"Not bad. I'm on the last level, so I'm almost fit for real society now. Still get the cravings, though."
"Maybe I can help." She unzipped her small satchel, fished around, and drew out a purple stone. It had a brown cord attached to it. "Here. I want you to wear this."
He fingered the rock. Shades of violet and white, it was carved into a type of pendant. "What is it? Heart of the newt?"
She snorted, reached over, and slipped the necklace around his neck. The cord was soft, like a moccasin. It hung low enough to hide in his shirt. When her fingers brushed his chest to tuck it inside his button-down Henley, he sucked in a breath. She paused, and that crackle of electricity struck again.
He tried again for humor instead of tumbling her into the grass. "You didn't put a love spell or anything on me, did you?"
She yanked her hands away as if she'd been scorched and stepped back. "You're a real comedian, Officer. It's a crystal amethyst. Wear it against your skin. It's a very powerful stone and helps smoking cessation."
He fingered the polished stone briefly before letting it drop back against his chest. "Didn't see it in the how-to-quit-smoking aisle."
"You won't. Amethyst is known as the master healing stone. One of its many uses is to transform addiction." He studied the high flush on her cheekbones. "Forget it. I know you think I'm crazy; you don't have to wear it." She spun on her heel to flounce off, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her retreat.
"No," he said softly. "I'll wear it. I need all the help I can get." She lifted her gaze and suddenly they were drowning in each other. He suddenly felt like one of those testosterone-ridden chumps from the teen movies. Completely smitten by a girl's eyes. Ugh. "Thanks." Better. His voice sounded stronger.
"Welcome." They stared some more. If a guy saw them, his man card would be officially pulled. "Can I ask you to do something? I wouldn't ask anyone else, but I trust you."
He tried to ignore the pleasure that raced through him at her comment. "What?"
"Pinky's here. She was deemed unfit to be in the kennel with other dogs. She's completely comatose most of the time, but if she gets close to another dog, she goes berserk. Anthony may not be able to keep her, since they're too short staffed to give her the proper amount of therapy, plus they need to keep her isolated. People don't scare her, so she was probably used for bait."
"You mean bigger dogs attacked her?"
Arilyn nodded. "They try to spur on the bigger dogs. Usually bait dogs are other pit bulls meant to antagonize, but sometimes they'll use a smaller dog and keep them away to taunt the dogs. She was probably never mauled but consistently threatened and frightened on a regular basis. Something may have snapped."
"Sons of bitches," he muttered. "The house is on my radar, you know. I called in a few tips and we've got the place being watched. Any more dogs that go in will be caught immediately."
Her face softened. "Thank you. If you'd just sit with Pinky, it would be a great help. Talk with her. Maybe pet her. Whatever you feel comfortable with. She needs to get used to being back in the real world and feeling unthreatened."
He wanted to refuse. Stone still hated being around any type of dog, especially in a cage, but the way she looked at him made him want to slay all her dragons. And Pinky's.
Oh, yeah, he was a chump who wanted that woman bad. Ridiculous. A few days ago, he only wanted to strangle her.
"Fine. All I have to do is sit?"
"Yes. Just be a steady presence. Sometimes they just don't want to feel so alone."
Stone knew how that felt.
She led him over to a cage in the corner, away from the other dogs. A small bed, various bowls, and some toys lay haphazardly in the cage. Pinky lay on the right side, staring into space, not moving. Didn't look vicious. Even if she freaked out, if he stayed by the door, he could get up. Wasn't like the bigger dogs that could overpower him.
Sweat pricked his brow, but he manned up. Stone opened the gate, dropped down on the rough, damp ground, and propped his back up. Pinky's head turned a bit toward the sound, but she still didn't seem interested. She was still just as ugly as the night he first saw her. A few bandages were wrapped around her body, probably to heal the sores. She looked cleaner, too, even though there was no fur. Weren't dogs supposed to have hair? Her skin was a tan color, with her paws and belly a light pink. Three weird white tufts of fur sprouted from the top of her head in some kind of kooky headdress. Beady black eyes. Pinkish bat ears that sprouted up from the sides of her bullet head. Her black snout stuck out slightly, making her look like she owned a crazy overbite. A simple black collar circled her neck.
Arilyn peered through the gate. "You okay?" she asked.
"Sure. Go ahead, I'll be fine."
He heard her footsteps fade away. The sound of a bird screeched in the air, along with whimpers and other doggy noises down the way. The rat's--umm, Pinky's nose twitched as she caught a scent. Yeah, she was still in there somewhere. Whatever had happened was bad. He knew how that went.
Stone gave a long sigh. "Guess it's just me and you for a while. That acceptable?"
No answer.
Stone settled back for a long, long silence.
