New York, Actually

“I’m worse.”

“No wonder you always win. Opposing counsel probably wants to get as far away from you as quickly as possible.”

“That’s part of the reason. And for the record, I don’t use women. I let them use me, preferably after dark.” He bent to kiss her cheek, thinking that teasing his sister was his second favorite game after poker. “So what time can I pick up this dog?”

Two

Dear Aggie, if men are from Mars, when are they going back?

Yours, Earthbound and Exasperated

She noticed his dog first. A German shepherd who was as strong and athletic as his owner. She’d seen the two of them every day for the past week, just after sunrise. She’d allowed herself a glance or two, because…well, she was human, wasn’t she? She had as much appreciation for the male form as the next woman, especially when that male form was as well presented as it was in this guy. And besides, studying people was her job.

Like so many other people in the park at this time, he wore running gear, but something about the way he moved told her that when he wasn’t pounding the paths, he dressed in a suit and was commander in chief of whichever empire he presided over. His hair was dark and cropped short. Doctor? Banker? Accountant? Judging from the air of confidence he exuded he was very good at whatever it was he did. If she’d had to make more guesses about him, she would have said he was focused to the point of driven, spent too long working, and found it hard to empathize with weakness. He’d have his own weaknesses of course, everybody did. Being smart, he probably even knew what they were, but he would hide them because weakness wasn’t something he’d share with others. He was the type of guy who, if he knew what she did for a living, would laugh and then express surprise that anyone needed advice on something as straightforward as relationships. A man like him would have no idea how it felt to lack confidence, to not be able to find the courage to approach a woman you found interesting and attractive.

A man exactly like Rupert.

She frowned. Where had that thought come from? She was careful to never think about Rupert. She had enough self-insight to know her experience with him had colored her view of the world. In particular, it had colored her view of relationships. In all probability this man was nothing like Rupert.

The only piece of information that jarred with her impression of him was that he had a dog. She wouldn’t have expected a man like him to want responsibility for a dog. Maybe the dog belonged to a friend who was sick, or maybe it had belonged to a deceased family member, but if that was the case then she would have expected a man like him to use a dog-walking service, like the one she occasionally used for Valentine. The Bark Rangers.

The dog was the one misshapen piece of the jigsaw that stopped her picture of him fitting together perfectly.

Determined not to be caught staring, she ran on, her feet pounding the ground in the comfortable rhythm she now found instinctively. Running was a way of testing herself. Of pushing herself outside her comfort levels. And pushing made her aware of the power and strength of her own body. Running reminded her that when she thought she had nothing more to give, she could still find more.

Even though it was early and the park wasn’t yet open to traffic, it was busy. Joggers mingled with cyclists riding hill repeats and dawn laps of Central Park. In a few hours they’d give way to parents with strollers, and tourists keen to explore the eight-hundred-and-forty-three acres of parkland that ran from 59th Street to 110th and east to west from Fifth Avenue to Central Park West.

She could never decide which season in New York was her favorite, but right now she would have voted for spring. The trees were thick with blossoms and it flavored the air with a heavy sweetness. Crab apple, cherry and magnolia bathed the park in a creamy, pink glow and exotic birds from Central and South America gathered ready for the spring migration.

She was pondering its near-bridal magnificence when Valentine shot in front of her and almost tripped her up.

He bounded after the German shepherd, who was thoroughly overexcited and refusing to come back when called.

“Brutus!” The man’s voice thundered across the park.

Molly slowed her pace. Seriously? He’d called his dog Brutus?

The dog ignored him. He didn’t even turn his head in the direction of his owner. There was no acknowledgment that they even knew each other.

Molly decided that either Brutus was the sort of dog who loved to challenge authority, or else he didn’t often find himself in the company of other dogs and wasn’t about to prioritize obedience over a good time.

Clearly there was one thing that power couldn’t command, and that was a misbehaving dog. Was there any better leveler?

She whistled to Valentine, who was having fun with his new friend.

His head came up and their eyes met across the expanse of grass. After a split second of thought he came bounding toward her, all long lines and lean muscle, and as graceful as a ballet dancer. She heard the muted thud of his paws on the soft grass, the rhythmic panting, and then he skidded to a halt in front of her, the rear end of his body moving with each swing of his tail, that canine barometer of happiness.

