For the Love of Nick. Jill Shalvis
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to socialize and not falling over in exhaustion.
They hadn’t always been the nicest of kids, her group, but for whatever reason they’d accepted her. But it still bothered her to think about how many others they’d taunted or been cruel to, for no good reason other than they could.
Nick had been one of those other kids.
She remembered him well. He’d been gorgeous even then, though back in those days he’d been tall, lanky to the point of skinny, and tough. Very tough. Way too much so for her crowd to try to break through his wall of resistance. They’d tormented him—not that he’d ever given an inch or even let them know he was bothered.
She herself had never done anything to him, but it shamed her that she’d stood in the presence of kids who had—boys who’d tried picking a fight, girls who’d snubbed him.
Nick hadn’t appeared to care, going on as if they hadn’t existed. Until that one night when she’d needed him, and without question or rebuke, he’d been there.
Just as he was there for her now.
No doubt, he was a world removed from the boy he’d been. No longer did his shoulders look too wide, his chest too broad for the rest of his body, which had gone from too skinny to oh-just-right.
He’d turned out…spectacular. No other word need apply.
Not that she was noticing. God, no. Her head had been turned by an interesting face before and look at where that had landed her. No more men in her life, thank you very much, especially men who could melt earwax at fifty paces. She had other, pressing concerns.
Such as being on the run from the law.
Details.
But she was so engrossed in those details, and the fact that Nick quite possibly had the best set of buns she’d ever seen, that she didn’t realize he’d stopped in front of an open studio until she plowed into him.
“Oops.” Her hands automatically lifted to brace herself, setting down on his back. Snatching back her hands, she thrust them behind her. He’d been warm and rock-hard. “Sorry.”
He didn’t seem bothered in the least, the opposite actually, as he turned and gave her another smile.
“So…” She nearly stuttered. “What’s first?”
“You bring in—” He gestured to the leash she held.
Sadie. Who stuck her head around Danielle’s legs, looking as if she’d rather face ten Teds than be here. “Woof,” the dog offered cautiously; a loud, low sound of nerves as she shifted back and forth on her massive paws.
Danielle coaxed her into the studio with a biscuit from her pocket while Nick moved in ahead of them to set up.
“Look,” she whispered, squatting before the uneasy dog. “Do this for me. Do this for our future.” She cupped Sadie’s huge jowls and looked deep into her worried eyes. “Please?”
Sadie leaned close and licked her chin, and Danielle hugged her tight. “I know. You love me. I love you, too,” she promised softly. “It’ll be okay.”
“What will?” asked Nick, who’d come up behind her.
3
“DANIELLE? What will be okay?”
Meeting Nick’s steely, curious gaze, Danielle unwrapped her arms from around Sadie and stood. “The pictures,” she said as smoothly as she could. “The pictures will be okay.”
“Uh-huh.” Nick studied her for another long moment, in that deeply personal, intense way he had, the one that told her he wasn’t missing a thing.
Neither was she. She might have known this man when he’d been a boy, but that had been a very long time ago. She knew nothing about him now, and had no reason to trust him, even if she wanted to.
His eyes stayed on hers. “You need a backdrop. Outdoorsy or traditional?” Pulling down several, he gestured to her choices. “Personally, the traditional makes any subject look wan, but the outdoorsy one is fairly cheesy, so…” He lifted a broad shoulder. “I’m not a professional. Just pick the one that appeals.”
He wasn’t a professional. So who are you? she wanted to ask, but that would be getting to know him, that would be opening herself up, and she wouldn’t do that. “You’re not thrilled about doing this.”
“I said I would.”
His tone suggested he would always do what he said. But she knew that wasn’t the case. People lied. People changed. People couldn’t be trusted. She drew a deep breath. “The cheesy outdoorsy backdrop, please.”
A small smile crossed his face as he pulled down the screen of a wooded clearing surrounded by pine trees, wild grass and a little creek. Definitely on the cheesy side.
But that smile…holy smokes, it should be registered as an illegal weapon. She watched his hands on the backdrop as he pulled it into place, mesmerized by the flex of the muscles in his forearms, by the easy, economical movement of his body as he straightened and looked at her.
“Warned you,” he said, mistaking her unblinking stare for shock over the backdrop. “How do you want the dog?”
“Uh…” Danielle shook her head to clear it and concentrated on Sadie, who was looking at her with suspicious concern. “Standing at an angle to the camera to show off her coloring.”
“Coloring?”
“Most of her breed is a solid shade of red or fawn. But Sadie’s dark stripes are what the original English breeders had in mind when they crossed a mastiff with a bulldog. I’d like to show that off.”
“Got it.” He put his eye to the lens, fiddled with the camera. “So…what do you do these days?”
“I handle dogs.”
He pulled back from the camera to look at her. “You mean for other people?”
“Yes.”
“Are they all like that?” He gestured to Sadie, who was currently eyeing her tail as if she wanted to chase it.
“Bullmastiffs? Mostly.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She looked at Sadie, wondering how anyone could not see her innate charm. “Well…They’re big. I love big dogs. And they’re short-coated, with unmussable fur. It makes it easy to get them ready for the ring. See her inherent facial makeup, with her black mask and kohl-like eye shadow?” She cupped Sadie’s big face and kissed her nose. “Adorable, guaranteed. But also, there’s no extra grooming required. She shows au naturel. The only tool I need is a towel for the drool.”
“You mean a bucket,” he noted, watching as two long lines of it came out of Sadie’s mouth, puddling on the carpet.
Getting down on all fours next to Sadie, Danielle wiped the drool away and physically maneuvered the dog’s paws where she needed them, getting the front two in place before crawling around the back, only to have Sadie sit. She then leaned into Danielle and licked her face.
Nick laughed.
Danielle ignored both the contagious sound of that good humor, how it made her tummy flutter, and tried again. Leaning forward, she shifted Sadie back into place. “There. Stay. Oh, perfect! Nick, quick.”
Nick ducked behind the camera. Danielle, still on her hands and knees, quickly backed out of the way.
And…Sadie lay down.
Straightening from behind the camera, Nick shot Danielle a raised eyebrow.
Which she ignored. “You’re not helping,” she whispered to Sadie, crawling forward so that she could look at Sadie nose-to-nose. “Now let’s try that again—”
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