Diamond in the Ruff (Matchmaking Mamas Book 13) (13 page)

“Point taken,” he allowed, “but this—” he gestured around “—is a lot more than just having a pet take up a little space.”

“Potato, po
ta
to.” She sniffed. “Those are my terms, take them or leave them.”

He didn’t quite comprehend the connection and said as much. “Not quite sure what you’re getting at, but all right,” he agreed, knowing when to surrender and when to dig in and fight. This was not the time for the latter. “I guess I could stand the help.”

Lily smiled her approval at him. “Good, because I was going to help you whether you wanted me to or not,” she told him.

“And just how were you going to do that?” Christopher asked, curious. “You don’t know where anything goes.”

“Granted,” she allowed. “But I’m good at making educated guesses, and besides, I’m pretty sure you’d break down eventually and tell me.”

“Can we eat first?” Christopher suggested, nodding at the pizza box, which was now on the coffee table, awaiting their pleasure. “After all, the boxes aren’t going anywhere.”

“True, but they also aren’t going to unpack themselves,” Lily countered.

“How about a compromise?” he asked.

Lily had always believed in compromise. And, in any event, she didn’t want the man thinking she was some sort of a fanatic who picked up all the marbles and went home if she couldn’t have her way.

“Go ahead,” she urged, “I’m listening.”

“We each have a slice first,
then
we get started,” he suggested, shifting the box so that it seemed closer to her. “I don’t know about you, but I had a nonstop day and I’m starving. If I don’t eat something soon, I’m not going to have enough energy to
open
a box, much less put whatever’s in the box away.”

That just about described her day as well, she thought. But before she could say as much, or agree with him, her stomach rumbled, as if to remind her that it was running on empty. She’d worked through lunch, grabbing a handful of cherry tomatoes to try to appease her hunger. Cherry tomatoes only went so far.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Christopher concluded with a satisfied grin. To cinch his argument, he raised the lid on the pizza box and inhaled deeply. The aroma was damn near seductive. “Right now, that smells almost as good to me as your pastries did the other day.”

“Okay, one slice apiece and then we work. If you point me in the right direction, I’ll get a couple of plates and napkins,” she offered.

Christopher laughed. “Thanks, but it would probably take me more time to explain where to find them than it would take for me to get them myself.” He began to cross to the kitchen, then abruptly stopped as one of the dogs sashayed around him. “Guard the pizza,” he told Lily. “And look fierce,” he added. “If either Leopold or Max detect the slightest weakness, they’ll tag team you and get that box away from you before you even know what’s going on.”

She looked at him, utterly stunned. “Tag team?” Lily repeated. “You mean like in wrestling?”

That seemed rather unbelievable to her. After all, Christopher was talking about dogs, and while this was still pretty unfamiliar territory to her, she wasn’t about to endow four-footed animals with a humanlike thought process.

He had to be pulling her leg.

But Christopher seemed dead serious. “Exactly like in wrestling.” He looked rather surprised and then pleased that she was familiar with the term he’d used. “Don’t let those faces fool you. They’re a cunning duo.”

“Apparently,” she murmured.

She wasn’t sure if she believed Christopher, but she focused her attention on the two Great Danes just to be on the safe side.

Meanwhile, Jonathan had gotten tired trying to get the best of the two older, larger dogs and had fallen back on the familiar. He had plopped down at her feet where he remained, lying there like a panting rug. He continued to stay there even after Christopher returned with a handful of napkins as well as a couple of plates.

The second Christopher offered her the first slice, Leopold and Max both raised their heads, their interests completely engaged.

“Down, boys,” Christopher ordered. “You’re not being polite to our guest.” When the two dogs continued to stare at Lily’s plate and drool, he said the command a second time, this time with more force.

Moving as one, the two Great Danes dropped their heads, sank down on the floor simultaneously and stretched out. Within seconds, their eyelids had drooped—along with their heads.

She could have sworn the two dogs had instantaneously fallen asleep.

