Эротические рассказы

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best interests, why not?”

      “See? See? That’s why I hate lawyers. You twist everything around till you can make it work for you. In this case, me taking care of Cecil. Covering your ass so you can make Brownie points with your boss. No dice, Counselor.”

      The lawyer shifted from one foot to the other. “Let me put this another way, Ms. Lowell. I know nothing about dogs. I’m not even sure I like dogs. I work sixty, sometimes seventy hours a week. That’s what new lawyers do. I have to go home at lunchtime and take him out. I don’t get home till late. It’s no life for a dog. You’ve got the perfect setup here. Never lose sight of the fact that I was assigned this gig. Cecil is happy. Isn’t he?” Bannerman asked anxiously.

      Olivia could feel hot tears start to prick her eyelids. “Of course he’s happy,” she said in a choked voice. “That’s why I hate it that you have to take him. My dog Alice loves him. Bea and Loopy love him. They all bonded instantly.”

      The man standing in front of her sat down. “Look, under other circumstances, I think I could be a real animal lover. I just don’t have the time right now. Help me out here, Ms. Lowell.”

      Olivia then made the mistake of sitting down, her gaze going to the pile of printed pages on the coffee table. She turned, her eyes full of unshed tears. “Say it, damn you. Just have the guts to say you don’t want the dog, you’re rejecting him because…because you have things to do and places to go, and a dog doesn’t fit into your schedule—after you agreed, for a generous stipend, to care for him. You know what? That’s what my mother did. Now take your dog, and get the hell out of my house. Now, damn you!”

      Bannerman reared back, then jerked forward. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Okay, okay. Which one?”

      Deep, gut-wrenching sobs ripped from Olivia’s throat. It was all the little herd of dogs needed. They attacked in full force, clawing, snapping, biting, and sniping until Bannerman shouted at the top of his lungs. “Enough! Sit! That means you, too, Olivia!”

      Olivia, her vision blurred by tears, picked up the crystal candy dish that held her baby bracelet and heaved it at the lawyer before she turned around and marched out of the room. “Take your dog and go!”

      The four dogs defied him to get up. Bannerman knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He sighed, removed his jacket, and stretched out on the sofa, but not before he picked up the crystal candy dish, which miraculously had not broken, and the baby bracelet. He clutched it in his hand. He slept that way, his fist curled into a tight ball under the pillow. He’d think about all this in the morning.

      He really would.

      The last thing he saw was four pairs of eyes watching his every move as he drifted into sleep.

      Chapter 7

      Olivia woke and knew instantly that it was still dark outside. She rolled over so she could see the digital clock on her nightstand—5:30. Where were the dogs? Alice and Cecil liked to sleep on the bed. Maybe it was too cold in the bedroom. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathroom and her robe. Then she remembered what had happened before she had fallen into a tearful sleep. She raced down the hall, skidding to a stop when she saw Jeff Bannerman sitting up on the couch.

      “Well, good morning, Ms. Lowell,” he snarled. “I really have to go to the bathroom, so I’d appreciate it if you’d call off these hounds and point me in the right direction.”

      Hounds. She didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought I told you to leave last night. I’m not doing you any favors, Jeff Bannerman.”

      “What? You’re just going to let me sit here until I—? Well, lady, it’s your couch!”

      Olivia’s eyes widened at the implication. “Come on, guys, let’s go into the kitchen. Ohhh,” she trilled to the dogs as she looked out the window, “it’s snowing again. I just love snow.” While the water dripped in the coffeemaker, she slapped bacon into a fry pan and cracked eggs into a bowl. Normally, Olivia didn’t eat more than a bagel or muffin for breakfast, but on weekends she made it a point to have either scrambled eggs or pancakes. When she was growing up, her father had served skimpy breakfasts during the school week but always managed a super, colossal breakfast on weekends, and she continued the tradition. Weekend mornings were a special time to eat slowly while reading the newspapers.

      As she turned the bacon, Olivia pondered her day. If it continued snowing, and it looked like it might, maybe she’d stay in, make some chicken soup and even a cake. She did have a sweet tooth. Maybe she’d use her father’s secret recipe—triple chocolate mousse cake. The one he’d entered into her eighth-grade bake-off for parents. He’d come in seventh out of eighty-eight entries. When they called his name for honorable mention, they called him Denise instead of Dennis. Her father had laughed, and she’d cried. The only father in the bakeoff.

      The dogs barked to be let in. She obliged, then dried them all off with a towel from the dryer. She looked up to see Jeff watching her. She wished she knew what he was thinking. “Why are you doing that?” His voice sounded curious.

      “So they don’t get sick. Dogs get sick just like humans. It’s wet and cold out there. Dogs like to be warm. Watch this bacon, and don’t let it burn while I replenish the fire. They like to lie by the fire and chew on their treats.”

      “Oh.”

      Olivia wondered if Bannerman was this articulate in the courtroom. She built up the fire, handed out dog chews, and returned to the kitchen, surprised to find the table set.

      “Let me cook,” he said. “I know how. My mother made all of us boys learn early. She taught us to do our own laundry and how to clean house. I have five brothers.”

      Well, that was certainly more than she needed to know. Olivia just looked at him as he rummaged for a clean fry pan, greased it, then dropped the whisked eggs into it.

      “They all live in Pennsylvania. On a farm. In a town called Ebensburg. They raise corn and alfalfa.”

      That was definitely more than she needed to know.

      “Two of my brothers are dentists. They have a partnership. One brother is a thoracic surgeon, Jack is an architect, and Kirk farms with Dad. I’m the only lawyer. Think about it,” he babbled. “I get a lifetime of free dental care. I have the best teeth in the family. No cavities, no veneers, no bridges. And I still have my wisdom teeth, but they have to come out. Jack is drawing up plans for a house for me. It’s going to be a work of art. I just have to come up with the money to build it. If I ever need a thoracic surgeon, I just have to call my brother. I get corn on the cob and other vegetables free all summer long.”

      “And I need to know this…why? I don’t remember inviting you for breakfast.”

      Jeff whirled around. He was still wearing the baseball cap. He shrugged. “You seem to have an unfavorable opinion of me, like the dog. I’m really a nice guy. You can even ask my mother.” At the murderous look in his host’s eyes, Jeff cut off whatever else he was going to say. He scrambled the eggs and pressed the plunger on the toaster at the same time. “I invited myself. I’m starved. I can pay you for it if money is the issue.”

      Olivia waved her hands in frustration. She felt like crying and wasn’t sure why. She looked down at the plate he put in front of her. The bacon was just right, extra crispy, not a speck of grease anywhere. The eggs were fluffy and golden. The toast expertly buttered, not too much, just right. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

      “My pleasure. I’m sorry if I said something…Obviously, I hit a tender spot somewhere along the way. Does it have anything to do with this?” he said, withdrawing the baby bracelet from his pocket. “When you pitched that bowl at me last night, it fell out. I picked it up.” He slid the little bracelet across the table. Olivia made no move to pick it up but couldn’t take her eyes off it.

      Olivia licked her lips. She nodded. “It has everything to do with my…attitude. I guess I should apologize. I said ‘guess,’ and that doesn’t mean


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