Page 13 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

Remembering the bag of trash I’d gathered and forgotten on the kitchen floor just before Shelby’s arrival, I darted around her in the mile long hall. “Excuse me, emergency.”

I made it into the kitchen just as my dog let out the loudest, smelliest belch I’d ever heard from him a second before he rolled over on his back, paws up.

Oh my God. I’d killed my dog with forgotten sweets.

Shelby let out a small shriek as I dropped to my knees and spoke softly to my panting dog. He shifted and I soon saw why.

Cake was smeared all over his side and belly and chin. I didn’t know where he’d found more, but the demolished plate half shoved under the fancy ass oven I stored pans in—and sometimes takeout containers—was a strong clue.

Shelby lowered herself to the floor at my side and stroked Bob’s chin. “Aww, poor hungry boy. Did you eat something you shouldn’t?”

I was pretty sure Bob was no longer hungry. Not after gorging himself.

Me on the other hand? Starving—and not for food.

For fuck’s sake, had she really had to drop to a crouch in that tight skirt with that slit up tothere? And her legs should’ve been illegal. Especially in those heels.

Shelby was talking but I wasn’t listening. I tried. I legitimately did. But her subtly floral perfume was doing unexpected things to my head.

“Fuck, you’re pretty.”

She pressed her lips together and stared at me until I was sure a slap was imminent.

My dick did not get hard. That would’ve been insane. I wasn’t a masochist.

At least I hadn’t been before this woman, now ignoring me in favor of stroking my dog. Who had pressed his slobbery cheek to her leg in obvious adoration.

I couldn’t fault his taste, that was for sure.

“He may need medical attention,” she said in a crisp voice that didn’t help my situation.

“He’s not the only one.” Before she could offer me a well-deserved retort, I held up a hand. “Look, it’s probably obvious I find you attractive.”

“Even though you said I wasn’t your type?”

“That was a pathetic attempt to save my shriveled male ego.”

Her gaze dropped to my groin for like a nanosecond. “I don’t think any part of you is shriveled.”

I laughed, long and hard. Then I gazed at her, still comforting my distressed dog, and my lust shifted to something infinitely more concerning.

Affection.

“I apologize for my untoward behavior. I understand you’re a single mom and really need this job. I won’t make it weird, I promise.”

“You do? What did TJ say to you?”

“Nothing.” I scratched the back of my neck.

“Did you talk to Isis?”

“No. Not about you. She’s tighter than a vault. I did some recon. And I have a lot of contacts.”

She paled. “What kind of recon?”

“I know some people.”

Shelby gripped her throat, massaging it as if to keep the question from getting stuck. “What does that mean?” Her voice was too quiet now.

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