Home > Sweet Spot (Richmond Rogues #5)(29)

Sweet Spot (Richmond Rogues #5)(29)
Author: Kate Angell

“I once dated a yoga instructor and have tried a few poses,” he said. “I can’t picture your pup doing Surya Namaskar.”

She raised a brow and he explained. “That’s Hindi for the sun salutation. Foxie’s more prone to the corpse position.”

“She can do more than lie down,” Cat said, defending her pet. “Puppies can be positioned.”

“So can yoga teachers.”

The Kama Sutra crossed Cat’s mind. She ducked her head, not wanting Law to read her. His chuckle indicated he knew the direction of her thoughts. She hated when they both had sex on the brain at the same time.

“It’s time for the Hard Bark Café.” The dog walker had circled back to them. Foxie and Bouncer approached more slowly. They both looked worn-out.

Cat scooped up Foxie and cuddled her close. “Eat?” she asked the pup, and the schipperke perked up. The boxer started to bounce.

They returned to the main doghouse. Sherry, the hostess at the café, settled everyone into a chow-down room. Short benches for the owners bracketed two sides of the low table. The dogs sat on thick plaid cushions. The Bone Appetite menu was displayed on a plastic stand.

Sherry offered everyone party hats, which Bouncer shook off his head three times. He preferred a blue bandanna of distinction around his neck. As his guest, Foxie was fitted with a glitzy rhinestone tiara and collar. The Pomeranian, Precious, walked in with the spa owners, Sam and Jane, and the atmosphere grew festive.

Unaffected by how silly she might look, Cat put on a yellow-and-orange polka-dot hat. The thin rubber strap was short and snapped under her chin.

Seated beside her, Law reached over and traced his finger under the band. His touch was gentle, soothing, and lasted seconds too long.

Cat eased back and Law leaned closer. He cupped her jaw. The edges of time blurred as the curve of his knuckles nuzzled the soft spot beneath her chin. Raising his hand ever so slightly, he brushed his thumb near the corner of her mouth. Sketching higher, he stroked her cheekbone.

He held her gaze.

And her pulse quickened.

A minuscule space separated them.

They shared the same air.

Her mouth parted, and his warm breath slipped between her lips like a tongue. She felt kissed.

His expression was as intense as it was thoughtful.

“The red mark’s gone,” he finally said.

Bouncer barked, startling Cat. She nearly fell off the bench. Goose bumps scattered down her spine as she clutched the table for dear life. The chin band shouldn’t have drawn his touch; it was no more than a slight snap against her skin. Law’s concern surprised her.

Her focus again on the party, Cat read along with Sherry as the hostess ran down the dogs’ menu. “Bouncer’s Pawty Package includes all natural yappe-tizers. The pups will start with a selection of peanut butter Woofers, cheesy Bark ’n Fetch Bones, and chipped beef treats. The paw print cake is the highlight of the celebration.”

Sherry wrapped slobber bibs around the pets’ necks, then proceeded with the feast. A photographer passed through their private dining room, snapping shots. He caught Bouncer with peanut butter on his nose and Foxie with her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. The Pomeranian, Precious, ate all the chipped beef treats.

The photographer motioned Law and Cat together for a shot. Law’s arm was around her before she could resist. He pulled her so close, her cheek rested on his shoulder. She hoped the point on her party hat wouldn’t poke out his eye.

As the dogs continued to chow down, the pet owners enjoyed an assortment of vanilla and strawberry pup cakes, baked by Betty Crocker. Following the party, the dogs spent thirty minutes in the Chew Toy Room.

Catherine glanced at her watch. They’d spent more time at the spa than she’d intended. It was time to move on. Two other businesses remained on their tour.

Sam and Jane Carter walked them to their SUV. Jane handed Law an UltiMutt gift basket. Cat scanned the goodies: Greenies, pepperoni sticks, and Bark-B-Que chews, along with an enrollment form for the Bone-of-the-Month Club.

Law was generous with his praise of the spa. Bouncer barked his agreement. The boxer looked content but dead on his paws. Foxie still had energy to spare. She refused her mesh carrier, preferring to snuggle beside Bouncer on the backseat. Cat’s last look at the two found Foxie latched on to the boxer’s muzzle.

“The hotel is closer than your house, and I need to grab my boardshorts, towel, and a change of clothes,” Law said as he started the engine. “Let’s leave the dogs with Walter. You can pick up Foxie after Mazzo Jacuzzis.”

Her stomach squeezed. “I hadn’t planned to attend your commercial shoot.” Although seeing Law in his swim trunks held great appeal.

“Turnabout is fair play,” he said. “I’m touring with you now. Later you can sit in on the promotional spot.”

“The tour is business,” she reminded him. “The canine spa, lingerie shop, and bookstore are all potential investments.”

He cut her a look. “If I buy all three businesses, will you come to the shoot?”

She gave him her full attention. In profile, his dark hair couldn’t hide the smug curve of his mouth. “Are you serious?” she asked. “You haven’t even been to Satin Angels and A Likely Story yet.”

“These walk-throughs are pretty much pro forma,” he told her. “You’re thorough, Cat. The numbers are solid and I’m fully aware what I’m buying.”

“This is too easy,” slipped out.

“You’d prefer me difficult?”

“I’m not complaining,” she said with a smile. “Each acquisition fits your requirements for Prosper. They’re great opportunities for the right small-business owner.”

“That’s my plan.”

Ten miles down the road, Law took a left onto a ramp that merged with the interstate. Traffic was light for a Friday. He checked the rearview mirror often, his gaze flicking to the dogs, assuring their safety.

He parked in the gated garage at the Richmond Grace. While Cat waited in the SUV, he led Bouncer up to his penthouse, carrying Foxie. Cat noticed the puppy had clamped on to Law’s forearm. Her schipperke had claimed him once again.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned, a navy nylon duffel in tow. He tossed the bag onto the backseat.

Once behind the wheel, he assured her, “Walter makes a great dog sitter. He took to Foxie immediately.”

   
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