Dogs and Goddesses Read online

  “Tell me about it,” Daisy said. “Bea would have loved me getting together with a musician; that was just her style. It was horrible that she died, but at least she went boinking.”

  Abby straightened. “My mother said … She had a heart attack, I thought.”

  “Um.” Daisy hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah. She just had it while she was straddling Mr. Casey. From Casey’s Hardware, down the street?”

  “Good God.” No wonder her mother hadn’t wanted her anywhere near Bea. The Real Estate Goddess of Escondido never lifted her skirts for anyone less than a millionaire. Abby wiped her hands on her apron, then picked up her heart cutter. “You know what? We’re going to do this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.” Abby cut out another cookie, then admired it. “I mean, if Granny B would have gotten you laid, then it’s my obligation to see it through.”

  Daisy’s face lit up. “Oh, that’s great! I have to tell you, though, I don’t usually get like this over a man. I think I might be a little bit drunk.”

  Abby laughed. “Well, I don’t usually bake. Or fight with math professors. I think it’s just been one of those days.”

  “It’s been a good day,” Daisy said. “I’m gonna go get Bailey and print out some flyers to put around town. You need any help baking?”

  Abby shook her head. “I’ve got this under control. I’m actually having fun. I might try some new recipes, see what I like. But tomorrow, if you could help me clean—”

  “Oh, absolutely! I’ll take a half day. They owe me the time, trust me.”

  Somebody knocked on the front door to the coffeehouse.

  “You want me to get that?” Daisy asked.

  Abby shook her head. “I’ll take care of it. You go on to bed.”

  She switched the light on as she walked through the deserted shop, brushing the flour off her hands. Bowser had abandoned his bone and was sticking by her side. She was perfectly safe. Whoever was silhouetted in the glass door, making such a fuss, wouldn’t have a chance against a behemoth such as Bowser—

  She slowed as she recognized who it was.

  “Good,” Bowser growled.

  “I don’t think so,” Abby said, and opened the door to Professor Christopher Mackenzie.

  FOUR

  Professor Mackenzie had shed his jacket and tie. His white shirt was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up, and his hair was rumpled as if he’d been shoving his hand through it in exasperation.

  “What are you doing here?” Abby said, ignoring the odd, tight, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach when she looked at him.

  He had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. “I wanted to make sure you were actually going to bake cookies for the reception. And there were several dietary restrictions I neglected to mention.”

  She crossed her arms over the apron, and she could feel the sparkle and bows. She was Granny B’s granddaughter; she wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated by a stranger, no matter how good-looking. “You’re a control freak, aren’t you, Professor?” she said mildly. “Don’t you have more important things to do than chase around after cookies? Life would be a lot simpler if you’d just ordered them from a bakery and didn’t worry about the tiny bit of money you’d given Granny B.”

  “Two hundred dollars,” he said.

  “Two hundred?” she echoed. “They must have been some cookies.”

  “Your grandmother’s prowess was legendary.”

  She’d already heard a great deal about her grandmother’s legendary prowess. “I never really knew Granny B… .”

  “And I’m not about to enlighten you,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “In fact, if you had a cell phone I could have simply called and given you my instructions.”

  “I have a cell phone. I just don’t give the number out to strangers. And it’s a little late for instructions, don’t you think? You should have thought of that sooner.”

  “I did. I came back earlier and you’d gone out.”

  “I went to the dog class.”

  “You did?” He looked surprised, and for a moment, quite human. “Your dog doesn’t look like he needs much training.”

  Bowser had moved past her to brush up against the professor’s long legs. Mackenzie was wearing jeans now, which should have made him more human. Unfortunately, it also made him more attractive, in a snarly kind of way, especially since he was also absently stroking Bowser’s head and Bowser was looking blissful.

  Traitor, Abby thought.

  “I don’t like people touching my dog,” she said.

  “Mind your own beeswax,” Bowser said.

  “Beeswax?” Abby echoed, astonished.

  “What about beeswax?” Mackenzie looked confused as he rubbed Bowser’s ears, and the sight of those long fingers was making Abby feel uncomfortably warm. “Your dog came to me. It wasn’t my idea.”

  “That’s true,” Bowser rumbled.

  Okay, this crazy night was getting even crazier. She needed to get Mackenzie the hell out of there before she became even more unhinged and jumped his bones. Because as annoying as he was, there was something about him that seemed to call to her. “Come here, Bowser!” she said firmly.

  Bowser gave her a long-suffering look and shuffled back to her side. “Like him.”

  “Did you hear that?” she demanded.

  “Hear what?” Mackenzie said, staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Don’t tell me you’re hearing voices?”

  She certainly wasn’t going to tell him her dog was talking to her. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous—why would you think something like that? I’m fine.” She looked up at him. Big mistake. His eyes darkened behind the gold-rimmed glasses, and for a moment she was lost. There was something unfamiliar in the back of his eyes, what she might almost have thought was … attraction. But he’d made it very clear he found her to be nothing more than an annoyance. Still, why had he shown up here with such a feeble excuse?

  “Your cookies will be ready by tomorrow night. If you have special dietary requirements, let me know,” she said in her most reasonable voice. “I’m opening the coffeehouse for tomorrow night, and I can switch out the cookies if there’s a problem.”

  He looked away, glancing around the barren front room. “Tomorrow? You think you have time for that as well as my cookies? You have delusions of grandeur, Miss Richmond.”

  “I’ve never known anyone to be so obsessed with cookies,” she said. “Just let me worry about how I’m going to accomplish all that. Now go away and let me bake.”

  He’d opened his mouth to respond when suddenly Bowser knocked against her, unbalancing her so that she stumbled against the professor. He put out his hands to catch her, and for a moment they were too close, close enough for her to feel his body heat—the sensation was disturbing, erotic—and it seemed as if his fingers caressed her arms as they’d caressed Bowser’s head.

  Then sanity returned, and she yanked herself away, stumbling a little bit. “Sorry. I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  He didn’t move, staring down at her. She was a tall woman, but he was well over six feet of lean muscle, muscle she’d felt when her Newfoundland had shoved her into his arms.

  “I’ll be here to pick up the food at six-thirty tomorrow,” he said abruptly.

  For a moment she said nothing. She could still feel his hands on her arms, feel the warmth of his body. For some idiotic reason, she wanted to move back, to rest against him, to have him draw her closer.

  Yup, she was insane.

  And he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Much as she wanted to believe that the dark expression in his eyes signified instant attraction, she knew better. Something was bothering the uptight professor, and she had no idea what it was.

  “Are you sure you’re not hearing voices?” he said. “The only voice I’m hearing is yours and I can do without it,” she said, doing her best to sound reasonable. She didn’t want to touch him again, but he wasn’t moving, so she