ARILYN SLID THE BROCCOLI bake in the oven, sliced some multigrain bread, and poured a glass of wine. It had been a good day. The guys had been great at the shelter, no mini disasters had cropped up, and now she was ready to relax with a good book and a bath. Sure, she couldn't stop thinking about the amazing kiss with Officer Stone Petty. Both of them. The way he touched her and commanded her body, tempting her to do a whole bunch of dirty, delicious things she'd never tried.
But she controlled herself. Repeated the mantra over and over that he was a client and off-limits. Kind of. Definitely a gray area but easier to sketch the boundary lines in bold black-and-white.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Holding back a sigh, Arilyn grabbed her laundry basket and headed outside to get her clothes from the line. She hoped that Mrs. Blackfire wouldn't be out spying. Guilt pricked her at the second empty wine bottle she'd be forced to put out in recycling this week. The evening spent together hadn't gone as bad as she expected, and Poppy had entertained them both with stories. Mrs. Blackfire had actually smiled at one point. Arilyn couldn't stop staring at her, wondering if it was a trick of the light, and then Poppy gave her that sharp look--that she was being rude--and she'd concentrated on eating. At least, Poppy seemed more inclined to try some other activities at the center this week.
She opened the door and rammed right into the man on her doorstep.
When she refocused, her world shook, tilted, and dumped her in a tangle of limbs on the cold ground.
Jacob.
He looked exactly the same. Shoulder-length dark hair tied back, revealing the graceful, etched lines of his face. Long limbed and lean from his many years of yoga. A watchful, reflective aura surrounded him. He'd studied in India under a powerful yogi and dedicated his life to serving others.
Too bad he was also a lying, scheming cheater.
The nasty thought helped her breath return. Her world rebalanced. Her many years of practice and study under his tutelage came roaring back. Once, he'd made her feel as if she was the most important thing in his world. Now he only reminded her of how little she meant to him in the bigger picture.
Arilyn checked the lock on the door inside her heart.
Still tight.
"Arilyn." His voice lilted, carried, stroked, like poetry whispered in a lover's ear. "I wanted to come sooner, but I realize how angry you must be. I thought a bit of time would be better for us to talk."
He'd come before, of course. Twice. The first time he cheated, he fell to his knees and cried. Begged her forgiveness. Spoke of man's weakness and his mockery of monogamy. Said if she demanded it, she was worth the sacrifice of giving up other women. She forgave him and took him back.
The second time was more delicate. He waited two full days after the righteous, horrid anger pas
sed and she fell into grief mode. He admitted his fault and spoke for hours about how scared he was of being close with her. How she filled him up in ways his meditation and spiritual practices never could. He wanted a chance to show her they could be more together, because he was no longer afraid. Long into the night, they discussed their dreams and ambitions. She laid down the law. No more cheating. She wanted to move forward into the light with a real relationship. She wanted him to tell the students.
He promised it all, and slowly Arilyn believed they'd make it.
Now she looked at the man she'd given five years to and wondered why. Why him? What did he truly give her other than the mirage of communication and connectedness? Even their lovemaking was a lesson in spirituality. He made her study tantric sex in all its forms but never seemed to give himself completely over to her on an emotional level. It was more like the practice itself turned him on rather than her. The idea of giving himself over was better than the actual process.
Arilyn wondered if he'd been lying to himself, too. He seemed more satisfied banging his student without any higher emotional connection than he ever did with her.
"There's nothing more to discuss," she said evenly. "We've done this scene before. Twice. We both need to move on."
Confusion flicked over his features. "You're the one I love. I know I've hurt you, but I think we need to discuss our relationship. Close the cycle."
Ah, yes. Cycles. Jacob was big into honoring the beginning and ending of any type of relationship. Once, she'd thought it was beautiful. Now she had sunk to such a level, she only wanted to bash him in the face.
The hurt and humiliation simmered. Her heart, though, remained beating and whole. "With all the hours we talked and dissected our relationship, I think we've done enough. You need to go. Back to your studio, and your spiritual path, and your many, many female students."
"Please." His voice reached out and begged. "Tracey and I had been spending late nights discussing her path. She'd graduated to the intermediate student pool and felt pressured. She came to me, needful, and I was weak, Arilyn. It's the fault I'm consistently struggling with. My body was weak, but I swear, you're the one I live for. The woman I love. Please give me a chance to talk."
Still holding the laundry basket, Arilyn wondered what would happen if she let him in. Every woman had a certain weakness, and Jacob was hers. He represented a sense of authority and knowledge that always turned her on and played on her mind and emotions like a conductor at the symphony. He'd been her guide on the path of yoga, opening her body and soul to the ancient practice. Textbook stuff. The symbol of the teacher-client relationship and schoolgirl crush.
And he always came back to her.
Arilyn knew that, in his own way, he did love her. But it wasn't the way she could live with anymore, and it wasn't the type of love she wanted. She ached for so much more.