Hounded (Going to the Dogs) (8 page)

The pooch bayed as if to say,
you’re damn right
.

Back at Poe’s apartment, he found her standing in the entryway, her face drained of color.

She whipped whatever was in her hand behind her.

“Hi,” she chirped. “Did you go for a walk?” Damn. She even sounded guilty.

“Yes,” he set Daisy down and unclipped her leash. The Terrible Two bounded into the room and danced around her until Daisy followed them into the kitchen.

Poe’s voice was strange, with apprehension and fear wrapped around each syllable.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He walked up to her and reached around and grabbed the letter.

“What’s this? Someone is threatening you!”

She bit her lip. “Yes, but I think that’s all it is. I’ve contacted the police.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. It’s my problem, not yours. You barely know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

Her eyes widened and he ground out, “Like a friend.” Though they both knew it was a lie.

“Oh, well, that’s good, since we’ll be stuck together for three weeks.”

He nodded. “I can drive you to work and pick you up if you’d like.”

“No. Thank you for the offer, but I need to do this for myself.” Her eyes got moist and his heart turned over in his chest. “Do you understand? I can’t let him win. I’ll be careful.”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, unable to just do nothing when she was feeling scared and alone.

He promised himself he wouldn’t make the situation between them any worse. She buried her face in his chest and slipped her arms around his waist.

“I’m getting a lot of hugs lately. It’s nice, especially with you.”

Yeah, great. Now he was finding his rational decisions a little harder to hang on to.

His body was finding it even more difficult. But he was a man, after all, so it wasn’t his fault Poe felt good in his arms. He liked how her soft hair feathered along her delicate jaw. “It is very nice,” he said, his voice rough.

She looked up at him, and it was not helpful to his resolutions to have her studying him like she was thinking the same forbidden things about him. Temptation swirled around him. He really was here to do a job. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“You don’t have to handle this alone, Poe.”

“There’s nothing to handle. It’s just someone blowing off steam.”

“Steam? I’d say the bruises on your face say differently.”

“That was a mugging and had nothing to do with this.”

“You’re sure about that?”

She released him and he reluctantly let her go.

“You don’t really know me that well, Jared. I worked hard to get to this point in my life, and now it’s second nature. I’m used to handling myself and my own problems. I’m not a baby anymore and I don’t want to be treated like one.”

“Baby? What does that have to do with this situation?”

“I was the baby of my family, and they always treated me like I was a naïve little helpless female. I’m not helpless. I may still be a bit idealistic and choose to look at the glass as half full, but I’m not helpless.”

“Asking for help doesn’t make you helpless. I could look into things—”

“No!” She stepped back and he backpedaled. Harper was right. Poe absolutely would not tolerate having him acting as her bodyguard. He would have to continue to be sneaky about it, even though he’d rather not be.

“It was just a suggestion. I withdraw it.”

“Good. If I thought for one second you’d use your contacts to handle this situation for me, you’d be out the door. I will take care of it.”

“All right.” Dammit, this situation was difficult. He had feelings for her, but if he wanted to help her, protect her, he had to bury them and he had to bury his instinct to help her. And he had to lie to her. Neither of which was in his nature. Problem was,
he
was involved. Over his head involved.

This started out as something he could do to repay what Aiden had done for him. And when Harper came to him he’d only had a passing acquaintance with her. But now he was involved. Harper meant something to him, that tough-as-nails woman who harbored and concealed a soft, tender heart where her friends were concerned.

He didn’t know Callie and Brooke, but he suspected he would like them as well.

Poe still looked scared, but determined to handle this problem herself. He’d let her think he was going along, but after all that he’d been through and the men he’d lost, he wasn’t about to abandon her to some unknown shithead who thought it was fun to terrorize her. He would tie the guy up in knots if he ever got his hands on him.

His unexpected attraction to Poe was a problem. One he’d have to deal with.

“Did you settle in okay?”

“Yes, I’m very comfortable. Thanks again for taking me in. It was kind of you to help me.”

She nodded. “My motive wasn’t purely altruistic. I need you, Jared, for the competition.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re just using me.”

“Precisely. I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings.”

“No,” he said, “Use me all you want.”

“Thanks. Well we should get you to bed.”

His heart jumped up its beats from rested to sprint speed.

“I mean into bed. Not in my bed, but yours, even though technically it’s my bed.”

He smiled.

“Don’t smile at me like that.”

“I can’t help it. You’re pretty cute.”

“I’m what?”

“You heard me, darlin’”

“I’m going to my room to sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

When her bedroom door closed, he ran his hand over his face. There was nothing he wanted to do more than get into her bed. Damn Harper, and damn Aiden for saving his life.

He went into his room and turned to close the door, but Daisy was right behind him. He smiled softly as he picked up the basset and rubbed her long, silky ears. Maybe the little mutt was coming around. This time, when he set her on the bed, instead of her walking to the end of it, she ear-tripped her way to him, licked his face and settled her rump against his chest. She made a soft, murmuring noise in her throat he could only associate with pure comfort and contentment and promptly fell to sleep. He felt warm inside. Hell, maybe he was coming around, too. He turned off the light and lay down.

#

The ear-shattering four-note motif of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 yanked him from a deep sleep. For a disoriented moment he sat up in bed blinking and then swung out of bed. Daisy’s response to the crashing music was a sing-song howl. He shushed her, glancing at the clock to see that he’d only been asleep for about thirty minutes.

