Taken by Storm

Glossy brown waves cascaded down her back as she raked her hair away from her face with her fingers and fluffed her bangs, which were hopelessly crinkled from being squashed beneath her hat.

The scene was like a commercial. It only lacked slow-motion camera effects.

She said something to the dog and tugged at the leash. Looking skyward, she shook her head, straightened and spoke a command. The dog immediately got to his feet and positioned himself at her side. Together, they jogged toward Cam and the crate in that peculiar trot used at dog shows.

Cam didn’t need TV special effects. He saw them in slow motion. Ryka, her cheeks flushed and hair swinging, a dog in a goofy outfit trotting beside her...and a soundtrack. A voice from on high chanting, “If you claim her, do not leave her unattended. Keep her in your possession at all times and do not allow strangers to give her anything to carry.” And to make sure he got the message, the voice chanted it in a couple of different languages.

He got the message, all right. His heart pounded and his man juices bubbled, just the way Gus said they would.

And then she noticed him sitting there and her step faltered. The wary expression on her face stabbed him in the chest; he’d blown any chance of spending more time with her.

Cam got to his feet so quickly, he became lightheaded. He forced a smile and mouthed, “You left your backpack” to her as he pointed. Understanding wiped the wariness from her face, but Cam wasn’t going to push it. He raised a hand in farewell and walked blindly in the opposite direction.

“Oh, hey!” he heard but didn’t turn around. He could have imagined it, and anyway, he didn’t want her to think he was paying attention to her.

But he slowed. A little. Just in case.

Seconds later, he heard her say, “Excuse me,” and felt her hand on his arm. He was sure it was her hand because at the touch, his skin burned beneath the leather jacket...and beneath the navy cashmere pullover his mom had given him for Christmas and beneath the shirt he wore under that. Yeah. He reacted that strongly to her touch.

Gus’s words echoed in his mind, One day, you see a female and you blow your top, just like that batch of summer ale the first year. It’s why men make poor decisions with the wrong women, or they let the right one get away ’cause they’ve got no finesse and scare her off.

Cam turned then and gave her a questioning look. Finesse. Think finesse.

“Um, thanks. Again.” She smiled uncertainly. “I appreciate you watching my stuff.”

“No problem,” he murmured. There. Finesse. His voice hadn’t cracked or anything. He was especially pleased that he hadn’t grabbed her and planted his mouth on her lips, lips that were clearly made for kissing. Generous. Wide. Not too pillowy.

“I’ve got to ask you another favor,” she burst out.

“Okay.” He tried to avoid appearing overeager.

“I—” She stopped and exhaled. “Casper won’t get in his crate and I’ve got to go to the restroom. Would you please watch him for me?”

“Sure.” Cam allowed himself a smile and glanced down at the dog. I owe you, buddy.

“Oh, thank you!” She shoved the leash at him. “I’ll be just a minute!” And she hurried toward the restrooms.

Cam watched her go, her hair rippling. She had great hair—straight, long and glossy. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He wanted to feel it against his bare skin. He wanted to lie back in bed and have it curtain their faces as she leaned down to kiss him.

He heard a frustrated sound, and at first he thought it had escaped him. But then he realized it had come from the dog, who was staring down its long nose at him, as though he could read Cam’s mind.

“Hey, Casper,” he said. “How’s it going, buddy?”

With a tiny whine, Casper sat down.

“I hear ya.” Cam looked in the direction of the restrooms. As was typical, the women’s had a line and Ryka, or whatever her name was, hadn’t made it around the corner yet.

“What say we walk over to your crate?” Cam said. The backpack was still lying on the floor next to it.

He started walking and the dog followed him, which was good because he didn’t want to have to drag the animal across the floor.

Once they got to the crate, Cam sat on the floor again, and the dog flopped beside him, head on his paws. Another little whine escaped.

Cam reached out to pat him. “Hey, this thing she’s got you wearing is all wet.”

She couldn’t want her dog to stay in wet clothes. He took off the blue bonnet. “Oh, buddy. I thought the hat was bad.”

Casper’s fur was white, as Cam might have guessed from his name. But the hair on his head and ears was gathered in blue elastic holders. Probably to keep it out of the way. Cam scratched Casper all over his head, and if the dog had been a cat, he would have purred.

Another glance toward the women’s restroom revealed that Ryka had only just made it to the corner beneath the sign.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get this off you.” Slowly, Cam reached around the dog’s stomach, seeking the straps. Casper obligingly rolled onto his side. Cam unhooked the clasps and peeled off the wet coat, releasing the aroma of wet dog and something sweet—doggy shampoo?

Casper panted.

The rest of his hair was also bunched with blue bands, but Cam could see there was a lot of hair and it was all white. And damp. Unfortunately, the baggage terminal floor wasn’t very clean, with people tracking in the wet sludge from outside. Occasionally, the maintenance crew came by with mops, and earlier they’d placed black rubber mats by the exit, along with yellow tented caution signs.

Cam draped Casper’s outfit over the crate to dry out and gently petted him, scratching between the ponytail bunches.

“Does that feel good, boy?”

Casper licked his mouth and resumed panting.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Cam liked dogs, although he didn’t own one. If he did, he’d never pick this breed. Too much hair.

Casper twitched and rolled over onto his back, curving himself into an S shape.

“You want a tummy rub.” Cam used both hands. “This must mean you’ve warmed up to me. Now let’s see if we can get your owner to warm up to me, too.”

3

SHE HADN’T EVEN asked his name. Zoey had left Casper, Ryka’s great white hope, with a man she knew nothing about. Except that he had a way of staring at her as though she was an ice cream cone and he wanted to lick her all over. She melted at the idea.

He sure was a hottie but a little intense. And she trusted him based on that? Desperate times and so on.

Zoey leaned against the cold tile walls as the restroom line inched forward. The longer the delay in Chicago, the greater the chance for failure.

Stop thinking that way. She hadn’t veered from Kate’s plan. This was just a pause. But if the “pause” went on for much longer, she’d have to call her sister. And she really didn’t want to do that.

Finger-combing her hair at the mirrors before leaving the restroom, Zoey noticed a whole lot of dehydrated skin on the faces of the other women. Drink water, she wanted to tell them. Or maybe offer them some of her Skin Garden Rain balm. But she didn’t, not with those grumpy expressions.

Speaking of water, Zoey swallowed a long drink from the fountain before heading back to the pet area. The line at the restroom had moved slower than she’d anticipated, and she felt uneasy that she’d abandoned Casper for so long. Zoey hadn’t even asked the man if he had time to watch Casper before thrusting the leash at him. Obviously, he didn’t have a flight to catch, but maybe he had some place to be or someone to be with. He certainly wasn’t going anywhere outside the airport. She shuddered at the memory of the snow and the wind that had made her cheeks sting even though she’d slathered them with her lemon-olive moisturizing bar. It was the heaviest of her heavy-duty moisturizers, and it was travel friendly because it was a solid. It was a good thing she was testing her products on this trip because she’d discovered the bar was an awkward size and had melted into the container. That would have to be changed.

Zoey rounded the corner, eyes searching out man and dog. She found Casper, undressed, splayed bonelessly on the floor, getting a tummy rub.

Zoey had never seen the neurotic animal so relaxed. The man’s hands moved over the pink belly with long, slow strokes, stopping occasionally to rub some spot with his thumbs. Very thorough. Great attention to detail. Knew to take it slow. Zoey sighed.

He also had a head of lush, dark hair in great-looking condition. It contrasted with Casper’s snowy coat, especially when the man bent to murmur something to the dog. Like now.