Destiny Unknown Read online

  He resisted the urge and focused his attention on the dog. Using the pressure of his fingers at the back of Mopsy's jaw, he opened the dog's mouth. The oil was poured in, and he quickly closed Mopsy's mouth, holding it closed until he felt the little dog swallow. Then he began stroking her again, telling her what a good dog she was.

  "That was easy." Bernadette stepped back, afraid her voice might have sounded a little shaky. Maybe he hadn't noticed, but his legs had practically encompassed hers. For a moment, their bodies had actually touched. Had she known him better, she would have called the position intimate.

  Who was she kidding? Considering the way her skin was still tingling, the contact had been intimate. Being that close to him had all of her shaking, not just her voice. She could tell herself she didn't find men with earrings and long hair appealing, but this one was turning her into a liar.

  She pulled out a chair and sat. "Slam, bam, thank you ma'am."

  His eyebrows rose, and she realized what she'd said. "I mean, that certainly didn't take long."

  He simply smiled, and she tried again. "That is—"

  "You're blushing."

  "I am not." But the heat in her face belied that. "I just—" She fought for control. "I was merely surprised. I thought that was going to be a struggle. Instead, it was over before I realized. How can I thank you?"

  His smile was suggestive.

  "Other than that way."

  Chuckling, Cody glanced around her kitchen. "You could offer me a drink."

  A drink sounded good to her. A glass of white wine maybe. "What would you like? I don't have any beer, but I do have some wine, and—" She tried to remember what else. "Oh yes, a little vodka."

  His gaze came back to her face, a slight frown drawing his dark brows together. "Do you have any tea?"

  "Tea?" It wasn't what she'd expected. "Iced or hot?"

  "Hot." He smiled, and scratched Mopsy behind the ears. "We lived with my grandmother when I was little, before my mother re-married. Every evening, she'd have a cup of hot tea. 'English tea,' she called it. And if I was good, I could join her. Of course, mine was mostly milk and sugar."

  "I have some English tea."

  He grinned. "I still take it with milk and sugar."

  If she was making one cup of tea, she might as well make two. Forget the wine. And for English tea, it seemed appropriate to heat up the tea kettle on the stove instead of sticking a cup of water in the microwave, as she usually did. "How is your dog doing?" she asked as she brought the sugar bowl down from the cupboard.

  "He's doing fine, thank you. He's traded in my briefs for seven stitches and an adhesive bandage."

  From the refrigerator, she got the milk. It was when she turned and faced him again, that the reality of his being in her kitchen hit her. There was a question she hadn't asked. "How did you know where I lived?"

  He grinned smugly. "Would you believe I followed a path through the enchanted woods, and it led me to your doorstep?"

  "No." But she would believe that Joy the receptionist had given him her address. "Don't you ever give up?"

  "Not when there's a princess to be rescued."

  She wasn't sure about the princess part, but she had needed his help this evening. "This has been a heck of a day. One thing after another. I don't feel like I've accomplished anything. Even tonight. I was going to give myself a facial, but Miss Mopsy started raising a fuss. I was afraid she was going to disturb the neighbors."

  His smile was enigmatic, his gaze on her face. "When you give yourself a facial, what do you do?"

  It wasn't a question men usually asked. Oh Loren McVeigh, their art director at Morgan's, might, but talking to Loren was sometimes like talking to another woman. Perhaps Cody Taylor wasn't as much a "man" as her body was telling her. "I give myself a facial sauna, then use a masque for deep-cleaning, followed by a toner and a moisturizer. Why?"

  "Just curious. And do these masques come in colors? Like, maybe green?"

  "Green?" Bernadette frowned, truly confused. "Yes. In fact, I think the one I have is green. Why?"

  His eyes turned into smooth cocoa with his grin. "It's a long story. I—" He placed a hand on Mopsy's belly, then quickly set the dog on one of the newspapers on the floor.

  As soon as Mopsy had relieved herself, he wrapped up the papers. "Is there somewhere—?"

