Home Is Where the Bark Is (27 page)

Still, he was surprised how much strength there was in Serena’s slender frame as she helped him slide Mack out of the truck. The big dog was awake but too out of it to fuss or struggle. With him holding Mack’s shoulders and Serena holding the dog’s hips and injured leg, it was a cinch to slide him out of the truck. Snowball scarcely stirred, just opened one round dark eye from under his fluffy white bangs and went back to sleep.

“Where to?” said Serena when they’d carried the big dog through the front door. She was flushed with exertion and breathing just a little quicker than usual, the rise and fall of her breasts emphasized by the snug tank top she wore under the open shirt.

“Everything is ready for him,” he said, indicating the outsized new dog bed he’d bought and set up in front of the fireplace. As per the vet’s instructions, he’d lined the bed with plastic sheeting and newspaper in case of accidents.

“Hey, you got Mack the same bed I have for him,” she said, sounding pleased.

“I learn from the best,” he said. She didn’t need to know how carefully he’d scrutinized the fittings of her apartment the day he’d visited for lunch.

Together they lowered Mack into the bed. The outsized dog settled as best he could, while favoring his back right leg with the purple cast. With a heavy sigh, he settled his head on his front paws and looked up at them with his big, expressive eyes and sad frown. The one-ear-up-and-one-ear-flopped thing just added to the poignancy of it.

“He must be wondering what the hell happened,” said Nick.

Serena crooned and stroked Mack around his head. “Poor baby,” she said. “It feels bad now, but it will be worth it when you can run around with the other dogs.”

Even doped up and drowsy, Mack attempted to wag his tail at the tone of her voice, but it was a feeble effort. “You’ve got a beautiful new home and a great new dad—”

“Stop there,” said Nick and put his hand up in a halt sign. “Serena, let’s get this straight. I will not be this dog’s daddy. I’d prefer master or owner but I’ll go with guardian to please you.”

“To please me?” Her eyes widened.

He could deny it. He could say it was to please Mack. But why lie? There’d been enough lies.

“Yes, to please you. Frankly I don’t think the dog gives a damn what I’m called so long as I feed him and care for him. But it seems to be important to you.”

“Oh,” she said. Confusion and pleasure warred on her face but a half smile won out. Mack stirred and she lifted his hindquarters to make him more comfortable. Her shirtsleeves were rolled up and Nick noticed how toned and strong her arms were.

Serena would be a great help on a farm.

It wasn’t the most obvious observation to make about Serena St. James. But he wasn’t thinking of the sexy siren with the seductive eyes, her perfect body just asking to be licked free of its silken coating of chocolate. It was a valid observation to make about the Serena he knew—strong, savvy, and confident with animals. As well she had—in his book—the most important attribute of all for a farmer’s wife: she could cook.

He could see her in the valley fitting right in on his farm. One day.

Right now the valley was the last place he wanted to be. As soon as he was able, he’d escaped from what he’d seen as the straitjacket of a predetermined life. His father and his father’s father and his father’s father before that had farmed in the valley. His brother Sam had accepted his destiny without question. Sam willingly farmed the parcel of land his grandfather had left him. He also farmed the adjoining land his grandfather had left Nick. The resulting income was what allowed Nick to do things like adopt an injured dog with a big vet hospital bill.

The land was prime real estate, on the fertile flat with good water and views of the river and the eternally snow-capped mountain that stood guard over the valley. Nick had been offered good money for that land many times but had never been tempted. The land was his backstop, his security, a place he knew was always there for him. One day, maybe years from now, he might want to return and make a home there. He would never, ever sell.

Would Serena like it in the valley? The slow pace of life, the social life centered on family and school and church might be too slow for Serena St. James. But Serena Oakley? He would have to take her there so she could see for herself.

Serena got up from Mack’s side. “He’s settled, though we need to put a big bowl of water within easy reach. If you sort that out, I’ll go get Snowball and Bessie from your truck. The windows are down but I don’t want to leave the dogs any longer.”

