Going All the Way (3 page)

Carrie sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes to steady herself. How was it possible that just standing next to that man could make her go weak in the knees? And that of all the people, in all the world, she would have to live next door to him?

Chapter Three

Ryan barely got any sleep. He kept going over and over everything that had happened with Carrie, both the night of the wedding and today in the park.
Carrie
. He finally knew her name. He’d thought about her
a lot since that night in the closet. And today, he hadn’t been able to stop staring at her as she chased Riley, dark curls flying in her face. Her smile wide, her eyes twinkling. Just like he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her at the wedding. Or his hands. And it wasn’t just him, the feeling had been mutual. The chemistry between them was…overwhelming. They had gone way too far, and yet not far enough. And now she was just on the other side of the wall. Way too close for him to easily forget about her, and he couldn’t afford another complication right now. He tried to push her out of his mind and instead focused on Celeste’s dog.

Riley was miserable, wandering through the house, looking for Celeste and whining. He finally jumped up onto Ryan’s bed, took up more than half of it, and made little whimpering sounds until he fell asleep. Ryan tried more than once to get the dog to sleep in his own bed, but finally gave up. He’d had no idea dogs could be so emotionally attached. He loved Celeste, but he was going to give her hell for breaking Riley’s heart like this. The dog was a mess.

In the morning, things only went from bad to worse. He put Riley, his bed, food and a huge bowl of water outside in the backyard, but the big guy just stared at him and howled, pawing the door. The desolate look in his big brown eyes was heartbreaking. He finally relented and opened the door, took out his cell, and called his sister.

“Where did you keep him all day?” Ryan asked once Celeste finally answered the phone.

“In his room,” she answered on a yawn.

“His room?”

“Yes, you need to give him his own space with his pillow, his teddy bear, and his food.”

“His teddy bear?”

Riley looked up at him, his ears perked.

“Ryan, did you not look in the bag of stuff I brought you?” Celeste asked.

“What bag?”

“That large bag by the sofa.”

Ryan looked over by the sofa, behind a stack of opened boxes where yes, there was a large bag of stuff. Riley’s stuff. He rubbed a hand down his face. “All right. I’ll give him his teddy bear, but he’s going to have to stay in the backyard while I’m at work.”

“Big mistake, brother. Riley doesn’t like it outside by himself. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Are you shitting me? How could you have raised such a pansy dog?” His patience was thinning.

Riley looked at him and whined. Loudly.

“He isn’t a pansy, he’s sensitive. And smart. And he doesn’t like it when people yell. If you put him out there, you better at least give him his bed and toys.”

“All his toys?” He stared at the bag, which looked like it was full of every kind of dog toy imaginable.

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll give it a try. Thanks, gotta go.” He hung up the phone, picked up the bag, and carried it toward the back door. “Riley, come on, boy!”

Riley didn’t come. In fact, he was nowhere to be found.

“Riley!” He dumped the bag of toys onto the patio and went back into the house looking for the dog. “You can’t hide, you’re bigger than a person! Where are you?”

He found Riley lying on his bed, looking at him with those wide eyes that said, ‘I’m not moving’. He should have known.

“Riley, I have to get to work, and you have to go outside. Come on.” He slapped his leg. “Come on, boy.” He slapped it again.

Riley still didn’t move.

Ryan didn’t want to have to do this, but the dog wasn’t giving him any choice. He walked over to the bed, picked up Riley—who immediately went limp in his arms—and carried the pathetic dog out the back door. As he set Riley down on his pillow, the dog looked up at him and howled. It was the most pitiful sound Ryan had ever heard.

“Good God. Dogs belong outside. They don’t belong in bed all day. Especially my bed,” he told him.

Riley’s eyes could soften the hardest heart. Ryan sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I tell you what. I’ll come back and check on you at lunchtime, okay? I’ll even bring you a hamburger, if you don’t tell your mommy.”

