shifted, and Jayne cupped his ridged silken skull and stroked him reassuringly. Then warm, strong fingers accidentally tangled with hers. A heat-burst surged up to her palm and she only just managed to suppress a yelp as she leaped back, sending Ollie scampering for cover.
Her eyes flew to Toddâs. His were carefully schooled.
âSorry.â The pointless apology tumbled off her lips.
Todd tipped his head to the side and stared at herâa burning, inscrutable regardâand shrugged. âItâs a start.â
Ollie. He was talking about Ollie.
âI should get back to this enclosure,â he said casually, as though the burst of static energy had been purely one-sided. Of course it had. He looked entirely unaffected.
She cleared her throat. âYes. I should get back to work, too.â
Uh-huh. As if that was going to happen while her heart was racing and while she had something so delightfully ornamental to look at through the window. Jayne ducked her head and turned back for the house.
Oliver trotted happily after her, oblivious to the awkward human moment heâd just caused.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday
JAYNE studied Todd through a crack in the drawn curtains of the back windows, unable to tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders and his patient, methodical construction methods. Now he was perched on a drum in her yard, oblivious to her surveillance, sharing his ham sandwich with an adoring Ollie.
Even the most mistrustful dog on the planet had a melting point, it seemedâapproximately the same temperature that ham was cured at.
A man who dogs loved couldnât be all bad, right? Her four-legged friends might be easily bought, butâgiven their damaged backgroundsâthey were even more attuned to survival than she was, and all four would have kept their distance from someone with ulterior motives, she was sure.
Or was she just looking for excuses to like him?
Todd Blackwood was not like the men sheâd used to know. Every part of him screamed higher education, yet he could whack together a holding pen as if heâd been doing it all his life. His casual discussion hinted at city origins but he was hanging around a small village digging up handyman work as though he were a drifter.
It should have made her more suspicious, but it didnât. After all, people could draw all kinds of conclusions about Jayne MorrowâJ.C. Moro to her gazillions of adoring fans. A top-of-the-list novelist, living a simple life in the Australian forest; what would people make of that? She had no doubt that people back home were reading things into her absence, making up what they didnât know.
Prima donna. Marketing gimmick.
Only her agent and a small team of investigating officers assigned to her case knew the real story. She had a genuine excuse, maybe Todd did too? She definitely got the feeling there was a story to tell. There was one way to find out. Jayneâs heart kicked up a notch. It wasnât unreasonable to ask a few questions of the man she was employing.
Right?
Nervous steps carried her out to the far end of her yard, where four dogs welcomed her with licks and welcome dances. Her heart hammered a protest. She silenced the frightened voice that urged her to go back inside.
This was the road to normal.
Todd looked up as she approached, then pushed himself politely to his feet. âBack to work time?â
Jayne frowned. âNo. Youâve earned your breaksâtake them.â She examined the beginnings of the yards that would make such a difference to her injured animals. She might not yet have a wealth of rehabilitation skills, but she could at least accommodate the animals professionally and appropriately while they healed. âItâs looking great. Thank you.â
Todd nodded and sank back onto the half-drum, leaning forward, his tanned forearms resting on his thighs and strong fingers hanging loose between relaxed legs. It was a poster image for non-threatening body language, and it immediately took the edge off Jayneâs tension levels. Todd snagged up a soda can from the ground and took a long swig.
âCan I ask you a question?â No one would believe from her hesitant tone that she made her living communicating.
Todd took another swallow. âShoot.â
âWhat are you doing in Banjoâs Ridge? I assume you donât live here?â
âWhy do you assume that?â
âYour accent is different to the localsâ. Itâs Australian but ⦠different.â
âIâm from Western Australia originally.â
Five thousand kilometres away. âWhat brings you here?â
Blue eyes blinked slowly back at her. âThe mountain lifestyle. The pace. Itâs very tranquil here.â
And very hidden. Even the tourists often missed it on their bush pilgrimages. âWhat did you do for a living?â
His brows bunched, as if he was baffled at her sudden surge of curiosity. She sure was. âI was a biologist.â
Ah-ha! âIs that why youâre so good with Ollie?â
âI specialised in flora, not canines.â He laughed. âBut I grew up with dogs. We get each other.â
Ollie showed her just how much by flopping down next to Toddâs work-worn boots.
âSo I see,â she said. âIâve never seen him more at ease.â
Todd used his boot tip to gently scratch Ollieâs belly. âI think heâs just a dog whoâs had to make too many decisions. He was desperate for someone to take the responsibility from him.â
âResponsibility for what?â
âFor survival. For leading the pack. For you. Itâs been a lot for a damaged dog to carry.â
Two years of suspicion stiffened her spine. âWhy would he feel responsible for me?â
Todd shrugged, meeting her eyes carefully. âPerhaps he thinks you need protecting?â
âI protect him. I have since he came.â The thumping in her chest had to be audible. Surely?
âYou feed him and love him. But trust me ⦠He thinks you need him to be in charge. Itâs all in his body language.â
She looked at Ollieâs enormous dark eyes, fixed adoringly on Todd. âSo now