Stepping out of his room, he collided with a warm, silky, stumbling shape in the dark that could only be Poe. She mumbled an apology and dashed away like quicksilver. Light flooded the living room and Jared squinted and then blinked several times to adjust his eyes. Poe was bent over in the corner frantically moving her hands, then as suddenly as the music exploded out of the speakers, it was silenced.

But it was like there was a booming going off in his head still. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt with the word ‘badass’ in red across the black cotton.

Her smooth back was bared to him, the tiny gray shorts she wore stretched across her fine ass. He wondered again about the tattoo and heat shot to his groin again.

“I’m a huge fan of Beethoven,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep. “Would this be his Midnight Symphony No. 5? And here I am, caught without my tux.”

She rose and whipped around, her eyes filled with trepidation. “I am so, so sorry. God, my neighbors are going to kill me. Shit.”

While she searched for the plug, Jared tried to get the vision of her midriff out of his mind. To stop thinking of that satin-smooth skin and the pierced belly button. From this distance he couldn’t see what she had thrust through the skin of her navel but he wanted to more than his next breath. She must cause riots at the pool.

She focused on him and then quickly looked away. “Um, you’re one of those guys.”

“What guys? Witty even in the middle of the night?”

“Haha, no. One that sleeps without a shirt on.”

“Yeah, it bunches up and I don’t like it.” Sometimes talking to Poe made him feel as if he had one foot inside the twilight zone. “So, is your CD player on a timer?”

“Not exactly.”

“How did it get turned on without the help of human hands? Poltergeist, solar flare? Don’t tell me. You’ve invented a sentient CD player that likes to hear Beethoven in the middle of the night?”

“You really are quick on your feet.”

“You had to be in Afghanistan or you were dead.”

She paled a little and moved closer to him.

“I’m sorry, that was a knee-jerk reaction. So maybe I’m not totally charming at midnight.”

“No, you’re still pretty charming.”

“Poe, the CD player?”

“Right. I taught Edgar and Allan how to turn it on.”

“You’re kidding me. So they…”

“Yeah, they dance when I’m not here. They love it. I forgot to unplug it and they must have been fooling with it and brushed the volume knob. Don’t look at me like that. Jack Russells get bored so easily. When they get bored, they find unacceptable ways of entertaining themselves. Like eating gummy worms and playing football with my underwear.”

He looked down and saw the ball of lace on the floor. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, reaching down and snagging the scrap of fluff.

As soon as he stood up, he realized it wasn’t exactly underwear, but a bra and he had it by the strap. As soon as he stood with it, it unraveled like a slow striptease.

He froze as his focus narrowed down to that tiny bit of nothing. Sheer black lace, hot pink ribbons, and something he was sure a woman described as scallops along the band that would fit exactly under her full breasts.

“It’s not underwear.” Self-control was supposed to be his middle name. But his fucking hand trembled.
Trembled
.

“Technically it is. It’s all kinda a group of unmentionables. That’s part of a set and came with a matching pair of G-string panties.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

If he wasn’t so turned on, he would have laughed.

“Oh, God. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Her voice came out strangled with embarrassment, but from his vantage point there was absolutely nothing for her to be embarrassed about. This wisp of lace was as volatile, as dangerous, as a live hand grenade, and he stood there frozen with indecision. Should he let it go and run like hell or jump on it and put himself of out his misery.

She walked across the room, snatched it out of his hand and balled it up in her fist. His mouth went dry thinking about something so delicate and barely there on her body. How much he wanted to untie those pink ribbons that were sure to be what held the miniscule G-string on her body.

“Those damn dogs.”

Ah, hell, he was trying to be professionally disengaged here, but she was undermining him at every turn. “They are incorrigible.” The words came out sounding like something he’d swallowed. His heart beat heavily in his chest.

He was going to have to kiss her. He couldn’t possibly get through the night, or even the next five minutes, without kissing her. His body was nearly electrified with the need to touch her, to somehow draw her close and bury his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, to open his mouth on her skin and run his tongue all the way down her body from her throat to between her legs.

Fuck it! He was going to fry a circuit board if he didn’t get out of the room.

He cleared his throat again. “I’m going to…ah…go back to your bed.” He winced. Too late; his brain was already mush. “I mean bed. I’m going back to bed.” She breathed, and his pulse raced. She glanced at him and his blood surged. Amazingly, the statement came out sounding fairly controlled, as if he were actually in charge of himself—which he wasn’t at all. Now, all he could do was hope she didn’t notice his almost painful, raging hard-on.

Great.

Getting a boner was so professional.

#

Oh man, she was nothing but a tormenter. She’d given the man two hard-ons in one day. Okay, technically it was the next day, so it was within the last 24 hours she’d managed to turn him on twice.

And his body. She shouldn’t go there, she really shouldn’t. But it was really nice to see what those jeans molded over and what that shirt covered.

Defined, rock-hard abs. She had pretty much known he had those, because she felt them only a few hours ago during that whole hip-thrusting fiasco. But knowing and seeing were two completely different things.

She’d been struck dumb, so it was no surprise she’d blurted out that nonsense about her underwear. She groaned, remembering what she’d said. It’s too bad, she told herself firmly—again—that he wasn’t her type. He was too virile and male, like over the top. She was much more into mild-mannered men who could do math in their heads.