Destiny Unknown Read online

  She gave a slight shake of her head. Irritated. Dismissive.

  "No?" He searched for other professions where outward appearances were important. "Realtor?" He was familiar with most of the realtors around Grand Rapids, but she could be new.

  Her no to that suggestion was terse and barely audible. He was bothering her, all right. Playing dumb, he kept at it. "Boy, I'm not doing well at this, am I? Doctor? Lawyer?" He chuckled. "Indian Chief?"

  Ice would have cooled from her glance. "If you must know, I'm the general manager of Morgan's Department Stores."

  She pronounced her answer as a final statement. He wasn't about to let up. "Oh yeah? Which one? The downtown store or the one on Twenty-eighth Street?"

  "Both."

  He was impressed. Not that he would let her know. "Well, heck, if you're managing Parker's stores, that practically makes us fellow employees. I did some work for him a few years back."

  The nose went up again. "You worked at one of his stores?"

  He played to her expectations. "No. This was construction work. I hammered a few nails here and there for the guy."

  "I see." Once again, she looked him over.

  He knew she didn't see. She was blinded by the externals.

  Her gaze went to the doorway Joy had disappeared through. "I wonder what's taking her so long?"

  "Jim probably asked her to give him a hand." Cody reached over and touched the little dog on her lap.

  Bernadette's gaze snapped to his face. "What are you doing?"

  "Just feeling her stomach. Seeing if there's been any change."

  "And?" She watched his hand, her body tensed.

  Teasingly, he combed his fingers into the dog's long hair. Though her belly was distended, it wasn't a life-threatening situation. A good physic was all the dog needed. "Feels about the same."

  "When I found her gagging—" For a moment, the haughtiness slipped, concern softening Bernadette's eyes to a velvety shade of blue. "If anything should happen to her—"

  She took in a deep breath, and the rigid control was put back in place. Silently Cody cursed her. She might say she didn't like dogs, but she cared about this one.

  He didn't want to feel sorry for her. Feeling sorry for a woman had gotten him into trouble once. And he didn't want to be attracted to her. She reminded him too much of those who had ridiculed him when he was growing up.

  Angry with himself, Cody dug his fingers into the ruff around his dog's neck. "How you doing, boy?"

  Thor thumped his tail on the floor in response, and lay his head on Cody's knee with an almost human sigh. Cody sensed that Bernadette was watching. He played her game and ignored her. Carefully, he lifted Thor's leg, checking for new signs of bleeding. He would take second place to a glutinous moppet only as long as his dog's life wasn't in danger.

  There was no new bleeding.

  "Is that—?" Bernadette hesitated, and he glance her way. Nose wrinkled, she pointed at the underpants he'd wrapped around Thor's leg.

  He grinned, knowing someone like her would never use old underwear for rags or bandages. "Figured it was better than using these jeans." He slapped his thigh, giving the impression that he was wearing nothing under the denims. "Could you check and see if you think I've wrapped his leg too tight?"

  She didn't move. Not that he expected her to. He could almost see her recoiling in her chair. She saw him as the fool all right, just as his stepfather and stepbrothers had.

  Chuckling, Cody let Thor rest his paw on the floor again. "I guess you don't need to. I always buy briefs with plenty of stretch. You know, just in case."

  Bernadette said nothing, and he leaned a little toward her, letting the sleeve of his jacket brush against the sleeve of her coat. He heard her intake of breath, and he struggled not to laugh.

  If she'd looked, she would have seen that sleeve was clean. Then again, maybe she thought he had cooties. "You been Parker's general manager for long?" he asked, knowing she wanted to escape not talk.

  "Seven months." She leaned a little more to the side.

  "And before that?"

  "I managed a store in Chicago." Every word was tightly spoken.

  "So what brought you to Grand Rapids?"

  He leaned back in his chair, looking totally relaxed. Bernadette glared at him. She didn't want to talk to him, much less tell him her reasons why she'd come to Grand Rapids. She gave the answer that satisfied most people. The easiest answer. "I grew up not far from here. Coming back to Grand Rapids was like coming home."

