“How sad,” she said, barely registering the news as she kicked herself for not going out to Waterford Farm while she was preparing her presentation. She hadn’t wanted to give her hand away.
“It was, but then the most amazing thing happened. Five of those six kids—one is in the military overseas—rallied round him and moved back to Bitter Bark. That’s when they turned their homestead, which has always been called Waterford Farm, into that dog training facility. You know, people have called Daniel the Dogfather since he’s a veterinarian and had foster dogs forever out there at Waterford.”
With each bit of local color, Chloe’s heart sank. She had to have this man they called the Dogfather on the committee.
“I’m so disappointed,” she admitted. “I think he would have loved my idea.”
“Not to worry, dear,” Blanche assured her. “He’s sending one of his sons in his place. His name is—”
The door to the conference room popped open, cutting Blanche off, and they both turned to see a man entering the conference room.
No, not a man.
The man. That man. The very man who…holy sweet merciful heaven, he cleaned up nice.
“Shane!” Blanche clasped her hands together. “I was just telling our new tourism expert that you’ll be stepping in for your father.”
Chloe gripped the back of the chair in front of her, holding on for dear life as the impact hit her. His father?
“And how’d she take that news?” he asked with a half smile as he inched to the right to see all the way around Blanche and pin Chloe with that mystical, magical, way too dizzying green-gold gaze.
She opened her mouth, but not a damn word slipped out.
“I was filling her in on your wonderful family,” Blanche said. “So let me introduce you. Shane Kilcannon, this is Chloe Somerset. Shane is the top trainer at Waterford Farm, but before that, he was a corporate lawyer. He went to Georgetown Law school. Pretty impressive, huh?”
She literally had to work to speak. “Very…impressive.”
She tried not to stare at the crisp, expensive white shirt, open at the collar but fitted over shoulders she still remembered holding on to for support when he kissed the daylights out of her. He’d shaved today, which gave him a whole different look. Handsome. Professional. Clean.
And Clean Shane was as hot as Dirty Shame.
“I hope your father filled you in on our committee meeting yesterday,” Blanche said, stepping to the door.
“He told me all about the tourism expert you brought in, Blanche.” He held Chloe’s gaze with enough humor in his that she almost felt herself smiling. Almost. “So of course I jumped on the chance to join the committee.”
His eyes narrowed in a secret message she heard loud and clear: I’m here because of you.
And that did some wild and unexpected things to her insides.
Taking a steadying breath at the thought, she finally held out her hand when he got close. “I believe we’ve met already, Mr. Kilcannon.”
“You have?” Blanche asked. “Well, that’s wonderful.”
“Briefly.” Chloe slipped her hand into his, feeling the calluses and strength again and having the same reaction she did the other night. Worse. Because now she knew how he kissed.
“And please call me Shane. Or, some might say, Shame.” He gave a sly wink that only she could see, and it sent a whole cascade of chills down her entire body. Not fair. So not fair.
“And you can call me Chloe. Or, some might say, buttercup.” She whispered the last word, and he grinned.
“Oh, here’s the rest of the committee,” Blanche announced, thankfully not paying attention to their exchange but making Chloe realize she had to let go of that masculine hand before someone noticed. And her knees got wobbly.
Rooting down to her toes for composure and focus, she forced herself to forget how Shane Kilcannon kissed. Right now, she had a concept to sell, and he was…the very person who gave her the idea.
Would he try to kill it? Love it? Take credit? Or distract her every time her gaze landed on him?
Definitely that one.
She turned her attention away as the room filled with the Tourism Advisory Committee members. She now knew every name and job…except for the new arrival.
The lawyer named Shane. Not a back-bar fixer, and he sure looked like he was getting a kick out of her surprise.
“Nice to see you again, Chloe, and so soon after we last met.” Ned Chandler, the editor of the Bitter Bark Banner, came up to her first to shake her hand. “I respect a person who rises to a challenge.”
She shook the man’s hand, sizing up how he’d react to her idea. This guy was early forties, and not a local, having moved here from Upstate New York to take over when the last editor of the local paper retired. He seemed to really like the town and relish his role, and she was definitely counting on his support.