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“Enthusiastic puppy you—” Wentworth glanced at him, and his smile faded. He straightened abruptly.
Louisa slunk into view, and seeing him, shrieked. “What are you doing?”
Elliot’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth; he couldn’t speak.
“Are you okay?” She laughed. “Mr McAllister, I think we have another starstruck fan.”
Wentworth’s eyes held no sparkle, their navy depths looked darker than Elliot ever remembered. “Nothing that hasn’t happened a thousand times before.” His gaze pierced Elliot. You’re just one piece of my past, nothing special. “And you are?”
It hurt, but Elliot suspected it was supposed to.
“That’s Elliot,” Louisa said cheerfully. “He’s the film’s relationship consultant.”
“Relationship consultant?” Wentworth barked out.
Elliot did not mistake the meaning of that disbelieving laugh.
Louisa did. “It’s quite common practice now to hire one. Elliot also has experience in intimacy coaching, so he’s deeply involved in the love-making scenes.”
Those dark eyes didn’t leave him.
Honey yipped for more attention.
“Tell me, what is a relationship consultant doing hiding under a desk?”
Finally, finally, Elliot found his voice. He even managed to keep it even. “I was grabbing my neighbour’s puppy.”
“Which required staying on your hands and knees under the desk for multiple minutes? Did your puppy get stuck? Or is he very heavy?”
Or are you hiding from me?
Elliot kept his head high. “It’s a psych trick. Being on the same level as the one you want to communicate with. So I dropped under here with him to even out the balance of power.”
Wentworth stared down at him. Something angry lurked in his eyes. “Is that right?”
“Yes. You might try it sometime.”
“I don’t feel inclined to drop to my knees before you.”
Honey pulled and Elliot’s arm buckled. He lost his grip on the lead. The ball of fur bolted past Wentworth and a confused-looking Louisa and out the door.
For crying out loud. Not again.
Wentworth stepped to the side. “Certainly seems your psych tricks are working.”
“They will, eventually. Establishing good communication habits takes time.” With as much dignity as Elliot could muster, he crawled out of the room calling after his puppy.
Inside, he was dying.
His pup jumped onto a chair on the balcony and then—
Elliot scrambled to his feet in fright. “Honey, no!”
Honey jumped onto the balustrade. One side was a short drop onto the carpet. The other was puppy suicide.
His eyesight! Maybe Honey didn’t understand how far that fall would be.
Elliot tried to talk the dog down, but every time he stepped toward the rail, Honey started frolicking playfully. One misstep and—
He gulped. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.
“Come ‘ere boy. Come ‘ere, Honey. What about a song? I’ll sing you a song. Oh, look at that doggie . . .”
He was sweating hard.
Wentworth’s heavy gaze on the situation didn’t help. He and Louisa—and a fair few others—had come out to see. There were gasps of horror, but it was possible they were all his own.
His singing got shaky.
“You know, maybe Mr McAllister should be the one to sing,” Louisa said, and Elliot spared her a death glare.
She threw up her hands. “Just saying, if I were on a ledge, that’d make me throw myself off.”
Wentworth pushed past her and produced airplane crackers from his pocket. “Honey, come eat.”
Honey inched closer to Wentworth over the rail. His little legs seemed to wobble.
Fear tightened Elliot’s stomach, and it took everything he had to keep his head. “Wentworth. Please.”
Wentworth lunged as Honey skidded back, hind leg sweeping off the ledge toward the drop.
“No you don’t. You dinnae get away again.” He caught the puppy by the scruff of the neck and pulled him against his heaving chest. Wentworth closed his eyes and held the pup for a long beat as Elliot’s heart returned from wild to a merely chaotic thumping.
Wentworth was still clutching Honey. He didn’t even know the puppy and the enormous love he had for the creature consumed him. That was the Wentworth that Elliot remembered. The compassion, the heart so open and so big he might have enough love for the entire world.
Minus Elliot now, of course.
Wentworth kissed the top of Honey’s head, shoulders slowly releasing their tension. He looked over at Elliot and instantly squared his posture again. He strode forward and robotically handed over the puppy.
Whispering his thanks, Elliot curled his arms around Honey. Then almost dropped him again when Wentworth lifted his hand, skin sliding over his as the lead was firmly placed into his palm.
Wentworth pulled his gaze up. His voice was cold. “You love your pup.”
“He’s not mine. But yes, I do.”
“Maybe this time, don’t let him go.”
Later, Louisa found Elliot as he left Brandon’s office with Honey securely in tow.
“Was he mad?” she whispered.
Elliot sighed and shook his head. “He had every right to be, but Brandon is too compassionate for that. He wanted to meet the rascal who caused all the hallway shenanigans. He said as long as Honey is under control and doesn’t go on set, he’s welcome to be a part of the Ask Austen team.”
