Playing for Keeps Read online

  Her name was Sadie Lane and she was spirited and maybe also a little wild, but man. He never could take his eyes off of her.

  Tonight though, he was distracted with the dog hugged up so close to his face that he was breathing in wet matted fur with each inhale. “My EpiPen’s in my car,” he said. “In the computer case on the passenger seat. Come on, you know you’ve been waiting for the opportunity to legally stab me.”

  Sadie shifted a little closer, every bit as wary as the dog. “You’re making fun at a time like this?”

  “What’s the alternative?”

  She shook her head. “If this is some sort of stupid come-on or something—”

  “If this was a come-on, you’d know it.”

  She seemed massively unimpressed by this fact, her eyes deep and unreadable as always. And hey, maybe he’d only have an asthma attack. Maybe he wouldn’t go into complete anaphylactic shock, in which case he’d only need his inhaler—currently also residing in his computer case. Which reminded him, he wasn’t supposed to carry it in his case, it was supposed to be on his person. But it’d been years since he’d had any sort of serious asthma attack, even if the last one had landed him in the hospital practically on his deathbed. “I’m parked right out front,” he said.

  “You need more than an EpiPen if you think I’m going to reach into your pants pocket.”

  Rolling his eyes, he shifted the dog and pulled out the keys for her.

  “If I do this, where am I supposed to jab you?”

  “Upper thigh,” he said.

  “Not your ass?”

  “Definitely not my ass.”

  She lifted her face to his. Raindrops were clinging to her long, dark lashes and glinting off the myriad of pretty little mismatched sparkling earrings she had running up the shell of her ear.

  “Are you going to drop trou?” she asked.

  He couldn’t tell if she was asking with horror or fascination, and he let out a low laugh. “Not unless you take me to dinner first.”

  “Dream on, Suits.”

  And there it was, the reminder that she saw him as a know-it-all, a buttoned-up suit—literally—which he supposed was completely unappealing to the tattoo artist with the dark eyes, dark hair, and dark life. And he got it. They were polar opposites, not well suited, no pun intended.

  And to be honest, he wished it was anyone out here in this storm with him tonight rather than the cynical smartass who seemed to take personal pleasure in driving him nuts.

  They had some friends in common, so they ran into each other occasionally, and every time it was the same—an odd instant wariness he couldn’t explain. There was also a healthy dose of irritation, at least on her end.

  On his, it was mostly bafflement.

  She stood there, hands on hips, probably waiting for him to stroke out. “You do realize that Lollipop’s rubbing up against you and you’re not sneezing or wheezing or anything, right?” she said.

  “Lollipop?”

  “It’s the last thing I ate a very long time ago, and she seems as sweet as one,” she said, still watching him carefully. “It fits. Are you or are you not dying?”

  “You’re hoping you get to use the EpiPen, aren’t you?”

  “Little bit,” she said lightly, but her expression was still assessing, and actually, something else as well.

  “You’re worried about me,” he said, surprised enough to smile. “Cute.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not worried, I just don’t need you keeling over. I’d have to call Emergency Services and I’m not a fan of hospitals.”

  Well, they were in sync there. “I’m fine,” he said, a little shocked that it was true. Other than being drenched through and unable to feel his own frozen ass, he wasn’t exhibiting any of the allergic reactions he’d been told all his life by his mom and four sisters he’d get if he allowed a dog to get too close.

  Lollipop shivered and stared up at him with an expression that said she was maybe counting on him, which got him right in the feels. Interesting since he’d been utterly devoid of feels for longer than he could remember.

  The thing was, he’d spent way too many of his own formative years as undersized, scared, weak, and vulnerable as Lollipop. Plus, of all the things he hated, including but not limited to tailgate drivers, loud chewers, and spam mail, people who abused animals were at the top of his list. He stood, still holding on to the dog. She was big enough to weigh at least fifty pounds, but skin and bones, she couldn’t have been more than thirty. “Maybe I’m wearing too many clothes to get an allergic reaction.”

  “Your bare hands are on her and you have some fur stuck to your stubble,” Sadie said. “Here, let me take her.”

  “No, I’ve got her. I’m feeling fine.” For some reason, Sadie was the only woman on the planet who could set his head spinning without even trying. Some of it was a good spin, but most of it was a different sort of spin altogether, one that left him baffled and confused—two things he’d worked hard at never feeling. He pulled out his phone and snapped a pic of Lollipop that he could send to his contacts to see if anyone had any knowledge of her, before returning it to his pocket.

  “I can’t believe she just let you pick her up,” Sadie said. “My boss, Rocco, said he’d seen a stray around, so I’ve been leaving out a bowl of water and food, but she must be waiting until we’re gone to get to it. She doesn’t trust humans.” She cocked her head. “This would be a good time to tell me you’re Batman or something.”

  “Batman’s human.”

  She rolled her eyes. “My point is that you seem to have the touch.” She sounded insultingly shocked at this.

  “Hey,” he said. “I have the touch in spades.”

  She laughed.

  “Wow, you’re judgy. I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Excuse me?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m the most un-judgy person on this entire planet.”

  He snorted and she looked taken aback for a quick beat, holding his gaze. Tendrils of her long, dark hair had slipped from her ponytail to cling to her face and throat. She had some blue streaks in it that matched her striking dark blue eyes. Yesterday, the streaks had been purple. The month before they’d been red. Her sparkling earrings caught the light and softened her edginess slightly—a fact he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate. He knew this because all his life he’d soaked up the details of everything around him, categorizing the tidbits into his brain’s filing system. Most people thought this trait defined him as a nerd at best, a weirdo at worst. He’d never cared much what people thought, although if he was being honest, he wouldn’t mind his early childhood tormentors and bullies seeing his current placement on the Forbes Top 100.

  But whatever Sadie thought of him, he knew she had to be drawn to him on some level because she always seemed to run into him.

  Although that might’ve been wishful thinking on his part.

  “Look, it seems like Lollipop’s claimed you. I’m just surprised by that since . . .”

  “Since . . . ?”

  “Since you don’t seem the maternal type. Or the kind of man who’d get emotionally attached.” Her words hung in the suddenly tension-filled air.

  “You think I don’t have emotions or the ability to attach?” he asked.

  “Maybe it takes one to know one.”

  His phone had been having a seizure in his pocket as the dog huddled up against his chest, eyes revealing a haunted hollowness that said she’d been through hell. And then there was the woman standing in front of him with . . . damn . . . the same haunted hollowness.

  Uncomfortable with both, he shifted closer, hoping he wasn’t risking certain death. “I’ve got to go.” Soon as he figured out how to bring the dog to a business dinner with his attorney and not croak at the table.

  Sadie held out her hands. “I’ll take her.”

  Here was the thing. Caleb was more allergic to accepting help than he was to dogs and that went way back, deeply ingrained from a time he