LITMIR.BIZ

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a few days ago.

      He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

      “You mean your extensive background check missed something?” Her light, teasing tone stirred something in him. “I don’t have a dog. Apollo belongs to my neighbor. I enjoy playing with him and take him out for walks whenever I can. There weren’t any dogs in the foster homes I grew up in, and I always wanted one.”

      “Really?” Apollo lay panting on the grass, watching him. Must be a male neighbor. He couldn’t imagine anyone else owning a dog like that. Jealousy sucker-punched him and he crossed his arms. “He doesn’t give you any problems? He’s awfully big.”

      She chuckled and stood, brushing grass off her jeans. “Now there’s an understatement. He’s an absolute teddy bear, though. Wouldn’t hurt a flea. We were just wrestling when you came flying to the rescue.” She gave a cheeky grin.

      Unbelievably, heat washed over Matt’s face. He didn’t usually get embarrassed. Ever.

      Grace’s grin widened, displaying a playful side he hadn’t seen in the office. “You’re very sweet. It probably looked like he was mauling me, instead of playing. I don’t know why, but his muzzle tickles and when I start laughing, it eggs him on.”

      He glanced at her jeans, enjoying the way they molded to her curves, and up to her fitted T-shirt. She filled out casual clothes very well. Very well. He’d like to find her ticklish spots.

      His gaze returned to her face. Deep rose painted her cheekbones. The deepening shade of her green eyes reminded him of standing in her apartment, the soft curves of her body between the glass door and him. Their almost-kiss had fueled his fantasies all week.

      Unfortunately, he still didn’t know how to handle the situation. Pursuing an employee seemed unethical. Not to mention putting him at risk of a major sexual-harassment lawsuit. Plus, he wasn’t great with personal relationships. Matt’s gaze shifted to Apollo again, jealous heat burning his belly. “The dog’s owner doesn’t mind you borrowing him?”

      “No. She’s pushing eighty and is glad to have someone with a bit more energy to play with him.”

      “What’s an old woman doing with a Great Dane?”

      Her eyes narrowed and cooled. Well, shit. Grace’s fondness for the dog must extend to the owner.

      “He’s very gentle and not at all demanding. I’m sure he’d be content to sit at home with her. He was doing exactly that before I moved in and he never appeared unhappy or neglected.”

      “Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply anything bad about the dog or the lady.”

      She nodded. In his experience, women pouted, whined and gave him the cold shoulder. They did not, ever, forgive after a simple apology.

      Grace sat and patted the ground. “Pull up a section of grass.”

      Only a fool would turn down an invitation to sit in the sunshine with a beautiful woman. He parked his butt.

      “You look different than you do at work.” He bit off a groan. Freakin’ brilliant observation, Sherlock.

      Grace laughed. “So do you.”

      She was watching some kids play across the park, leaving him to admire her profile. Desire thickened his cock and tongue. He shifted, focusing beyond the physical to tamp down his arousal. Like her funny, quirky personality, the impish mischievousness he sometimes saw in her eyes and her unfailing honesty—even when it didn’t flatter her.

      “So…” Matt searched for a conversational gambit to save his ass. “If you like dogs so much, why don’t you get one of your own?”

      She shrugged. “I work a lot and live in a condo with no yard, none of which sounds like the ideal life for a dog.”

      As much as he wanted to show up on her doorstep tomorrow with a puppy—and what the hell was that about?—her reasoning was sound. Since he couldn’t exactly buy her a house, he tossed about for another topic. Something that didn’t involve the sudden onset of a rapidly deteriorating mental state—his.

      “Did you call the police?” He hadn’t seen her at work to ask. Not wanting to come off as stalkerish, he hadn’t sought her out either.

      She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

      He frowned. “Why?”

      “They brushed the whole thing off as some sort of prank. No damage done.” She glanced at him, then away again just as quickly. “Thank you for your help, though. It was sweet of you to be so concerned.”

      Mouth pulled tight, he straightened. “The police did nothing?”

      “They took a report, patted me on the head and left.” Grace plucked blades of grass, looking vulnerable as hell until she glanced up and grinned. “Just like I said they would.”

      Despite the annoyance riding him hard over the police, he couldn’t resist her smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

      “May I ask you a personal question?”

      Matt froze, a dozen unpleasant scenarios running through his mind. “Sure.”

      “The other day at work, you seemed off. What was wrong?”

      Damn. Not as bad as he’d feared, but the last thing he wanted was to come across as a momma’s boy. Still, he couldn’t lie. Not to her. “My mom has breast cancer.”

      “Oh, Matt.”

      Her slender fingers brushed down his arm and settled on top of his hand. His work-roughened hands, thanks to time spent on job sites instead of sitting in the office. Her hands were baby-soft and pale. The contrast enhanced her femininity. Made him feel like a pheasant begging for the fair maiden. He grimaced. Yeah, he’d officially lost his mind.

      “That’s awful. I lost my foster mom to breast cancer several years ago. They’re able to detect cancer so early, though. With treatment, your mom has excellent chances for recovery.”

      He blinked away a sheen of moisture and cleared his throat. The depth of her sympathy disarmed him. “I’m sorry about your foster mom. I sincerely hope you’re right. My mom just remarried a few months ago. My stepdad will be devastated if anything happens to her.”

      “So will you.”

      “Yeah.”

      Grace wove her fingers through his and squeezed. He didn’t want to think about his mom dying a slow, miserable death. Life pulsed and flowed around him, drawing him out of the gray pallor that clung to him every time he thought about his mom’s illness.

      With a final squeeze, Grace released his hand. He immediately missed the contact. Apollo nudged his blocky head onto Grace’s lap. She stroked his head and envy clawed at Matt’s gut. Jealous of a dog. He’d better keep a close eye out for the men in white coats.

      Grace’s gaze skimmed his heavy boots, worn blue jeans and black leather jacket over a T-shirt. He’d taken off his dark sunglasses and stuck the earpiece in the collar of his shirt. Her perusal sent his senses humming like a high-performance engine begging to be set loose.

      “You aren’t exactly dressed for a day at the park.”

      “I was riding through until I saw the dog on you.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d thought she was a teenage girl.

      “You’re riding a bicycle dressed like that?”

      He chuckled. “Not exactly.”

      Matt pointed to his Harley parked at the curb. Her reaction didn’t disappoint. Those gorgeous eyes widened and her mouth formed a little “O” of surprise. He wanted to explore those lips, taste them and learn their texture. The little brush days ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

      “Would you like a ride?”

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