LITMIR.BIZ

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Nic remembered having to clean up the puddle and he wagged an admonishing finger at the dog. ‘But you certainly don’t deserve that pretty pink bow. What self-respecting female would let her bladder loose in the wrong place?’

      The accusing tone instantly broke their brief understanding. A series of hostile barks reminded Nic that hostility bred hostility and he couldn’t blame the dog for wanting to get rid of Justine’s smell. ‘Okay, okay,’ he soothed, copying the soft, singsong lilt Serena had used to calm the beast. ‘You probably did me a favour there, too, bringing out the worst of her character for me to see. Let’s call it quits on Justine.’

      Back to tail wagging.

      ‘It’s time for lunch now.’ If any of his friends ever heard him talking to a dog like this, he’d never hear the end of it. However, it was definitely a winning ploy, so he continued in the same soppy vein. ‘Would you like some more chicken?’

      Chicken, according to Angelina, was a magic word that could winkle her darling pet out of any bad mood. It hadn’t produced the desired result while Justine had been present, but right now it worked like a charm. Cleo literally bounced out to the kitchen and stood in front of the refrigerator, yipping impatiently for her treat.

      Nic obliged, carefully deboning the chicken as he filled her food dish. She wolfed it all down, moved on to her water dish, took a long drink, then happily trotted off to her miniature trampoline in the living room, hopped onto it, scratched it into shape, curled herself down and closed her eyes in sleepy contentment.

      Nic shook his head in bemusement. Maybe he didn’t need Serena Fleming’s advice after all. Maybe he’d only needed to get rid of Justine. On the other hand, one little success did not guarantee peaceful coexistence for two months. And something had to be done about the barking at night.

      He knew Angelina and Ward let Cleo sleep on their bed. They actually laughed about it burrowing up between them. No way was he about to start sleeping with a dog, waking up to a lick on the face. Devotion to duty only went so far. And if he managed to get Serena Fleming into bed with him, he certainly didn’t want a jealous dog leaping into the fray.

      Wondering if he could persuade the feisty little blonde into being his playmate for the next two months, Nic went back to the refrigerator to see what he could rustle up for his own lunch. His appetite for tasty morsels had been aroused. He spotted a bottle of Chardonnay and thought he might begin tonight’s consultation by offering a glass of wine—a friendly, hospitable thing to do.

      The idea of killing two birds with one stone had fast-growing appeal.

      A desirable woman in his bed.

      An expert dog-handler on tap.

      Definitely a challenge worth winning.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘SEVENTY dollars!’ Michelle looked her disbelief.

      ‘Well, I don’t believe in undercharging,’ Serena explained. ‘It’s a matter of psychology.’

      ‘Psychology?’

      ‘Yes. The more you make people pay, the more they believe they’re getting something special. Ty taught me that.’

      The disbelief took on a sceptical gleam. ‘And what’s the something special you’re going to give Nic Moretti for his seventy dollars?’

      ‘That’s where you come in. I need all the tips you can give me on solving problems with dogs. And I’ll go you halves on the fee.’

      Michelle sighed at the offer. ‘Well, I won’t say no, but I think you might be putting yourself at risk, Serena.’

      ‘How…if I’m all prepared?’

      ‘I’m just remembering something Angelina Gifford said about her brother. She was expecting Cleo to adore him because there wasn’t a female alive who didn’t l…u…u…u…v Nic.’

      ‘No way am I going to be a victim on that count,’ Serena emphatically assured her sister. ‘I’m simply fleecing the guy for being as arrogant as Lyall Duncan. Though I will play fair by giving him value for his money.’

      ‘Hmm…he’s got to you already. You’ve just been hurt by one rich, eligible bachelor. Better watch your step with…’

      ‘Michelle! I don’t even like him!’

      ‘He’s striking sparks in you. That’s more dangerous than like.’

      ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! It’s just a one-hour deal. And I need your help.’

      ‘Okay. Let’s see if you can keep your mind on the job.’

      I am not going to let Nic Moretti close enough to hurt me, Serena silently vowed. Her sister didn’t understand the score. This was simply a game of one-upmanship where she ended up the winner.

      For the rest of the afternoon, her mind was trained on collecting all the advice that would make Nic Moretti’s head spin with her bank of expert knowledge. Admiration, respect, gratitude…that was what she wanted from him. Balm for her wounded pride.

      And, of course, it was pride behind the care she took with her appearance that evening. Not that she went all out to impress in any sexual sense. No perfume. No jewellery. No eye make-up. Only some perfectly applied pink lipstick. Her hair was newly clean and shiny and she left it long and loose, except for the side tresses which were held together at the back with a clip to maintain a neat, tidy effect.

      Deciding on smart casual clothes, she teamed turquoise blue slacks with a tailored white shirt sprinkled with pink and turquoise and purple daisies. She strapped a businesslike navy Swatch watch on her wrist, pushed her feet into navy sandals and picked up a small navy shoulderbag to hold her keys and money. With this outfit, no one, not even her too perceptive older sister, could say she was man-hunting.

      Michelle and Erin were settled in the lounge room, like two peas in a pod with their light brown hair cut in short bobs, their delicately featured faces recognisably mother and daughter, and both of them dressed in blue jeans and red T-shirts. Serena waved to them from the doorway. ‘I’m off now.’

      ‘You look pretty, Aunty Serena,’ her niece remarked.

      ‘Good enough to eat,’ Michelle dryly added. ‘Watch out for big bad wolves!’

      ‘Oh, Mummy!’ Erin chided, giggling at the reference to a fairy story. ‘She’s not wearing a red cape and hood.’

      ‘Besides, I’m wolf-proof,’ Serena declared.

      But she wasn’t quite so sure of that when Nic Moretti invited her into his lair twenty minutes later. He suddenly looked very wolfish in tight black jeans and an open-necked white shirt which played peek-a-boo with the sprinkle of black curls that had been fully displayed on the centre of his chest this morning, reminding Serena of what else had been displayed.

      Fortunately, Cleo was also at the door to greet her. She bent down to scratch the little terrier behind her ears, sealing an easy bond of affection between them while sternly reminding herself that the dog had to be the focus of her attention here, regardless of how distracting Nic Moretti was. However, as she straightened up, the top button of her shirt popped out of its buttonhole, giving the man of the moment a tunnel vision shot of cleavage.

      Which he took.

      Completely destroying the sense of starting this encounter on a professional footing.

      Serena sighed with frustration, inadvertently causing her breasts to lift, pushing the opening further apart. Embarrassed, she clutched the edges of the shirt and hauled them back together.

      ‘Excuse me. This new cotton stretch fabric obviously has its perils,’ she bit out, shoving the button back in its hole and fiercely hoping it would stay there.

      Nic Moretti lifted a twinkling gaze that elevated the heat in her bloodstream. ‘That button would have to be classified as a sexual tease,’ he said, amusement curling

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