Chapter Three
Taylor was usually irritated if the Andersons rescheduled flights with short or no notice, but the pay made the aggravation and screwed-up sleep schedule worthwhile. Will Anderson, his boss and buddy, called it PIA pay. And yeah, this job truly was a pain in the ass, but he loved it. When he’d received the text from Anderson Enterprises CEO, Michael Anderson, cancelling this morning’s flight after he’d already done his pre-flight safety check, he’d felt nothing but relief…and a little something else. Excitement? No. Lust. Yeah, definitely lust. The petite blond dog walker had taken him completely by surprise. He’d imagined Beauregard’s walker some hipster college guy with skinny jeans, horn-rimmed glasses, and a scraggly beard, like the last one.
The whole way back home, he’d toyed with the idea of calling Jane, the owner of the walking service, to find out more about her employee, but decided against it since info wouldn’t really serve a purpose other than to sate his curiosity. And besides, he didn’t know Jane that well, and she might think it was strange. Hell, maybe it was strange, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the dog walker, dripping wet, licking the fizz off the top of her Mountain Dew, which of course turned into a fantasy of her licking other things—his things.
Shit.
He took a deep breath and opened the door to his building’s lobby, pushing the image and its related fantasy away. He nodded a greeting to the doorman, then wondered how she’d react when he showed up early. Usually, he was good at predicting people’s reactions. Really good. The skill had kept him alive numerous times on active duty, but this woman had surprised him. He’d practically ordered her to stay, and she’d refused him without the bat of an eye. Totally unexpected. He wasn’t used to being told no. He kind of liked it.
The second Taylor stepped off the elevator on his floor, he knew Grams had dropped by. The smell of her perfume drifted through the air like a happy childhood memory—all warm and sweet and fuzzy around the edges. The thought of her made him smile, then frown.
The ring. Nausea slammed him like a gut punch. She’d given it to him a year ago and repeatedly refused to take it back no matter what he said. If she’d gone into the apartment, she might have discovered he’d been careless—that a woman he didn’t know was waiting to extract Gram’s heirloom wedding ring from a pile of crap.
The wrongness of the whole thing made his mouth go dry. Maybe she’d just gotten here. Maybe the dog walker hadn’t let her in. Maybe…
He pushed the unlocked door to his apartment open. Yeah. And maybe pigs fucking flew.
Both women turned to the door from where they stood in the kitchen only feet away from each other. Grams was wearing a huge grin and the dog walker was wearing… Damn. What was she wearing? Unable to talk, he simply stared while his brain initiated some kind of emergency overload shutdown procedure.
When he’d left, she’d been hidden underneath a wet, puffy coat and rain boots. Little did he know she was smokin’ hot under all that outerwear. He shook his head as he took in the bright pink lacy bra encasing perfect breasts showing through her tight, apparently wet, baby blue top. Snug jeans ended at the ankle over her bare feet. Her toes were tipped with hot-pink polish that matched the bra he needed to get another good look at. When he slid his gaze back up her body, she folded her arms defensively over her ribs and something sparkled on her finger.
The ring! She’d found it. And that was a good thing. He heaved a relieved sigh.
“When were you going to introduce me to your fiancée?” Grams asked.
Maybe not a good thing. Taylor’s gaze snapped to the clear blue eyes of the dog walker, who shook her head.
Why the hell was she wearing the ring?
“Your girl’s been a real sport trying to convince me otherwise, but I know a cover-up when I see it. She’s stalling so the two of you could tell me together at my anniversary party tonight.”
The walker’s expression of confusion turned to one of shock.
Well, shit. This was bad.
Grams crossed to him and patted him on the shoulder. “Guess I can stop badgering you now, huh?”
Wait. Maybe not so bad after all. Grams had been pestering him to find a girl and settle down since he turned twenty-one. It had been a decade-long nagging campaign so intense, he no longer brought dates to family events. This whole poop ring thing could be the answer to prayer. He again met the walker’s startled gaze, hating that she was so upset. “Um, Grams. May I have a private word with…” Sonofabitch. He didn’t even know the woman’s name. “May I have a word with my fiancée?”
