“Ahh.” She scratched Lola’s head. “Wonder why?”
He shook his head, smiling because the whole morning had taken an unexpectedly positive turn. “Dogs are like that. They like certain people and don’t like others. Scents, pheromones, body language. It’s like people. Sometimes there’s just…instant chemistry.”
She looked up at him and held his gaze.
“Instant chemistry?” Her smile dazzled.
“It happens,” he murmured, unable to look away as the slightest color brightened her cheeks.
“Well, I’ll have to remember that,” she said, shifting her attention back to Lola. “We have chemistry, pooch.”
“And it looks like you have some experience in dog handling. Do you have one?”
“No, I don’t think my two roommates and undersized Brooklyn apartment could handle that.”
She lived in New York with roommates, which meant she wasn’t married. “What do you do, Jessie?”
“I’m a writer,” she said, straightening but keeping a light hand on Lola’s head. “So how’s everyone at Waterford these days? Does the whole family work here?”
“Just about,” he said. “Well, Aidan’s in the military overseas, and my mom…” He frowned. “I don’t know if you know my mother passed away about three years ago.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I know. I’m so sorry. I loved her like she was my own mother. Often wished she was,” she added wistfully.
He nodded his thanks. “It was tough, losing her so young. But she’s been smiling down on Waterford ever since. Her passing turned out to be the catalyst we needed to start this business.”
Lola circled once, taking a good sniff of Jessie, then looked up at her to bark again.
“I haven’t heard her bark in days. Good girl, Lola.” He reached to pet her, but Lola stepped closer to Jessie, making him chuckle. “Honestly, this dog has done nothing but confound me until you showed up.”
Lola started to walk a little, glancing over her shoulder at Jessie, a plea in her eyes.
“What does she want?” Jessie asked.
“I’d say she’s ready to go outside now and wants you with her.” Garrett couldn’t keep the unabashed wonder out of his voice. “Did you wear pheromones or something?”
“Nothing more than usual.”
“Can you go with her? I’ve been trying to get her out for hours.”
“Of course.” She followed Lola, who suddenly broke into a trot, but checked for Jessie every two steps.
He hung back a second, long enough to watch the two of them get ahead and to appreciate the incredible progress that Lola made.
And how damn fine Jessie Curtis looked in jeans.
Whatever pheromones she was giving off, they sure were working.
* * *
She couldn’t do this.
Jessie was already a nervous wreck, and it wasn’t because Garrett Kilcannon had grown from a really cute teenage boy to a flat-out dime as an adult.
She couldn’t stand there and lie to him. She’d already done enough research on him and on Waterford to know the answers to questions a casual “visitor” wouldn’t know.#p#分页标题#e#
Of course, she’d found Annie Kilcannon’s obituary and had cried because she hadn’t even known the dear woman had died. And there were plenty of stories in the Bitter Bark Banner about the new facility at Waterford while it was under construction.
Before that, there were stories about the handsome young entrepreneur whose love of animals inspired him to launch a pet-photo-sharing social media site almost ten years ago, and it became an Internet sensation. She knew all that already.
But after that company sold to mega-site FriendGroup, and Forbes ran that nasty piece on Garrett’s breach of contract and refusal to run the subsidiary, there was nothing in the media about him. Not even a picture.
Which was partially why she was ill-prepared for how stinking hot he was in person. Tall, built, dark, and he still had a set of dimples that ought to be illegal.
Of course, she’d forgotten that a slow, Southern drawl could be so sexy. He’d grown his hair a little, so it fell over his collar in silky black waves. He wore that little bit of whisker growth that on some men looked calculated, but on him looked…like morning sex would leave a little burn.
Morning sex?
She’d just stood and lied to him. Which made her nothing but a second-rate journalist with zero ethics. She had no right whatsoever to stand here and think about morning sex.
She’d have to tell him something. Something that was at least close to the truth so she could find out if there was any hope in hell that he’d do this interview. If the answer was no, then she wasn’t sticking around Waterford to wallow in memories of a life she’d never had. She’d haul butt back to New York and find another interview subject, because she wasn’t going to come in second.