  Bern gave him directions to the dumpster out back. The moment he left the kitchen, she leaned back against the counter, her legs shaking, and her heart racing. Cody Taylor wasn't like Loren McVeigh. What he resembled was a tornado. From the moment he'd stepped into the veterinarian's office that morning, he'd had her thoughts and emotions in a whirl. She didn't want to find him attractive, but she did. Didn't want to be around him, but here he was, in her apartment, and she'd actually been glad to see him.

  Because you needed help, she told herself. That's all.

  So what if her body had reacted when his legs touched hers? All that proved was she was human. The demands of her job might have kept her from having time for men; that didn't mean her body was dead. A year without a date was too long. "You need to get out more." She brought down two tea cups. "Need to find a man."

  A man who fit into her life style. A man who would stick around.

  It wouldn't be someone like Cody Taylor.

  She laughed at the idea of her being attracted to Cody. Her sister was always telling her she had to stop finding fault with every man she dated. Well, she hadn't even known Cody twenty-four hours, and she'd found lots to fault. His clothes. His hair. His brazen attitude.

  No, Cody would get his cup of tea, a little conversation, and then he was out of her life. This wouldn't even be a case of her leaving him before he left her. There would be no getting together. Period. The ministering of one teaspoon of oil and a trip to the dumpster did not change anything. He might be persistent, but she wasn't going out with him.

  * * *

  When Cody returned, the tea was steeping in a pot on the table, two cups, a creamer and sugar bowl beside it. A spraying of room freshener had eliminated most of the odor, and Bernadette had laid down more newspapers, the linoleum once again neatly covered. On the counter by the sink, she'd set a towel. She motioned toward it. "You can wash up."

  He took off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. Bernadette noted the polo shirt he was wearing was quality merchandise, the fit perfect. It was a giant step up from what he'd been wearing that morning. His best, she guessed.

  He turned toward the sink, and pumped soap into his palms, and she found herself staring at his back. She admired men who had culture and sophistication, yet simply watching Cody's back muscles stretch and contract as he scrubbed his hands had her pulse racing. There was a clean definition to his shoulders and biceps that suggested strength developed from hard labor rather than long hours in an exercise gym. There was also an earthiness about him that she was sure no amount of soap would wash away.

  Watching the play of his back muscles evoked memories of how his thighs had felt against her legs. Unsuitable or not, he had a body to die for, and she couldn't stop herself from wondering how he would look without any clothes on.

  "Want to see?" he asked.

  She sucked in a breath, afraid he'd read her mind.

  Turning toward her, he held up his hands. "Almost clean."

  Relief rippled through her in a laugh. "What do you want, a gold star?"

  "Of course." He grabbed the towel on the counter.

  "Sorry, all out of gold stars." Her gaze went to the gold chain around his neck, then to the gold earrings. "You like gold, don't you."

  He touched the chain. "It has meaning."

  "Such as—?"

  His gaze moved to her forehead, and he grinned. "I'll tell you some time."

  He tossed the towel onto the counter. It slipped off and onto the papers covering the floor. Picking it up again, he chuckled. "I'm certain playing out my part of the story. The clumsy oaf, always dropping things and tripping over
his own two feet. The daydreamer. How do you feel about klutzes?"

  "I wouldn't want you working in glassware. But then, I also hate seeing mothers with young children go into that department."

  Cody walked toward the table. "No dogs. No children. You said you're not married. Have you ever been married?"

  "No." She sat straighter in her chair as he neared. Why his being close made her edgy, she didn't know. She wasn't afraid of him. Wasn't normally edgy around any man. "It's not that I dislike dogs." She didn't feel she owed him an explanation, but talking seemed to help ease the tension. "And I don't dislike children. They just—" She glanced down at the newspapers covering her kitchen floor. "—cause problems."

  "Women also cause problems. Having been married for five years, I can attest to that."

  "You're married?" The way he'd been looking at her earlier wasn't the way a married man should have been looking at her.

