Page 80 of Second Time Around
Chapter 14
The next morning, as she pulled the ingredients for Shaq’s special food mix from the center’s refrigerator, Kyra tried not to think about how it had felt when Will drove himself into her from behind. Last night he’d picked her up in the limo, kissed her once, and then moved to his corner so they couldn’t touch. But he’d watched her from the shadows, the city lights occasionally flashing over his face and showing how his eyes burned. She’d gone along with the performance because it fanned her own arousal.
Once inside his house, he’d pulled her into the first room with a chair, bent her over it, and had done exactly what he said he’d been fantasizing about. She had come so hard that she was sure she’d pulled a muscle. But somehow Will had made her come again in the bedroom.
Now her body hummed with a mixture of satisfaction and yearning. She felt it like waves of heat that ran over her skin before they seeped inside to settle between her legs.
“Focus!” she snapped at herself. “This is business.”
Powell, the security guard, called from the front desk, “You okay in there, Ms.Kyra?”
“I’m talking to myself, the first sign of insanity,” she called back as she opened a can of pumpkin.
“I done gone right over the edge then,” he said with a chuckle.
She heard the door open and the rumble of male voices before Powell appeared at the kitchen entrance with another man.
“I’m Greg Ebersole,” the man said, advancing with his hand held out. Her quick survey pegged him as a decade older than Will, with a focused gaze, dark hair liberally sprinkled with gray, and a tailored blue suit stretched over wide shoulders. He had the build of a stevedore and the grip of one, too. She surreptitiously rubbed her hand to restore the circulation when he released it. His gaze skimmed over the kitchen with sharp, professional interest. “This is where you make the dog food.”
“Luckily, the dogs don’t care if their chicken is cooked on a Viking range.” To a real chef, her secondhand appliances would seem sad and inadequate.
But he laughed. “A point in their favor that I hadn’t considered before.” He leaned his hip on one of the high counter stools. “Talk to me. What’s your proposal?”
“Proposal?” What the hell had Will told Greg? She didn’t want to make her lover look bad, even if he was the head honcho. “I think we’ve gotten our wires crossed. I thought this was just a fact-finding mission.”
“Okay.” Greg gave her an assessing look. “Tell me what you know about dogs with sensitive digestive tracts.”
She gave him a quick summary, showing him the ingredients and the final product. “This is a fresh batch because Shaq is going home for the weekend with his owner. It’s a new program our director started. Doggy slumber parties.”
“May I meet the famously queasy pit bull?” Greg straightened away from the stool.
While she stowed the dog food back in the fridge and walked down the stairs to the kennel, he peppered her with questions about her research and shared some of his. His market analysis made her think this could be a viable product, and excitement for the center fizzed in her chest.
The moment she opened the basement door, the dogs greeted them with everything from Shaq’s deep rumble of a bark to the ear-splitting yip of a Chihuahua mix. The kids were working on the “quiet” command, so Kyra walked in front of the crates where the dogs could see her and said “quiet” in a loud, firm voice while she held her finger to her lips. The volume dropped slightly and she rewarded the dogs who’d listened to her with a treat from one of the baggies that were kept handy in the kennel.
“Sorry,” she shouted to Greg over the remaining chorus of greetings.
He shook his head with a smile. “I’ve had dogs myself.”
“Quiet!” she said again. Most of the dogs settled down, probably more because the original excitement of seeing humans had worn off than because of her repeated order. But she gave them treats anyway.
Unhooking a leash from the rack on the wall, she opened the door of Shaq’s huge crate and clipped the lead on his collar before signaling him to join them. He strode out with his rolling bowlegged gait and leaned his shoulder against her thigh to encourage some head stroking.
“He’s well named,” Greg said, his eyebrows rising as the big dog’s weight made Kyra do her usual off-balance dance step. “A ‘Big Fella’ indeed.”
“But a total sweetheart,” Kyra said, kneeling to scratch the sides of Shaq’s big jaws. His eyes closed in an expression of doggy delight.
“Will mentioned marketing possibilities using the center’s K-9 Angelz program.” Greg showed his dog skills by letting Shaq sniff the back of his hand before he petted the huge creature. “I’m starting to see why. Kids, rescue dogs, a pit bull with a heart of gold.” He was smiling but Kyra could see the wheels turning in his business brain as he glanced around the spotless but bare-bones kennel.
“Let me show you the doggy playground,” she said. “We’ll take Shaq out with us. That will make his day.”
The dog waddled up the half flight of steps that led out the back of the building. Turning left, Kyra opened the chain-link gate to step intowhat was once known as “the empty lot” and had brought together Max and Emily in a romantic fairy tale that made all the staff members sigh. Now the staff referred to the lot as “paradise.”
The front third of the yard closest to the street was dotted with the raised beds for the kitchen gardens, empty at the moment. Next came colorful play equipment for the children. Where she, Greg, and Shaq stood was the dog park, with toys and homemade agility equipment to entertain the critters and the kids.
“You should see the kids work with the dogs,” she said, unsnapping Shaq’s leash so the pit bull could amble around the yard. “They’re so patient and loving, but still firm. And they have a sense of humor about it that some adult dog trainers could learn from.”
Shaq lifted his leg on a fake fire hydrant. “He’s a walking cliché,” Greg said. Again he examined his surroundings with careful attention. Kyra felt a swell of pride when he said, “This place is impressive.”
