tumbled in, as though theyâd been balanced against the door. Which they probably had been. Instantly, the two little white puffballs leaped at Tina. What felt like dozens of tiny feet with needlelike claws clambered over her legs and feet.
Muddy paw prints decorated the legs of her pale green linen slacks, looking like smudged black lace. The two little dogs tumbled over each other in their quest to be the first one petted. The sniffing and licking continued until Tina gave up trying to calm them down and fell to the floor laughing.
âOkay, you guys, Iâm glad to see you, too.â She tried to pet them but they wouldnât stand still long enough. And, as if sitting on her lap wasnât nearly good enough, both teacup poodles tried to dig their way inside her, squirming and pushing each other off Tinaâs lap.
Muffin and Peaches, one a pale cream color and the other, well, the color of ripe peaches. Nanaâs unimaginatively named, unclipped poodles were nuts about women and hated men. Which, Tina thought, put them pretty much in the same boat with a lot of Tinaâs friends.
Tina on the other hand, didnât hate men.
She didnât even hate the one man she should have.
In fact, that one man was the real reason sheâd come back to Baywater.
Oh, Nana had asked her to stay at the house and take care of âher girlsâ while the older woman and two of her friends were taking a tour of Northern Italy. But the timing of Nanaâs trip and Tinaâs private epiphany seemed destined by fate. It was as if the universe had grabbed Tina, given her a shake and said Here you go, girl. Go get what you want.
Because as happy as Tina was to do Nana a favor, thereâd been another, more important reason for agreeing to come home for two weeks.
She wanted to get pregnant.
And the man she needed to get the job done was living here, over the garage.
Her ex-husband.
Brian Reilly.
Two
T he two spoiled mutts sent up a racket the minute Brian pulled into the driveway. Scowling, he shut the engine off and shot a grim look toward the backyard where the little bastards were probably trying to scratch through the gate to get at him.
Shaking his head, he climbed out of the car and wondered again why the little dogs hated him. Maybe in a past life heâd been a dogcatcher or something and they could still smell it on him.
âKnock it off, you guys,â he bellowed, not expecting his shout to do a thing about shutting them up. And he wasnât disappointed. If anything, the noiselevel climbed and the frantic urgency in their yips and high-pitched barks escalated.
One downside to living in the garage apartment at Angelina Corettiâs house was putting up with those dogs. But, it was the only downside as far as Brian was concerned.
Renting that small, one-bedroom apartment worked out well for both him and Angelina. The older woman liked having him aroundâknowing he was handy if she needed help. And he had privacy, no worries about losing his apartment when he was deployed for months at a time, and a sweet old lady who enjoyed cooking, to make him the occasional home-cooked dinner.
On the whole, a situation worth putting up with Muffin and Peaches.
And there was another good point to his living arrangements. Since Angelina was his ex-wifeâs grandmother, Brian could keep a tenuous connection to Tina Coretti Reilly. It wasnât much, and probably wasnât real healthy, but Tina, even though theyâd been divorced for five years now, was never too far out of his thoughts.
The barking got sharper, louder, as he stalked up the driveway toward the stairs at the side of the garage. Brian tossed another scowl at the whitewashed wooden gate and the hell hounds beyond. Then the back door opened and that scowl froze on his face.
It was as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. His guts twisted and a hard ball of something hot and needy and just a little pissed