the little dog jigging beside the door, its tail wagging as it looked up at them. “Here you go.” She swung open the Dutch door and stepped inside.
Martin joined her, feeling his stomach growl.
Emily bent and lifted the dog. “What do you think?” She extended the furry ball toward Martin.
“What is he?”
“She’s a cairn terrier.” Without waiting for him to accept her invitation, she pressed the dog against his chest.
He drew back before grasping the squirming fluff ball into his arms but not before her pink tongue swiped his hand. He couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile. The dog wiggled until her chin rested on his chest, and she looked into his face. Martin gazed back, his heart giving a little kick.
“She’s quiet and well-behaved. I think she’d be perfect for you.”
What would be perfect for him? What did she know about him but hearsay?
“Nessie’s been spayed and is up to date on all her shots.” Emily ran her hand along the dog’s fur. “She’s five, by the way. A healthy cairn terrier can live to be fourteen or fifteen.”
“Nessie?” He tilted his head. “That’s her name?”
The dog’s ear’s perked, and she tried to climb higher up his jacket.
Martin adjusted his grip but not before she licked his hand again.
“Cairns originated in Scotland. You know, the Loch Ness. That’s how she got her name.” Emily touched his arm. “And she’s purebred, too. We have the papers.”
Apparently she’d heard of his preference for purebreds. But that had changed, too. His attention shifted from his thoughts about the terrier to Emily’s warm palm against his arm.
She held it there a moment before shifting her hand and taking the dog from his arms. “Would you like to look at a different small dog? We have a beagle.”
“No. They howl.” He gazed again at the terrier. If Emily were accurate, and clearly she knew dogs, she had made a good choice for him. Quiet and well-behaved. That he could handle. He pulled his gaze from Emily’s lovely eyes and turned his attention to the dog. “What do you think, Nessie? Want to come home with me?”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “You want her?”
His single nod sent her rushing toward the office as if she feared he would change his mind. He stood at the desk while she became all business again. As she explained the paperwork, Martin sensed Emily was seeing him as more than just Nick’s difficult brother.
When finished, she handed him the documents. “Now if you have any questions, Mr. Davis, just ask.”
He folded the paperwork and jammed it into his pocket.
“Here you go.” She snapped a leash onto the terrier’s collar, and Martin grasped it, waiting for the dog to tug and run. Instead she stood there, her tail wagging. But when he headed for the door, the dog’s personality changed. Martin gripped the leash as Nessie jerked him outside. For a small dog, she had power to spare. He tugged her back not knowing