Nick got the water for Mack, then followed Serena out the front door. He found her standing on the porch, drinking in the view of the bay, gloriously blue in the late-afternoon sun, white sailboats scudding across the water to San Francisco. The burnished roof of the Palace of Fine Arts glinted in the distance.

It seemed very right she should be there at his home, albeit his temporary home. He hadn’t known her long, but he had the feeling that wherever she was would seem like home to him.

He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened for a moment at his touch, and he remembered how recently it was that she’d cringed from him. Then she relaxed on a deep, outward breath. He slid his arms under hers and pulled her back against his body, her back to his chest, the curves of her bottom against his thighs. He rested his chin against the side of her head.

“Some view, huh?” he said.

“If I had superhero vision, I could see Paws-A-While from here,” she murmured. “It’s beautiful. The house. The view. I love it.”

You’re beautiful and I love you,
he thought, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her. He nuzzled into the satiny smooth skin of her neck and was encouraged when she tilted her head back with an almost imperceptible sigh of pleasure.

So soon?

Oh yes. This was it. She was The One. He knew that with absolute, unshakeable certainty.

He pulled her closer and she rested her hands on top of his. His body reacted instantly to her closeness.

Every male instinct urged him to pick her up, carry her into the bedroom, and make her his. But Serena needed gentler handling than that. There were her trust issues. The stalker. He didn’t want to scare her off. Then there was the work scenario. They needed to talk about how they would handle this. It would be best if they kept their relationship private at this stage. He turned her around to face him. Her face was flushed, her eyes luminous, her mouth ripe for kissing. “Serena, I—”

In the distance a neighbor’s dog barked. Serena’s eyes widened and she dropped his hands. “Ohmigod, the dogs.”

The truck was just yards away from them, the windows down, the two animals clearly visible asleep. Nick saw no need to panic. But maybe Serena was panicking over something altogether different. He’d noticed how effectively she could use the dogs to put a distance between them when it suited her.

“What am I doing up here admiring the view when the dogs are still in the car?”

“The dogs are just fine,” he said.

She dropped his hands and headed toward the steps. “Can’t risk leaving dogs too long in cars,” she said.

Nick had to laugh. If he didn’t laugh, he’d grind his teeth in frustration. Dogs. Did they always come first for Serena?

He stomped inside to check on Mack.

With
Bessie still drowsy in her arms and Snowball by her feet straining at his leash to sniff every new interesting scent he could find in the front garden, Serena paused to step back and admire the house Nick was looking after for his aunt.

Built on the hillside that rose steeply from the main street of Sausalito, the small, Victorian-style house was one of the most beautiful she’d seen. It was not at all the place she’d imagined Nick would live in. She saw him in a ranch-style house, cedar maybe, very masculine with lots of space. But boy, was this the kind of house she would give her eyeteeth to own.

It nestled in the hillside behind a low stone fence, white-painted clapboard with the decorative railings on the porch and the upstairs balcony picked out in gray. The front door was a surprise splash of bright red. A fat palm tree was the focal point of the front garden. Roses rioted over the fence, lush with fall’s final flush of generous yellow blooms. Hydrangeas with big heads of faded, dried flowers flanked either side of the steps up to the porch. A tub of impatiens, the same cheerful flowers she had in pots in front of Paws-A-While, sat by the front door in welcome. She breathed in the scent of roses that suffused the air.

A wave of longing swept over her. She liked old houses, not just for their charm and character, but also for what they represented—permanence and stability, two things lacking in her early life. This house was perfect. Lucky Nick. Lucky Nick’s aunt.

A child with a different personality might have thrived on her parents’ peripatetic lifestyle. Not her. She’d longed for suburban security and an established circle of friends. While living in a succession of rented houses and communes with her parents, in shared apartments with her friends, in the little remodeled Victorian in the Mission, she’d dreamed of exactly this kind of house. With a garden just like this, too; she wanted more than a window box and some tubs one day.