Chapter Twelve

S
he stared at the two Great Danes for another few seconds. The sound of even breathing was evident. They really
were
asleep, she marveled.

“Nice trick,” she said to Christopher, greatly impressed by the way his pets had responded to him. He had a gift, no two ways about it, she thought.

“Training,” he corrected.

Lily supposed it was all in the way someone looked at it. But he did have a point. She could see how there would be no living with animals as large as these two dogs were if he hadn’t succeeded in rigorously training them to respond to his commands.

“That, too,” she allowed.

“Want another one?” he asked her.

Lily turned around to face him. She wasn’t sure what the veterinarian was referring to. “Training trick?” she asked uncertainly.

He laughed. “No, pizza slice.” He moved the opened box closer to her side of the coffee table. “You finished the slice I gave you, but there’s still three quarters of a box to go.”

“No, thank you, not right now.” She had more than enough room for another slice, but she really wanted to make at least a slight dent in this box city that was invading his house. The aroma from the pizza teased her senses. She would have given in if she’d been less disciplined. “Although I can see the attraction,” she admitted.

Christopher’s eyes skimmed over her a little slower than they might have. “Yes, me, too.”

Her mouth curved, silently accepting the compliment he was giving her. “I’m talking about the pizza,” she told him pointedly.

“I know. Me, too,” he replied whimsically. He still wasn’t looking at the slices inside the pizza box.

Lily felt herself growing warmer, her mind filling with thoughts that had nothing to do with restoring order to his house, or eating pizza, or training unruly puppies. The way he watched her made her feel desirable; moreover, it made her imagination take flight.

Right, because you’re so irresistible, just like veritable catnip to the man,
the little voice in her head mocked.

Straighten up and fly right,
she silently lectured. Out loud, she laid out terms that she felt would satisfy both of them.

“We can both have another slice after we each unpack two boxes,” she told him. When he gave her a rather amused, dubious look, she amended her terms. “Okay, one box for you, two for me.” Then, in case he thought she was saying she was faster than he was, she explained, “I’ve had practice at packing and unpacking.”

He got started opening the large box next to the sofa. “You moved around often?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. The house she lived in was the house she’d been born in. “Not even once.”

For a second, he seemed slightly lost. “Then why—?”

“—did I say I’ve had practice?” She filled in the rest of his question and continued, “Because I have. I pack pastries before they’re transported to their destination and once they get there, I have to unpack them, making sure that they make it to the table in perfect condition, the way the customer expected when they paid the catering bill. Making sure the pastries are displayed to their best advantage requires a delicate touch,” she pointed out. “There’s nothing worse-looking than a squashed or lopsided pastry or cake at a party.”

“If they taste anywhere near as good as what I’ve sampled from your oven so far, I’d be willing to scrape them off the inside of a cardboard box just to be able to eat them.”

She laughed. “That’s very nice of you, but it doesn’t change my point, which is that I can unpack things quickly, whereupon it looks as if you’re willing to latch on to any excuse, any port in a storm no matter how flimsy it might be, just as long as you don’t have to tackle what’s inside those boxes.”

“Busted,” Christopher freely admitted, then in his defense, he added, “I’m pretty much the same way about groceries, which is why I don’t have any and I’m on a first-name basis with a lot of take-out places around here.”

Pushing up her sleeves, Lily turned her attention to the closest large carton. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a procrastinator.”

On the contrary, she would have said that he seemed like the type that tackled whatever was in front of him rather than putting it off till another time. Looks could be deceptive.

His were also very distracting, she couldn’t help noticing.

“I guess that makes me a man of mystery—someone you
can’t
read like an open book,” he said, amusement highlighting his face.

“What that makes you,” she corrected, “is a man who needs to be prodded. Now, do you have a utility knife—or if you don’t, just a plain knife will do,” she told him. She’d tried pulling the carton apart and the top just wouldn’t give. “I just need something I can open the boxes with. If I keep trying to do it with my bare hands, I’m going to wind up breaking off all my nails in the process.”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” he told her, going back to the kitchen to get a knife out of one of the drawers.

