The Fourteen Million Dollar Poodle Part 3

She shook her head."Another dog.A big black Doberman. He was so very fierce and bit the mugger and chased him away until the man jumped in a car and sped away."

His relief that his nanny and his dog were safe was such that he didn't care if the would-be thieves had flown away on magic carpets. They were gone, and no one was badly hurt. At least he hoped not.

"Howbad's the knee?"

"Not bad. I cleaned it and put some of your antiseptic on it, and a bandage."

"Good."

"So, if you don't trust me anymore with Mimi, I will understand."

"Sophie, I'm going to take you myself to get a new collar and lead. I'm the one who should apologize."

"We already got one." She looked down at Mimi."Allez,vamontrer ton nouveau collier a ton maitre."

Mimi pranced to the corner, and Sophie followed, pulling out a slim red leather lead and matching collar. "At least there are no rhinestones," he said, trying to look on the bright side.

She laughed softly. "Mimi really preferred the pink. I had to put my foot down."

He laughed back at her, watching her with the lead that appeared so elegant in her hand. Her gaze rose to his, and a sizzle went through him that should have scorched the floor.

She turned and made a production of putting the lead away. "Well, Mimi's fed. Your dinner is ready whenever you are. The salad is in the fridge. I'll see you tomorrow if you're not firing me."

"Stay and eat with me," he said. He didn't want her to leave, not after he'd spent so much of the day thinking of her here, looking forward to seeing her at the end of his workday.

"Oh, but..."

"I've got some wine in the fridge. It's crazy for me to eat here alone and you to go home and eat alone ... that is, if you live alone," he said, mentally crossing his fingers that her answer would be affirmative.

She put her head to one side. "I do."

"Well, then."

"Well, then." But she didn't move.

"I'm thinking of Mimi," he said, grasping at straws, anything to make her stay.

"Mimi?" Those wonderful, plump, cherry-colored lips curved in a smile.

"Yes. While we eat, you can teach me French so I'll be able to communicate with my dog."

"Biensur."

"I'm hoping that means 'yes-' "

"It means 'very well.' Now you say it." She removed the tea towel she'd worn around her hips like a very s.e.xy chef and walked toward him, so he did his best to repeat the phrase, which made Mimi bark and Sophie laugh.

Oh, well. It was a start.

He retrieved wine from the fridge and a couple of gla.s.ses, and she dished up."Mmm. That smells incredible. What is it?"

"EscalopesdeVeau Cha.s.seur."She grinned impishly. "I made a version for Mimi from her special book. This is the human equivalent."

He glanced up. "You're feeding me dog food?" It wasn't Audrey Hepburn she reminded him of, he realized. It wasJulietteBinoche , the actress he'd seen inChocolat . Sophie had the same mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a s.e.xy way with her in the kitchen . . . althoughJuliette hadn't fed JohnnyDepp any dog food.

"Don'tworry, Mimi's menu would rival Maxim's inParis."

Five.

"So, tell me about yourself," he said, once he'd determined that her food tasted as good as it smelled, which he did by cleaning his plate in about two minutes.

"Would you like some more?" she asked in a bemused tone, looking at his naked plate.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "Sorry,there's a lot of me to fill."

She had to admit he was right. Tall and solid, he was a man who begged to be fed.Perfect for a woman who loved to cook.

Once she'd given him another helping, and watched him deliberately try to slow the pace of his eating, he asked again, "You were going to tell me about yourself."

"Was I?"

"Yes." His eyes crinkled a bit when he smiled, and he developed a fascinating groove in one cheek that was probably an old scar. "You were going to tell me how you came to live inNew Yorkbecause you are crazy aboutNew Yorkmen.Especially tall ones."

She laughed a little. "Well, it's true. I did come here because of a man. He was a chef in the restaurant where I worked." She shrugged. "We fell in love, and I moved here with him. It didn't work out."

Bad news for the chef.Good news, he hoped, for Vince. "What happened?"

"He turned out not to be a good man," she said.

When Vince looked at her with pity, she said, "He got in with the wrong people. He got out of jail a couple of months ago."

"Has he bothered you?"

She shook her head. "He called, but I made it clear I won't see him. He is, as you Americans say, history."

"Good. Is there a man in your life now?"

She blinked. "Is there a particular reason you ask?"

Oh, how he could make her shiver with just a look. "Yes. I'd like to ... get to know you better."

She rose and collected their plates. Vince also rose, and they cleared the table together. She went to the sink, and he moved her bodily out of the way. "You cooked. I'll wash up."

This was so ... domestic that her heart gave a curious lurch.

She found a cloth and dried the dishes he washed. There was silence for a moment. Then he said, "Is that a problem for you?"

"You're a very direct man."

"Yes, ma'am. Clear, direct speaking is how I operate. I try to say what I mean and mean what I say. If more people did that, there'd be fewer problems in the world."

