One Intimate Night. PENNY JORDAN
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‘She’s left Ben with you? You’re looking after him?’ Georgia queried, unable to hide her feelings.
‘There wasn’t really much alternative. It seems that the kennels weren’t…er…able to take him…’
Georgia’s flush deepened a little as she saw the way Piers was looking at her.
‘You’re staying here, looking after Ben?’ she repeated, swallowing tensely, as though she found the words uncomfortably unpalatable.
‘I’m staying here looking after Ben,’ Piers agreed grimly. ‘And whilst I’m here I am going to look round for a more suitable home for him.’
‘No!’ Georgia protested. ‘You can’t do that. Mrs Latham would never part with him.’
‘My godmother is besotted with the animal, I agree,’ Piers replied acidly. ‘But that does not make theirs in any way a suitable alliance. Far from it…’
‘It isn’t Ben’s fault he’s so…so…so disruptive,’ Georgia defended. ‘If he was properly trained—’
‘If he was properly trained. But that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? He is most certainly not in any way trained at all, and in my view—’
‘Setters are scatty when they’re young…but…’
Georgia had no idea why she was defending the dog so fiercely. After all, she had said herself that Ben wasn’t really a suitable dog for Mrs Latham, but something about the way Ben was looking at her, something about the obvious love and the doggy treats and toys which surrounded him touched her heart in a way she could hardly explain to herself, never mind to the tough, uncompromisingly unemotional man standing in front of her.
‘Look, I appreciate that you have a vested interest in him staying here. After all, you were the one who foisted him on my godmother in the first place, weren’t you?’ Piers told her grimly.
Georgia stared at him.
‘No. I…’
‘Don’t bother trying to deny it,’ Piers warned her. ‘My godmother told me herself that you were responsible for her getting Ben.’
Georgia’s heart sank. Mrs Latham had on more than one occasion mentioned how large a part she believed Georgia’s unavoidable absence from the waiting room had played in her becoming Ben’s new owner. But for Piers to claim that she had either actively solicited such a situation or even encouraged it was way beyond the truth. Not that she was going to attempt to tell him so. Why should she? Let him think badly of her if he wished. She didn’t care; why should she?
Just because he had the kind of sexy good looks that made her heart thud and her temperature rise, that did not mean that she was foolish enough to want to solicit his good opinion and ignore her own principles in doing so. Besides, he really wasn’t her type. No, not at all. She liked men with kind, open, honest faces and ready smiles, men who liked animals and understood them. The kind of man she liked would have immediately seen that Ben was as much a victim of the situation as his owner.
Georgia frowned as she looked down at Ben. She had no doubt that Piers would carry out his threat to find him a new home. And if he couldn’t…A horrible mental picture of Ben being dragged into the surgery to face…Georgia swallowed hard. The practice had a rule about not destroying healthy dogs simply because their owners no longer wanted them. But there were other practices…Tears filmed her eyes. Quickly she ducked her head and blinked them away. There was no way anything like that was going to happen to Ben. Not whilst she was around to prevent it.
‘All Ben needs is someone with the skill and the patience to treat him properly. He’s a strong-willed dog but there’s no malice or unkindness in him.’
‘Someone.’ Piers raised his eyebrows. ‘And have you any suggestions where I might find this paragon?’
Both his voice and his expression implied that he already knew that such a task was way beyond her capabilities, and, remembering the chaos of yesterday’s training class, Georgia could understand why.
‘He’s a very intelligent dog,’ she persisted. ‘He could be trained.’
‘But not by you, apparently,’ Piers told her derisively.
Georgia felt her face burn with discomfort. When she had finished her training course the instructor had told her that he had been impressed with her ability to handle the dogs. ‘But you could be a little bit firmer,’ he had added.
‘If I had him on a one-to-one basis then, yes, I could train him,’ Georgia insisted recklessly.
There was a long silence, and then, to her consternation, Piers said coolly, ‘Very well, then, prove it. You’ve got three weeks to persuade me that you’re right.’
Three weeks. Georgia swallowed nervously. What on earth had she done? What on earth had she committed herself to? There were places, she knew, where dogs underwent two-week intensive training courses, guaranteed to have them obeying all the basic commands and walking to heel, but the dogs were boarded at the training school and the trainers spent all day, every day, teaching them. There was no way she could achieve anything like the same effect with a couple of training sessions twice a week for three weeks.
‘It isn’t quite that easy,’ Georgia protested. ‘To train him properly I’d have to have him living with me, and I’m not allowed to have a pet in my flat.’
‘Admit it. You can’t train him,’ Piers challenged her.
Georgia’s eyes darkened to deep purple with the passion of her emotions. ‘I could if I had him living with me,’ she repeated. ‘But, as I’ve just told you, that isn’t possible.’
‘Maybe not, but it is possible for you to come and live with him.’
‘Live with him…?’ Georgia stared at Piers.
‘My godmother has another guest bedroom, and I’m sure, under the circumstances, she wouldn’t have any objection to your moving in here for the duration.’
‘Me…move in here…with you?’ Georgia squeaked.
‘No,’ Piers corrected her gently. ‘You move in here to train Ben.’ And then, even more gently, he explained, ‘If I was inviting you to move in anywhere with me, I promise you the necessity for a spare guest bedroom would not exist!’
Her face scarlet with mortification, Georgia scrambled to her feet.
‘I can’t move in here,’ she said—but then her glance fell to Ben, who was lying peacefully at her feet. He really was the most handsome dog, and his nature was so devoid of any kind of meanness that he deserved a loving owner and a good home. And there was no doubt about the rapport which existed between him and Mrs Latham, even if he did take atrocious advantage of her.
The thought of him being passed on to yet another owner or ending up unwanted in a dogs’ home was just too much for Georgia’s tender heart to bear.
‘I’ll do it,’ she heard herself saying recklessly. ‘I’ll move in and I’ll