Читать книгу Have Mercy - Jo Leigh - Страница 8

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MERCY KEPT HER eyes peeled for Gilly as she showed Mr. Desmond—Will—the pet suites. It was a good thing for him that he’d made a reservation as all the suites had been booked. That was one of the things that would change when they took over the building next door. They would triple the number of pet suites, add another grooming salon and so much more.

“These are nicer than some hotels I’ve stayed in,” Will said. He was standing in the currently unoccupied Southwestern suite. Each pen was its own room, complete with a twin bed, TV, piped-in music, food and water station, toys and, if a guest so desired, blankets and trinkets brought from home.

“They’ve all got themes,” she said, “although that’s more for the parents than the pets.”

“I can tell Buster’s going to be spoiled.”

“We discipline the dogs, gently, of course. We believe strongly in rewarding good behavior.”

“You’re going to have to be extra gentle with Buster. He’s had no training.”

“Oh? How long have you had him?”

“Not long. He’s a gift for my nephew back in Wichita. I’m taking him with me when I head back home. Cory’s birthday is coming up and he’s been begging for a dog.”

Mercy scratched the little one’s chin. “I’m sure Cory will be thrilled.”

“I hope so.”

She looked into the main room again, and there was Gilly, playing with Rio. The dog was huge, well over a hundred and fifty pounds, but he was as gentle as a kitten. Mercy was convinced that Rio had been a Buddhist in a past life. He calmed everyone down, including the most high-strung of the dogs.

Gilly glanced her way. Mercy waved her over, but all Gilly did was smile and go back to tugging on Rio’s toy.

Damn her. Gilly knew Mercy hated giving the tours. This one was especially hard because Mr. Desmond was, well, gorgeous.

He was tall, maybe six-two, with dark, thick hair, dark eyes, dark lashes. He was as trim and toned as an athlete, and if she’d been someone else, someone who wasn’t a total and complete coward, she’d have asked him what he did for a living. She knew he was successful. He wouldn’t be staying at Hush if he wasn’t. But that didn’t tell her much.

“What about food?”

It took her a few seconds to realize he was talking about Buster. “I’ll show you,” she said. The meal room was near her office. She led the way, wishing like anything that she didn’t feel so awkward. She kept thinking about all the dog hair that was stuck to her jacket and pants, about Mr. Desmond’s eyes, about the fact that he wore no wedding band, and how a man like him would never look at a woman with dog hair all over her.

She opened the door and Will stepped inside. She let him take it all in—the refrigerator, the different food formulas for every kind of nutritional need, how spotless everything was.

“Nice,” he said. “What is Buster going to eat?”

She told him about the puppy food, and how often Buster would eat. And she told him he’d be able to order the food from Hush if he wanted. They shipped all over the world.

Will looked at her, nothing dramatic, not even really a stare, but it was enough to ignite her blush. Her curse. She blushed at everything, always had. At least when she was talking about PetQuarters, she could lose herself in the canned speeches.

“What brought you here?” he asked. “Before this week, I didn’t know there was such a thing as a pet concierge.”

“It’s a new field, but I’ve been working with animals since I was sixteen. I met Ms. Devon when I volunteered at an animal rescue shelter. She’s very fond of pets and wanted to make sure that no guest would have to leave their critters at home.”

“Piper Devon.”

“That’s right.”

He looked back into the main room. “It seems to be going well.”

“Very. We’re expanding our role, catering not only to registered guests, but pet owners in midtown. We have a lot of daily visitors. Quite a few have already been picked up, but our clientele know we can accommodate crazy schedules.”

“So someone’s always here.”

“Oh, yes. We have night teams. The dogs are mostly worn out by nightfall, but there’s always at least two of us standing by in case of emergency.”

“Good to know.” He stepped outside the food room just as Emily and Matt came in. Dinner was in half an hour, and even with that much notice the two of them would have to hustle. So many of the pets were on special diets.

“What’s back there?” he asked, pointing toward the grooming salon.

“That’s where the pampering takes place. We offer any number of grooming options, from a simple bath to dog show prep.”

“I noticed you offer pedicures.”

She nodded, making sure she didn’t roll her eyes. “Everything a pet could ever want.”

“Yeah. I’m sure the dogs line up.”

“Well, no, but a lot of these pets are like children to their owners.”

Will shook his head. “Damn foolish, if you ask me.”

“We also offer rehabilitation services. We have a pool for our arthritic guests and we have an acupuncturist here on Mondays, a chiropractor on Wednesdays and we also do wellness checkups given by a really wonderful vet.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”

“We do. Including walks to the park, unstructured playtime and one-on-one attention from the staff for at least a half hour a day.”