  "And not far from here is—?"

  "Gun Lake."

  "I see. And are you now commuting from Gun Lake?"

  "No, I've got an apartment here in town."

  "Which one?"

  He was sneaky, she'd give him that. He was also totally dense. Most men would have gotten her message by now. With this one it was obvious she'd have to be more direct. "Mr. . . Ah—"

  "Taylor," he supplied, sitting straighter in his chair. "Cody Taylor at your service."

  "Mr. Taylor, I don't need your services. I appreciate your assistance with Mopsy, but I'm not interested in anything else you might have to offer." Not even his hammer. Maybe Parker had used him for some work, but she wouldn't be hiring him for the remodeling. Not with his attitude. "I—"

  He didn't let her finish. "How do you know you're not interested? You don't even know me."

  "And I'm not going to get to know you."

  "I'm a fascinating guy."

  She laughed, and gave him a narrowing look. Here he was dressed like a bum, filthy dirty, and acting like she should be panting all over him. "I think egotistical better describes you."

  "I've been called worse."

  "I can imagine."

  "What would you call me?"

  She glanced down at his jeans. "Dirty."

  He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a February thaw. Ground's turned to mud."

  "So what did you do, go out and roll in it?"

  "I was looking at an old house. Thor went through that window and cut his leg. Tending to him, I got dirty. For some reason, I thought getting Thor here more important than taking a shower and changing."

  Perhaps he had a point. Still—

  "It's more than just the dirt, isn't it?"

  She said nothing.

  "What? The long hair? The holes in my jeans? Or is it the earrings?" He touched a finger to the gold loops. "Do we have a few prejudices there?"

  "We? I don't know about you, but I don't have any prejudices. Your sexual preferences and how you chose to dress are your business."

  "I'm glad to hear that. Not that you had to worry. I can assure you my sexual preferences are for women, and only for women."

  "How nice, I'm sure." His assumption that she would even care was ridiculous.

  "I will confess I am a klutz. Me and my dog. Or is it my dog and I?"

  "Whatever." She simply wished he'd leave her alone. Go away. Stop talking. Do something. He made her uneasy.

  "Must be my clothes," he said nonchalantly. "Haven't you heard, clothes don't make the man?"

  Bernadette couldn't let that pass. "You're saying that to someone in the clothing business. And I disagree. Clothes can make the man . . . .or woman. How a person looks is very important. To be successful, you must look successful."

  "And make lots of money?" He grinned. "If I were rich, would you be interested in me then? Would you go out with me?"

  He was making her sound like a gold digger. "Money isn't important to me."

  "Good. Have lunch with me."

  "Lunch?" His invitation stunned her.

  "Yeah." He smiled, then frowned. "No. Lunch might be difficult considering the shape these two dogs are in. Let's make it dinner. Tonight. You choose the restaurant. I'll even shower and change to a new pair of jeans."

  She laughed. He was incorrigible. That or totally dense. "I don't think I'm getting through to you. Let me say this as clearly as I can. I am not interested in going out with you. Not to lunch or to
dinner. We're sharing space in a veterinarian's office. That's all."

  "You've got a nice laugh, you know?" His grin carried to his eyes. "And you're wrong. We're doing more than sharing space. There's an attraction. Probably shouldn't be, but—"

  She couldn't let him go on. "Mr. Taylor, you are the last man on earth I'd be attracted to. You and I are . . . Are—"

  Bernadette couldn't think of the word to describe what they were, and was glad when Joy stepped back into the reception area, smiling. "The doctor will see you now," she said to Bernadette.

  Chapter Two

  "Mopsy, please." Bernadette slowly crawled toward the corner of the kitchen where the dog had taken refuge. She was not only tearing and scattering the newspapers she'd spread over the linoleum, she was getting the print all over the knees of her winter-white wool slacks. In one hand, she clutched a teaspoon and the bottle of mineral oil that the veterinarian had given her. Her other hand was free and poised.

