More, Please (3 page)

“And you know about his abs,
how
exactly? Did he Vulcan mind-meld you?” Kim is a bit of a sci-fi geek and not
afraid to show it.

“I might have felt one or two of them
when we kissed.” Or three or four. Not that I was counting.

Unconvinced, Cass bites her bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Is he a good kisser, anyway?”

I blush from the memory of his lips on
mine. “Damn good.”

Kim tightens up the leash on Rocco. “Well,
thank God you didn’t sleep with him. Navy SEAL, my ass. Can’t believe you
nearly fell for that. Probably uses that line all the time. He could have been
an axe murderer, or a carrier of every STD around.”

 I should have expected this
reaction from Kim. She is a single mom of a four-year-old who swears anxiety is
as much a part of motherhood as stretch marks.

“Shut up, killjoy. Besides, she would
have used a condom. Right?” Cass glances at me for confirmation.

“Of course I would have.” I nod
vehemently.

Kim raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, and if
condoms were foolproof, I wouldn’t be a mom right now.”

I shoot her a silencing look as an older
man approaches, about my dad’s age if he were still alive. He pets our dogs for
a while and talks about one of the dogs he had seen online. My heart does a
happy dance when he tells me he already filled out an application—a sign
that he’s serious about adopting. I pull a small stack of applications I
printed out this morning from my backpack and find his close to the top.

Giving him an encouraging grin, I point
him in the direction of the pet store’s door where Lila has the Chihuahua. Hope
wraps itself around my heart. The man seems perfect for Dollie. No kids. An apartment
that allows dogs. All I’ll have to do is swing by for a house check and call a
few references, and I’ll have one more open slot in a foster home.

And one more dog I can save from the county
shelter. That is enough to make me take a sip of my latte, imagining it is
celebratory champagne.

“He’s perfect for Dollie,” Kim comments,
and I’m happy that we’ve moved on to a different topic. “Seems very calm. That
dog is so hyper. I’m surprised you even had Lila bring her today.”

I toss my shoulders upward. “She’s okay
if we keep her indoors. And she’s easier to manage than Streamer.” Streamer is
Lila’s other foster, a MinPin that pees every time he meets someone new. I don’t
have enough volunteers to bring all of our dogs to these Saturday events, and have
to pick the ones who make the best impression. Streamer is definitely not the
cream of the crop among our rescues.

The second hour of our event approaches, and
we’re starting to see more traffic.

As another couple hands me their
application and gives Rocco a final pat on the head, I feel a strange prickling
up my spine, as though someone’s hand is touching the nape of my neck.

And I see him approach, feeling the air
rush out of my lungs.

Logan?

What the hell?

For a split second, I’m thinking the guy is
stalking me. I know. Laughable, considering he has this spectacular Greek god bod,
and I’m just… me. But when I see the complete shock in his eyes, I know he isn’t
exactly expecting to run into me either.

Then the humiliation settles over me like
a wet blanket, remembering how I ditched him last night. As he walks toward us,
I just stare at him, dumbfounded, suddenly oblivious to what Kim is saying to
me as I nod in response, completely on auto-pilot.

I hear Cass give a low whistle as Logan nears
and I know she must have spotted him. You can’t
not
see a guy like Logan
approaching. At least, not if you’re a heterosexual female under the age of 80.

Logan stands above me, towering over my
speechless form as I melt into my folding chair from his mere presence. Even in
the daylight, the guy is hot. No, he is hotter. No wonder I nearly got naked
with him.

“Alexandra,” he says, and I hear Cass
whimper at the sound of his voice uttering my name. The guy could be a phone
sex operator with a voice like that. Come to think of it, if I signed him on as
a sex toy rep, sales would quadruple and I could retire ten years earlier than
planned. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I—uh—” I stammer. What
am
I doing here? Oh, yeah. “I run a dog rescue. We’re here every Saturday morning
so that people can meet and uh, maybe adopt a dog.” The words are stumbling
from my mouth, but I’m not even sure what I am saying. Being close to this much
testosterone in the morning is inebriating. Two more minutes in his presence
and I’ll turn into a blithering idiot.