There was surely no more uplifting greeting than a wagging tail. It conveyed so much. Love, warmth and unquestioning acceptance.

He was followed by his new friend, the German shepherd, who skidded untidily to a halt at her feet, more bruiser than ballet dancer. He gave her a hopeful look, seeking approval.

Molly decided that for all his bad-boy tendencies, he was cute. But like all bad boys, he needed a firm hand and strong boundaries.

His owner was probably the same.

“Well, aren’t you adorable.” She dropped to her haunches to make a fuss over him, stroking his head and rubbing his neck. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin and the smack of his tail against the leg as he circled in excitement. He tried to put his paws on her shoulders, almost knocking her on her butt in the dirt. “No. Sit.”

The dog gave her a reproachful look and sat, clearly questioning her sense of fun.

“You’re cute, but that doesn’t mean I want your muddy paws on my T-shirt.”

The man stopped beside her. “He sat for you.” His smile was easy, his gaze warm. “He never does that for me. What’s your secret?”

“I asked nicely.” She stood up, conscious of the sweaty tendrils of hair sticking to her neck and annoyed with herself for caring.

“Looks like you have the magic touch. Or maybe it’s the British accent that does it for him. Brutus—” The man gave the dog a stern look. “Brutus.”

Brutus didn’t even turn his head. It was as if the dog didn’t know he was talking to him.

Molly was puzzled. “Does he often ignore you?”

“All the time. He has a behavioral problem.”

“Behavioral problems usually say more about the owner than they do about the dog.”

“Ouch. Well, that puts me in my place.” His laugh was a rich, sexy sound and heat ripped through her body and pooled low in her abdomen.

She’d expected him to be defensive. Instead, she was the one who was defensive. She’d built walls and barriers that no one could pass, but she was sure that this man with the dangerous blue eyes and the sexy voice was used to finding his way around barriers. She felt breathless and swimmy-headed, and she wasn’t used to feeling that way.

“He needs training, that’s all. He’s not very good at doing what he’s told.” She focused on the dog, rather than the man. That way she didn’t have to deal with the laughing eyes of his insanely attractive owner.

“I’ve never been too good at doing as I’m told either, so I’m not going to hold that against him.”

“It can be dangerous for a dog to challenge authority.”

“I’m not afraid to be challenged.”

That didn’t surprise her. One glance told her this guy knew his own mind and walked his own path. She also sensed that the smooth layers of charm and charisma concealed a core of steel. He was a man only a fool would underestimate. And she was no fool.

“You don’t expect obedience?”

“Are we still talking about dogs here? Because this is the twenty-first century, and I like to think of myself as progressive.”

Whenever a situation or person unsettled her, she tried to detach herself and imagine what advice she’d give as Aggie.

Feeling breathless and tongue-tied around a man can be uncomfortable, but remember that however attractive he is, underneath he has his own insecurities even if he doesn’t choose to show them.

That didn’t make her feel better. She was starting to think this man didn’t have a single insecurity.

It doesn’t matter how you feel on the inside, as long as you don’t show it on the outside. Smile and act cool and he is never going to know that he turns your insides to the consistency of pulp.

Smile and act cool.

That seemed like the best approach.

“You should try taking him to obedience classes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a thing?”

“Yes. And it might help. He’s a beautiful dog. Did you buy him from a breeder?”

“He’s a rescue. The casualty of a vicious divorce case up in Harlem. The husband knew that Brutus was the one thing the wife loved more than anything in the world, so he fought for him in the divorce. His lawyer was better than hers, so he won and found himself with a dog he didn’t want.”

Molly was appalled enough to forget about the strange melting feeling going on inside her. “Who was his lawyer?”

“I was.”

Lawyer. She’d missed that one on her list of possible professions, but now she wondered why because it was a perfect fit. It was easy enough to imagine him intimidating the opposition. He was a man used to winning every battle he fought, she was sure of that.

“Why didn’t he give Brutus back to the wife?”

“Firstly because she’d moved back to Minnesota to live with her mother, secondly because the last thing he would ever do was something that would make his ex-wife happy and thirdly because, much as his wife loved the dog, she hated him more. She wanted to make his life as difficult as possible so she made him keep the dog.”

“That’s a horrible story.” Molly, who heard plenty of horrible stories in her working day, was shocked.