  In the last hour, Mopsy had become quite adept at avoiding her. How something so small could be so quick was a mystery. Bernadette was almost close enough to make a grab for the dog, but she knew what would happen when she did. Like a flash, Mopsy would dart past her and into another corner, and the coaxing would start all over again.

  "Please, Mopsy," Bernadette cajoled. Warily, the dog watched her. Bernadette inched closer, held her breath, and made a grab.

  Her doorbell rang the same moment the dog streaked past her hand. Swearing, Bernadette sat back on her heels. This was ridiculous. Effie would be back from her honeymoon before she had that damned teaspoon of oil in Mopsy.

  Exasperated, she released a sigh and pushed her hair back from her face. Her day at the stores had been bad enough. She didn't need this.

  Again, the doorbell rang.

  "I'm coming. I'm coming," she yelled and pushed herself to her feet. She wasn't expecting anyone. The few friends she'd made in the last seven months weren't the type to just drop by. At least, not without calling first.

  Before leaving the kitchen, she made certain the dog didn't escape and the door was firmly shut. Considering how often Mopsy had used those newspapers on the floor since being shut in there, Bernadette wasn't sure why the dog needed more oil. It certainly wouldn't do to have her running loose in an apartment with white carpeting.

  "Who's there?" she called through the door, using the peep hole as well.

  "Cody. Cody Taylor. We met in the vet's office this morning. Remember?"

  She remembered. How could she forget? All afternoon, images of him had popped into her mind. Back at the store, after leaving the veterinarian's office and dropping Mopsy off at her apartment, Bernadette had walked by a display of gold loop earrings and chains in the jewelry department and had thought of Cody Taylor. Then, when she was in housewares and gifts, the chocolates they sold had reminded her of his eyes. Even a rack of jeans in the men's department had triggered an unbidden memory.

  She didn't open the door. "If this is about dinner, I said no."

  "Everyone's entitled to a mistake, but that's not why I'm here. I have something for you."

  "What?" She was wary of men bearing gifts.

  "Two books. One from the vet's office, and one I had. You might find them helpful."

  Considering her futile attempts in the last hour to medicate Mopsy, she could use some help. Not that she thought letting Cody into her apartment was wise or that two books were the answer. Desperation, however, overruled wisdom. With the flip of a knob, then the turning of another, she released the deadbolt and opened the door. "Enter."

  Cody gazed at the woman standing in front of him. The voice and the eyes were the same—the former cool and businesslike, the latter a startling blue—but what he saw stunned him. No longer pulled back, her hair hung softly past her shoulders, each strand a shade of pale gold. Gone was the tailored gray coat that had concealed her figure and the black pumps that had clicked her irritation when she'd last walked away from him. Her feet were now encased in creamy white slippers that looked as soft as melted butter and the slacks and blouse she wore sweetly defined a womanly figure that could be defined as somewhere between model-like and curvaceous.

  Overall, she had a softer appearance this evening, but that wasn't what kept him staring at her face. It wasn't even the smudges of black on her right cheek. What held his gaze was the line of green that ran across Bernadette's forehead.

  In front of him was his enchanted princess.

  Only, of course, he knew she wasn't. It was merely a smudge of something green. Her skin wasn't really turning green. She wasn't under a spell. That was only in fairy tales; stories his sister had told him. Fanciful tales meant to take away the sting of humiliation. Stories his sister should have listened to.

  Cody shook his head and looked away, down toward Bernadette's knees. Only one line of green marred her forehead, whereas there were black smudges around the knees of her slacks, as well as grease spots. The bottle of mineral oil she held in one hand gave him a clue to the grease spots, and he knew what newsprint could do to anything light colored. He hoped the green could be as easily explained away.

  In a way, considering how meticulous her general appearance had been earlier that day, it pleased him to see a little dirt on her now. At least, she was acquainted with the substance. As one who knew it well, he'd felt it best to shower, shave and change before coming by her place. Not that he wanted to impress her. Nor had he changed all that much. He'd merely replaced the boots with loafers, and the holey jeans with a newer, far less threadbare pair. The jacket was the same. Winter, spring and fall, it was his standby. All he'd done was clean off the mud, which was something it had needed. And he had slipped on one of his nicer polo shirts. But not to impress her.

