Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

“Sure I do. I’m VP of sales.”

“How do you manage that? Two demanding careers—I can barely handle one.”

“Talent,” James replied with a teasing grin. “No, seriously, discipline and commitment. It also helps that riding is my passion.”

“Among others,” Cassidy muttered.

He shot her a look, then turned his charm back on Devon. “I heard you say you’re a vet. That must mean long hours.”

“It does.”

“Does it leave any time for fun?”

Devon had just opened her mouth to reply, when Chomper shot up from the floor and barked, then abandoned his biscuit crumbs and bounded across the room. Following him with her gaze, Devon saw that Kerri had perched on the edge of the sofa and was drawing a picture. Chomper, evidently, had spotted her crayons and decided they were edible. He snatched two in his mouth, then took off, with Kerri in close pursuit.

“Chomper!” Blake, who’d been concentrating on some vehement revelation Louise Chambers was in the process of confiding, broke away to go after his dog. Louise frowned as she watched him go. Her troubled stare slid briefly to Devon before she walked over to the martini pitcher on the sideboard and refilled her glass.

Devon got the distinct feeling that whatever had just been said concerned her.

“Great,” Cassidy noted in disgust. “Chomper’s on the run again. I hope my brother reaches him before he reaches the back door. Otherwise, Blake will be organizing the second search party of the day.”

“I assume Chomper likes to take off.”

“Constantly. He’s either escaping or destroying something.” Cassidy rolled her eyes. “And that’s up here at the farm. Imagine him in a Manhattan brownstone.”

“Your brother lives in the city?”

“Whenever he’s not up here, yes. I’m sure you can’t guess which place Chomper prefers.”

“I’m sure I can.” As she spoke, Devon spotted Kerri returning to the living room, sans crayons. There was no sign of Chomper or Blake.

Reacting on instinct, she set down her glass. “I’m pretty good at tracking down runaway pets. Maybe I should give Blake a hand.”

James caught her arm. “Blake can manage,” he assured her. “Besides, I was enjoying our talk.”

“So was I.” Devon hesitated, unwilling to blow her opportunity to get information out of James, yet equally unwilling to stay idle when she knew she could expedite the task of finding Chomper.

Cassidy made the decision for her.

“Let her help, James,” she urged. “The sooner Chomper’s found, the better. We’ve got guests arriving to pay their respects. You and Devon can talk later.”

“Can we?” James asked, studying Devon intently.

“Yes.” Devon met James’s stare, giving him what she hoped was an eager look. “I’d really like that.”

“So would I.” Pleased by her response, he released his hold on her arm. “Go ahead. I’ll be waiting.”

Devon weaved her way through the living room and into the hall. No need to ask directions. She followed the racket of scurrying paws and chasing feet.

The sound of padding paws vanished. But the running footsteps continued, along with a few exasperated shouts.

She reached the back door in time to see it waving open on its hinges, with Blake standing on the threshold, glaring outside.

“Dammit.” His expression was intent as he scanned the well-lit grounds.

“A few minutes too late,” Devon surmised, coming up behind him.

He turned his head, noting her presence. “Yeah. And a few minutes is all it takes.” He jiggled the handle on the