“What is he?” she asked.
“An English mastiff.”
She studied Bruno’s serious face. She doubted the big dog would ever roll over with his paws in the air, begging for a belly rub. Maggie patted his head, deciding she would have to loosen him up. Teach him to do dumb doggie things. The poor fellow behaved like an armed guard with a rifle up his butt.
“There’s no point in standing in the hall,” she said, inviting Luke and Bruno into her home.
The first thing Luke noticed about Maggie’s loft was the skylight. Dawn blazed from the ceiling, sending lavender streaks throughout the room.
Her decor was bold, yet decidedly female. A variety of textures, ranging from watered silk to carved-and-painted woods, made up the living room. Leafy plants grew from clay pots and scented candles dripped melted wax. The oak floors were whitewashed, and one entire wall was covered with a mural of mermaids rising from the sea.
Instinctively, he knew Maggie had painted it. He felt the enchantment flow over him like a cool, sensual wine.
Moonlight and mermaids. He turned to look at her, and saw that she watched Bruno instead.
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