When he gave it to her, hilt first, she nodded toward the utensils that were in the drawer. “So you did put some things away.”

He glanced over his shoulder, back at the drawer, which hadn’t closed properly and had subsequently rolled back open again. He crossed to it to reclose it.

“Much as I’d like to take the credit,” he answered, “no, I didn’t.”

“The drawer’s full, and from what I could see those were all utensils in it. In other words, it’s not just a junk drawer that you tossed things into as you came cross them. That’s organization.”

“No,” he corrected, “that’s my mother. Those were her utensils. After she died, I just couldn’t get myself to throw any of her things away.”

Not to mention the fact that hers had been a better quality than the ones he’d picked up when he’d lived off campus while attending school back East. When things had blown up on him so suddenly with Irene, he’d just told the movers to throw everything into boxes and move the lot to his mother’s house in California.

She understood where he was coming from. But right now, the issue was a practical one of two things not being able to occupy the same space.

“There are always charities you can donate things to,” she told him gently.

Christopher nodded. He knew she was right. “Soon—but not yet.”

Lily didn’t want him to think she was being insensitive—or pushy, especially not in this instance. “Actually, I understand exactly how you feel. When my mother passed away, I couldn’t get myself to give anything of hers away, either. But after a while, I decided I was being selfish. My mother had a lot of nice things that still had a lot of life left in them. There were women out there who were—and are—needy, who could use one nice pair of shoes, or one nice dress, to lift their spirits, to maybe even turn them around and start them back toward a positive feeling of self-worth.”

Lily went on talking as she methodically emptied the first box, arranging its contents on the coffee table and the floor next to it.

“My mother was the type that liked helping people, even when she barely had anything herself. I know she would have wanted me to give her things away, so I picked a few special things to keep, things that really reminded me of her, and then I distributed the rest between a handful of charities. But it took me a long time before I could do that,” she emphasized. “So I really do understand exactly what you’re feeling.”

Lily was coming to the bottom of the box and she felt that she had to comment on what she’d found while unpacking.

“You know, for a man who doesn’t like to unpack, you certainly pack well.”

Christopher thought of letting her comment go and just accepting it as a compliment. But not saying anything was practically like lying—or at least allowing a lie to be established. He couldn’t do that, seeing as how she was really putting herself out for him—as well as the fact that he was giving serious thought to having a relationship with this unique woman.

“Not me,” he told her. She looked at him in surprise. “It was the movers I hired, they did the packing for me. Unfortunately, while they obviously could pack extremely efficiently, they couldn’t be bribed to unpack once they reached their destination.”

“You actually tried to bribe them?” she asked, trying not to laugh at him.

“No,” he admitted, “but looking back, I should have. I honestly didn’t think that I would be putting it off as long as I have. But each day I found a reason not to get started—and Leopold and Max didn’t seem to mind,” he added, spreading the blame around. “I actually think they kind of like having all these boxes scattered throughout the house. For them it’s like having their own private jungle gym.”

This time she did laugh. “No offense, but I don’t think dogs care about a jungle gym. In any case, even if they do, they’re going to have to adjust,” she informed him.

For the time being, she set the now-empty box to one side. She intended to break the carton down for easier transport and recycling later.

Christopher looked at her a little uncertainly. “Are you telling me that you intend to stay here until all these boxes are unpacked and taken apart?”

She couldn’t tell if he was just surprised—or if the idea of her being here like that put him off. “No—but I do intend to keep coming back until they are.”

Curiosity got the better of him. None of his old friends from high school had ever volunteered to help him conquer this cardboard kingdom of his. “Why would you do that?”

There was no hesitation on her part. “Call it repaying one favor with another—besides, my mother taught me to never leave something half-done. The job’s done when the job’s done,” she told the veterinarian, reciting an old axiom.

