She licked her lips, looking him directly in the eye. “You came up short in the towel department, sir.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “I promise that’s the only place I’ll ever come up short.”
That conjured up an image so graphic that Jannie unconsciously took a small step back.
For a few heartbeats, they stood there, unmoving.
At Nick’s feet, Rolf wagged enthusiastically, makingthunk-thunk-thunknoises as his heavy tail rhythmically hit the wall.
Jannie blinked.
Nick cleared his throat. “I came to tell you the food will be here in a couple of minutes.”
“Yeah. Good.”
Nick’s watch dinged. He glanced at it. “And there’s the pizza.”
Rolf gave a high-pitched bark.
Jannie groaned. “The stinker heard the p-word. We’re going to have to crate him.”
Panting hard, Rolf barked again, sneaking a lick right below her knee.
She started, then glared at him. “Hey!”
“What did he do?”
She rolled her eyes. “Weirdo. He likes the water.”
Nick looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“He likes to lick me when I get out of the shower,” she explained.
“I see.” There was that smoldering fire again, sparking in his dark eyes. He looked as if he would say something more, but then he turned and headed down the hallway. With Rolf close at his heels, he rounded the corner, and Jannie thought she heard him mutter, “Can’t say I blame him.”
•
Nick
“Sorry, bud.”
Nick closed the crate on a mournful Rolf, pushing a dried beef stick through the door’s openings.
The damned dog had him feeling guilty. Never mind that it was for his own good to be put away in another room while so much delicious-smelling food was to be had.
Closing the door to the office where Rolf was crated, Nick went to the family room, where he had set up the feast he’d ordered. He filled a mason jar with water and added a handful of desert marigolds, placing the makeshift flower arrangement in the center of the coffee table.
God.
He’d taken one look at Jannie, all dewy and pink from her bath, water droplets glistening on her bare shoulders, and wanted to fuck her into the goddamned mattress.
Vanilla.
He didn’t do vanilla.
And then she called him “sir,” causing him to go from semi to full mast.
The urge to grab her, rip that towel off, and toss her on the bed was so strong that he’d had to go out back to clear his head. There, he found a patch of yellow flowers that looked like daisies, probably a forgotten planting from the previous owner since his friend certainly wouldn’t have taken the time to put them there.
