dogs?”
“Hold that thought. It’s not an image I care to take away with me.”
“The humans have a civilized picnic. The dogs run around and—”
He put up his hand in the halt sign again. “We all know what dogs do.”
“Tom doesn’t think it’s a great idea, either.”
“Tom sounds like my kind of guy.”
For an insane split second of a split second, Serena thought of inviting Nick along to the descendants-of-Brutus picnic on Sunday. But he was a client. And hadn’t she resolved to keep him just that? Then there was still that niggling sense that he wasn’t all he said he was and that he could do damage to Paws-A-While.
Coco started wriggling and she knew the little dog had just about reached her keep-still limit. “Can you help me with the other paw, please?” she said to Nick, as she slid off her stool.
“With the . . . the pawdicure?”
“You interrupted me. I have to catch up on my time.”
“You’re seriously asking me to help you? I can’t guarantee my skills with, uh, claw polish.”
“Just keep Coco still while I paint the rest of her claws.”
“Okay,” he said in that sexy, gravelly voice. “But on one condition.”
“Condition?”
“Don’t ever tell anyone outside this place that I did it. Because I will deny it with every breath in my body.”
“Deal,” she said, her lips twitching.
But, as soon as she thought through the logistics of it, Serena realized that asking Nick to help her finish the pawdicure was a bad, bad idea.
The treatment cubicle was designed for one dog and one groomer. At a pinch one dog and two female groomers. Not one dog, one taller-than-average female and one tall, powerfully built male whose body mass dominated the space and whose proximity sent her heart into a series of hiccups.
If she had Kylie helping her, she wouldn’t care if their shoulders collided. Or their hands accidentally grazed while they were handling the dog. And she certainly would not have felt self-conscious if their faces moved kissing-distance close.
“You hold her left leg still while I take her paw,” she said, only too aware of the tremor in her voice. “I don’t want to get polish on her fur.”
It was a routine job yet her fingers felt clumsy as she pressed gently down on Coco’s little black toe so the filed claw extended far enough for her to paint with the red polish. She did one claw, then the next, rushing through the job with little of her usual finesse. No double coats of polish today. She was too conscious of Nick’s nearness. Half giddy from holding her breath every time she felt they were going to inadvertently touch.
“Done,” she said, after what seemed an age but could only have been minutes. She looked up as she spoke and just for a microsecond caught his gaze unguarded. In the instant before the shutters went down she swore she saw mirrored the same intense awareness she fought to mask from hers.
So he feels it, too.
Immediately she dropped her eyes, too confused to make sense of it. If he felt it, too, that made all the difference. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. Serena risked a peek back up, but his eyes were the same inscrutable pale blue. She must have imagined it. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
“Thank God that’s over,” he said, releasing his grip on Coco’s leg.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Not quite.”
“How can you bear the smell of that stuff?”
“The nail polish? It’s a girl thing. And a girl-dog thing, too, of course.”
Her twice-weekly mani-pedi was one of the few things she missed about her old life. She’d been proud of her long, elegantly manicured nails, even when she was that awkward teenager. Now they were filed short and unpolished. Dealing with dogs every day dictated that. She hoped Nick didn’t notice. But was he the kind of guy to care if he did?
Willing both her breathing and her hands to stay steady, she reached into a drawer and
“Hold that thought. It’s not an image I care to take away with me.”
“The humans have a civilized picnic. The dogs run around and—”
He put up his hand in the halt sign again. “We all know what dogs do.”
“Tom doesn’t think it’s a great idea, either.”
“Tom sounds like my kind of guy.”
For an insane split second of a split second, Serena thought of inviting Nick along to the descendants-of-Brutus picnic on Sunday. But he was a client. And hadn’t she resolved to keep him just that? Then there was still that niggling sense that he wasn’t all he said he was and that he could do damage to Paws-A-While.
Coco started wriggling and she knew the little dog had just about reached her keep-still limit. “Can you help me with the other paw, please?” she said to Nick, as she slid off her stool.
“With the . . . the pawdicure?”
“You interrupted me. I have to catch up on my time.”
“You’re seriously asking me to help you? I can’t guarantee my skills with, uh, claw polish.”
“Just keep Coco still while I paint the rest of her claws.”
“Okay,” he said in that sexy, gravelly voice. “But on one condition.”
“Condition?”
“Don’t ever tell anyone outside this place that I did it. Because I will deny it with every breath in my body.”
“Deal,” she said, her lips twitching.
But, as soon as she thought through the logistics of it, Serena realized that asking Nick to help her finish the pawdicure was a bad, bad idea.
The treatment cubicle was designed for one dog and one groomer. At a pinch one dog and two female groomers. Not one dog, one taller-than-average female and one tall, powerfully built male whose body mass dominated the space and whose proximity sent her heart into a series of hiccups.
If she had Kylie helping her, she wouldn’t care if their shoulders collided. Or their hands accidentally grazed while they were handling the dog. And she certainly would not have felt self-conscious if their faces moved kissing-distance close.
“You hold her left leg still while I take her paw,” she said, only too aware of the tremor in her voice. “I don’t want to get polish on her fur.”
It was a routine job yet her fingers felt clumsy as she pressed gently down on Coco’s little black toe so the filed claw extended far enough for her to paint with the red polish. She did one claw, then the next, rushing through the job with little of her usual finesse. No double coats of polish today. She was too conscious of Nick’s nearness. Half giddy from holding her breath every time she felt they were going to inadvertently touch.
“Done,” she said, after what seemed an age but could only have been minutes. She looked up as she spoke and just for a microsecond caught his gaze unguarded. In the instant before the shutters went down she swore she saw mirrored the same intense awareness she fought to mask from hers.
So he feels it, too.
Immediately she dropped her eyes, too confused to make sense of it. If he felt it, too, that made all the difference. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. Serena risked a peek back up, but his eyes were the same inscrutable pale blue. She must have imagined it. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
“Thank God that’s over,” he said, releasing his grip on Coco’s leg.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Not quite.”
“How can you bear the smell of that stuff?”
“The nail polish? It’s a girl thing. And a girl-dog thing, too, of course.”
Her twice-weekly mani-pedi was one of the few things she missed about her old life. She’d been proud of her long, elegantly manicured nails, even when she was that awkward teenager. Now they were filed short and unpolished. Dealing with dogs every day dictated that. She hoped Nick didn’t notice. But was he the kind of guy to care if he did?
Willing both her breathing and her hands to stay steady, she reached into a drawer and
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