Bride In Training. Gail Gaymer Martin
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trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I doubt it. Short but not sweet. Direct. No ifs, ands or buts. Though he’d always been able to manipulate people to do what he asked, he’d failed with dogs and obviously women. He’d never go to Molly or Steph for training. He’d feel uneasy. Feel stupid was more like it. He excelled in things. Martin Davis didn’t fail. But he had. He’d thought he could intimidate Emily a little, but apparently he’d been wrong about that, too.
He stood outside a moment drinking in the fresh air as Emily’s image filled his mind. When he’d first seen her, he’d taken a full sweep of her slender frame. She was tall like a reed. Thin and straight. She wore a long skirt that hung nearly to her ankles with that pale gray shirt that looked too big, as if she were drowning in her clothes. Beneath all that loose clothing he imagined a pretty woman with a nice figure who didn’t want people to notice. She aroused his curiosity—his interest—and that scared him.
A question sizzled in his head. Women never attracted him, so why did this one? Perhaps he felt safer with her. She was younger than his forty-three years. Barely in her thirties, he guessed. He was too old for her even if he were interested, and he wasn’t. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open as he glanced into the backseat.
His pulse soared. “Nessie, no.”
The terrier sprawled on the rear seat, gnawing on the handle of his attaché case. “What are you doing?”
She looked at him with innocent eyes. So had Emily.
Martin slammed his door and opened the back. Pushing Nessie aside, he jerked out his case, feeling the teeth marks embedded in the handle. “Bad dog.” He shook his finger in her face.
She licked it.
He lowered his hand and wiped it on his pant leg. “Nessie, I wanted a quiet, little companion. Don’t do this to me.”
Martin tossed the attaché case on the floor, lifted Nessie in his arms, dodging her tongue, and placed her on the passenger seat. “We’re going home. Be a good dog.”
The terrier wagged her tail, and Martin took that as a yes.
If only he could have Emily eating out of his hand, but she’d nipped at it instead. She’d given him little hope. No hope. He started the car and backed away from the building. No hope? That was unacceptable.
Chapter Two
Martin leaned over his dining room table, staring with blank eyes at the paperwork he had brought home. He usually never lugged work home. He stayed in his office to provide a good example to his employees. They needed to understand what devotion to a job meant. But he couldn’t concentrate there. All day his mind flew back and forth to Nessie at home alone, fearing what she might do to his house. He had given up and come home at noon.
If Emily ran her own dog-walking business, she should have been able to squeeze Nessie in sometime during the day. She had encouraged him to adopt the dog but didn’t want to help out otherwise.
Her face filled his mind, that impish look that was more a mask. At least when he smiled or frowned, that’s how he felt and everyone knew it. He’d heard his sister-in-law say dogs were honest. If they liked a person they wagged their tails. If not, they let him know with a bark or a nip. Emily had an innocent, vulnerable look, but underneath, she had a sink-in-the-teeth bite. He should have guessed from that determined handshake.
Martin glanced into the living room and spotted Nessie curled beside the low front windows where the sun spread along the carpet. Emily had been right about one thing. Inside the house, Nessie seemed to behave.
He pictured Emily’s slender hands, the way she kept her arms close to her sides with a slight swing, almost protective. He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to relax and hoping to get her off his mind. The documents he’d brought home needed action on Monday. Since tomorrow was Saturday, he had the weekend to delve into them and be home with the dog. Hopefully Monday would start a better week.
Nessie gave a yip, and Martin opened his eyes. Her tail wagging and her ears perked in attention, she rose and headed toward him. He looked over his shoulder, hearing the sound.
When Nick strode into the room, Nessie skittered to him and sniffed his shoes. “I heard you had a new friend.”
“Rumors travel fast.” Martin rose to greet him.
“No rumor. This looks like a real live dog to me.” He swooped the ball of fur into his arms while Nessie swiped his hand with kisses. “You cute little thing.” He glanced at the terrier’s belly. “Female, I see. You seem to have a dangerous bent toward women.”
“It’s a dog, Nick.”
His brother chuckled. “You’re asking for trouble when you bring a female into the house. You don’t get along with them, remember?” He set Nessie on the floor.
Emily’s face flashed through his mind, then Steph’s. “You can’t forget anything, can you?”
Nick strode closer and gave his shoulder a hug. “Just pulling your chain, bro.”
“Fine, but enough’s enough.” He turned away and strode to his recliner with Nessie following him with a longing look as if she wanted someone to play with her. One day he wanted to know about the dog’s last owner. As he sank into the chair, he motioned toward the sofa. “How’s Steph?”
“Better today. She did fine at work.” He strode to the French-pane picture window and looked outside. Nessie pattered beside him and curled up into a ball in a sunny spot.
Martin’s brow furrowed. “I thought her doctor told her to take it easy.”
“She has been.” Nick faced him. “Steph hired a young woman to come in and help with the dogs so she can do desk work and stay near the phone.”
He acquiesced, hoping they were making the right decision. Nick oozed a positive attitude. Martin wished he could follow his brother’s example. “Tell me about this woman that works at Time for Paws?”
“I don’t know her. Steph just hired her a few—”
“Not the new one. I meant Emily.”
Nick did a double take. “Emily? I don’t know much about her.” He gave Martin a scrutinizing look. “Why?”
Martin managed to act indifferent. “No reason. She has quite an attitude.”
Nick sputtered into a guffaw. “Attitude? You’re the king of attitude.”
Struggling with a rebuttal, Martin covered his lack of words with a groan. “I’m working on it.”
His brother stopped chuckling. “You are. I’ll be the first to admit that.” He crossed the room and plopped onto the sofa. “What happened yesterday?”
“Nessie gnawed the handle of my attaché case. This morning I found my Italian belt covered with teeth marks.”
Nick shrugged. “I can’t help you with that. Anyway, I meant what happened between you and Emily?”
The past evening fell into Martin’s mind, and he relayed her abrupt refusal to add him to her waiting list of customers. “I think she’s heard too many rumors from Steph, and—”
Nick leaned forward. “Wait a minute. Steph doesn’t spread rumors. If she said something it was true. You were horrible to her when you first met, and you know that, but you’ve made great strides, and I’m sure Steph has also mentioned that.” He flung his hands in the air. “I don’t know why they’re talking about you now, anyway, but don’t blame Steph.”
Too late to undo his blunder. “I wasn’t blaming Steph. I deserved every remark she might have made about me, but you know I’m working on my attitude. I monitored my comments with Emily.” He revisited his evening with her. “Well, most of them.”
Nick crossed his ankle over his knee and pulled up the sock. “You’re upset because