For those few minutes on the porch she’d reveled in the bliss of feeling safe, secure, and cherished in the circle of Nick’s arms. As soon as she’d heard his footfall behind her she’d stopped registering the view. Not with him holding her so warm and so tight.

It felt so right.

She sighed.
Wake up, Serena.
This wasn’t her home, and with the price of Sausalito real estate she’d never live in a place like this—even without the prospect of losing her business and her bank account because of the fraud.

But there was no price on daydreams. For that brief time on the porch she’d let herself lean back against him and imagine what it would be like to live here—or somewhere like here—with Nick. Nick and three dogs. Nick and maybe three kids.

Kids?
How did the image of a towheaded little boy with pale blue eyes suddenly push its way into her fantasy? A little girl with Nick’s coloring would look adorable, too. Two girls and a boy? Or two boys and a girl?

She’d never before let herself dream of kids; she hadn’t felt settled enough for that. Or gotten the guy right. Deep down, she wondered if she had what it took to make a good mom. Kids meant commitment; kids meant not giving up and walking away when things got tough. Did she have that sticking power?

She cuddled Bessie so close the little Yorki-poo whimpered. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said, and kissed her on the head. Fur babies were all she could cope with right now. But if things worked out with Nick . . .

Still reeling at the right-from-nowhere thought of those three blond kids, she went back inside through that cute red door. As soon as she got inside she was struck all over again by what an utterly perfect home it was. She hadn’t had a chance to appreciate it when she’d been helping Nick with Mack.

The house was every bit as appealing inside as it was from the outside. Painted in airy shades of white it had been modernized without losing any of its quaint charm. The rooms had been opened up so she could see right though to a wall of French doors at the back. Framed paintings and interesting pieces of pottery and sculpture had been artfully arranged to lift the simplicity of rooms. She wanted a good look at those when she got a chance.

Bessie struggled to be put down. When Serena did so, the little Yorki-poo scampered toward the back door. Snowball strained to follow.

“The yard is safe for him if you want to let him out,” said Nick, who stood leaning on the mantel of the fireplace near Mack.

She couldn’t meet that penetrating blue gaze. He’d run screaming for the hills if he could read she’d been fantasizing about having his kids.

“I’d like to keep an eye on the little ones,” she replied. “Snowball and Bessie are good friends. But this is Bessie’s territory and I’m not sure how she’ll react to him being here on her turf.”

She followed Nick through the living room, a dining nook, and a kitchen that opened to the backyard. Bessie was already scratching at the door to be let out.

The backyard was pretty, too. And great for dogs. Leafy trees for shade. Lots of grass. Fenced for security. There was a water bowl attached to the tap that automatically filled so dogs would never run out of water. Two doghouses sat side by side in a sheltered spot. The big one was shiny with newness. Serena smiled to see it was modeled along the lines of a cedar ranch house just like the one she’d imagined for Nick. On closer inspection she saw the smaller one was a scale model of his aunt’s actual house. The words “Bessie’s House” were hand painted across the eaves.

Bessie took off, running around and around in circles and yapping in invitation for Snowball to join in. Territorial disputes? Forget it.

“Dog heaven,” she said to Nick, who stood next to her. She would have liked to slip her hand into his, but she still felt ridiculously shy around him.

“Yeah. Between here and your place Bessie has a great life.”

“Mack will, too. This will be wonderful for him.”

He shrugged. “Until Aunt Alice comes back and I have to move. I was planning on a condo but that’s out of the question now.”

“Did you think of that when you decided to adopt Mack?”

“Sure. A dog means a big change of plan. I’m ready for that now.”

He looked intently at her as he spoke. Did she read some message for her there? Her heart started doing that tripping-over thing.

“It would be great if you could get a place like this. It’s so beautiful.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice.

“I thought you’d prefer contemporary to cozy.”