“She doesn’t want a walk in the park, or anything else. You’re not her type. She’s had a rough time and she’s nervous around people, especially men.”
“I’m good with nervous women. But if I’m not her type, then tell her not to drop hairs on my suit. Especially blond ones. I’m due in court in a couple of hours. I have a closing.” Daniel felt his phone buzz, pulled it out of his pocket and checked the message. “Duty calls. I need to go.”
“I thought you were staying for breakfast. We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’ve been busy. Half of Manhattan has decided to divorce, or so it seems. So you’ll have a dog here ready for me at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow?”
“Just because a woman goes running on her own, doesn’t mean she’s single. Maybe she’s married.”
“She’s single.”
“So?” Fliss scowled. “Even if she is single, that doesn’t mean she wants a relationship. It bugs the crap out of me when men assume a single woman is only single because she’s waiting for a man. Get over yourselves.”
Daniel studied his sister. “Which side of bed did you climb out of this morning?”
“I can climb out of any side I like. I’m single.”
“Lend me a dog, Fliss. And don’t give me anything small. It needs to be a reasonable size.”
“And there was me thinking that you’re secure in your own masculinity. Such a big, macho guy. You’re afraid to be seen with a small dog, is that it?”
“No.” Busy typing a reply to the message, Daniel didn’t look up. “The woman I’m interested in has a big dog so I need one that can keep up. I don’t want to have to carry the animal while I run. Even you have to admit that would look ridiculous, not to mention being uncomfortable for the dog.”
“Oh for— Stop looking at your phone! Here’s a clue, Dan. If you’re going to ask me a favor, at least pay me a small amount of attention while you do it. It would be a sign of love and affection.”
“You’re my sister. I handle all your legal affairs and I never bill you. That’s my way of showing love and affection.” He answered another email. “Stop overreacting. All I want is one cute dog. The sort that’s going to stop a woman in her tracks and make her go gooey-eyed. I’ll do the rest.”
“You don’t even like dogs.”
Daniel frowned. Did he like dogs? It wasn’t something he’d ever asked himself. A dog was a complication and he kept his life free of complication. “Just because I don’t own a dog doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I don’t have time in my life for a dog, that’s all.”
“That’s an excuse. Plenty of working people own dogs. If they didn’t, Harriet and I would be out of business. The Bark Rangers is turning over—”
“I know your turnover. I can recite every number in your company’s balance sheet. That’s my job.”
“You’re a divorce attorney.”
“But I stay on top of my sisters’ business. Do you know why? Because it’s a token of my love and affection. Do you know how? Because I work a hundred hours a week. It’s barely a life for a human. It’s certainly not a life for a dog. And might I point out that your dramatically increased turnover came as a result of your new relationship with that up-and-coming concierge company, Urban Genie, a partnership I arranged through my friend Matt. You’re welcome.”
“Sometimes you are so smug I could punch you.”
Daniel smiled, but still didn’t look up. “So are you going to help or not? If not, I’ll ask Harry. You know she’ll say yes.”
“I am Harry.”
Finally Daniel looked up. He studied her closely, wondering if he’d made a mistake. Then he shook his head. “No, you’re Fliss.” It was a game the twins had played on him hundreds of time growing up.
Which Twin?
His score was 100 percent. They’d never fooled him yet.
Her shoulders slumped. “How do you do it?”
“Tell the two of you apart? Apart from the fact that you’re as abrasive as an armadillo, I’m your big brother. I’ve had plenty of practice. I’ve been doing it for twenty-eight years. The pair of you have never fooled me yet.”
“One day we’re going to.”
“Not going to happen. If you really want to pretend to be Harriet you need to tone down the attitude. Try being a little softer. Even in your crib you were always the one yelling.”
“Softer?” Her tone had a dangerous edge. “You’re telling me to be soft? What sort of sexist comment is that, especially as we both know that ‘soft’ gets you nowhere?”