Hounded (Going to the Dogs) (3 page)

Jared knocked on his Brother Nate’s door, suddenly feeling guilty he hadn’t tried to see Nate since he’d stopped by to check out Jared’s new office. They were like night and day, oil and water.

When the door opened, Nate slouched against it and gave Jared a once-over. “Well, you look even better than the last time I saw you, bro. Put on more muscle.”

Nate grabbed him around the back of the neck and squeezed. Respect and affection there briefly. He cleared his throat. “Come on in. You want a beer?”

“Sounds good.”

Jared stepped inside the trendy apartment. He knew damn well his brother had nothing to do with the décor. Nate came out of the kitchen and tossed him a beer, the can cold against the palm of his hand as he caught it.

“Still got good hands.”

“Aw, you were the quarterback. I was just a linebacker.” Jared popped the top and took a sip.

“Yeah, tell that to the numerous touchdowns you scored. You might be big, but you’re one of the fastest sumbitches I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha! I’ve slowed down a bit.”

“All I know, big brother, is you were always gung-ho about everything you did, from football to mucking out stalls.”

“I love horses. It’s just part of the job.”

“I hated that ranch. Couldn’t wait to get off it. The horse shit and cow shit mingling into a smell I couldn’t seem to get out of my nostrils, the sweat, the mending of endless fences, and the fucking branding. I hated that smell the most.” He settled on one of the barstools at the counter separating the kitchen from the living room.

“You branded because you sucked at roping. Those calves made you their bitch.”

“Yeah,” he raised his can in salute. “So what brings you around?”

“I need to ask you a favor.”

“What?”

“Do you still have that basset hound?”

He rolled his eyes. “Daisy, yeah.”

“I’d like to borrow her.”

His brother studied him and shook his head. “Hell, you can have her.”

Jared sat on the back of Nate’s frou-frou sofa. “Nate, I don’t want to keep her.”

“Hell, I don’t want her. She’s not even my dog. Girlfriend just left her here when we broke up, saying the dog would just remind her of me. Now ain’t that dang sweet? She was a fine woman, though.” He took another swallow of beer. “I’ll say what Dad would say. What the hell is goin’ on here, boy?”

“I need her for an undercover mission.”

“Naw.” Nate blew out a short guffaw. “Truth?”

“Truth. Where is she? You are feeding her, right?”

His brother shot him a disbelieving look. “Yes, I remember that part.”

“Are you walking her?”

“I know how to take care of a dog,” he ground out.

“How old is she now?”

“Year and a half, maybe two years, I think. Hell, I don’t remember.”

“She didn’t come to the door.”

“She’s not much of a mover. She’s over there, near the end of the couch.”

Jared walked over and found the small dog, her head on her paws, her droopy eyes sad. He reached down and stroked his hand over her head. She barely acknowledged it.

“Nate, you better not be abusing this dog. I’ll beat the tar outta you.”

“What?” He looked shocked. “I haven’t touched her. She’s just lazy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Son, you were much better with animals than I was. Take her.” Nate made a face that was a cross between a smile and a frown.

“Do you have her leash and dog bowls?”

“Shore ‘nuff. You can take the dog food, too. It’s some high-end crap my girlfriend bought.” He finished off the beer and ducked into the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboards.

After clipping on the leash, Jared started to leave the apartment, but Daisy refused to move. He tugged a couple of times, but all she did was raise her head to look at him. He walked back over and picked her up.

Loaded down with dog food and Daisy’s bowls, Nate gave the dog a pitying look. “That’s what I normally do. She’s one lazy hound dog.”

“Carry that stuff down to the truck for me.”

“Sure. This was perfect timing. I’m headed to Oregon for some whitewater rafting. Now I won’t have to kennel her.”

“You are morally bankrupt, Nate.”

He shrugged, pushing the button on the elevator. “Why? Because I’d rather do something fun then tend to my obligations like you?”

“You say ‘obligations’ like they have that cow shit/horse shit smell.” They entered and Nate pressed the button for the lobby.

“No obligations are okay. You treat them like they’re the be-all-end-all. There’s fun to be had while I’m young. I’m going for it.”

Jared stopped in the lobby, his hand on his hip, the dog warm under his arm, against his ribcage. She watched them with interest. Seemed even lazy hound dogs liked drama. “You’re saying I’m boring?”

Nate returned his stare innocently. “I’m just saying you’re responsible.” He went past Jared out onto the sidewalk.

Jared followed. “Again, sounds like manure.”

Nate chuckled, the amusement rich in the evening air. “Try to find some fun, brother. Life is too dang short.”

Nate sauntered back up to his apartment and Jared mulled over his brother’s comments. He couldn’t deny the truth in his words, but when a comfortable pair of shoes fit, there just wasn’t any incentive to try a pair that might end up too tight or too loose. He guessed he was more like Baby Bear in that nursery story…the one that needed everything to be just right.

This assignment was unorthodox. But he couldn’t turn Harper down. For one, he owed Aiden, for two he couldn’t turn away from women in distress or danger, and for three Harper wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway.

After getting the basset situated in the front seat, he drove home. The dog just looked at him when he came around to her side of the car. Jared scooped her up, snapped on the leash, although he suspected she wasn’t going anywhere, and set her down on the sidewalk.

Daisy didn’t even sniff the wind, which was odd for a hound. They were interested in all smells. He tugged on her leash, and she looked up at him sorrowfully, but didn’t move.

He sighed, knelt down on the still-hot pavement, and looked into her eyes.

“Hi there, Daisy. How about we go for a turn around the block and get you some exercise?”

She looked at him with those mournful brown eyes that said,
fat chance, buster
.

Then plopped down onto the pavement.