“That’s relationships.”

“That’s one divorce. That’s not all relationships. So you rescued him?” That revelation exploded all her preconceived ideas about him. She’d assumed he was the sort who put himself front and center of his life, rarely inconveniencing himself for anyone, but he’d saved this beautiful, vulnerable dog who had lost the only person who had ever loved him. He might be handsome and a sharp talker, but he was obviously a good person. “I think it’s great that you’ve done this.” She rubbed Brutus’s head, sad that this animal had paid the price for people’s failure to work out their differences. When relationships fell apart the fallout was far and wide. She knew that better than anyone. “Poor guy.” The dog nudged her pockets hopefully and she smiled. “Are you looking for treats? Is he allowed?”

“He’s allowed. If you have a spare.”

“I always carry them for Valentine.” Hearing his name, Valentine was by her side in a flash, possessive and protective.

“Valentine?” The man watched as she fed both dogs. “Is he a man substitute?”

“No. Last time I checked he was definitely a dog.”

He flashed her a smile of appreciation. “I thought maybe you’d given up on men and settled for the love of a good dog.”

That was closer to the truth than he could have imagined, but she had no intention of admitting it to anyone, least of all someone who seemed to have the world at his feet. What would he know about how it felt to have your weaknesses publicly exposed? Nothing.

And she had no intention of enlightening him.

Her past was hers and hers alone. More private than a bank account, hidden securely behind a firewall that allowed no one access. If there was a password, it would be Screw Up. Or possibly Major Screw Up.

“Valentine isn’t a substitute for anything or anyone. He’s my number one dog. My best friend.”

Her gaze collided with his and she felt the connection like a physical jolt.

She had the jitters, and she couldn’t remember when that had last happened to her. It was his eyes. She was willing to bet those devilish eyes had encouraged more than a few women to throw caution to the wind. There was probably a label on him somewhere saying Handle with Care.

She tried to ignore the way she was feeling, but her heart had other ideas.

Oh no, Molly. No, no, no. Her inbox was filled with questions from women wanting to know how to handle men exactly like him, and while she might be excellent at giving advice, her expertise ended there.

Somehow sensing he was the topic of conversation, Valentine wagged his tail hard.

She’d found him abandoned when he was still a puppy.

She still remembered the look on his face. A little startled and a lot hurt, as if he couldn’t quite believe someone had actually chosen to dump him in the gutter rather than keep him. As if that action had caused him to question everything he had ever believed about himself.

She knew the feeling.

They’d found each other, two lost souls, and bonded instantly.

“I called him Valentine because he has a heart-shaped nose.” That was the only detail she was prepared to share. Time to leave. Before she said something, or did something, that might lead her on a path she had no intention of walking. “Enjoy your run.”

“Wait—” He put out a hand to stop her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you. You live near here?”

The knowledge that he’d been watching her while she’d been watching him gave her pulse rate another workout.

“Near enough.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you again. I’m Daniel.” He held out his hand and she took it, her body ignoring the warnings of her brain. She felt his fingers close around hers, the pressure firm. She imagined he knew what to do with those hands and imagining it gave her that breathless feeling that made it difficult to think properly.

She was having trouble focusing, and in the meantime he was looking at her expectantly, waiting.

“Let’s try this again,” he murmured. “I’m Daniel, and you’re—”

Her name. He was waiting for her to tell him her name. And judging from the amusement in his eyes he knew exactly why she was tongue-tied.

“Molly.” There were still days when it felt unnatural using that name, which was illogical because Molly was her name. Or one of them. The fact that she’d only started using that name since she’d moved to New York shouldn’t matter.

She gave him no more than that but still she saw him file it away and knew it would be remembered. She sensed he wasn’t a man who forgot much. He was smart. But even if he found out her last name and looked her up, he still wouldn’t find anything. She’d checked.

“Join me for a coffee, Molly.” He released her hand. “I know a great little place near here that makes the best coffee on the Upper East Side.”

It was somewhere between an invitation and a command. Smart and smooth. An effortless overture from a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word rejection.

But he was about to learn, because there was no way she would be joining him for coffee or anything else.

