me, she’s happy. But you have some nerve sponging off my grandmother, helping her with her wild dog-product scheme and then telling me how I should act with my family.”
Not defensive. Overconfident. Cocky. Clueless.
Caleb Fairchild was no different than the other people who saw her as dirt to be wiped off the bottom of their expensive designer shoes.
At least she’d tried. For Gertie’s sake.
Becca reached out her hand. “Give me your jacket.”
“You’re going to help me after trying to make me feel like a jerk?” he asked.
Mission accomplished. If he felt like a jerk he had only himself to blame. “I said I’d help. I only told you the truth.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her. They were even. She didn’t trust him.
“As you see it,” he said.
She met his gaze straight on. “I could say the same about your truth.”
They stood there locked in a stare down.
Stalemate.
“At least we know where we stand,” he said.
Becca wasn’t so certain, but she knew one thing. Being with Caleb was like riding a gravity-defying roller coaster. He left her feeling breathless, scared to death, and never wanting to get on again. She didn’t like it. Him.
She held up his jacket. “And just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Gertie.”
CHAPTER THREE
BY THE TIME Caleb changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and then returned to the patio, the table had been transformed with china, crystal glasses and a glass-blown vase filled with yellow and pink roses from the garden. Very feminine. Very Grams. “You’ve gone all out.”
“I enjoy having company.” Beaming, Grams patted the seat next to her. “Sit and eat.”
Caleb sat next to her. He stared across the table at Becca.
What was she doing here?
He wanted to speak to Grams alone, to talk about Becca and his concerns about the so-called dog consultant and if she was exploiting his grandmother’s generosity.
Sneaky scam artist or sweet dog lover? Becca seemed to be a contradiction, one that confused him.
On their way to the kennel, he’d sensed a connection. Something he hadn’t felt in over a year. Maybe two. Not since … Cassandra. But he knew better than to trust those kinds of emotions with a total stranger.
Becca wasn’t his usual type—Caleb casually dated high-powered professional women—but he’d found himself flirting and having fun with her until she’d had to ruin the moment with her ridiculous grandmother-is-lonely spiel.
Becca was wrong. He couldn’t wait to prove how wrong.
He sliced through his cake with his fork. The silver tines pinged against the porcelain plate.
As if he wanted or needed anything from Becca Taylor other than her lint roller.
“You must be hungry,” Grams said.
Nodding, he took a bite.
Becca drank from her glass of ice water.
“Do the dogs usually stay in the kennel all day?” he asked. A rivulet of condensation rolled down her glass. She placed it on the corner of the yellow floral placemat. “No, they are out most of the time, but if they were here they’d be going crazy over the cake.”
“Dogs eat cake?” he asked.
Becca refilled her water from a glass pitcher with lemons floating on the top.
A guilty expression crossed Grams’s face. “I never give them a lot. Never any chocolate. But when they stare up at me as if they’re starving, it’s too hard not to give them a taste.”
“Those dogs know exactly how to get what they want.” Laughter filled Becca’s eyes. “They’re spoiled rotten.”
“Nothing wrong with being spoiled and pampered,” Grams agreed.
“Not at all.” Becca sounded wistful. “I’d love to be one of your dogs.”
Her words surprised Caleb. She didn’t seem like the primping and pampering type. But what did he really know about her? He sipped his iced tea.
She picked up her fork and sliced off a bite of cake. Her lips parted.
Fair Face made a lipstick that plumped lips, making them fuller and, according to the marketing department, more desirable. Becca’s lips were perfect the way they were.
She raised the fork.
Like a moth to a blowtorch, Caleb watched her, unable to look away. He placed his glass on the table.
She brought the fork closer to her mouth until her lips closed around the end.
The sweat at the back on his neck had caused the collar on his T-shirt to shrink two sizes in the past ten seconds.
She pulled out the empty fork. A dab of enticing frosting was stuck on the corner of her mouth.
A very lickable position.
What the hell was he thinking? Caleb wasn’t into licking. At least not his grandmother’s employee, one who claimed to know more about Grams’s than he did.
The woman was dangerous. Caleb forced himself to look away.
If making him feel worse had been Becca’s goal, she’d succeeded. Not only worse, but also aggravated. Annoyed. Attracted.
No, not attracted. Distracted. By the frosting.
His gaze strayed back to the creamy dab on Becca’s face.
Yes, that was it. The icing. He placed his fork on the plate. Not the lick …
“Please don’t tell me you’re finished?” Grams asked, sounding distressed he hadn’t eaten the whole slice.
The last thing Caleb wanted was more cake. He needed to figure out what was going on with Becca, then get out of here. “Letting the food settle before I eat more.”
He sneaked a peek at Becca.
The tip of her pink tongue darted out, licking her top lip to remove the bit of frosting before disappearing back into her mouth.
Caleb stuck two fingers inside his collar and tugged. Hard. The afternoon heat was making him sweat. Maybe he should head to the gym instead of back to work. Doing today’s workout at the gym might clear his head and help him focus on the right things.
He
