Judy Duarte – Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three (страница 24)
“Are you coming back?”
“Not tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. I need to get a good night’s sleep.”
Sullivan needed a good night’s sleep, too. But he doubted he’d get one.
And he cursed under his breath for letting her go without a fight.
The next day, neither Lissa nor Sullivan brought up the subject of Anthony Martinelli, the dinner date or the disappointing kiss.
Nor did they mention making love to each other again.
Instead, they focused on work, on marketing, on ads and television commercials.
Still, getting back in Sullivan’s good graces—and in his bed—was never far from Lissa’s mind.
“I’ve asked an artist to meet us tomorrow morning,” he said.
“An artist?”
“To sketch the image of the virgin for the label.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”
“No. I guess not. But you said just my face, right?”
He slid her a playful grin, his gaze warming her straight to the core. “That’s what I said. But another female model might not do your body justice.”
Her cheeks warmed. And so did her heart. The tension between them was easing, which was good. She didn’t like the idea of dealing with Sullivan on a strictly business level.
“Then maybe I ought to pose,” she said, wondering if the decision would irritate him. Especially since she suspected the kiss she’d shared with Anthony had annoyed him, even if he never mentioned it. “Are you sure it won’t bother you if I do?”
“No. It won’t bother me a bit if you strip down in front of the artist.”
She found that surprising. And disappointing. The couple of times she’d suspected Sullivan might be feeling a bit jealous had actually pleased her. Not that she wanted him to be a bossy and possessive brute. But maybe, deep in her heart, she hoped their relationship wouldn’t be shallow and based only upon lust. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be realistic about the future of an affair destined to end when his job was done.
“I didn’t know you’d already started scouting an artist,” Lissa said. “Where’d you find him?”
“
Or would
Lissa was probably reading
“All right. I suppose modeling in the nude won’t be so bad after all.” Lissa stood to stretch the muscles that kinked in her neck, then moved to the window to peer outside.
What she needed was some exercise, some fresh air. Being cooped up in the office for days on end was getting to her.
As she walked, a squeak sounded when she stepped on something small and rubbery. Barney had left one of his chew toys in the middle of the floor.
“Hey, Barn, you’d better come get your rubber duckie.” She scanned the office, but didn’t spot the little rascal. Where’d he go? “Barney?”
Sullivan, who sat at the desk, looked up from the ad layout he’d been working on. “I haven’t seen him since this morning. Maybe he curled up and fell asleep.”
They scouted around the office, looking in every nook and cranny. But Barney was nowhere to be found.
“Maybe he slipped outside when your mother brought us sandwiches and iced tea,” Sullivan said.
“I’d better go look for him.” She strode to the door, with Sullivan on her heels.
Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t found the puppy. They’d checked the pond, where every unruffled duck and swan was present and accounted for.
“I don’t know where else to look.” Lissa tried to keep the worry from her voice, but she’d become very attached to the playful, loving little dog.
“We’ll find him.” Sullivan nodded toward the house. “Maybe he followed your mother home.”
As they neared the side of the yard, the gate was open. Sullivan pointed. “There he is. By the garden shed. But it looks as though he’s gotten into something.”
“Imagine that,” Lissa said. Barney had a penchant for mischief. But as she drew closer, she noticed a frothy green coat of saliva on his snout.
She picked him up, holding him at arm’s distance so the goop wouldn’t stain her blouse. “What did you eat?”
Sullivan pulled open the shed door and peered inside. “Bad news. Look.” Sullivan pointed to a chewed up box of rat poison.
“Oh, my God. No.” She hugged the puppy close, no longer worried about her blouse.
“Come on,” Sullivan said. “I’ll take you to the vet.”
An hour later, Sullivan drove Lissa home. Each time he glanced across the seat and saw her tearstained cheeks, he wanted to reach out, to comfort her.
“Barney’s so little,” she said, capturing his gaze. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”
“The vet said he’d know more in the morning. I’m sure pumping his stomach will help. It just depends upon how much he ingested before we found him. And how much his body absorbed.”
“I know this may sound crazy to you, but I’ve really come to love that little guy. And I don’t want to lose him.”
Sullivan knew exactly how she felt. When he was a kid, he’d had a dog who’d been his best friend and his constant companion. In fact, Bandit had been there for him when his parents’ marriage hit the rocks, when going home after school would have been otherwise unbearable.
“I’ve grown pretty attached to the pesky little guy, too,” Sullivan said. “Pets have a way of burrowing their way into our hearts.”
Lissa sniffled, then let out a sob. The tears began to flow all over again.
Sullivan may not have been comfortable with emotional stuff, but he knew how it felt to lose a pet. And how it felt to have no one understand that kind of grief.
He remembered the day Bandit had died, the day he’d cried himself sick. The day his dad had said, “That’s enough, son. Go wash your face and dry your eyes.”
Easy to say, and tough to do when the pain kept twisting a kid’s heart and wringing the tears right out of him.
Unsure of what more he could say or do, Sullivan let her cry until they returned to the vineyard. Then, after parking the car, he went around to help her out. He wasn’t trying to mimic Martinelli’s style and manners. It was more than that. Lissa was pretty torn up about her pet, and he wanted to help. To support her. Or whatever. He wasn’t too good at this sort of thing.
As she climbed from the car, he slipped an arm around her, and she leaned into him. He held her while she cried, something he wished his overbearing dad had done. Couldn’t the man have understood that a brokenhearted nine-year-old couldn’t just suck it up when his family had fallen apart and the only one who seemed to give a damn about him was a dead dog?
“I’m sorry for being such a crybaby,” she said. “I don’t usually fall apart like this.”
“Don’t be sorry. I understand.”
Did he? Lissa clung to Sullivan, to his strength, his support. The sexy man could turn her inside out with a smile and send her heart soaring with a kiss. Yet now, he stroked her back in a gentle, understanding way. Funny, how her body knew the difference—appreciated the difference.
His compassion touched her. Even more than his flirty smile, quick wit and easy laugh.
If she ever fell in love with a man, she’d want him to be the kind who would stand by her through life’s ups and downs. A man who would hold her when she cried, as Sullivan was doing now.
“Want to go to the cottage for a while?” he asked. “Maybe have a glass of wine on the deck?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.” She didn’t feel like returning to the office. Not when her heart and mind were at the veterinary clinic with Barney.
As they walked, Sullivan reached for her hand. “I lost my dog when I was just a kid. Cried for three days and refused to go to school.”
She sniffled. “What was his name?”
“Bandit. He was just a mutt I’d found wandering the neighborhood. But he was the best friend I ever had. My only friend, for a while.”
“What happened to him?”
“He used to meet me at the school bus stop every afternoon. And one day, he wasn’t waiting for me at the curb.” Sullivan took a deep breath, as though reliving his own grief. “So I called him. He came flying out of the neighbor’s yard and dashed into the street. Right in front of a mail truck.”
“I’m sorry.” She gently squeezed his hand, while wishing she could do more.
When they entered the guest house, Sullivan closed the door. Then took her in his arms and gave her a warm, gentle kiss.