He’d wandered back to the suites, standing outside Lulu’s room. The dog was already on her little bed waiting for her dinner. Lulu, with the painted toenails and daily grooming, not to mention a collar that was worth more than Mercy would earn in three years.

A yelp made Mercy spin to the middle-dog pen. She handed Buster over to Will and headed straight for the ruckus.

It was Cooper, the Belgian shepherd, who had a lot to learn about playing well with others. She went directly into the pen and to Cooper’s side. He dropped the bone from his mouth as he looked up at her.

Tobi Wan Kenobi—a lovely beagle/pit bull—sat down, the bone he’d wanted so badly a moment ago forgotten in his attempt to please Mercy.

She didn’t scold Cooper or Tobi, but she did make sure that they were calm and happy before she left them to play in the pen. No one got hurt, no feathers were ruffled. It might be after six but the middle-size dogs were going to get another run tonight, in fact, as soon as she got rid of Will Desmond.

For his part, Mr. Desmond didn’t appear to be in any hurry. He was still outside Lulu’s suite, leaning against the door, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest.

Talk about a pack leader. Whatever he did in Wichita, he was good at it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he ran a great big company, like an airline or a restaurant chain. He exuded that kind of power, the kind where everyone around him put on their nicest clothing in the hopes he’d notice.

Which also meant he got all the girls. All the beauties. She couldn’t see him settling for second best. Not with something as important as status.

“How’d you do that?”

“Pardon me?”

“You didn’t say anything. I didn’t even catch a hand signal. But both those dogs straightened up in a heartbeat.”

“Oh. Well, they know I’m the pack leader.”

He didn’t say anything for a long minute, then he smiled. As he did so his dimples made their debut. Two of them, one on each cheek. They were real dimples, too. Big ones that gave his smile resonance, that changed him from the man you wouldn’t dare cross to the man you wanted as your best friend.

It wasn’t in the least bit fair. Sort of like Audrey Hepburn or Angelina Jolie. Not only were they stunningly gorgeous, but they were gorgeous actresses as well. Wouldn’t it have been nicer if they each got one fabulous gift and spread the wealth?

“I think Buster’s going to be very happy here,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I—”

“Mercy, could you come to the front office, please?”

It was the loudspeaker. “I’m sorry, I have to—”

“Ms. Jones!”

Mercy spun around at her name, said so harshly it could only be one of the pet owners. Ah, there she was, standing near the door. Mercy couldn’t remember her name, just that she belonged to Pumpkin, the nervous and insistent Chihuahua.

Mercy headed toward the confrontation, wishing she could teach some of the owners about misplaced aggression and how to behave.

“Ms. Jones.” The woman was older, maybe in her sixties, had an accent Mercy couldn’t identify and she was striking. Beautiful, really. Her hair was silver and sleek, cut in a style that should have been too young for her, but wasn’t. She dressed young, too. A nice pair of green pants, a white blouse with a lifted collar. She had nice jewelry, too. Nice as in expensive. “I was supposed to get a phone call this afternoon about Pumpkin’s massage.”

“I’m so sorry. Was there something in particular you wanted to know?”

“She was limping last night. Something happened here that hurt her leg.”

“Why don’t we go check on her now?”

The woman sighed, then nodded curtly.

When Mercy turned around, Will Desmond was nowhere to be seen. He might have decided to go exploring on his own, which wasn’t good, but then Gilly wasn’t around, either. The rat. She’d probably absconded with Desmond, taken him somewhere intimate and private.

Pumpkin’s mother followed Mercy to the suite, where Pumpkin greeted them with ferocious barking from atop her bed. Mercy opened the door and went inside. Surprisingly, Pumpkin’s mother didn’t. It took several minutes to calm the little tan dog down, but finally it was quiet again. Mercy was able to put Pumpkin on the floor. She proceeded to walk around, and there was no sign of a limp.

“She seems to be doing well.”

“I suppose so. But I still should have gotten a call.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ll look in to it and find out what happened. I’m sorry.”

Without a move to touch her dog, the woman turned toward the door. She took a step, then stopped. “I’m going out tonight, so you can keep her here. I’ll look in on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her.”

The woman nodded once more, but instead of heading straight to the exit, she wandered down the line of suites. Finally, after looking at all the dogs, she made her way across the room and let herself out.

Mercy picked Pumpkin up. The dog trembled, but didn’t bark. After a few minutes of gentle petting, Pumpkin settled and seemed to enjoy the contact.