The dog dropped his head to his paws. Ryan took a deep breath, turned and went into the house. Five minutes later he was headed out the front door, muttering as he climbed into the car. He drove as fast as he could to the Steinhem offices. Only fifteen minutes late. Not too bad, considering the morning he’d had. He hated jobs that demand he be there at 8:00 am. He wasn’t one to live by a clock and he never had been. And Stu Steinhem’s 8:00 a.m. meetings were enough to put him in a coma.

“Whoa, there he is, the man of the hour,” Paul said as he walked into the room. “You’d better hurry, everyone is in the conference room and Stu’s been asking for you.”

Stu liked to torture his employees and contractors by always scheduling his meetings first thing. And no matter how many times Ryan told him it wasn’t necessary or productive, he couldn’t get the man to change his ways. He strode into the big room at the end of the hall and slipped into a chair at the long oval conference table.

“Glad you’re finally here,” Stu Steinhem, CEO, and his unforgiving client, said. “Costas wasn’t happy with the ideas we gave them last week. They want something fresh, something new and innovative. So everyone, give me what you got. It’s going to be a long day.”

Ryan pulled out the Costas file filled with ideas he’d been working on all weekend and laid it on the table. Time to get to work.

…

Carrie woke at 6:00 a.m. just as she had for the past five years, but this time she didn’t have to pop out of bed. There was nowhere she had to be. Nothing she had to do. She didn’t have to rush into the office and live on an IV drip o
f caffeine just to make it through her day. In fact, there wasn’t a Mountain Dew in the entire house. Life was good.

She’d spent hours the night before setting up her art supplies in the dining room, positioning her easel in front of the window, getting her new artist’s chair set to exactly the right height. Her black glossy bookshelf displayed all her different paints and brushes. She even had a few inspirational prints from Monet and van Gogh hanging on the wall, and a huge stack of blank canvasses awaited her. Life was
damn
good. 

Today, she was going to find her bliss.

Carrie stretched her arms above her. Rolled out of bed and walked into her kitchen to pour a tall glass of water. She quickly scrambled up some eggs with spinach, mushrooms, and sundried tomatoes. Did the dishes, and then meandered into the living room. Clicking on her soothing Hemi-Sync meditation music, she pulled out her yoga mat and laid it flat across her wooden floor and started her stretching exercises.

Meditation. Yoga. Deep breathing. These were all high on the list for relaxation. And she was determined to do it. Unfortunately, she had only gotten ten minutes into her program when she heard a strange, pitiful moaning. She listened for a moment, realized it must be that dog from next door, then picked up the remote to crank up the music and continued on. She wouldn’t be thwarted that easily. Twenty minutes later, she finished her yoga. She could check that one off her doctor-prescribed list.

A high-anxiety life had given her sleepless nights, skyrocketing stress levels, and a constant, pounding headache. Be deliberate about controlling your stress, her doctor had said, or you’ll have long-term health problems.

Next, meditation. She turned down the music, switched it to something softer, and pulled her legs into the lotus position as she started her deep breathing for morning meditation. But even as she concentrated on relaxing her muscles, clearing her mind, and finding her center, the whining started up again.

Even louder than before.

She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the music, her breathing, her visualizations, but the more she ignored it, the louder it got.

What the hell? What was Ryan doing to his poor dog? She jumped to her feet and stormed through the back of the house. She looked out the bedroom window. If she stood on the bed and looked down at just the right angle, she could see into the neighbor’s backyard. Correction, into
his
backyard.

That pitiful giant dog of his was just sitting there, head lifted up in the air, howling at nothing. She knocked on the window until he quieted enough that she got his attention. “Riley, what’s the matter?”

The dog looked up at her, caught her eye and howled even louder.

“Quiet down out there,” she called to him, but he only cried more. In fact, now that he’d seen her, he was on a rampage, barking and yapping and howling. Was he too hot? Sick? Did he have shade? Food? Water? She tried to stop worrying about what could be wrong with him and went back into the living room to finish her meditation, but how could she with all that noise?

She ran next door and knocked on the front door. “Ryan!” she called. Surely he could hear the poor thing.