  "Past tense," he said and again took the chair opposite her. "I mistook Bev's green hair as a sign; thought I was supposed to help her."

  "You're saying your wife had green hair?" Considering Cody's unorthodox appearance, Bernadette could believe it.

  "It was green the day I met her. Something about the chlorine in the swimming pool and the bleach she'd used on her hair. It happened twice while we were married." He shook his head. "She made a lot of mistakes over and over. She was an alcoholic, and her going off the wagon was a repeat performance I finally couldn't handle anymore. Maybe we never learn. She's married again, still drinking—as far as I know—and I'm still a sucker for a woman with a problem."

  Bernadette hoped he didn't see her as a woman with a problem. "I'm quite capable of solving my own problems."

  "I'm sure you are." His grin said otherwise. "Of course, that's not how it looked when I first arrived here tonight."

  "I'd hardly consider getting a teaspoon of oil down a dog a major problem." Certainly not compared to other things that had gone wrong today.

  Cody looked at Mopsy, not her. "What do you think, puppy dog? Were you a major problem?"

  The moment he acknowledged Mopsy's presence, she barked and began dancing around on her hind legs. His expression registered his surprise. "That's quite a trick."

  "Actually, Mopsy's quite well trained." Not that she knew the commands for the tricks. "My sister uses her in a clown act. That's Mopsy's way of asking for attention."

  "So we're still friends?" He scooped up Mopsy, once again cradling the dog in his arms. Crooning to her, he scratched her belly.

  Bernadette sipped at her tea, listening to Cody talk to the dog. He was a strange man. Rugged looking, yet gentle acting. He definitely had a way with animals. Even she found his voice soothing. Mesmerizing.

  "You're good with dogs." And women, she was sure. "You said you were married for five years. Any children?"

  "No." He grinned her way. "Just my son, Thor, who gets into enough trouble."

  "I'll tell you one thing," she said. "I'm not leaving any more sponges around Mopsy."

  Cody nodded his agreement. "Since Thor ate part of that dish towel, I'm very careful whenever I wipe up spilled meat juices. Either I rinse everything out, or put it where he can't get to it."

  "That's what's odd." It had bothered her all afternoon. "I'm sure when I left my office I pushed my chair up to the desk so Mopsy couldn't get to the soup. The only thing I can surmise is when Ben went back for the purchase order, he moved the chair."

  "Ben?"

  "He's our resource manager at Morgan's. Besides suggesting ways to save or make money, he's great with customer complaints. We had some about a batch of sponges that wouldn't absorb liquids. That's what started all this."

  "Non-absorbent sponges aren't good."

  "Not good at all, but par for the day. Seems like now that the boss is away, everything's going wrong. Since eight o'clock this morning it's been one thing after another. Downtown, one of our EAS—electronic article surveillance—systems started going off this afternoon. Sometimes a cellular phone will set them off, but we couldn't find any reason for this. It would just go off, then start working fine, then go off again. It was crazy. And if that wasn't enough, Consumers Power shut the electricity off at the Twenty-eighth Street store for over ten minutes, and three deliveries were completely messed up for both stores. Days like this make me wonder why I'm in the business."

  "So, why are you?'

  She smiled. "The money's good."

  "Money isn't everything."

  A typical response for those who didn't have any. She had her own pat response. "Beats worrying about how to pay the bills."

  "Is that a cliché or spoken from experience?"

  Bernadette shrugged. "I can't say money's ever been a big worry in my life, but I saw how it was with the people who came to Gun Lake who had lots of money. It didn't take me long to decide I'd rather be rich than just getting by."

  "And how much are you willing to sacrifice to be rich?"

  A lift of her eyebrows expressed her surprise at the question. "If you're asking, would I do anything illegal, the answer is no."

  "Sacrificing your principals doesn't have to be illegal. When a person has to fit a mold to succeed, the price is too high."

  "Some molds have a purpose. They let a person know what to expect."

  "I remember one of my college professors telling me he never knew what to expect from me. He meant it as a put down. I took it as a compliment."