Something was off between owner and pet, but that wasn’t unheard of. “Poor little thing,” she whispered. “We’ll play tomorrow, you and me. We’ll get to know each other better.”

Mercy put her down, then left the suite, only to be surprised by Will Desmond. He stood just a few feet away, watching her. Mercy closed the door behind her, then turned to him. “Was there something else?”

He nodded. “I’d like to sign up to have you help me train Buster.”

She shook her head. “That’s the one thing we don’t do. Not yet, at least. But I can give you several referrals who are excellent.”

“No. I want you.”

The words, even in their proper context, made Mercy flush. For a split second she pretended—but then it was over and she walked to Buster’s suite to look in on the pup. He’d piddled on the floor and he’d found a long, stuffed dog to play with. He seemed content, not at all frightened. That was a good thing. “I’m sorry. I don’t train dogs.”

“You should. You’re amazing with them.”

“I respect them. I don’t see them as little furry humans.”

“So bend the rules. For Buster.”

“I’m sorry. When you come back tomorrow, I’ll have the referrals ready. I really have to get going now.”

Instead of turning around, instead of leaving, he moved closer. So close she could see the slight shadow of his beard, the hint of his dimples even with his face in repose. He was too good-looking by far. She stepped back.

“At least consider it,” he said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She couldn’t move farther back even though his nearness was too much. Was that his cologne she smelled? No, it was too subtle. Soap. That was it. Her gaze shifted down but the dark smattering of hair on his arms teased her. Made her think of other parts of his body.

“I have work—”

“I know. I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll leave you, for now. Just please, think about it.”

She nodded.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

The slow simmer of blush that had filled her cheeks burst into a heat that burned. She didn’t care if he left or not. She was out of there.

Behind her, as she hurried to the grooming salon, she heard his measured footsteps. It was only when she was safe with a door and a room between them that she felt the trembling, immediately followed by a hot surge of humiliation. She was twenty-seven years old, and she still was a complete idiot when it came to men. Not that she was completely inexperienced, but then, none of her experiences had been very good.

She’d missed out on the whole flirting thing. For that matter, she’d never really dated, not like normal girls had. In the end, it was just easier to be with the animals. At least there, she knew just where she stood.

“GET ON TAYLOR'S case first thing in the morning,” Will said as he logged into his laptop. “That delivery should have been made yesterday.”

“Got it,” Anita said. She moved on to the next order of business in her usual professional manner.

Anita had been his administrative assistant for three years, and she was damn good at her job. She kept the distractions to a minimum and while they were friendly, she didn’t bother him with her personal life, or expect to know about his.

He’d formed the company eleven years ago, when he’d seen the signs that corporate wellness was going to become a matter of necessity. WD Fitness Equipment designed health facilities for businesses across the country. He had a great team working for him, but he was still the man in charge, and taking any time away from work was costly.

“I’ve made your reservations for the trade show in Paris. You’ll be leaving on the twenty-first.”

“Fine. Where are we with the end-of-month numbers?”

He listened as he glanced at the e-mails, at least sixty, waiting for him, then clicked over to Google. After typing in “diamond dog collar” he was surprised to find so many hits.

Anita said something that he made her repeat. When she was finished, he wrapped things up, anxious to get to his personal business.

“Will you be coming in tomorrow?”

“I’ll see. I might be able to come in around ten, but don’t make any appointments.”

He heard a phone ring in the background, and let Anita go. The office wasn’t far, just across town in SoHo, but until he knew exactly what was going on with Drina, he didn’t want to leave the hotel.

He went back to his online search, running down the list of hits. Although he didn’t see many links to diamond dog collars made recently, there had been several in the news from the 1920s. Evidently, diamonds on dog collars had been in vogue, and several well-known socialites had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to upstage their neighbors.

There were a few pictures, and one of them looked a lot like the collar he’d seen on Lulu. He’d call an old friend of his, a P.I. from Jersey, and get him to look into the possibility that the collar had been purchased at auction or if the transaction had made the news. He wished he could have turned this whole mess over to Ricky, but the matter required his personal attention. So while Ricky did the research, Will would do some digging the old-fashioned way—by getting someone to talk.

Not someone. Mercy.

He wondered again about her story. She really was lovely. Tall, slender but not ridiculously so, she reminded him of a colt. Skittish and headstrong, it would be a challenge to get past her defenses. But worth it, he thought. Not just because she would know about the collar, either.

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get to the bottom of things here, but he wasn’t quite as anxious as he’d been this morning.

Mercy had been clear that she wasn’t going to help him train Buster. Will smiled as he recalled her delectable pout. He’d always liked a challenge, especially when the reward was so tempting.