The dog walker’s expression transitioned from shock to horror, her eyes so wide Taylor could see white all the way around the blue irises when he strode into the kitchen and took her hand. “We’ll be right back.” To his relief, the woman didn’t resist as he led her to the back of the apartment, passing through his bedroom and not stopping until he shut the bathroom door behind them.
Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering his thoughts. But before he could make any order of things, the dog walker ripped her hand from his.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
He glanced at his grandmother’s ring on her finger. “That’s a good question.”
“The ring got stuck on my hand and your grandmother thinks we’re engaged. She didn’t believe me when I told her it was all a misunderstanding.” She poked a finger at his chest. “And you called me your fiancée, which was not helpful, and drove this bus straight into Weirdville.”
Yeah. She had every right to be pissed. Calling her his fiancée had been a dick move. “Weirdville?”
She turned on the water in the sink and slathered her hand with soap. “I can’t get it off. It’s really stuck.” She tugged and twisted on the ring until her finger turned red.
It was impossible to focus while she vigorously pulled on the ring because of what the frantic movements did to her body—causing her muscles to flex and her softer parts to jiggle.
Evidently, his brain shutdown procedure had reinitiated, because he didn’t look away even after the tugging and flexing and jiggling stopped.
“Really?” she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “That’s your solution to this problem? To stare at my boobs?”
Busted. “No.”
“Yeah, tell that to B.”
Who the hell was B? Before he could even start figuring out what she meant, she opened one of the drawers and ransacked it, shoving aside toothpaste, his toothbrush, and dental floss in her frantic search.
“What are you looking for?”
“An apology, for starters.” She closed the drawer.
“I don’t usually leave those lying around in my bathroom drawers.”
She didn’t reply as she dug through the contents of the cabinet under the sink. She picked up a bottle of foaming shower cleaner, studied the label, shook her head, and put it back under the sink and closed the doors. “You should probably keep a stash of apologies everywhere. Like a Costco Warehouse–sized stockpile of them.”
He probably should. Fighting a smile, he leaned against the wall.
With a yank, she opened the bottom drawer, then slammed it shut. “Oh, crap.” Her skin flushed as pink as her lacy bra and she stood, covering her face with her hands.
He kept his voice sincere, which took some real effort. “I don’t keep my apologies with the condoms, either.”
She groaned, lowered her hands, and stared at the ceiling as if searching for some kind of answer from Heaven. If she weren’t so pissed and possibly spinning off the edge, he’d have found it adorable. Nah. He found it adorable anyway.
“Lotion.” She said. “I need lotion to get this thing off my hand.”
“I’ll help you get the ring off, but hear me out first.”
“Nope. Lotion first, then listen.”
He was afraid when she got the ring off, she’d bolt, and he really needed her to stick around long enough to help him out. He used his calm, platoon leader voice. “Listen, then lotion.”
After a kick-ass glare that would make even his grandmother proud, she grabbed the handle of the middle drawer then froze, evidently deciding against opening it, probably for fear it contained another box of condoms—or maybe something else. He grinned, wondering where her mind was going.
With a huff, she straightened and leaned back against the counter. “Fine. Talk.”
“You’re right. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I misled my grandmother about our relationship, but I had a good reason.” Her only response was a skeptical lift of her eyebrows, so he added, “I need your help.”
She rolled her eyes. “You said that earlier today, too.”
A scratching came from the door, followed by a whine. “A little privacy, please,” he said.
With a walk that made him want to whine too, she strode to the door and let Beauregard in, arching a brow at Taylor as if daring him to object. He wasn’t going to object to anything right now. He wanted her cooperation too badly.
“I need you to pretend to be my fiancée.” When she scowled, he spoke faster. “Just for Gram’s party.” The scowl was softened by a questioning arch of her eyebrow. “She’s been at me forever to find a girl and settle down and this will get her off my back. And it’ll make her happy,” he added. “She could use a little happiness.”