“I know,” he replies. “I’m here to see Kosmo.”

Kosmo. Seriously? This guy wants to see
the chocolate Lab mix I’ve been fostering for the past six months? No one wants
to see Kosmo. They all ask how he’s doing, but no one wants to actually
adopt
him. I had taken Kosmo home from the shelter, not knowing that he’d end up
being our most costly foster ever. Not that that would have stopped me. There
was something about his soulful eyes that had drawn me to him, and once I took
his face in my hands and stroked his furry cheeks, I was a goner.

But Kosmo turned out to be a special
needs dog. He has a valve in his heart that won’t close all the way, requiring expensive
medication and a surgery as soon as I can afford it. Donations for the heart
procedure are trickling in. But as of now, the medicine is paid for straight
out of my sex toys sales, like so many of the other expenses that come with my
fosters. Who would have thought I’d be selling dildos for dogs?

“I filled out an application online last
week,” he adds.

“Oh,” I murmur, still shell-shocked.

Cass sends me an inquisitive look,
obviously trying to figure out how I know this guy. “And your name is?” she
asks him in her breathiest tone. Is she flirting with him? And can I blame her
if she is?

Logan’s dazzlingly blue eyes shoot over
to Cass. “Jake Sheridan.”

My gut seizes up. The lying piece of
shit. “
Jake
?” I ask. “I thought you said your name was Logan.”

Coughing, Cass spits out a mouthful of
coffee. Obviously, she is putting two and two together.

“Are you okay?” Logan—I mean,
Jake—asks her.

Her cheeks are flushed. “Yeah. Sorry. Went
down the wrong hatch.”

My eyes are still locked on his as I
await his answer.

“Logan’s my middle name.”

I glance sideways at Cass who is giving a
slight eye roll. Don’t say it, Cass. Don’t say it. But I’ll think it:
Lying
SOB
.

“I’m Jacob Junior, so I’ve always gone by
Logan, my middle name. But I probably put Jacob on the form.”

Yeah, right.
Jake, Jacob, Logan. If I talk to him for
ten more minutes, I’m betting he’ll toss a few more names my way.

Cass spots his application and hands it
to me. I can see her pointer finger placed appropriately at the line where he
listed his occupation. And my stomach roils at the words “Construction
Manager.” Prick.

Navy SEAL, my ass
. I can hear Kim’s words echoing in my
brain. She was right, and I hate that. The guy is slicker than the best lube I
sell.

How could I have been so stupid?

“Well, Jake—” I begin.

“Logan,” he interrupts.

Whatever
. “—Kosmo isn’t here today. I only
had enough volunteers to handle six dogs.”

“Okay. So how can I meet him?”

Insistent guy. He’ll do well in…
construction management.

“Well, normally one of us will take the
dog to meet you at your home. We always do house checks, anyway, before we
adopt out a dog. You know, to make sure someone’s not living in a place that’s
unsuitable for a dog. Like, say… a hotel.” I frown at him.

A half-grin sidles up his cheeks, and my
heart rate picks up in pace by 10% despite the fact that this guy is a compulsive
liar.

“I was just staying there a couple
nights. I’m renovating my townhouse and had no plumbing.”

“Really.” Unconsciously, I draw the word out
three or four syllables. “I thought you said you live in San Diego.”

“No, I lived in San Diego. A while back. I
still consider it home, though.”

Sure thing, Slick
. “Mmm, okay. Well, I’m not sure it
sounds like you’re ready for a dog then.” I set his application back down on
the pile.

“Of course I am.”

