If You Were Mine
Page 4

Her hand still in his, he said, “I’ve got you,” as he brought his other arm around her waist to keep her from tumbling with the dog in her arms.
She was shocked by how good it felt to have his arms around her. So stunned, in fact, that when he said, “I’ll take her off your hands now,” she almost let him take the puppy from her.
But despite how topsy-turvy her body was behaving, she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d yelled for the puppy, or how angry he’d seemed.
Heather took a step back out of his arms, finally pulling her hand free to hold the dog closer to her chest to protect it. “No,” she said as she finally looked up at his face, “I don’t think that’s a good id—”
Oh my God.
She took another step back, but this time it had nothing to do with the dog in her arms. Heather had never understood her friends who drooled over pictures of good-looking men, had always figured she wasn’t particularly visually oriented.
Now she realized it was simply that her gaze hadn’t landed on the right man.
Within five seconds of taking in his dark hair, his perfectly chiseled face, his blue eyes and broad shoulders, her heart started to pound too fast, her mouth dried out, her palms grew damp, and her breath quickened. Not to mention the fact that all of her girly parts were actually growing hot and tingly.
Not once in twenty-seven years had she ever been struck with such a visceral, physical reaction to a man.
What was wrong with her?
Forcing her synapses to refire, she said, “Is this your puppy?”
He lowered his gaze to the puppy’s cute face. “Unfortunately.”
Jerk.
“I know you’re interested in my dog training services,” she told him, “but I’m afraid—”
“You’re a dog trainer?” he asked, cutting her off before she could tell him that not only was she not going to work with him, but she also thought it best that she find the puppy a new home right away. One that would appreciate the little dog in all her mischievous glory. “You’re not one of the girls for the ad?”
He gestured over his shoulder and she looked to see a half-dozen women in bikinis standing around waiting for a photographer to finish setting up lights.
She blinked at him, unable to believe he could possibly have thought that. “God, no,” she said, and then, “You asked Agnes Mackelroy to call me about some special training sessions.” She paused before asking, “Didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “I always knew I loved that woman for more than just her killer Aston Martin collection.” The smile he gave her was clearly intended to melt her into a puddle of lust at his feet. “Trust Agnes to also send the prettiest dog trainer on the planet my way.”
Absolutely, positively refusing to melt for him, she arched her eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Atlas reacted to the icy tone of her voice by letting out a low whine. She couldn’t believe this man was talking to her like this, trying to flirt with her by saying she could be one of the models. Especially when she knew exactly what she looked like in her ripped, sweaty shirt, muddy shorts, and skinned knees.
If only she’d trained Atlas to be an attack dog...
A man holding a large camera called out to them. “Hey Zach, the models need to know how you want them on the cars?”
“Don’t let us stop you from your important work. Atlas, let’s go.” She picked up his leash as her big dog rose to his feet beside her.
She was heading to her car when Zach said, “Hey, I thought you were going to stay to train me?”
How, she wondered, did he manage to make her job sound quite so filthy? Deciding not to dignify his obnoxious comment with a reply, she didn’t even break stride.
At least until he said, “Forget something?”
Darn it. She’d been hoping to make a quick getaway while he was distracted by tiny bikinis and spray-on tans.
Steeling herself for the confrontation—and for looking at him again without reacting like a teenage girl hit with her first burst of hormones—Heather turned around slowly. “I heard you yelling earlier. We both know you’re not interested in having a puppy.” She looked down at the fluff in her arms, deceptively innocent as it snored softly. “Especially one that can be so playful.”
He crossed the distance between them and she had to fight the urge to take a step back. “I’ll get one of those crates for it for the next couple of weeks.”
Heather didn’t stop the snarl from erupting from her lips. “You use a crate for specific training purposes, not to imprison a dog all day.” She should have just turned and walked away from him, but she had to know. “Why would you get a puppy if you don’t even want one?”
“My seven-year-old niece-to-be dumped her on me this morning, to take care of while she’s on vacation. She’ll crucify me if anything happens to it.” She was surprised to see a hint of fear hit his eyes. “I remember just how vicious my little sisters could be when I made them mad.”
Even as she tried to steel herself against liking anything about this man, she couldn’t miss the deep affection in his voice as he spoke about the women in his life. She shouldn’t care how good-looking he was, or how electric it had felt when he’d taken her hand or held her to keep her from falling.
And she certainly shouldn’t care if he had a soft spot for seven-year-old girls and little sisters.
Still, it explained why he wasn’t the least bit equipped to deal with a puppy. Heather sighed as she realized that perhaps walking away from him with his puppy in tow wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d thought.
“Damn it,” he said, his eyes darkening as he suddenly squatted down and ran one hand over her thigh.
She jumped back. “What are you doing?”
“You’re bleeding.” He looked incredibly pissed off by this fact. “What the hell were you doing crawling in there in shorts?”
“Saving the dog you lost,” she shot back at him, even as a part way down deep inside warmed at the fact that he even cared about her skinned knees...not to mention the shockingly seductive feel of his hands on her skin.
She’d been taking care of herself for so long that she couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about her.
“Come inside the shop and I’ll clean you up.”
The thought of him touching her again had her swallowing hard. She’d always thought there was something so sexy about a mechanic’s hands. The fact that they were so skilled at building and fixing things made it difficult not to wonder what else those hands were good at.