Animal Attraction Read online

  But she’d needed the space and the time, and they’d finally come to an agreement. She would call and check in once a week, and in return, they’d let her be. She called them every Wednesday evening. “American Idol isn’t over yet. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “I don’t like the new judges,” her mother said. “You need anything?”

  This was always the first question asked. Followed quickly by the second: “And are you okay?”

  Jade shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

  “You don’t sound it. You sound nasally. Are you sick? If you catch a late-night flight, we could have you taken care of by morning—”

  “Not necessary. How’s Dad?”

  Her mother sighed. “Okay, the same as always, I expect. Stubborn and working himself into the ground, of course. Which means he’s overworking himself running the show. And we all know that only speeds up the symptoms of his Parkinson’s.”

  “He’s not listening to his doctors?”

  “Your father? Hello, have you met him? He knows it all, remember? And we both know there was ever only one thing that kept him home, happy in the knowledge that he didn’t have to work every day, and that was you being in the office instead of him. Baby, you know I don’t want to rush you . . .”

  Jade kept her unladylike snort to herself.

  “But you’re really coming home?”

  Jade closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Have you given notice there then? At your little dog place?”

  Jade rubbed her forehead and stared down at her toes. She’d done a damn good job with them if she said so herself, though they needed another coat. “It’s an animal center, Mom. We see all animals, not just dogs.”

  “And you . . . enjoy it. Checking in dogs.”

  “I know you don’t get it, but I’ve been very happy here.”

  “In Idaho.”

  In Jade’s mother’s opinion, the entire country consisted of three cities. Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago. Anything in between belonged in some alternate universe, Idaho included.

  “Idaho is very nice,” Jade said.

  “So you’ve said. Why don’t I come visit?”

  “No!” Jade lowered her voice with effort. “Like I said, I’m coming home.”

  “Before November first.”

  “Yes.”

  “I could help you pack.”

  Aka call a moving company. “I don’t have much to pack.”

  And she didn’t want any visitors here. So far she’d managed to avoid a family invasion by going home to Chicago on the occasional holiday. The last thing she wanted was for them to show up en masse and see her life here. Not that she was ashamed of it. She wasn’t at all. But neither was she ready to share this world she’d found for herself.

  Still, her mother meant well and missed her, so Jade made nice for a few more minutes, then hung up, feeling the usual guilt wash over her. She put a second coat of nail polish on her toenails and didn’t think of Dell or how she’d nearly inhaled him whole.

  Much.

  And in any case, it was hardly her fault. He’d more than met her halfway, and good Lord Almighty, he was no slouch in the kissing department. She’d nearly gone up in flames for him right there on the mats. One more minute of his amazing mouth on hers and she’d have stripped off her own clothes to get his hands on her.

  Except that Adam had shown up.

  Again.

  She was suspecting a conspiracy but really he’d done her a favor because she had no business starting anything with Dell.

  None.

  They’d had all this time and hadn’t acted on their attraction. And now she was leaving. Getting involved with Dell was out of the question.

  Not going to happen. And anyway, it’d been nothing but sheer hormones. That’s all. And pheromones. And good God, sheer testosterone, the stuff came off him in waves when she wrestled around with him on those damn mats.

  “This is why normal people have regular sex,” she told Beans. “Keeps them sane. Sane by orgasms.”

  Beans didn’t seem impressed by this kernel of knowledge.

  “Okay, so I’m low on self-control,” she admitted. “Sue me. But it’s his fault—you should have seen him in those shorts, all hot and sweaty and . . .” Gorgeous. “Look, all I need to do is . . . not look at him.” Ever.

  She’d have sworn that Beans rolled her eyes on that one before she leapt to the back of the couch and began to wash her face. “Oh, please. If you’d been standing in front of him, all hot and intent and protective and . . . hot, you’d have jumped him, too.”

  Beans finished her face and went to work behind her ears.

  Jade shook her head and set down the bottle of nail polish. She’d had a glass of wine, but she was still unnerved, quivering with tension and unused adrenaline. If Adam hadn’t interrupted them, what would she be doing right this very minute? She was picturing it when the knock came at the door; she jumped and knocked over the nail polish. She righted the bottle, attempted to keep her heart in her chest by pressing hard between her breasts, and did the duck walk to the door so that she didn’t smear her toes. She looked through the peephole, then went still.

  Dell. He’d showered, put on jeans and a long-sleeved graphic henley that emphasized the chest and arms she’d had her hands all over earlier.

  He looked . . . perfect.

  She looked down at herself. She wore the oversized Harvard sweatshirt she’d pilfered from Sam years ago, Toy Story–themed pajama bottoms. At least she didn’t have on her donkey slippers; they were by the couch waiting for her toenails to dry.

  Yeah, she was a catch.

  When she opened the door, Dell wore a solemn expression—until he took in her pj’s.

  At that, a small smile crossed his mouth.

  She tried to remember if she’d put mascara back on after her shower. She hadn’t.

  When it became clear she wasn’t going to invite him in, Dell simply stepped into her. And dammit if she didn’t back up, and then she was watching his very fine ass as it moved into her place.

  He stood in the center of her living room and turned to face her. “We have unfinished business.”

  Twelve

  They had unfinished business?

  Assuming he meant their near physical miss, Jade hesitated.

  With another small smile, Dell shook his head. “I meant your training. You left early.”

  “Figured we were done.”

  “Yeah. That got a little out of hand.” He paused, but she shook her head.

  “If you’re going to try to apologize again, don’t.”

  He just looked at her with those dark eyes, and she let out a breath. “Look,” she said. “We both know the truth is that I kissed you, so if anyone should be apologizing—”

  “I’m not apologizing for the kiss.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Then . . . ?”

  Instead of answering, he sat on her couch in the same place she’d just vacated and took in the movie playing on the TV, the spread of fingernail polish, the half-eaten bowl of popcorn, the opened laptop.

  Too late she realized what she had up on the screen.

  He smiled, then laughed out loud, his amusement eradicating the lines of tension in his beautiful face. He leaned forward to read more.

  “Hey,” she complained. “That’s private.” She moved toward him to shut the laptop, but he held her off, easily grabbing both her hands in one of his wrists and tugging her down beside him.

  “Watch the freshly done toenails!”

  He grinned and did just that, taking in the pale blue polish. “Pretty.” Then he went back to her screen, reading her things-to-do-in-her-spare-time spreadsheet:1. Organize junk drawer.

  2. Clean hairbrushes.

  3. Relax.

  4. Don’t think about Dell.

  Dell slid her a look but didn’t point out the obvious, that she wasn’t doing anything on her list.

&n