Page 9 of Second Time Around
The fizz in her veins went flat at the limit on their time together.
He gestured at the display of bottles. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Patrons often wanted to treat her to something expensive, but the bartenders were discouraged from drinking on the job. “I’m good with club soda.” She pulled herself a tall glass of the fizzing liquid and dropped in a slice of lime before setting it, a bowl of Stratus’s famous gourmet nut mixture, and Will’s drink on a silver tray. “I’ll be right back.” She winked at Will and headed down the long expanse of bar toward the exit at the end.
Cleo stopped her, leaning in to murmur, “How’d you get Derek to let you go private with that one? He’s too good-looking to be rich.”
“CEO of Ceres,” Kyra murmured back. “Old college friend.”
Cleo whistled. “Rah, rah for the old alma mater. I’d like to have a study session with him.”
Kyra chuckled and unlatched the wooden gate to let herself out. Will stood with the tray balanced on one hand, his gaze focused on her. She did her bartender strut as she walked toward him, knowing a glimpse of bare stomach showed between her hip-hugging black trousers and her vest. When his aristocratic nostrils flared in response, a thrill of power ran through her.
“Allow me,” she said, taking the tray from him. “I have to show my boss I’m still working.” She led him to a booth tucked into a secluded corner.
Placing the tray on the table, she slipped onto the silver leather banquette that wrapped around all three sides. The expanse of the cushions and the privacy of the location sometimes tempted couples to get a little hot and heavy in the booth.
She didn’t anticipate anything like that from Will, but disappointment still pinged at her when he settled himself opposite her, the table between them. He could have sat just a little closer.
He took another sip of his drink, making her ache to feel his mouth on hers as his lips touched the rim. He set the glass down. “You’re a talented bartender—you have to be to work here—but that’s not what I expected you to be doing.”
A pang of regret and shame lanced through her. It wasn’t what she had expected either. Despite living like a nun and hustling for tips with all she had, the total of her debts never seemed to lessen.
In fact, it felt like a boulder, grinding her into the grimy sidewalks of New York.
But she wasn’t going to allow any more shadows to darken her second encounter with Will. “I have a new project,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
“Dog food.”
That elicited a less-than-elegant snort of laughter from him.
She grinned. “I just got asked to develop limited-ingredient dog food for a huge pit-bull mix with a sensitive stomach.”
“You’ve piqued my interest.” He tilted his glass toward her. “How did this request come about?”
“The Carver After-School Care Center has a program called K-9 Angelz. The center’s director, Emily Wade, came up with the idea of having the kids ‘adopt’ a rescue dog and be responsible for caring for it after school. She wanted the kids to feel needed and to teach them responsibility. But she also wanted them to experience the kind of unconditional love a dog offers you.” Kyra gave him a sober look. “It’s amazing to see how the kids light up when they’re around the dogs. Even the toughest of boys turns into a marshmallow when a dog jumps on his lap or licks his hand.”
He nodded.
“There’s one thirteen-year-old kid—Diego—who’s kind of the junior supervisor of the program. He wants to be a veterinarian. Today he came to me because the pittie mix is having stomach problems.”
“Do you have any ideas about how to solve them?” Will’s gaze was intent.
“Fresh, limited ingredients, according to Diego. That way you can isolate what’s causing the problem. I’m thinking chicken to start with, because it’s relatively bland. And it’s cheap.” She gave him a resigned smile. “I considered venison or bison because those would be meats the dog’s ancestors would have eaten so he should be adapted to them. But they’re beyond our budget.”
“Rice,” Will said. “Maybe brown rice. I think that would be a good fiber. No gluten, in case that’s the problem.”
“And pumpkin. I’ve read that’s good for dogs prone to digestive issues.” She was getting fired up now that she had someone to discussher thoughts with. “I have to work out proportions, and then I have to see if the dog will actually eat it.”
“I grew up with golden retrievers and they ate pretty much anything,” Will said. “Including my mother’s favorite pair of Ferragamos.”
Kyra laughed. Of course, his family had owned golden retrievers, the quintessential WASP dog. With pedigrees almost as illustrious as their human masters. “Luckily, there aren’t many designer shoes lying around the Carver Center.”
In fact, shoes of any kind were too valuable a commodity to be treated carelessly at the center.
“I imagine not.” He glanced as his watch, took a substantial swallow of his drink, and pinned his gaze on her. “Speaking of my family, I came here with an ulterior motive.”