No answer. Ryan wasn’t home.

She hurried back inside and called the rental agency she hoped Stu still used. “This is Ms. Steinhem. The neighbor’s dog is barking up a storm. I don’t know how to get hold of the new tenant, and I’m afraid something could be wrong with the poor thing,” she said when the property manager came on the line.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Steinhem. According to our records, your neighbor does not have a dog.”

“Well, he does now.”

“I’ll call him right away.”

“Thank you.” Carrie hung up the phone and jumped into the shower. She needed to stop worrying over the dog. Let things go, her doctor had said. If she didn’t start taking care of herself, her mind and body would pay the price.

The poor creature would be fine, she thought as she shampooed her hair and lathered her body. She would be fine. Everyone was going to be fine. But once she got out of the shower, Riley was still crying that piercing, sing-song howl. She almost laughed out loud. Who was she kidding? That dog sounded like he was dying out there. Nothing was fine. She had to do something if she was ever going to be able to work on her de-stressing plan today.

She quickly redressed and hurried around the back of Ryan’s house, opening the gate to the yard. She was just going to check on him. That was all, make sure he had shade and water. But as soon as the gate opened, Riley ran straight toward it. She froze, trying not to panic as the big dog hurled toward her. “Please don’t knock me flat and keep going,” she prayed. If he did, if he got past her and ran, then what would she do? Ryan would never forgive her, and she wouldn’t blame him. She tried to back up, to shut the gate but couldn’t get out of her own way fast enough.

Thankfully, the dog stopped in front of her, tail wagging as he nuzzled her leg. She eased further into the yard and immediately saw the pillow and big bowl of water sitting in the shade on the back deck. He was fine; there was no reason for all his theatrics.

She sighed. She was not a dog person. She wasn’t a pet person. Her family hadn’t had a dog since she was little, and after college, it just hadn’t seemed fair to keep one in an apartment. But Riley laid down in the grass by her feet, head pathetically between his paws, still whimpering. “You poor guy, are you lonely?” Animals could be lonely, too, right? “Okay. Come on, let’s go inside.”

She grabbed his collar, and he followed her around the house and through her front door. She shut it behind them then stood there inside her living room surrounded by expensive contemporary furniture and all her art supplies, wondering what she was going to do with him now. What did she know about dogs? Especially big dogs.

She didn’t have to think on it too long, because he walked over to her creamy white leather sofa and jumped up onto the cushions then stretched across the whole thing. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it when he dropped his head onto his paws and stared at her with those big, sad eyes.

“You stay right there,” she ordered.

She took a step toward the hall, stopped, looked back and wondered how she was going to get anything done.

“Stay,” she said again, gesturing with her hands and hoping he wouldn’t mess with anything. It was going be fine, she told herself again.

Who was she kidding? She’d just kidnapped the neighbor’s dog.

Chapter Four

Ryan was at his wit’s end and nothing was making Stu happy. He and the others had come up with one idea after another only to have Stu shoot them all down.

“We need something fresh. Something innovative. Something that will speak to today’s Millennial
s. Nothing on this table is that,” Stu said, repeating himself over and over and discounting all their work. Even kiss-ass Chuck was getting weary. Stu finally left the room, and they could all breathe easier again as they continued to brainstorm ideas.

It was way past lunchtime, and the way things were going, they’d probably be working through dinner, too. He had to get home to check on Riley, but there was just no way.

“We’re ordering Indian, what do you want?” Chuck asked.

Before he could respond, his phone rang. He looked down at the display and frowned. “I have to take this.” He got up and walked out the door. Once in the hall, he answered. “Hello.”

“Mr. Burton?”

“Yes?”

“This is Ms. Daniels from the Homestead Property Management Association.”

His gut tightened. “Yes?”

“We’ve gotten a complaint from the neighbor about your dog.”

“Did you?” Carrie had complained about him. The thought bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, and according to our rental agreement you don’t have a dog.”

“I don’t,” he assured her. “I’m dog-sitting for my sister.”