  He was here for a purpose, and one purpose only. To offer help. Cody held the two booklets toward her. "One has some first aid tips. Jim sent it. The other, I've had around for years. It has some pretty good information on dogs."

  She took the two books, but didn't look at them. "And will they tell me how to catch a dog that doesn't want to be caught, how to get her mouth open without spilling the spoonful of oil, and how to hold onto to her once she decides I'm seriously going to try to pour the stuff in her mouth?"

  Frustration laced her words. He knew the feeling. "Things not going well?"

  She shook her head, a wave of golden hair sliding over her silk blouse with a whisper. "If I ever wondered why I didn't want a dog, Mopsy is convincing me."

  "Jim said you were nervous about all this." Cody grinned. "He also said you nearly passed out while you were in his office."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I've always said dogs were messy and smelly, but I had no idea things would get that messy . . . and smelly."

  "What goes in, must come out. I remember how it was the time Thor ate the dish towel." He grinned. "Would you like some help?"

  "Yes." There was no hesitation. She started for a closed door inside her apartment, and he followed, closing the outside door behind him.

  Her apartment was spacious and elegantly decorated. Neutral colors accented by touches of warmth. Nothing out of place. It was exactly what he'd expected. Ms. Sanders lived in the right neighborhood, had good taste in decor and clothes, and undoubtedly chose her friends with the same care.

  He'd grown up with people like her.

  She opened the kitchen door, and he saw a new image, one of chaos. He also saw her dog. Amid the torn newspapers scattered over the linoleum, the mop of long hair that had limply lay in her arms earlier that day was now very much alert and eyeing the doorway as a means of escape.

  "No—!" Bern yelled as Mopsy made her break for freedom.

  Cody caught the streaking dog before she dashed past his legs. Scooping her up, he drew her close to his body. For a moment, she squirmed, then he felt her relax in his arms.

  Stroking the dog's head, he talked to her, but he was aware of Bernadette. She had faced him and was watching. Without changing the soothing t
one of his voice or the strokes of his hand, he stepped into the kitchen. "Better close the door."

  "Of course." She pushed it closed. "That was a pretty nifty move. She's been evading me since she realized what I was going to do."

  "I've got a lot of nifty moves."

  Bernadette arched an eyebrow and allowed him a smile. "I'll bet you do."

  She led the way to the kitchen table, and he followed. Much as he hated to admit it, Bernadette Sanders had some "nifty moves" too. There was an elegance to her posture and a grace to her steps. Her height helped, he was sure, and considering the top of her head came to his chin, he guessed her around five feet seven or eight. But it was more than her height, it was an attitude. The lady had class.

  How badly his sister had wanted that.

  At the table, Bernadette set down the bottle of oil, the teaspoon, and the two booklets he'd given her. He chose the nearest chair and sat, making certain his hold on Mopsy was secure. No sense in spoiling his hero image by getting lax. "How much of that oil is she supposed to have?"

  Bernadette glanced at the bottle. "Just a teaspoon full tonight. The vet said that should finish the job. And if not, a teaspoon full in the morning would."

  Cody had already felt the dog's stomach and knew it was relaxed. The odor lingering in the kitchen and the papers on the floor indicated the laxative Jim had given the dog had done the necessary job. One more teaspoon would be all that was needed. "You spoon; I'll hold," he said and cradled Mopsy in his arms like a quarterback hugging a football.

  "You want me to do it?" She hesitated, then shrugged and opened the bottle. Carefully, she filled the spoon, then stepped toward him.

  He spread his legs, inviting her to come closer. To his surprise, she did, her gaze on the dog and the spoon in her hand. She was so intent on getting the oil into the dog, he doubted she even noticed when her thighs touched his. He was aware of the contact, however. Too aware, he decided, his body immediately reacting. He was also aware of the delightful smell of her body and the way her breasts pressed against the silk of her blouse. If he leaned forward, he could touch one with his lips.