Blowing out a breath, he scooped her up. He shook his head ruefully. He couldn’t think of what to do, because he certainly wasn’t going to drag her down the street by her collar.

In his apartment, he fixed her food and water. She was still where he’d set her down, near the front door. He called her and she made her slow way over to him. She looked at the bowls and then at him as if to say,
what the hell is this
?

Finally she trundled over to the bowls and started to eat.

He grabbed up his cell and punched in the number Harper had given him. Two rings later a female answered the phone.

“Hello, Ms. Madigan. I’m Jared Taylor. I’m calling because Miles Sawyer indicated you were looking for another dance partner in The Fur Ball competition.”

“I am. He only just called me last night. Such a bad break. Oh, I didn’t mean that to be funny,” she said sounding flustered. “It was a pun, I guess. I meant it was bad luck for me. I would never make fun of someone who broke their leg.”

The sound of her winsome, sultry voice wound around him like vines entwining and curling around a trellis, cutting off his speech.

“Are you still there, or did you think I was just too rude to partner with?”

He found his voice and freaking lost his mind. “I’m still here. I’m sure you didn’t mean to ridicule Miles.”

“I didn’t. He is such a nice man, a dreamboat dance partner, and his Bichon Frisé, Snowball, danced as lightly as a little white cloud.”

He swallowed hard, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he glanced down at the lump that was Daisy. Had she really fallen to sleep with her face still in the dog food bowl?

“That’s great. Really great. We’re sorta beginners at this, so we’ll need a little bit of instruction.”

“Well, of course you will. You don’t know the routine. But I’m sure you’ll pick it up in a jiff.”

How was he supposed to concentrate and talk to this woman when her voice was so dang distracting? The cadence of it washed over him with a rich, soothing tone.

“Can you meet me tomorrow at the Clover Dale Dance Studio? I’m using that temporarily for practice.”

“Are you up for that so soon?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was both sexy and wary.

Shoot, she’d so totally enchanted him he forgot he wasn’t supposed to know about her attack. “So soon after losing your partner,” he said quickly, filling in the silent gap.

“Oh, sure. The show must go on. The Terrible Two will miss Snowball, but I’m sure your dog will be great.”

The Terrible Two?”

“Oh, those are my Jack Russell terriers and they’re…um…they can be buttheads. What breed do you have?”

He looked at Daisy again. He had a big—no, ginormous—headache coming on. “A basset hound. She’s still a bit young.”

“How old?”

“Year and a half, maybe two.”

“Oh that will be fine. I’m looking forward to meeting you. I get off work around six and have to change. Would seven work for you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Thank you so much. My other choices were old Mrs. Miller who teeters around the floor with her little Chihuahua—I think she drinks, and I wouldn’t put it past the dog, either—and Mr. Hicks, who is so hard of hearing that trying to direct him would make me hoarse. Thank you for the call. It’s a relief to find someone willing to participate. Goodbye, Mr. Taylor.”

“Oh, call me Jared.”

“Then you call me Poe.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning like an idiot.

He disconnected the call and the spell over him burst like a bubble. The stupid smile faded. What the hell was he doing acting like a dang fool? He wasn’t doing this job to get closer to the woman who was at the end of that voice. He was doing the job for Harper. It was a job, not a flirtation or anything else. It was serious and required him to totally ignore how she sounded. Except then he lost focus again, and found himself wondering what she looked like. If her voice matched up to her looks.
Hooboy
!
He was in some deep trouble.

He bent down, picked up Daisy and lugged her into the living room, then settled her on the couch.

His stomach clenched. How stupid and awkward was he going to look tomorrow? How would Daisy act? Would she perk up when there were other dogs to interact with? He could only hope.

He found himself both dreading and anticipating meeting Poe Madigan and hoped for the best. He was already hogtied by Harper’s promise. There was no going back now.

#

At seven sharp he was standing outside the entrance to the studio. Why did she have to choose one with wall to wall glass where anyone walking by could see them…actually, him…stumbling around in there? The temperature had dropped from eighty-five to a comfortable seventy-five, but he still was sweating a little.

He scanned the area to look for her, spinning in a circle. A woman caught his attention through the glass of the studio as she emerged through a door inside. When she stopped and stood just inside the entrance, his attention focused in on her like a homing beacon.

He tilted his head slightly to one side. She bent over, her dark, blue-streaked hair falling softly against her cheeks as she untangled the leashes of two rambunctious Jack Russell terriers.
Whoa
, tight black leather across that shapely ass would easily capture a man’s attention. There wasn’t much of it, but he was going to go ahead and call it a pair of shorts for lack of a better term. And he was going to call her ass incredible. Her creamy smooth, heartbreaking legs tapered down to a pair of unbelievable heels—a multi-colored zombie motif. Those were just plain dangerous.

She straightened up from the dogs, and Jared quickly reworked the whole fatal combination in his head. The black and white polka-dot halter top she was wearing was definitely the danger area. The pale ivory tops of her full breasts played peek-a-boo with the polka dots, and to his very hungry eyes, that was a kill zone—a verifiable hot spot with a very elegant string of black pearls looping across her chest with a cross at the end, teasing the notch of her cleavage like sin and redemption all nestled together temptingly.

Fuck yeah…wait…oh fuck was more like it!

Jared never really considered himself a possessive man, but one look at her and he was transformed into a bona fide selfish jerk.

And she was a magnificent Goth princess.

From the shapely mounds of her breasts, it was a hop and skip up the satiny skin of her throat to the profile of her face, from the elegant angle of her jaw to the deep purple lipstick on her lips. Geezus, he didn’t trust himself to stare at that mouth. For survival reasons, he moved on to the rest of her striking details—smooth, pale cheeks, a pert nose, and thickly lashed and darkly outlined eyes, almond-shaped, sultry.