“Thanks, but I have to get to work. Enjoy your run, you and Brutus.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue, or herself a chance to doubt her decision. Instead she ran. She ran through the dappled sunshine and the scent of blossoms, Valentine by her side and temptation nipping at her heels. She didn’t turn her head even though not doing so made her neck ache and was a bigger test on her willpower than anything she could remember for a long time. Was he watching her? Was he annoyed that she’d turned him down?

Only when she’d covered what she considered to be a safe distance did she slow her pace. They were close to one of the many ankle-level dog drinking fountains, and she stopped to catch her breath and let a thirsty Valentine drink his fill.

Join me for a coffee…

And then what?

And then nothing.

When it came to relationships she was great with the theory but bad in practice. How bad was a matter of public record. First came love. Then came pain.

You’re a relationship expert, but you’re hopeless at relationships. Do you even know how crazy that is?

Oh yes, she knew. And so did a few million strangers. Which was why these days she was sticking with the theory.

And as for smooth lawyer Daniel, she guessed it would take him around five minutes to forget everything about her.

* * *

He couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Annoyed and a little intrigued by the novelty of that experience, Daniel pressed the buzzer and Harriet opened the door.

He smelled fresh coffee and something delicious baking in the oven.

“How was your run?” She had a tiny Chihuahua under her arm and Daniel clamped his hand on Brutus’s collar, intercepting the enthusiastic surge of energy that was about to propel the dog through the door.

“Are you seriously going to leave these two together? Brutus would eat him in one mouthful.”

Harriet looked confused. “Who is Brutus?”

“This is Brutus.” Daniel removed the lead and the German shepherd bounded into the apartment, his tail smacking into one of Harriet’s plants and scattering soil and blooms across the floor.

Harriet put the tiny dog down and picked up the shattered remains of her pot without complaint. “That dog is called Ruffles. And he’s too big for this apartment.”

“I refuse to stand in the middle of Central Park and call for ‘Ruffles,’ so I renamed him. Do I smell coffee?”

“You can’t rename a dog.”

“You can if someone was stupid enough to name him Ruffles in the first place.” Daniel strolled into the bright, sunlit kitchen and helped himself to coffee. “What sort of name is that for a big macho dog? It will give him an identity crisis.”

“It’s the name he was given,” Harriet said patiently. “It’s the name he knows and responds to.”

“It’s a name that embarrasses him. I’ve done him a favor.” Daniel took a mouthful of coffee and checked his watch. There were always demands on his time, and lately there was never enough time, a factor due in part to the extended length of his morning run.

“You’re later than usual. Did something happen? Did she finally talk to you?” Harriet threw the shards of pottery away and carefully scooped up what was left of her plant.

Daniel knew that the moment he left she’d be repotting it carefully and giving it whatever attention it needed to make a full recovery.

“Yeah, we talked.” If the few words they’d exchanged could be counted as talking. He’d asked a few questions. She’d responded. But her responses had been brief and designed to offer him no encouragement whatsoever. She’d made it clear she was more interested in his dog than in him, which might have crushed the spirit of a man with less knowledge about relationships.

Although there had been no verbal indication that she was interested, there had been nonverbal cues.

In the fleeting second before the barriers had gone up, he’d seen interest.

He wondered who was responsible for those barriers. A man, presumably. A relationship gone bad. He saw plenty of examples in his working day. People who had affairs, grew apart or simply fell out of love. Love was a chocolate box of heartbreak and disaster. Pick your flavor.

“She talked to you?” Harry’s face brightened. “What did she say?”

Very little.

“We’re taking it slowly.”

“In other words she’s not interested.” Fliss walked into the kitchen. She was wearing yoga pants, a sweatshirt and a pair of black running shoes with a neon purple flash. She grabbed her keys from the countertop. “Obviously a woman of sense. Either that or you’re losing your touch. So does this mean you won’t be walking Ruffles tomorrow?”

“I’m not losing my touch and yes, I’ll be walking Brutus. And, by the way, he has a few behavioral issues, the most significant of which is not coming when he is called.”

“That must be a whole new experience for you.”

“Very funny. Any tips?”

“I don’t have any advice to offer on relationships except maybe don’t do it.”

“I was talking about the dog.”

“Oh. Well, you could start by calling him by a name he actually recognizes.” Fliss made for the door. “And if he has behavioral issues, then at least that’s one thing the two of you have in common.”