One Intimate Night

‘It was no such thing. I had nothing to do with your godmother’s decision to give Ben a home,’ Georgia denied defensively.

‘You mean you aren’t going to admit to having anything to do with it,’ Piers countered coldly, ‘but you do have to admit that there is no way that that dog is a suitable pet for my godmother...’

‘You really hate Ben, don’t you?’ Georgia accused him. ‘If you want my opinion, you don’t just not like him, you’re jealous of him as well.’

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Georgia wished passionately that she had not uttered them; but it was too late. Piers was looking at her with an expression that made her quake in her shoes.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Piers told her curtly, getting off his chair and walking determinedly towards Ben whilst Georgia looked on helplessly.

‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ she said quickly.

‘Why?’ Piers challenged her. ‘Or do I already know the answer? You’re afraid that I’ll discover that far from improving Ben’s behaviour—’

‘It is improving,’ Georgia insisted fiercely. ‘It’s just that my training programme is at a very delicate stage,’ she improvised, ‘and I’m concerned that it will confuse Ben having two different people giving him commands.’

The thin smile Piers gave her warned Georgia how easily he had seen through her desperate subterfuge.

‘Really? Then how on earth is my godmother going to control him if the only person he’s going to respond to is you, and the only commands he’s going to respond to are yours?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Georgia protested. ‘It’s just that, right now...’

‘Why not let me be my own judge of just how much progress he’s making?’ Piers challenged her softly, then snapped his fingers and said firmly, ‘Ben, here...’

To Georgia’s relief Ben immediately got up and trotted over to Piers’s side.

Perhaps she was worrying too much, she tried to comfort herself five minutes later as Piers and Ben left the house, Ben walking perfectly to heel on his lead. Perhaps Ben might, with some canine perception, sense that he was being judged, and why, and might behave as she had been training him to do. Crossing her fingers, Georgia prayed inwardly that he would.

Thank goodness she had been sensible enough to realise in time just what a fatal mistake it would be for her to allow herself to fall in love with Piers. Just imagine the heartache she would have to suffer if she did so. It was obvious what a low opinion he had of her, even if physically he had...

But no, she wasn’t going to allow herself to think about that, she told herself firmly. No, not for one minute...one second... Just because when Piers had touched her, when he’d kissed her, she had felt...wanted...had dreamed...

* * *

Two miles down the river footpath Piers had to concede that Ben was behaving with perfect canine manners, not pulling on his lead, walking quietly to heel, sitting on command and even sharing a disapproving look with Piers when another less well behaved canine chased after a passing cat.

‘Very clever,’ Piers told the dog dryly, ‘but that doesn’t alter the fact that you dug up the colonel’s prize plants or the fact that you chewed my shoe.’

Happily Ben wagged his tail.

Nor did it alter the fact that, so far as Georgia was concerned, there was no contest about who came first in her affections, and it certainly wasn’t him, Piers acknowledged grimly. It had hurt him to be accused of hating Ben so unjustly; he didn’t hate the dog at all; he simply felt that he wasn’t a suitable pet for his godmother.

‘You’re a man’s dog,’ he told Ben severely. ‘You need to know who’s boss.’ He would be a wonderful family pet, though, Piers acknowledged as Ben paused to let a woman walking in the opposite direction with two young children admire and stroke him.

As Piers put Ben through his paces he was forced to concede that Georgia was doing an excellent job. Ben behaved perfectly, responding immediately to every command but, at the same time, exhibiting a kind of dignity that made it plain that his obedience came on his own terms and because it was what he wanted to do. As he praised him for his good behaviour and Ben wagged his tail, enjoying the fuss being made of him, Piers acknowledged that, under different circumstances, he could have become very fond of the dog.

‘Come on, boy,’ he instructed. ‘Time to go home.’

Home! Ben’s ears pricked up. Home meant food and Georgia.

They were almost back when Piers suddenly remembered that he needed to get in touch with the estate agent. It would be as easy to get in his car and drive into town and see the man as telephone him, he decided, and that way he could tell him that he had changed his mind about both properties and intended to look for something smaller.