Her brow furrowed and she studied the ring on her red, swollen finger. “What about the person you’re really giving this to?”
He almost laughed. His schedule was insane and he was on call 24/7. He couldn’t even make it through a dinner date, much less hold down a serious relationship. “I’m not giving that ring to anyone. Not in the near future, anyway.” Not until his job leveled out in a few years and he could hold down regular hours. Maybe things would settle down when he moved away to Boston before the end of the month.
When she didn’t look like she was going to bite, he added. “In return, I’ll do you a favor. Name it, and I’ll do it.”
Her other eyebrow winged up and she studied him, eyes traveling down his body from the top of his head to his shoes, with a couple of lingering pauses in between that shot straight to his…
Woof! Beauregard turned a circle, then sat at her feet, sweeping the tile floor with his tail.
“Oh, no. Don’t take his side on this,” she said, patting his wide head. “He got into this mess on his own, he can crawl out on his own.”
Taylor gave her ring finger a pointed stare as she stroked Beau’s head.
“So, maybe I contributed a little bit to the mess,” she said with a sheepish smile. It was the first time he’d seen her smile, and it took his breath away. Straight, white teeth. Full lips. Total brain shutdown in 3, 2…
“Okay. So if I pretend to be engaged to you at your grandmother’s party, you’ll do anything in exchange, huh? Name it, you said.”
He nodded, a wave of relief tumbling through him.
And then a sly, gotcha smile spread over her lips, and his relief was replaced with tingly prickles of apprehension as he wondered what, exactly, he’d gotten himself into.
“In exchange for my going through with this, you’ll help Animal Attraction run the charity ball and fundraiser for the new animal shelter next month.”
Well, that wasn’t at all what he’d expected. That was simple, and something he would do gladly. His buddy, Will, had even mentioned the charity shindig as something the Andersons were helping organize. He was certain they’d let him come back from Boston for the event. “Deal.”
Her sly smile widened, making him wonder what detail he’d missed. Without a word, she headed to the door, but he took her hand before she opened it.
“Wait.” He’d evidently caught her by surprise, because she lost her footing and crashed into him from the simple tug he’d given her hand, probably because, as usual, goofy Beauregard was in the way. He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her against him to keep her from falling—well, that’s why he did it at first. Once she was steady, he continued to hold her because, dammit, she felt good. Too good. For a moment, they both froze. Her soft, rain-damp body pressed against his harder one. Much harder. He cleared his throat, but neither moved. “I don’t know your name.”
“Caitlin.” Her voice was breathy.
“Nice to meet you, Caitlin.”
She remained still. “Uh, yeah.”
“Last name?”
“Ramos.”
“I’m Taylor Blankenship.”
“I know.”
He felt her muscles relax a bit and his entire body went on red alert as her curves melted into him. His imagination ran wild, envisioning lowering his mouth to hers. Instead, he cleared his throat and dropped to one knee. Of course, Beauregard took the opportunity to lick Taylor’s cheek before he pushed him away, attempting to maintain his expression of absolute sincerity.
He took both of her hands in his, trying to look like Prince Charming in a silly movie. “Caitlin Ramos, dog walker extraordinaire and wearer of wet clothes, would you make me the happiest man in all of Weirdville and do me the honor of pretending to be my fiancée at my grandmother’s party so that she gets off my case before she drives me completely nuts?”
There was an uncomfortable pause in which she simply stared at him, making it feel like his heart would pound out of his chest. And then she did something amazing. She laughed. Threw her head back and laughed, which made him feel lighter than he had in years.
“You look ridiculous,” she said.
“I feel ridiculous.”
The bathroom door flew open and he leapt to his feet, putting distance between them like they were teens caught making out in the basement. Grams looked from one to the other as they stifled giggles. “What in everlovin’ Heaven is going on in here?”