And she had a dog, he realized to his surprise, as the huge canine raced from the house to greet her. From where he was, he could see her reaction, the way she greeted the mutt with arms wide open and did not seem to mind that the animal was shedding an inch of hairs on her clothing.
Most of the women he had been with would never deign to give an animal that much liberty. Having a dog to them was a status symbol and the animal had to be of the purest pedigree. Something tiny to tuck under their arms while shopping, ones they never walked themselves but in fact hired dog sitters to do the job.
He waited until she had entered the house before bridging the distance. When he got to the gate, he waited a few more minutes, telling himself that he was giving her time to settle.
Parking the vehicle, he reached for the package and opened the door. Taking a deep breath, he strolled up the driveway and onto the front porch. The sound of frenzied barking blasted from the inside even before he raised the old-fashioned knocker in the shape of a frog.
"Galahad, calm down. Sit!"
"Hi." His smile was warm and intimate as she opened the door.
"Hi." She stared at him with a frown and did not look at all pleased that he was there.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you." His gaze switched from her enchanting face to the dog who had nosed his way between them. Hunkering down, Dean greeted the animal, using his free hand to slide up and down the thick fur. To his delight, the dog sniffed him warily and then let out a series of happy barks, signaling that he was accepted.
"He's huge."
"Part German Shepherd and part Great Dane. He's going to want you to--" Before the rest of the words were out of her mouth, he had dropped down and rolled over, exposing his belly. Dean accommodated him, running his hand up and down theunderbelly and sending the animal into a frenzy of love and adoration.
With a sigh, Catherine stepped back and snapped her fingers. "Enough, Galahad. Go play with your chew toy." The animal obeyed instantly and raced away. "You might as well come in."
Ignoring the less than gracious invitation, he walked in behind her and closed the door.
Leading the way into the tiny living room, Catherine stood near the worn leather sofa she had been occupying when she heard the knock, surrounded by colored cartridge papers, crayons, pens, and pencils.
"I've interrupted your work." Putting the package carefully on the table beside him, he turned to look at her. She had loosened the coils, and they were tumbling around her face and down her back. She had also removed her shoes and jacket. The poppy red dress was sleeveless and reached just above her knees.
He also noticed the big gold hoops on the table next to the stuff she was working on.
"Yes, you did." She eyed him candidly. "What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood?" His devastating smile had zero effect on her, so he tried again.
"I brought you a present."
"How did you find me?"
"I did my research." He pointed to the box and had her coming closer, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"What is it?"
"Why don't you open it and find out?" he suggested.
She smelled like an exotic fruit, the scent sweet and elusive.
Catherine opened the box carefully to discover that there were several yards of pale pink tissue wrappings. Wading through it, she stared at the sculpture she had rhapsodized over at the gallery just a week ago, now right here in her tiny living room. Lifting her gaze, she stared at him with rounded eyes.
"I cannot accept this." Even though she was saying it, refusing the gift, she could not help herself. She touched the delicate glassthat was so transparent, she could see her fingers through it. "Why would you--"
"You liked it."
"Oh, but--" Lifting the piece carefully, she studied it, her lips parted in obvious delight. "No." Shaking her head, she put it carefully back inside its casing. "There's no way. I know what this thing costs and I cannot--" She could not stop touching it and was unaware of the wistful and hopeful expression on her face. "You have to take it back."
"I'm afraid I can't."
Her eyes lifted to his and she frowned. "Why not?"
"Half of the proceeds will be going to a charity. A women's shelter." He hoped to Christ he would not be caught out in the lie. He had heard Jackson say something to that effect about some of the proceeds going to some charity or other but had not paid much attention to any of it. Before now, that had never concerned him. He also hoped that she would not ask him for the name of the particular women's shelter. He would definitely be doomed.