Page 19 of Impossible Love

The room goes quiet. I didn’t hear her say goodbye, so her father must have hung up on her. Classy. She sighs again, this time with what sounds like disappointment. Just then, the girls smash their way through the doggy door, race past me in the kitchen, and skid to a stop at Victoria’s feet. She squeals in fear.

I squeeze my lips shut and keep my laughter to myself. It’s not like I’m hiding. It’s not like I’m practicing camouflage, concealment, and deception out here in my own kitchen. If she was even the slightest bit aware of her surroundings, she’d have seen me the instant she left her room.

“No, no. Good boys. Don’t do that. Go on, doggies. Back away. Go get a bone or do whatever dog things you like to do or whatever. Go!”

They pay no attention to her command. Ripley has jumped up and has her paws on Victoria’s shoulders. The only thing that would make this better is if we’d just had torrential rain and my girl was covered in mud.

“All settled in, Victoria?”

She swings around on the couch, pushing Ripley away with one hand and clutching her chest with the other.

“You scared me. Again.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” I reach for the pasta pot and run the tap to fill it. “So, how’s the digs? I know it ain’t the Sweetbriar Hotel, but we do our humble best.”

“Ha!”

I take a quick look her way. She’s given up trying to convince Ripley and Sarah to leave her alone. Now she’s patting the tops of their heads like she’s playing Whack-a-Mole at the county fair. She really doesn’t know jack shit about dogs.

“Are they friendly?” she asks. “I mean, they're really pretty and they seem nice, but I've never been a fan of dogs. And they’re big.”

“They’re lovebugs. Just tell them they’re good girls and they’ll eventually wander off.”

“They don’t bite?”

I look up from the pasta pot to see Sarah and Ripley crowding to get closer to her. Victoria’s pressed her back against the sofa, trying to put some distance between her and the dogs, while their tails swing wildly and their tongues hang out. Dogs are supposed to sense a person’s true nature, but they’re way off on this one. It looks like they love her.

It’s understandable. They’ve never encountered a real estate scavenger before, so they don’t know any better.

I decide to be nice and call off the hounds. “Sarah Connor! Ripley! Come!” The girls spin around and run to the kitchen. “Go on outside. I’ll call you back in a bit.” I watch them crash their way through the doggy door again.

Victoria stands and walks toward me. I have to turn my gaze away and busy myself with putting the water on the gas stovetop.

This doesn’t make any sense. She’s wearing jeans, athletic socks, and a simple white V-necked T-shirt. That clothing shouldn’t be sexier than her expensive, tight-fitting business suit and killer heels, right? And yet it is.

Way sexier.

“What are you making?”

She’s twisted her hair loosely and pulled it over one shoulder. She’s taken off her gold-and-platinum jewelry. Yet again, I can’t help but think that I’ve never laid eyes on a woman this beautiful in my life, and despite my best interests and the interests of my family, I can’t pretend I don’t see what’s right in front of me.

I can’t pretend that I don’t want to drag her to bed. Flick my tongue all over her slit and lick her from head to toe, tasting the salt on her skin after we’ve fucked each other’s brains out.

I swallow. “Steaks and Pasta Alfredo. Hungry?”

“Starving! Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Uh…” I’m struggling to keep my thoughts on dinner and not my dick, then see that she’s already at the kitchen sink washing her hands. All of her is lovely, from top to bottom, with slender arms and hands, a tight little butt, and spectacular tits underneath that thin T-shirt. I wonder if she’s wearing it on purpose to distract me.

She dries her hands on the kitchen towel.

“Yeah, uh, if you can cut some of these veggies, that would be—” She turns from the sink and nearly crashes into me. Inches separate us. Her forehead almost touches my collarbone, and that sweet scent rises from her warm skin and invades my senses. Blood pounds in the artery on the side of her neck, in rhythm with my own thudding heart. Her skin looks velvety soft.

I may not want her at Yosemite Ranch, and I may be opposed to all she stands for, but damn, everything else about her is exactly what I want and need.

Victoria raises her gaze to lock with mine. She licks her bottom lip, the way she did at the airpark. I’d wanted to jump her bones then, and I want to now. She knows that, of course. She’s setting me up. She’s playing me. To her, I’m just another MacLaine pushover.

“Excuse me,” she says, her whisper husky. She lowers her eyes, pretending to be embarrassed. At least I think she’s pretending. “I was just trying to—”

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