which even she could see was a gunshot wound, looked to be older than the others.
Her dog looked from one to the other while they were talking, brown eyes trained on his mistress and on his new best friend. He obviously decided all this talking was boring, and he hunched his shoulders, which is what he did before leaping.
Paige gasped. The other Max, the human one, was going to get jumped again, knocked down again. “Max, no! Bad boy!”
It was perfectly pointless because Max never obeyed. She stooped to grab ahold of his collar when human Max made another slight gesture with one big hand, and her Max relaxed.
Amazing.
Then she looked up again at the big man and realized just why Max had rethought his Jumping on Everyone is Fun philosophy. The man had “command” written all over him, just as Uncle Mel had. It was unthinkable that anyone, man or beast, would not obey him instantly.
It must be a great trait to have, one she sadly lacked.
Her Max whined, looking back and forth between them.
Human Max scratched Max’s head, never averting his gaze from hers. It was unnerving, being watched so closely, particularly by a man who managed to project such a forceful personality even standing barefoot in the surf dressed only in swim trunks.
Maybe it was all those muscles.
She had to go. Though she felt almost mesmerized by the tall, silent, unsmiling man in front of her, she was going to be late for work if she stood around much longer, mooning over broad shoulders and an ability to hypnotize her notoriously unruly dog into a semblance of obedience.
“So. Um… ” God. His eyes were so dark, so compelling… she almost stuck her hand out simply to feel that electric connection again. But that would be crazy.
Paige wasn’t crazy. She was a staid scientist, normally totally immune to hormonal urges like wanting to hold a man’s strong hand after a few moments’ acquaintance. Max lifted a paw to her thigh, wetting her sundress. Time to go. “I’m really sorry my dog jumped you, um, lieutenant.”
“Max,” he said, his voice so deep she was surprised the water they were in didn’t vibrate.
“Max,” she repeated obediently. She tugged at her Max’s leash. “I try to train him, but as you can see, I’m not very successful. He wasn’t born with the obedience gene.” She shot a wry glance down at the dog by her side. Alas, Max wasn’t quelled at all to hear his faults described. His brown and tan tail wagged so fast it shot off drops of salt water.
“What is he? Looks like some border collie in there.” The man’s big hand was scratching behind Max’s ears. Max knew they were talking about him, and his rump now moved together with his tail. He was in dog heaven.
She sighed. “He’s a rescue and he’s a mix. Some border collie, sure. The guy at the pound said there ry said twas also some Labrador and German shepherd, too. He all but promised me that Max was bred for decorum and obedience.” With hindsight, Paige was astonished that a lightning bolt hadn’t shot down out of the sky to strike dead that helpful college student at the pound.
Her dog grinned, tongue lolling out of his mouth, perfectly aware of the fact that neither decorum nor obedience was high on his list of doggy priorities.
“Come on, big guy.” Paige nodded to her dog. “Walk’s over. Time to go back home. I have to go to work. Some of us work for a living, you know.”
Her dog was very smart and had learned quite a few words. Pity stay , heel, and sit weren’t among them. But work , which meant she was leaving him locked up in her tiny backyard all day—well, he understood that word just fine.
Max had perfected the art of emotional blackmail. The instant he heard the word work , he cowered, whining. Big brown eyes looked up beseechingly.
Paige barely kept from rolling her eyes. She looked up at the tall dark man at her side. He wasn’t smiling, not exactly. But his features had lightened.
“You’re probably
Her dog looked from one to the other while they were talking, brown eyes trained on his mistress and on his new best friend. He obviously decided all this talking was boring, and he hunched his shoulders, which is what he did before leaping.
Paige gasped. The other Max, the human one, was going to get jumped again, knocked down again. “Max, no! Bad boy!”
It was perfectly pointless because Max never obeyed. She stooped to grab ahold of his collar when human Max made another slight gesture with one big hand, and her Max relaxed.
Amazing.
Then she looked up again at the big man and realized just why Max had rethought his Jumping on Everyone is Fun philosophy. The man had “command” written all over him, just as Uncle Mel had. It was unthinkable that anyone, man or beast, would not obey him instantly.
It must be a great trait to have, one she sadly lacked.
Her Max whined, looking back and forth between them.
Human Max scratched Max’s head, never averting his gaze from hers. It was unnerving, being watched so closely, particularly by a man who managed to project such a forceful personality even standing barefoot in the surf dressed only in swim trunks.
Maybe it was all those muscles.
She had to go. Though she felt almost mesmerized by the tall, silent, unsmiling man in front of her, she was going to be late for work if she stood around much longer, mooning over broad shoulders and an ability to hypnotize her notoriously unruly dog into a semblance of obedience.
“So. Um… ” God. His eyes were so dark, so compelling… she almost stuck her hand out simply to feel that electric connection again. But that would be crazy.
Paige wasn’t crazy. She was a staid scientist, normally totally immune to hormonal urges like wanting to hold a man’s strong hand after a few moments’ acquaintance. Max lifted a paw to her thigh, wetting her sundress. Time to go. “I’m really sorry my dog jumped you, um, lieutenant.”
“Max,” he said, his voice so deep she was surprised the water they were in didn’t vibrate.
“Max,” she repeated obediently. She tugged at her Max’s leash. “I try to train him, but as you can see, I’m not very successful. He wasn’t born with the obedience gene.” She shot a wry glance down at the dog by her side. Alas, Max wasn’t quelled at all to hear his faults described. His brown and tan tail wagged so fast it shot off drops of salt water.
“What is he? Looks like some border collie in there.” The man’s big hand was scratching behind Max’s ears. Max knew they were talking about him, and his rump now moved together with his tail. He was in dog heaven.
She sighed. “He’s a rescue and he’s a mix. Some border collie, sure. The guy at the pound said there ry said twas also some Labrador and German shepherd, too. He all but promised me that Max was bred for decorum and obedience.” With hindsight, Paige was astonished that a lightning bolt hadn’t shot down out of the sky to strike dead that helpful college student at the pound.
Her dog grinned, tongue lolling out of his mouth, perfectly aware of the fact that neither decorum nor obedience was high on his list of doggy priorities.
“Come on, big guy.” Paige nodded to her dog. “Walk’s over. Time to go back home. I have to go to work. Some of us work for a living, you know.”
Her dog was very smart and had learned quite a few words. Pity stay , heel, and sit weren’t among them. But work , which meant she was leaving him locked up in her tiny backyard all day—well, he understood that word just fine.
Max had perfected the art of emotional blackmail. The instant he heard the word work , he cowered, whining. Big brown eyes looked up beseechingly.
Paige barely kept from rolling her eyes. She looked up at the tall dark man at her side. He wasn’t smiling, not exactly. But his features had lightened.
“You’re probably
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