And coming up on your left side is the famous Chicago Water Tower, built in 1869 by architect William W. Boyington. It’s distinct yellow color comes from the use of Joliet limestone in its construction.” Lucy had been through this spiel so many times she could do it in her sleep. Which was a good thing, since her brain had short circuited about half a mile back when she’d realized Ben was sitting aboard her double-decker red bus. At first, she’d been a bit startled, thinking perhaps she’d attracted herself a stalker. Then her panic switched from herself to her dog. Had something horrible happened to her beloved Pavlov? Leaving him with a virtual stranger had damned near ripped her heart out, but she’d had little choice. Her rent was far enough behind as it was. Her landlord was already breathing down her neck about making up the missed payments. If he found out she’d been keeping a dog in the apartment too… Then her gaze had dropped to Pavlov resting peaceful near his feet, one happy pooch from the looks of it, and her fears subsided, at least a bit.

Truthfully, Lucy could understand the feeling of wanting to get closer to Ben Volkov, even if he had shown up unexpectedly again. Honestly, he emanated such strength and power that if she could curl up on Ben’s lap and forget her problems for a while, she’d be one happy camper too. There was something about a brooding, alpha protector that got her in the girly parts every time.

The bus stopped to allow the tourists to snap pictures and Ben rose, maneuvering Pavlov’s large frame down the aisle to a seat closer to Lucy. By the time they were rumbling down Michigan Avenue again, heading toward their final stop—Lakeshore Drive—she was trembling with nerves. The guy was just too gorgeous—with his cropped dark hair and liquid amber eyes. His face was long and angular, with sharp Slavic cheekbones and a strong jaw. Beneath that soft black jacket of his lurked broad shoulders and tightly packed, dense muscle. She’d felt that earlier when she’d grabbed him and pretended he was her boyfriend. She’d also relished the way he made her feel small and delicate, his six-foot frame all but dwarfing her shorter, five-five self.

Realizing she’d been staring, heat blazed hot in Lucy’s cheeks. She looked away fast from his too-perceptive gaze and rambled on about the Magnificent Mile shopping and dining opportunities then finally exhaled and relaxed a bit as Lake Michigan came into view. This was her favorite part of the tour. The water never ceased to ease her tensions.

When the bus pulled to a stop near the curb and the doors opened to let the tourists out to explore the area better, Ben remained in his seat, Pavlov painting beside him now in a seat of his own.

She cleared her throat and did her best to hide the nerves raging inside her. “I see you and Pavlov seem to be managing well without me.”

“He’s warming to me,” Ben said, reaching over to pet the dog, who still flinched. “But it will take time. Perhaps if you were with us, it would go more smoothly.”

Stunned, Lucy blinked at him. Was he asking her out?

Before she could respond, he took away any doubt. Leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs in a show of pure masculine grace, Ben asked, “Have dinner with me tonight.”

No. Asked wasn’t the right word. More like commanded.

Lucy watched him for a moment, considering her options. She did appreciate his help with Pavlov and it would give her a chance to get to know him better and make sure he was the best person to keep her dog until she could find the right place, but she also had an early day tomorrow. Not to mention the eviction notice she’d been avoiding tacked to her apartment door earlier. Probably her jerk of a downstairs neighbor had reported her to the manager. He’d come up to complain about “all the foot noise” and Pavlov had barked at him.

“How about a compromise?” she asked, smiling.

He seemed somewhat taken aback at her answer. “A compromise?”

“Yes. Why don’t you let me cook you dinner? At your place. That way we both eat, and I can check out how Pavlov is settling in with you?”

“Oh, well…” Ben looked around, as if for an excuse. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon. It’ll be fun.” She took off her headset and checked her watch. Quitting time. Perfect. Lucy slid off her stool and crouched to give a proper hello to her canine companion. This close, she caught Ben’s scent—pine and cloves and warm, clean male—and those nerves inside her ignited into pure lust. “Besides, you won’t find better goulash in all of Chicago.”

“Goulash?” Ben’s voice sounded lower, rougher than before and tiny dots of crimson lined his high cheekbones. She hazarded a glance at his eyes and saw his pupils were dilated too. Was it possible he was as turned on by her as she was by him?

“Yep. My mother’s secret recipe.” She straightened and held out her hand to him. “C’mon. I’m off duty now. We can catch a cab to the grocery store on the way to your place. I know all the ingredients by heart.”

He stared at her a few moments, his expression conflicted. Then he seemed to come to some internal decision. “Fine. Dinner at my place it is.” He took her hand and headed for the staircase down to the first level, Pavlov trotting along behind them, his leash hanging loose from Ben’s other hand. “Afterward, we talk.”