"Actually, it was a rich playboy asshole and Gary talks too much."
"I actually work very hard, you know."
He sounded almost hurt and she raised her eyebrow in disbelief. "What do you want, anyway?"
"Gary sent me over."
"He did?" She tried to focus on the conversation, but for some reason, her attention kept drifting to his lips. They were actually quite perfect, the lower full and sensual, the upper with a distinct curve, and they had tasted-
"Hmm, said you wanted to introduce me to someone."
Ah. Dani relaxed back in her chair and grinned. "Well, not someone exactly."
"Oh no, it's the dogs, isn't it?" His smile slipped and alarm flared in his eyes. "You don't have to introduce us, you know. We don't even have to meet at all. I was telling the truth last night. I really don't like dogs. And more to the point, they don't like me."
"Bad experience?" She tried to sound sympathetic but didn't quite succeed.
"I was bitten when I was twelve."
"A big dog?"
"A toy poodle." Those perfect lips twisted into a grimace at the memory. "The pain and the blood-they were nothing-it was the humiliation that hurt the most. I've never lived it down."
"Small dogs can be very intimidating," she murmured.
He shuddered. "So can big ones."
"Yes, but at least there's no humiliation in being bitten by a Doberman. It's definitely all pain and blood."
He was watching her, no doubt looking for signs of weakness. "Do I really have to meet them?" Unfolding his arms, he took a step closer and spoke in a low voice. "I'm sure there's something else we could be doing. How about those fantasies ?"
Dani slipped her dark glasses on and studied him. She knew he was only thirty-two but he appeared older, lines of experience etched on his face, laughter lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. It was a face that looked as though it had seen everything and found it all amusing. Though he didn't look particularly amused at that moment.
"Yes, you really do." She rose to her feet. "They'll be running around your yard soon, and they have to know that you're not for eating. Only joking," she added. "They're not trained to attack, only to make a noise and look aggressive. They're actually real pussycats."
"Hmm, pussycats?" he said, the disbelief clear in his tone, but he fell into step beside her as she led the way across the yard. The sun was low in the sky but still warm, and the scent of flowers filled the air. She felt strangely at peace.
"As a matter of interest," he said, "where did you get your high opinion of me?"
"From your file."
He stopped abruptly, hands shoved in his pockets. "You have a file on me?"
Dani kept walking. "Well, Jake does. He thinks his operatives should know something about the people they're guarding."
"And my file says I'm a playboy asshole?" He started moving again and quickly caught up. "I'm going to have to talk to Jake."
She gave him a brief sideways glance and found him watching her. "Let's say I read between the lines."
"So you don't think writing is a worthwhile occupation?"
Did she? She tried not to, as it made her particular disability seem not quite so disabling. "I'm dyslexic," she said, surprising herself with the admission. She wasn't ashamed; she just didn't normally talk about it.
He came to another halt and put a hand on the bare skin of her arm. A shiver ran through her, and she had little choice but to stop beside him.
"So it's sour grapes then?" he asked.
Dani grinned. The reason she didn't like talking about her dyslexia was that she hated the sympathy-real or otherwise-it always seemed to invoke in people. Obviously, that wasn't going to be a problem with Zach.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Medium, I suppose. I can read slowly if I concentrate. The problem was they didn't realize I was dyslexic until I was in the army, and by then it was too late to do much about it."
"Why wasn't it diagnosed earlier?"
She shrugged. "They just thought I was stupid."
"Who thought you were stupid? Your parents-" He must have noticed Dani's scowl because he cut off in mid-sentence and changed tack. "How about I read one of my books to you. That way you can have something real to base your low opinion on. And we could act out the interesting bits."
"Interesting to whom?" she dismissed.
Zach peered down at her. A long way down. "You know," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I can't actually believe they let you join the army. I didn't think they let people that small in."
"I was only seventeen-they probably thought I was going to grow."
"So how tall were you?"
"Five foot one."
"And how tall are you now?"
"Five foot one."
He chuckled. "So what did your parents think of you going into the army?"
God, he was nosy. His hand was still on her arm and she pulled free. "Nothing," she responded without making eye contact. "They didn't think anything. Now, are we going to introduce you to these dogs? You really do have to meet them, you know, and better with me now than alone in the dark."
Zach exhaled loudly and closed his eyes for a second. Finally, he nodded. "Lead on," he said, not entirely enthusiastically. "I suppose if you can handle them, they can't be too scary."
Dani narrowed her eyes and tried not to hope that Angel and Spike would be on their worst behavior.
The kennels were around the back of the house under the shade of a huge old olive tree. The dogs were dozing in a patch of sunlight but leaped up, barking as they approached. They were beautiful animals, glossy tan and black coats, intelligent faces, long pink tongues, and big teeth.
"Look at those fangs." He sounded almost in awe, and Dani grinned, feeling her black mood slough off in anticipation of the introductions.
"So did you train these?" Zach asked, peering through the wire mesh but keeping his distance.
"No, but I trained the trainer, and I selected them. I couldn't do the work, as I was still in the army. That's Angel," she said, pointing at the bigger dog. "And the other is Spike."
"Angel?" he asked. "It doesn't seem appropriate somehow."
"They're named after Buffy's boyfriends."
His eyebrows rose. "The Vampire Slayer?"
"Yeah. Anyway, they're both three years old, and they're trained as guard dogs."
"And that means?"
"They won't actually attack you. But they will let you know if someone is there."
"They won't attack?"
She grinned. "Not unless I tell them to." He was trying, not very successfully, to hide his very real apprehension. "Relax," she said soothingly. She didn't like to admit it, but it gave her a lovely feeling of superiority to know he was afraid. Did that make her a bad person? Did she care? She remembered his "Later, Babe" after their kiss and grinned even wider. No, she really didn't.
He'd been gazing into the pen, but now he turned to face her. He was close, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. "Stop looking so pleased with yourself," he murmured.
"What?"
"You love it, don't you?"
"Love what?" She managed to get her grin under control as she tried to sound puzzled, even though she was sure it was a waste of time. This man read her way too well.
"Seeing me afraid," he said, lowering his head so the words whispered against her skin.
She swallowed and tried for nonchalance. "I'm supremely indifferent. I'm just doing my job."
"Yeah, right," he replied. "Well, wait until I've sussed out what it is you're afraid of."
"You'll never find anything." But there was a catch in her voice.
"Oh, no?" His body crowded hers until she was backed up against the chain-link fence. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands found her wrists and then slid up the length of her arms to grip her shoulders lightly. "So you aren't afraid of this, then?"
Was she?
Her body wanted to melt into his, plaster itself along the solid length of him. She remembered the feel of his erection hard against her the previous night and fought the urge to press her hips forward to see if he was hard again. Maybe he was always hard.
And she was getting out of control.
What the hell was wrong with her?
But still she didn't protest as he pulled her slowly toward his body. Instead, she kept her eyes firmly on his broad chest, not wanting to see the expression in his eyes. He smelled faintly of sweat-not unpleasant-mingled with the sharp, exotic scent of expensive aftershave, and he seemed to exude heat until she felt it would scorch her if their bodies actually touched.
No, she wasn't afraid. She was petrified. But she was also damned if she was going to let him know that.
She didn't want to want him; it complicated matters. She'd seen the messes other women in the army made over men. It was always the woman's fault, always the woman who had to pay the price, and it wasn't going to happen to her.
But she wasn't actually in the army right now; any mess she made would be an entirely private mess. Except this was her employer, and as such, he was out of bounds.
Also, she didn't trust him. He was toying with her. He must be. She wasn't his type, wasn't anywhere near it, so what were his motives?