“Be that as it may, your dog is making quite the ruckus.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m in the middle of a big project at work. We’re having to work through lunch. I can’t get there.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Burton, but your neighbor is clearly upset. You need to go home and quiet the dog.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll take care of it right now.”

“We’d appreciate that. And if the dog is going to be staying with you for an extended length of time, we will need you to make a pet deposit.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not a problem. He won’t be there long.”

“Good day, Mr. Burton.”

He disconnected the line and swore as he paced the hallway, steeling himself for the onslaught of complaints before he walked back into the office. “I have to go home and take care of my dog. Apparently there’s been some kind of problem.”

“What? No!” Chuck exploded.

“You can’t,” Paul chimed in.

“If Stu finds out, you’re toast,” Frank added with a grin. Ryan had the feeling Frank would like that.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour.” Besides, he was the one hired to fix the company’s slow decline. He could afford to take a lunch.

“And what are we supposed to tell Stu?” Chuck asked, his mouth pursing.

“Tell him I had an emergency.”

“This is never going to work,” Paul muttered.

“Forty-five minutes. I promise.” Ryan ran out the door. What was wrong with Carrie anyway? Couldn’t she handle a little noise from a dog? He raced home, breaking every traffic law known to man, and twenty minutes later, peeled into his driveway.

He ran into his house and through it, into the kitchen and toward the backyard. He didn’t hear anything—no barking or howling. He opened the sliding door, but Riley wasn’t sitting there waiting for him. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Ryan’s heart lurched into his throat. “Riley!” he called, and then he saw the gate standing wide open.

“Holy shit!”

He ran into the backyard, out the gate and around the front of the house, but didn’t see Riley anywhere. He wasn’t sitting on his front stoop, sniffing the neighbor’s bushes, or even running in the park across the street. Ryan stood in his empty front yard and called Riley again, his hand grasping the back of his neck as he looked up and down the road, trying to stave off his growing panic. What was he going to tell Celeste? She was never going to forgive him.

“Ryan?”

He turned and saw Carrie standing on her porch. “Have you seen my dog?”

“Yes, he’
s in here.
”

Relief sucker-punched him as he hurried up her stairs and through her front door.

Riley was stretched out on her sofa staring up at him, his head peeking out of a big fluffy blanket. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Ryan turned to her, but before he could comment he noticed a big bowl of milk on the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? I didn’t know what to do for him. It’s hot out and he was crying because you left him all alone. What were you thinking?”

Okay, she had him there. He started to say something but took one look at her tight lips and the outrage darkening her eyes and started to laugh.

“What is so funny?” she asked, looking more annoyed by the second.

“So you gave him a bowl of milk? Let me guess, did you heat it up for him, too?” Clearly she was just as clueless with dogs as he was, so he could hardly blame her.

Carrie crossed her arms. “He’s had a very traumatic day, and now I’m beginning to have one, too.”

His laughter died, and he took a step toward her. “I’m sorry. I appreciate all your help with Riley.”

“Uh huh.” She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, doubt written all over her expression.

“I do. More than you know.”

“I hope so, because I can assure you taking care of big furry babies is not on my resume.”

He stared at her expressive eyes and captivating mouth. Suddenly, he couldn’t help wondering what
was
on her resume. What made this woman tick?

“So what are the chances that you and I could…” He saw the skepticism harden her gaze and quickly amended what he had been about to say. “Catch a drink sometime. A cup of coffee? Dinner?” As soon as the word dinner slipped out of his mouth he wished he could pull it back in. A drink was one thing; dinner implied something more than he wanted to give. Dinner meant date, and he didn’t date. But that didn’t mean they could have a nice,
casual
, no-strings-attached drink.

“
I don
’t know.” She shook her head. “I need time to settle in, catch my bearings.”

He looked around at her house, at the plush throw rugs and glass tables that highlighted a black and white décor. She already looked pretty settled. Especially compared to his place, which still had boxes scattered through every room.

“What happened the other night—” she hesitated.

Was incredible
. He opened his mouth to say it, but she continued: “Never should have happened.”