"But more hurt feelings, perhaps."

He grinned at that. "Well, I believe in direct speaking used judiciously, how's that?"

"Better."

"So, will you go out with me?"

"I'm not sure." She dried a plate so earnestly she nearly rubbed off the glaze before she realized what she was doing and placed it in the cupboard. "May I be as direct?"

"Of course."

She took a moment to compose what she wanted to express. She wasn't one for blurting out exactly what she wanted-she wasn't used to hearing it done by others, either. On the other hand, she was drawn to this man with his big hands and his sweet, absurd dog, and his very straightforward manner.

"Come on," he said, "spit it out. If you're not interested, say so. I'll live."

"The last time I was this attracted to a man I ended up moving to a new country, learning a different language, and my lover ended up in jail. I'm ... hesitant to get involved. And with a man I work for." There. She'd said it, and Vince himself couldn't have been more direct.

He pulled back a little, and she could see she'd surprised him. "Well, to take those points one at a time. I'm not asking you to change countries. We live in the same city. This seems to be a bilingual household.

I stay within the law." He stepped closer. "I liked the part about you being attracted to me, though."

He took the tea towel out of her hands, flipped it over her head so it looped around her neck, and pulled her toward him.

"And the part about me working for you?" she asked a trifle breathlessly. He was close and she could feel the insidious pull of attraction much stronger than the pull of the tea towel.

"I promise that if this doesn't work out it won't affect your job."

She gazed at him, at his rugged, take-no-prisoners face and his sensuous eyes.

"Why don't we take this one step at a time?" he said, letting his lips whisper across hers. "Slow." He came back for another pa.s.s, adding a little pressure, his body touching hers lightly from chest to belly."And easy." And he kissed her again, this time his lips settling on hers as though they meant to stay awhile.

She sighed into the kiss, slid into the easy warmth and pleasure of holding and being held.

New.She loved the new aspect of this man, all his secrets and mysteries yet to be revealed. What was he like as a lover? Which side of the bed did he sleep on? Was he grouchy in the morning?A shower Pavarotti?

She felt the thrill of sensation from her lips zipping all through her body, and she sensed that before long she'd be finding out the answers to all those questions.

Not quite yet, though.

She eased slowly back, knowing if she kissed him much longer, she'd be unable to pull away.

"Stay with me tonight," he said, his voice gruff with pa.s.sion, his eyes dark and intense on hers.

"We only met yesterday."

"What does length of time have to do with it? Some things you know, instantly."

She understood what he meant, of course; she'd felt that strong and instant attraction, too, but she needed to think a little longer before moving to the next stage.

"You promised it would be slow and easy. I must go," she said.

"I'll drive you home."

"No. I can get a cab."

"Please let me drive you.Your knee ..."

"All right. Thank you. And we can take Mimi out. Come, Mimi," she said briskly, pulling her attention away from Vince with an effort. The dog twirled and yipped with delight as her new lead was clipped to her new collar.

Vince took her hand as they left his apartment, and she didn't stop him.

It felt nice, his hand.Large and warm. As they left the building, her warm, fuzzy feeling was abruptly shattered. "Get out of here," they heard a man yell, followed by a familiar bark.

"Oh, no," she cried, seeing the dog who'd come to her and Mimi's aid being chased away by a burly man in jeans and a grimy T-shirt. She squeezed Vince's hand. "That's the dogwho helped us."

"Hey, Bert.What's going on?" Vince said.

"G.o.d d.a.m.ned stray. I thought I'd got rid of it, but some a.s.shole's been feeding the thing." He brandished the remains of the bone she'd given the dog herself.

"A stray?" she asked. "Are you sure he's a stray?"

"Course I'm sure. He hangs around, goes through the garbage. I called the pound couple times, but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d always runs away when he sees the truck."

"He's a beautiful dog, and so brave," she said. The Doberman loped up and put his nose against her side as if to say, "Can't you do something?"

He'd saved her and Mimi from goodness knew what. He was big and brave and sweet. There must be something she could do for him.

But as she was racking her brain for an answer, Mimi took matters into her own paws.

"Vince, look," Sophie said, laughing. Mimi was on her hind legs waving her two front paws at the big dog. "She plays coquette."

"That's great, lady. You hold on to him while I call the pound. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d won't get away this time."

"Mais,non !" she cried. "This dog must not go to the pound. He's a good dog.Brave and strong. He needs a home." She turned to Vince, who looked back at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm sure the animal shelter will find him a good home," he said.

Already she was stroking the dog in a way that looked far too much like an owner. "I wish I could have pets in my apartment, but it is not possible," she said, patting the dog's head the way she might have caressed a loved one on his way to the guillotine. "Look how well he and Mimi get on."

Vince felt a p.r.i.c.kle of sweat form beneath where his hat band would sit if he were wearing a hat.