“Please send her my thanks,” he said. “Why’d you bring the pie? I thought we’d be spending the day together again.”
Lia did her best not to gape at the unsettling man. There he sat, in nothing but his underwear, after presenting her with the most ridiculous proposition and then insulting her food, still expecting to accompany her on her day’s errands? It was confusing and contradictory and strange.
Worse, she had been so tempted to take him up on his invitation for a final fling. Nothing was stopping her—she didn’t have a man in her life, and she was a consenting adult with the usual wants and needs. Why not take him up on the offer? He was attractive, and he was very good in bed. And despite his current contrariness and his extreme rudeness, he was often an entertaining, if enigmatic, companion.
If they were up front about this being nothing more than a fling, then neither would have any expectation of more from the other. He wasn’t ever going to be the right man for her, she knew that. So why not simply enjoy him and what they could have together?
“Well?” he prompted, impatient with her silence, and Lia blinked, coming back to the present with a jolt.
“You didn’t seem to enjoy yesterday; I didn’t think you’d want to go with me again.”
“I want to see Spike again.”
“Who?”
“The boxer, Titan.”
“His name is Trevor,” she reminded him frostily, and he wrinkled his nose.
“That’s a terrible name for a dog. Who names a dog Trevor? You might as well have called him Clive. Or Norman. Or Claude. Anyway, I wanted to see how he’s doing today. You did say you go to the animal shelter every day, right?”
“Yes.”
“And the old folks?”
“I see the seniors twice a week, Mondays and Wednesdays.”
“Pity. The dancing was great exercise. So what’s happening today? Animals and . . . ?”
“Just the animal shelter, and then I’ll be dropping some blankets and clothes off at the homeless shelter.”
“I can help with that. I have one good arm,” he said. He seemed desperate, and she wondered about that. Maybe he was the type of person who preferred activity over their own thoughts. It was strange, and she wanted to ask him about it but stopped before she formulated the question.
It wasn’t her business.
“I’m leaving in twenty minutes. If you’re not done by then, I’m going without you,” she said, and he grinned before scooping a huge portion of waffles into his mouth.
“These waffles are brilliant, princess,” he said between bites. “Make them yourself?”
“Of course.” She helped herself to some coffee and sipped while she waited for him to finish. He was done in less than five minutes and excused himself to shower and get dressed. Thank goodness.
She was getting way too used to seeing him in his underwear.
He required help with his shirt again. Another one of those ridiculous dress shirts, and she found herself once again cutting the ruined sleeve away. She worked quickly, with barely a quake in her fingers, even though she was even more aware of the heat from his chest after their earlier conversation. Worse, she found herself wanting to stroke that silky skin, kiss it . . . possibly lick it.
Crumbs! She was completely losing it. She desperately needed to pull herself together. After fastening the last button, she patted her hot cheeks in an attempt to cool them down.
“You okay?” he asked her softly, and she nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected sound of his voice. He’d stood so docilely while she was buttoning him up; now she looked up at him and caught the wicked glint in his eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips and knew that he’d been well aware of her reaction to him.
His thick, uneven stubble hadn’t been shaved in at least two days, and it was beginning to enter the short beard phase. It was a shade or so darker than his dirty-blond hair and made him look even more rugged and masculine than usual. She would never have believed that possible. Not when he was already so unbelievably and unfairly sexy.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said stiffly. She was stronger than this—she would not let this man, no matter how lethally attractive he was, unsettle her so.
“Liar,” he said with a roguish little grin, and she cleared her throat and stepped away from him. “Any time you want to rip my clothes off, Lia, I’ll be right here waiting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with what she hoped sounded like scorn and grabbed her car keys. “Let’s go.”
The animal shelter was their first stop of the day, and Brand made a beeline for Trevor’s pen, chatting amiably with Siphiso along the way. Lia went through her usual Thursday routine, walking some of the smaller dogs, playing with the puppies, and cuddling the seniors. The older dogs were least likely to be adopted, and it broke Lia’s heart every time she visited them because she wasn’t sure which ones would still be around when she returned the following week.