He looked into her captivating brown eyes and felt his chest tighten. Maybe that night was reckless, but it was also exciting. She was exciting. When he came back to the closet with his prize in hand only to find her gone, the blow had almost been physical. He hadn’t wanted the night to end, and if he had his way, they’d soon get to try again. “I’m not sorry it did,” he said, and took a small step toward her.

Just then, Riley jumped off the sofa and knocked over a basket of paints. It rolled across the floor, spilling little pots and tubes everywhere.

“Oh, no.” Carrie scrambled over and picked up the jars.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m getting my shorts chewed at work, is there any chance you can keep Riley for the rest of the day?”

“Keep him?” A look of mild horror crossed her face.

“Yes, he obviously loves you. He’s real easy, and you’ll be great. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I suppose. I guess. I don’t—”

He stepped forward and kissed her cheek, lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary. For a brief second he wanted to kiss her again, to grab her in his arms and taste those very inviting lips. He restrained himself. “
Thanks,
” he said with a slight catch to his voice. “You’re a life saver.”

She opened her mouth in protest, but he turned and hurried out the door before he changed his mind and swept her into the bedroom. Roses, he thought. She was saving his life by keeping Riley, more than she even knew. He’d have to bring her roses.

…

Carrie stared after Ryan as he ran out the door.

Did that just happen? She brought her fingertips to her cheek, which was still tingling. How was it possible that she stood there speechless and let this man leave without taking his dog just because of a kiss—a silly little kiss on her
cheek? A kiss that had her heart hammering and her stomach fluttering? She collapsed onto the sofa. Obviously something was wrong with her. Not only did he get her hormones surging, but he rendered her speechless, and apparently brainless, too. And why was it so hot in here? She checked the thermostat on the wall. 69 degrees. Maybe she was coming down with something. That had to be it.

She walked into the kitchen and pulled down her vitamins, taking an extra multi and a vitamin C. Riley was looking at her. “What? One can never be too careful.”

He barked.

“I’ll take that as an agreement.” She walked into her office, stared at the boxes of her books and papers, at the computer still in parts on the floor, at the tangle of cords—and she turned and walked back out. She wouldn’t deal with that today. She would not check her emails. She would not think about working. She would paint. That’s what she had planned to do, and just because she had a visitor, she shouldn’t let herself become sidetracked.

She walked back into the living room, picked up her easel, and sat before a blank canvas. She opened a jar of blue paint and stuck her brush in it, lathering it across the sheet She opened another jar, this one grey, and after a couple of hours an image of the ocean started to take shape and she felt better.

“Pretty color, isn’t it?” she asked the dog, who was lying on the floor and watching her with one eye open. “In fact, it almost looks to be the same blue-gray shade of your daddy’s eyes.”

She froze. Then she dropped the brush and stood. She squinted at it from a distance, then looked back at the dog, and then back at the canvas again.

What was it about this man? Not only did he manage to escape without getting holy hell for abandoning his dog, but then he’d left the poor thing with her for the rest of the day. And not only had she let him, but now he was filling her thoughts even when he wasn’t present. She pulled the canvas down off the easel and replaced it with a new one. She would paint something different. Later. “I need ice cream,” she announced.

Riley jumped to his feet, tail wagging. She smiled at him. “Are you telling me you want some too?”

He barked and did a little excited dance, then caught sight of his tail and chased it for a moment before running straight at her.

“Whoa, boy.” She grinned and held out her hand to keep him from jumping on her, but he kept all four feet on the ground. He was a good boy. It was just going to take her a little while to get used to having a dog around.

What was she thinking? No, it wouldn’t. This was a one-time deal. Obviously Ryan was a smooth operator, and she was much more attracted to him than she thought. Either that or she was completely sex-starved. She would regain control over her life. And she would start with her new neighbor. When he came home tonight, she’d hand over Riley, give him a piece of her mind for abandoning the poor guy, and then she could finally get back to finding her bliss. And her bliss did
not
involve him.