Page 62 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

Mac smiled to himself. He supposed that as a rule, hotshot literary agents pulled down a little more green than retired firefighters.

The kitchen phone rang and he hopped up from the steps, maybe a little too fast, because pain shot all the way down to his fingertips. He hated being less than a hundred percent. It could make you an easy mark.

Mac smiled to himself as he opened the squeaky old screen door. Like there was anyone or anything up here that presented a danger?

“Come, Lulu!”

The toy poodle stared out the opened limousine door and blinked, then looked at Win like she was insane for even making the suggestion.

“That dog don’t look too interested in coming out, miss.”

Win looked at the limo driver and huffed. “I realize that. Let me get you the key.” She rooted around in her purse until she pulled it out. “Would you please take my bags inside to the—” She unfolded the fax. “—first bedroom on the right, second floor. Thank you very much.”

The driver shrugged and went around the back of the car to retrieve her bags, and Win glared at the dog. How was she supposed to know you couldn’t rent dogs? In retrospect, she couldn’t blame the Humane Society people for laughing at her when she asked about a loaner. But still, it was rude.

Carly had been hesitant to let Win borrow her dog for three weeks, pointing out that Win knew close to nothing about caring for pets. Carly relented, but only after giving Win an all-day training course, which included how to mix dry with canned food, how to use a tiny toothbrush on Lulu’s teeth and gums, and how the dog needed her bed moved into a patch of sunshine for her afternoon nap.

Carly also insisted that Lulu not have contact with wild forest creatures or be allowed to wander off-leash; then she’d actually cried when the car came to her apartment that morning, handing over Lulu like she was her firstborn child.

Win looked at the dog’s soulful brown eyes now, and grabbed the little puffball out of the backseat, tucking her under her arm. She turned around toward the house and—”No way!”

The limo driver was just coming out the front door. “Is there a problem, miss?”

“This house! Oh my Gawd!”

“Wait till you get a load of the inside. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Win dragged her eyes from the towering modern structure and blinked at the driver. “What? Oh! No thanks.” She dug around in her bag with her free arm and pulled out a wrinkled twenty. “Thank you for everything. See you in three days.”

“Only if I get a call from Mr. Jacobs.”

“Of course.”

“I put the dog supplies in the kitchen.”

“Fabulous.”

The long black limo swept around the circular gravel drive, and once the tires cleared the stones it became shockingly quiet. Win stood where she was, taking in the dramatic pitch of the shingled roof, the angled glass wall that stretched from the foundation to the sky, the straight extension of the trees, and the crisp blue heaven overhead.

Lulu began to squirm, and Win put her down in the gravel. She peed immediately, leaving a little rivulet in the rocks. Win hoped that was all right, because she’d forgotten to ask Artie about that little detail.

Win pulled the leash, a bit too energetically perhaps, as Lulu momentarily became airborne. “Sorry, doggie.” Win scratched the little curly white head and the dog’s eyes looked up at her with accusation. “I’ll get better at this, I promise.”

The two of them strolled up the stone walkway and across the crescent-shaped porch, and into the open front door. Win gasped. The house was dominated by one massive, sunny great room, decorated in earth tones with a smattering of jewel colors for accent. Antique pottery sat next to modern blown glass. A rustic farm table was topped with a sleek aluminum sculpture. A Calder-like mobile hung from the very highest point of the pitched ceiling. A bouquet of dried wildflowers was tucked into an old metal coffeepot.

Somehow it all worked, and Win had to say it was dazzling.

An hour later, she’d unpacked, finished the wholly unappealing task of preparing the dog’s lunch and had toured the entire house. She’d chosen the farm table in the great room as her work space and unpacked her laptop. She’d chosen a set of pale yellow four-hundred-thread-count sheets for her bed. She’d poured herself a glass of Shiraz and was enjoying the sweeping view from the back deck.

Win glanced over at the hot tub, then the Swedish sauna built into the side of the house, and decided that maybe a few weeks here might not be so bad after all.

She had no idea how long she slept. She awoke with Lulu’s leash clutched in her hand and her stomach growling. Win cut into a nice wheel of Brie, ate two slices of fresh pumpernickel and decided to do some exploring. She put on her Reebok trail runners and a pair of Ann Taylor jeans, and went outside.

In the fax, Artie had said there was a nature trail that went about a half mile up the ridge. He said it was clearly marked and went past a small waterfall. That sounded like the perfect introduction to her surroundings, and Win located the trail without difficulty. Soon, she and Lulu were off on their adventure.

The walk itself was soothing, but Win found the silence unnerving. The only sounds she heard were their footfalls—two of Lulu’s quick little taps to one of Win’s deeper beats—and the wind in the treetops, the sound of birds for which she had no names, and the occasional invisible little animal skittering across the forest floor. She held Lulu’s leash tight, mindful of Carly’s warning about contact with wild creatures.

The trail eventually became steeper, and Win found herself seeking out tree roots and rocks to use as footholds as she climbed. Lulu panted a bit but seemed to enjoy the challenge. They reached a leveling off, then it was back down, this time into a cool hollow, where a waterfall trickled into a brook.

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