Dying for Love

Her eyes narrowed and cooled. Well, shit. Grace’s fondness for the dog must extend to the owner.

“He’s very gentle and not at all demanding. I’m sure he’d be content to sit at home with her. He was doing exactly that before I moved in and he never appeared unhappy or neglected.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply anything bad about the dog or the lady.”

She nodded. In his experience, women pouted, whined and gave him the cold shoulder. They did not, ever, forgive after a simple apology.

Grace sat and patted the ground. “Pull up a section of grass.”

Only a fool would turn down an invitation to sit in the sunshine with a beautiful woman. He parked his butt.

“You look different than you do at work.” He bit off a groan. Freakin’ brilliant observation, Sherlock.

Grace laughed. “So do you.”

She was watching some kids play across the park, leaving him to admire her profile. Desire thickened his cock and tongue. He shifted, focusing beyond the physical to tamp down his arousal. Like her funny, quirky personality, the impish mischievousness he sometimes saw in her eyes and her unfailing honesty—even when it didn’t flatter her.

“So…” Matt searched for a conversational gambit to save his ass. “If you like dogs so much, why don’t you get one of your own?”

She shrugged. “I work a lot and live in a condo with no yard, none of which sounds like the ideal life for a dog.”

As much as he wanted to show up on her doorstep tomorrow with a puppy—and what the hell was that about?—her reasoning was sound. Since he couldn’t exactly buy her a house, he tossed about for another topic. Something that didn’t involve the sudden onset of a rapidly deteriorating mental state—his.

“Did you call the police?” He hadn’t seen her at work to ask. Not wanting to come off as stalkerish, he hadn’t sought her out either.

She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“They brushed the whole thing off as some sort of prank. No damage done.” She glanced at him, then away again just as quickly. “Thank you for your help, though. It was sweet of you to be so concerned.”

Mouth pulled tight, he straightened. “The police did nothing?”

“They took a report, patted me on the head and left.” Grace plucked blades of grass, looking vulnerable as hell until she glanced up and grinned. “Just like I said they would.”

Despite the annoyance riding him hard over the police, he couldn’t resist her smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

Matt froze, a dozen unpleasant scenarios running through his mind. “Sure.”

“The other day at work, you seemed off. What was wrong?”

Damn. Not as bad as he’d feared, but the last thing he wanted was to come across as a momma’s boy. Still, he couldn’t lie. Not to her. “My mom has breast cancer.”

“Oh, Matt.”

Her slender fingers brushed down his arm and settled on top of his hand. His work-roughened hands, thanks to time spent on job sites instead of sitting in the office. Her hands were baby-soft and pale. The contrast enhanced her femininity. Made him feel like a pheasant begging for the fair maiden. He grimaced. Yeah, he’d officially lost his mind.

“That’s awful. I lost my foster mom to breast cancer several years ago. They’re able to detect cancer so early, though. With treatment, your mom has excellent chances for recovery.”

He blinked away a sheen of moisture and cleared his throat. The depth of her sympathy disarmed him. “I’m sorry about your foster mom. I sincerely hope you’re right. My mom just remarried a few months ago. My stepdad will be devastated if anything happens to her.”

“So will you.”

“Yeah.”

Grace wove her fingers through his and squeezed. He didn’t want to think about his mom dying a slow, miserable death. Life pulsed and flowed around him, drawing him out of the gray pallor that clung to him every time he thought about his mom’s illness.

With a final squeeze, Grace released his hand. He immediately missed the contact. Apollo nudged his blocky head onto Grace’s lap. She stroked his head and envy clawed at Matt’s gut. Jealous of a dog. He’d better keep a close eye out for the men in white coats.

Grace’s gaze skimmed his heavy boots, worn blue jeans and black leather jacket over a T-shirt. He’d taken off his dark sunglasses and stuck the earpiece in the collar of his shirt. Her perusal sent his senses humming like a high-performance engine begging to be set loose.

“You aren’t exactly dressed for a day at the park.”

“I was riding through until I saw the dog on you.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d thought she was a teenage girl.

“You’re riding a bicycle dressed like that?”

He chuckled. “Not exactly.”

Matt pointed to his Harley parked at the curb. Her reaction didn’t disappoint. Those gorgeous eyes widened and her mouth formed a little “O” of surprise. He wanted to explore those lips, taste them and learn their texture. The little brush days ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Would you like a ride?”

Where had that come from?

Not that he regretted the invitation. The thought of her riding behind him on his bike had certain body parts growing out of proportion to the situation.

“I can’t.” Her lower lip jutted out in disappointment.

He barely managed to leash his primal urges. This wasn’t the time to introduce her to Caveman Duncan.

“I have to take Apollo home.” She grinned, impish and adorable. “Unless you’re hiding a doggy side car somewhere.”

“Uh, no.”

Her smile slipped a little and her gaze drifted back to his motorcycle.

“You like motorcycles?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The husky way she spoke had his body stomping with impatience at the gate. Damn. A glass of chipped ice would come in handy about now…to dump down the front of his pants. “How about I swing by your condo in an hour? We can go for a ride and grab dinner.”

“I would love that. Thank you.” She snagged Apollo’s leash off the grass and scrambled to her feet. “I’d better run if I’m going to be ready on time. See you soon.”

She waved and started across the expanse of grass. Matt stood rooted, mesmerized by the way her jeans cupped her swaying bottom. She turned and he jerked his gaze to her face, guilty as a horny teenager caught ogling a Playboy magazine.