A Daddy By Christmas

“Were you telling the truth just now? Have you actually visited this dog every day for the past twelve days?”

She peered up at the man and squared her shoulders. “Yes. Did you think I was lying?”

Chloe would never lie to the adoption counselor’s face like that. Lies of omission were apparently her thing, specifically lying by omission to her own flesh and blood.

He sighed and said nothing in response.

Chloe’s heart gave a little zing. Was he beginning to crack?

“I already bought her a dog bed,” Chloe said. “It’s red-and-white-striped, like a candy cane.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a woman dressed as Rudolph.” His frown stayed firmly in place, but Chloe thought she spotted a twinkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

He was either about to give in and let her have the puppy, or he was flirting with her in order to get her to throw in the towel. For a second, Chloe wasn’t sure which scenario she preferred.

She blinked.

Had she lost her mind? She wasn’t going to let a few kind words and an eye twinkle crack her composure. Even if the eye twinkle was just shy of a full-on smolder.

That puppy was hers.

“Nice try,” she said tartly. “But I’m not here to play games.”

“No reindeer games.” He gave her a solemn nod. “Got it.”

The man was hardly playing fair, damn him.

“Good,” she said.

Then she looked away, lest he see the smile on her face.

An awkward silence fell between them, punctuated every so often by the bells on Chloe’s costume. She tried her best to keep her gaze focused on the countertop and the adoption papers she’d filled out in careful handwriting the night before. But the puppy started making cute little whimpering noises, and she couldn’t help it. She had to look.

The tiny dog was gnawing on the handsome man’s thumb, which would have been completely adorable if he’d been paying any attention whatsoever to the animal. He wasn’t, though. His brow was furrowed, and he was staring into space, distracted.

Chloe rolled her eyes. He was probably thinking about the stock market or suing someone or the recent demise of pinstripes. “Why do you want this dog, anyway? You don’t really seem like the Yorkie type.”

He glanced at the dog and then at her. “What type do I seem like?”

A golden retriever, maybe. Or an Irish setter. A classic sort of dog that would look good curled in front of a fireplace or with its head sticking out of a town car.

“I haven’t given it any thought,” she lied.

He peered at her for a long, loaded moment, as if he could see inside her head. Finally, he said, “The puppy is an early Christmas gift.”

“A Christmas gift?” Chloe blinked in indignation. “Do the people here at the shelter know that? Pets are living creatures. You can’t just give them away as presents. That’s the height of irresponsibility.”

He shifted the puppy to his other arm, farther away from her. “Rest assured, the shelter staff knows. I’m taking full responsibility for the dog.”

“So...what, then? She’s a gift for your wife?” Chloe’s gaze flitted to his left hand.

No ring.

“No wife,” he said. Then he frowned, as if his bachelorhood was a surprise. Or a problem that needed to be fixed.

Chloe’s face went hot for reasons she didn’t care to contemplate.

She took a deep breath. Action was required. If she didn’t stop thinking about this mysterious man’s relationship status and do something, she’d be going home to an empty apartment, complete with an empty candy cane–striped dog bed.

Her own bed would be empty, too, but that was fine. Preferable, actually. Although why she was suddenly thinking about the unoccupied half of her antique sleigh bed was a mystery.

Sure it is.

She took another glance at the puppy thief holding her Yorkie mix and melted a little bit. The two of them looked like they belonged on that Instagram account her dancer friends were always going on about—Hot Men and Mutts.

She swallowed. “Look, is there any way we could work this out ourselves before the shelter manager gets involved? The puppy is a gift. Couldn’t you just pick out another one? I love that dog. What can I do to change your mind? Anything?”

Surely there was something he wanted, although Chloe couldn’t imagine what it might be.

She lifted her chin and looked him directly in his eyes, so he’d know she meant business. No reindeer games.

Then she tilted her head, prompting him to say something. Anything.

Make me an offer.

His gaze narrowed and sharpened. For a second or two, he focused on her with such intensity that she forgot how to breathe.

So there is something he wants, after all.

When at last he gave her the answer she’d been waiting for, he didn’t crack a smile.

“Marry me.”

Anders Kent wanted to take the words back the minute they’d left his mouth.

Marry me.

What had he been thinking? He’d just proposed to a complete and total stranger in a sterile room that smelled like soap and puppy chow. A stranger who was dressed as a reindeer. And now she was looking at him as if he was the crazy one.

Oh, the irony.

He wasn’t crazy. Nor was he impulsive, all evidence to the contrary. He was simply desperate. Which was also ironic, considering Anders’s name popped up in the tabloids from time to time as one of New York’s most sought-after bachelors. Anders Kent had an office with a corner window in Wall Street’s premier investment banking firm and a penthouse overlooking Central Park West. If he wanted something, he generally found a way to get it. Romantic entanglements included.

But his current predicament didn’t have anything to do with romance. Far from it. There wasn’t anything remotely romantic about sitting across a desk from your attorney and being told you had thirty days to find a wife.

Anders had been given just such an ultimatum at nine o’clock this morning, and his head had been spinning ever since.

Marriage?