New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess Read online

  Andrew ignored her disclaimer with a wave of his hand. “I’m scared to ask, but what or who is Toto?”

  As inopportune as it was, she appreciated the elegant line of his hand, the sprinkling of dark hair on the back.

  Kat turned at the first step of the deck stairs. “Toto’s my dog.”

  A frown marred the perfection of his face. “A dog? You’re bringing a dog in here?”

  The prospect of a dog in his house seemed to upset him more than being flipped onto his back by an unknown woman. She skipped down the last three steps. “Toto’s more than just a dog. Just wait, you’ll love him.”

  Behind her, Andrew muttered something indistinguishable, although she was fairly certain it wasn’t complimentary. Just wait until he met Toto. Everyone loved Toto.

  ANDREW WATCHED the petite bundle of energy bounce along the road. He ran his hand over his jawline, contemplating the mystery of Kat Devereaux-who she was and why she was shadowing him. Shadowing wasn’t exactly correct. Following him, none too discreetly, was a more apt assessment.

  He’d first spotted her yesterday, lurking behind an abstract sculpture in the lobby of his office building, wearing the prerequisite dark shades and tan trench coat. Fortunately for him, she hadn’t worn a wig. Her riotous ginger curls had heralded her presence all the while she’d trailed him. She’d darted behind him like some exotic bird for two days now and he’d had enough. Despite himself, she intrigued him.

  She was probably just another determined female who’d read the article naming him one of Florida’s top five eligible bachelors. Andrew rued the day he’d given in to impulse and agreed to be interviewed. He had a neat, orderly life-he loved his work, played handball three times a week and casually dated. Impulse was not in his vocabulary. Perhaps he’d entertained a faint inkling of discord and discontent at the very orderliness of his life. And for once he’d given in to impulse and allowed himself to be identified as a prime male candidate. That had taught him a lesson. He had enough on his plate trying to maneuver himself into a partnership. He didn’t need Kat Devereaux hanging out behind the sculptures. And he’d get rid of her-just as soon as he satisfied his curiosity.

  He flexed his right shoulder and winced at the stiffness. He’d be sure he got his answers from a distance.

  Her car backfired from the driveway as she killed the engine. He flinched when she slammed the door. He hoped she hadn’t parked too close to his Mercedes. He wasn’t anxious to pick up any dents-and they could be catching from the looks of that thing she drove.

  Andrew forgot all about dents as Kat Devereaux waltzed up the deck stairs, for all the world as if she were a dinner guest, a mass of fur running circles around her, yapping incessantly. She stopped when she reached the kitchen doorway. “We’re back.”

  Andrew eyed the small, shaggy dog of indeterminate pedigree. “Toto, I presume.”

  Hearing his name, the little dog perked his ears and paused before charging over to sniff and yap around Andrew’s legs.

  “Be careful. Sometimes he…”

  The lower leg of Andrew’s sweatpant suddenly grew warm and wet. He didn’t need to glance down, and he didn’t need to hear Kat finish her sentence to know what had just happened. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples wearily. This was going from bad to worse.

  “No, Toto, no! Bad dog! Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Toto licked at Andrew’s bare toes while Kat grabbed a dish towel and dived for his wet pant leg. He threw up his hands to ward her off before she could come any closer.

  “It’s a little late for that. If you’ll just call off Toto, I’ll change into something a bit drier.”

  “I’m so sorry. Really I am.” Dancing blue eyes belied her contrite tone. Or maybe she was sincere in her apology, but she also thought it was damned funny. She scooped up the wriggling canine and sought to reassure Andrew. “He usually only does it once and that’s only if he likes you.”

  “What does he do if he doesn’t like you?” Andrew quizzed on his way out the door. “No, never mind. I really don’t want to know. Just let me change pants and then, if Toto can contain his enthusiasm, you and I are going to talk, Ms. Devereaux.”

  In the space of one brief hour she’d flung him on his back in the sand, and her dog had lifted its leg on him in his own home. It wasn’t a matter of living to regret having met Kat Devereaux and her little dog, Toto. He already did.

  THIS WAS NOT going well at all.

  Kat supposed she should scold Toto, but it really wasn’t his fault. Excitement and incontinence went hand in hand for poor Toto. Instead, she absently scratched him behind his ears while he burrowed into her shoulder. She’d hand it to Andrew-he’d handled the mishap with surprising grace.

  She glanced toward the bedroom door where he’d disappeared to change clothes and heaved a sigh of relief. So far Andrew Winthrop was turning out to be exactly what he seemed, exactly what she needed: a stuffy, albeit attractive, lawyer with a degree from Harvard, a ton of money in the bank and a pressing need for a wife. She could offer him a temporary version of wedded bliss and he could give her the baby she so wanted.

  Andrew padded back into the room, having replaced his sweatpants with a pair of worn but creased blue jeans. He still wore the faded Harvard T-shirt.

  Kat bent and put Toto on the floor. Andrew eyed the little dog warily. “Once, right? He only does that once?”

  Toto ran over to snuffle Andrew’s feet. “Usually…” Kat couldn’t resist teasing a bit. “Although he might make an exception in your case.”

  Sardonic humor glinted in the depths of his eyes. “Only if I’m lucky.”

  With one last sniff, Toto trotted off to discover parts unknown in the beach house.

  Kat offered Andrew a friendly smile, which wasn’t a hardship, because she was overall a friendly type. It also seemed like a good lead-in to her proposal.

  “Nice place you’ve got here. Cozy.” Actually she’d been here once last summer with Bitsy and her daughter. Bitsy’s husband, Eddie, also a lawyer, and Andrew had been out of town at a conference.

  “I’m so relieved you like it. Now, why don’t we discuss your bird-watching?”

  His voice might be pleasant and relaxed, but determination was written on his face with a bold marker. It was there in the hard line of his lips, the thrust of his chin.

  Kat felt like a bug pinned to a board by Andrew’s piercing eyes. His suggestion hung between them, demanding an explanation. Kat’s stomach chose that moment to protest loud and clear. She glanced at him reprimandingly. “I’m hungry. You spilled my lunch earlier.”

  Andrew stared at her as if he thought she was indeed a bug. “You call M &M’s lunch?”

  “They had peanuts in them. That’s a protein source.” Really, all that money for a Harvard degree. You’d think he’d know his food groups.

  “Shy little thing, aren’t you?”

  “You know some people wouldn’t believe it, but I really am shy.” And nervous as hell. Her entire future hinged on this. Her baby hung in the balance. Her last-ditch effort at motherhood stood sexily before her.

  His brows shot up to his elegant hairline. “Count me in as a nonbeliever in the shy business.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop.

  Kat stared at his hands. His fingers were long and blunt, his hands broad. She swallowed hard. Now was a bad time to develop a hand fetish. Actually, a fetish in any way, shape or form that concerned this man was not allowed.

  She braced her hands on the countertop and hoisted herself up, which put her at eye level with Andrew.

  “Could I have a glass of milk?” she requested from her perch.

  “You’re a strange woman.” Andrew pulled out a gallon of milk.

  Ha! I’m a strange woman? Kat had seen his sleek, plastic girlfriend and, excepting Bitsy, had a fair idea of the type of women who inhabited his world. After all, she’d lived in a similar world for her first twenty-four years. “Considering the women you probably know, I’ll take strang