  "You went to college?" That surprised her. Or maybe it shouldn't have. She really didn't know him at all.

  "Went and dropped out."

  Bernadette nodded, her smile smug, and Cody could imagine what she was thinking. He could tell her more, but decided against it. Let her make her assumptions, right or wrong. Moving his hand from Mopsy's head, he reached for the creamer. "What about you, Bernadette Sanders? Do you have a college degree and all that?"

  "I graduated from Western Michigan University with a major in business administration. Summa Cum Laude."

  "Summa Cum Laude. I'm impressed. And let me guess. You started out managing a small store, moved on to a bigger store, then bigger." He cocked her a smile. "And in the end, where will you be?"

  "Here, if I do well. Parker wants to step aside, take only a peripheral position in the management. A year or two from now, I could be CEO and Director of Stores. Not bad for a woman just in her early thirties."

  "Not bad at all," he agreed. "But what do you do if that perfect man does come along?

  "I don't think I need to worry about that."

  "You never know."

  "Let's put it this way, it would be a surprise to me."

  "Life is full of surprises." Such as finding a woman with green on her face, a woman who aroused him. Leaning back in his chair, he grinned. "So, Ms. Sanders, when are we going out to dinner?"

  "Now, that would be a surprise." She laughed and shook her head. "I hope you don't think an invitation into my apartment meant I'd changed my mind about you. We . . . that is— Well, let's just say, I'm not interested in pursuing this any further than a thank you for your help."

  "Big mistake." He grinned. "I'm one of a kind."

  "You think so?"

  "Ever met anyone else like me?"

  "Dozens. And I found them all bores. They call themselves the Milleniums. They're narcissistic dropouts marching to their own drummer." She shook her head.

  "Ah, but I'm different from them."

  "You have a steady job? Go to work every day?"

  He grinned. "I'm working on a new project."

  "Right."

  "I keep busy."

  "Sure." She smiled knowingly, then shrugged. "Look, maybe I can help. We're going to make some changes at Morgan's. Move a couple of departments closer, redesign their layouts and change the color scheme. If you'd be interested . . ."

  She was throwing him a crumb. "You offering me this so we can be near each other?"

  "No." That idea clearly took her by surprise. "I'm offerin
g you the job so you can earn some money."

  He shook his head. "Naw, I don't think so."

  "In other words, you're happy living as you are?" She made the idea sound pathetic.

  "I march to my own drummer, remember?" Setting Mopsy down, he pushed back his chair. "I suppose, if you don't want me around, I'd better be going."

  "Well it is getting late." She also stood, all prim and proper. "I do want to thank you for your assistance with Mopsy. I'll read those books, then return them to that veterinarian. I'm sure he'll get yours back to you."

  "I'm sure he will." The ice princess was making it clear she didn't want to see him again. Not that she would. After tonight, he would be out of her life.

  But tonight . . .

  Grinning, Cody walked around the table until he was directly in front of her. "You're turning green, my dear, and I don't think it's with envy." He ran a fingertip over the line of dried clay and chemicals on her forehead, and bits of green flaked off.

  "What the—?" She stared at the traces of the masque that clung to his finger.

  "Farewell, Princess." Tilting her head back, he kissed her.

  She hadn't expected him to kiss her, so she didn't stop him. And it didn't start out as a passionate kiss. Actually, all he meant to do was irritate her.

  And why not? It irritated him that she'd judged him on outward appearances. Irritated him that he found her attractive.

  Oh yes, he only meant the kiss to be a teaser, certainly nothing more. But somewhere between the initial touching of their lips and a millisecond later, all those thoughts changed, and he was kissing her because he wanted to, because he enjoyed the small catch of her breath and the way her eyes widened.

  Sparks of awareness flashed in those eyes, points of light in a sea of blue. Sparks were flashing through him, too. Dangerous sparks that could cause real trouble.

  Jerking back, he stared at her, dumbfounded by his own stupidity. He should have known, should have suspected he was playing with fire. Before she moved, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "I can let myself out," he said and was gone.