She’d amused him—again. “That sounds like something out of Yogi Berra’s playbook,” he said, referring to the famous Yankees catcher.

The smile she gave him told Christopher that she was familiar with baseball history. Something else they had in common, he couldn’t help thinking.

“Wise man, Yogi Berra,” Lily commented with a smile as she went back to work.

* * *

By the end of the evening, they had managed to unpack a total of five boxes and they had put away the contents of three of them—not to mention all but polishing off the pizza he had ordered. There were only two slices left, which Christopher earmarked for his breakfast for the following morning.

Tired, Lily rotated her shoulders to loosen them a little.

“Well, I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” she told Christopher, “so I’d better be going home.”

He wanted to ask her to stay a little longer. Not to unpack, but just to talk.

Just to
be.

He found that he liked Lily’s company, liked her sense of humor and her determination, as well. Liked, too, the way her presence seemed to fill up his house far more than the towering boxes she had them tackling ever had.

But asking her to stay when she had to be up early would be selfish of him. So he let the moment pass—except to voice his thanks for her help as he walked her and Jonathan to the door.

“You know, this has to be one of the most unique evenings I’ve ever spent,” he confessed, then added, “I enjoyed it.”

The dimpled smile on his face seemed to work its way into every single nook and corner of her being. Lily returned his smile and replied, “So did I.”

He wanted to be sure that, despite what she’d said, having her work like this, putting his things away, wasn’t going to ultimately scare her off. So he asked, “And you’ll be dropping Jonny off at the animal hospital tomorrow?”

She wanted to, but there was a problem. “I’ve got to be at work at seven,” she told him, knowing the clinic opened at eight.

If she needed to leave the dog at seven, then he was going to be there at seven. He found himself
wanting
to be there for her. “Funny, so do I.”

“No, you don’t,” she countered, seeing through his lie. She didn’t want to put him out and he’d already been so helpful to her.

He pretended to narrow his eyes, giving her a reproving look. “It’s not nice to call your pet’s doctor a liar.”

Her heart felt as if it was under assault. Her mouth curved again as she shook her head. “I’m not calling you a liar—” Then, whimsically, she made a suggestion. “How about a stretcher of truth?”

“I’ll take that under consideration,” he told her. His tone changed as he told her fondly, “Now go home and get some sleep.”

That was the plan. Whether or not it worked was going to be another story, she thought, looking at Christopher. “Thanks for the pizza.”

“Thanks for the help,” he countered. “And for the kick in the pants.”

That sounded so callous when he said it that way. “I didn’t kick, I prodded,” she amended politely.

He laughed as he inclined his head, playing along. “I stand corrected.” Reaching the door, he paused, his brain engaged in a verbal tennis match. He decided to leave the decision up to her—sort of.

“Lily—”

There was something in his voice that put her on alert. “Yes?”

His eyes held hers for a full moment before Christopher put his question to her. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

This time, the smile she offered began in her eyes. “Actually,” Lily admitted, “I think I’d mind if you didn’t.”

“I definitely wouldn’t want that,” Christopher confessed as he framed her face with his hands. The next moment he brought his lips down to hers.

It began lightly, politely, but almost instantly took on a life and breadth of its own, escalating quickly. Along with that escalation, it brought with it a whole host of emotions.

She didn’t quite recall wrapping her arms around Christopher’s neck, didn’t remember, once anchored to him this way, tilting her body into his. What she did remember was the wild burst of energy that seemed to spring out of nowhere and wrapped itself around her tightly for the duration of that intense kiss.

Lily’s mouth tasted of every forbidden fruit he’d ever fantasized about. It made him want more.

Made him want her.

He struggled to hold himself in check, to only go so far and no further. It was far from easy, but he was not about to pay this woman back for her help, for her providing him with his first decent evening since his breakup with Irene, for giving him his first shot at feeling
human
since Irene had taken a two-by-four to his life—and his pride—he was not going to pay her back for all that by overpowering Lily and forcing himself on her.