“Well, you said your townhouse is
undergoing construction. With workers coming and going, I don’t think it would
be the best place for a dog. He might slip out an open door. And I’m sure you
must have seen on our website that Kosmo is a special needs dog. He needs a
calm, stable home. Not a construction zone.” I know I sound patronizing, but I
hardly care.

What an idiot I was. Sitting there last
night, listening to him talk about life in the SEALs, which he no doubt learned
about by picking up a few bestsellers. How many other women did he use that
line on?

“My plumbing’s fine now. The townhouse is
nearly complete. I have a fenced-in backyard. There’s nothing dangerous there
for a dog.” His gaze on me is heavy.

“Okay. I’ll call you if he’s still
available. There’s been a lot of interest in him lately.”

Kim shoots me a look and I silence her
with a stifling glare. There has been no interest in Kosmo. Few people want to
adopt a dog that comes with such a hefty price tag.

Logan—or Jake, Jacob, or whatever
the hell his name is—inhales deeply, broadening his chest in a way that is,
frankly, scary as hell. “I think we should talk,” he says. Then, glancing sideways
at my two friends, he adds, “Alone. Maybe we could take one of the dogs for a
short walk?”

If I wasn’t in a public place, I would be
paralyzed in fear right now, especially with Kim’s suggestion that he might be
an axe murderer still floating around in my brain.

“Sure.” I toss my shoulders carelessly to
make it seem like my heart isn’t palpitating behind my ribcage. I stand up,
suddenly feeling like a munchkin next to his 6-foot-plus frame. I am a Maltese
to his purebred German shepherd.

Feeling Kim’s and Cass’s eyes watching
me, I give my dog’s leash a little tug and walk down the brick-lined sidewalk
toward the smell of coffee pouring out of Pop’s donut shop. It is busy every
Saturday morning. Plenty of witnesses in case this guy turns Jekyll-and-Hyde on
me.

When we are out of earshot from my
friends, I turn to him. “So?”

“So. Small world, huh?”

I nod. “Small town.”

“You disappeared on me last night. I was
worried about you when you didn’t come back. I even checked the restaurant and
the front desk downstairs. But no one remembered you leaving.”

That is the one good thing about being
average-looking like me. No one really notices me coming and going. I kind of
fade into the woodwork.

“Well, I had second thoughts,” I tell him.

 “I figured that must be it.” He
stares at me for a beat. “You could have just told me that.”

He seems so damned sincere. I have to
remind myself that, in the span of a few hours last night, this guy lied to me
about his name, his job, and where he lives. He probably has a wife and kids
waiting at home for him.

“You didn’t mention last night that you
were looking for a dog,” I say.

He laughs. “And you didn’t mention you
rescue dogs. I thought you said you work in some kind of sales.”

I glance at him, nearly sucked into the
vortex of his baby blue eyes.
Noooo
, a silent scream wails inside my hormone-laden
brain. “We’re an all-volunteer organization. I have two other jobs to pay my
bills.” My voice is clipped. “The dog rescue is just something I do on the side.”

“Good for you. I wish we had talked about
it last night. I love dogs. I’ve wanted one for years,” he says, sounding so
sweet I can feel cavities forming in my teeth. He touches my arm lightly and I
hate the way my body reacts, blood surging south, warmth pooling just below my
naval.

I square my shoulders toward him, and
give him my deadliest glare. I don’t have time for this. I have more respect
for myself than to give another minute to a guy who lies to me within minutes
of meeting me. And pretending to be a SEAL? Hell, that’s just unpatriotic.

 “Listen, as nice as it is to talk
about old times, I really do have to get back to my volunteers.”

He takes a step backward, looking
confused. “And Kosmo?”

“What about him?”

“I’d still really like to meet him. I
think I could give him a good home.”

I nod curtly. “I’ll be in touch.” I turn
on my heel and walk away. Yet pulling my eyes from him is almost painful. Such
a waste of good looks on a complete liar.

And my thoughts seem to echo those of my
friends. Thank God I hadn’t slept with him.