“Excellent.” Gerty gave a small smile. “I’ll be heading home, then, unless you have something else for me.”
“Nope. Go put your feet up. How’s Arthur?”
“Recovering. Knee’s still sore, but the doc says that’s to be expected. He’s got his spunk back.”
“Good. Send him my love.”
“I will, Kyle. He can’t wait to get back.”
“We can’t wait to have him.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she left the room, along with Kyle’s cordiality. When his eyes settled on Laina, his face turned impassive, a poker player with cards tight to his vest. Silence stretched between them.
When she was sure the housekeeper was out of earshot, she said, “Kyle, about what I said earlier—”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my afternoon orgy went?” He spread his hands. “You know, the thing about orgies, they’re only fun if you’re the last one to finish. Finish first, and you become an accessory. Easy enough for the females involved, but as a male…” He raised his eyebrows. “Plus, it’s crowded, and remembering names is such a bother.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I obviously offended you. I made a rude and crass insinuation based on rumors and innuendo.” She held up a finger, narrowing her eyes on him. “But in my defense, there are hundreds of incriminating photographs of you on the net. While you don’t need a complete stranger accusing you of being a manwhore in your own home, I do think the evidence is on my side with this one.”
“Thank you. I accept your apology.” She balked at his graceful response to her self-righteous pseudo-apology. Deep down, she knew she should have done better, but now she didn’t know what to say to make it right. His brows knit together, one corner of his mouth bending into a wry grin. “Do you still consider me a complete stranger? This is our sixth conversation. And let’s not forget, I kept you out of prison, plus I know your deepest, darkest secret,Dr. Laina Flynn. I think we can officially bridge the gap to friendship, don’t you?”
Not my deepest or darkest secret, she thought, but considering she’d explored the deepest and darkest regions of his mouth with her tongue, perhaps it was time to move beyond strangers. Through a crooked smile, she said, “Sounds reasonable. Friends, then.”
He nodded, although the corners of his eyes tightened in a way that didn’t match the rest of his expression. “Come on. I’m hungry. I’ll make you my famous omelet. And when I say famous, I mean loved and adored by the only three people I’ve ever made it for.” He leaned in close. “Just to warn you, they were all related to me and very hungry at the time.”
“I’m up for an adventure,” she said, shrugging. “But first, we need to feed Milo.”
“Right.” Kyle crossed to the corner of the kitchen and scooped three cups of high-end kibble into a stainless-steel dog bowl. Milo nudged his elbow, snorted, and stomped his feet. Kyle bent over to set the dish on the floor.
“Don’t you dare just give that to him,” Laina said, alarmed.
“Why not? You just told me to feed him.”
“Look at his body language. In dog terms, he’s calling you his bitch right now.”
Kyle met Milo’s unblinking stare. The mastiff woofed and nose-nudged the bowl. “What do I do?”
“Make him work for it. Tell him to sit.”
“Sit, Milo.”
Milo’s mouth closed and he pounced. His front feet punched into Kyle’s shoulders, knocking him to the kitchen’s stone floor. Dog food sprayed across Kyle’s face and scattered in every direction. Milo stepped over his owner and began slurping the kibble off the floor like a canine vacuum.
Laina leaned over Kyle. “Are you okay?” She hoped he hadn’t hit his head.
He waved the empty bowl. Kibble skimmed from the shoulders of his suit jacket. “I’m my dog’s bitch.” He frowned. “He didn’t even buy me dinner first. I boughthimdinner.”
“We can fix this.” Laina held out a hand and helped Kyle from the floor, picking a piece of dog food out of his handkerchief pocket. She tossed it to Milo, who was almost finished cleaning up the rest.
Kyle rubbed the back of his head, his neck bending so that his defeated grin was wickedly close. “Are you still up for that omelet?”
In fact, with his mouth so near to hers, she was up for a hell of a lot more. Her wolf was quick to remind her that her vice was in the room, with a blast of heat that traveled straight to her core.
She nodded and backed away before she did something she’d regret.
He opened the refrigerator and retrieved a carton of eggs, before pausing to remove his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to wash his hands. Holy muscles of the gods. She slid onto one of the barstools next to the kitchen island and ogled the forearm porn with her chin resting in her palm.
“Since we’re friends,” Laina began slowly, “and we’ve established you are not a manwhore, do you mind explaining your public reputation?” She had to ask. The man was a walking enigma. It was driving her crazy.
“Only if you promise to stop using the term manwhore. What the hell does that even mean? A whore is someone paid for sex. Not even the tabloids say I’mpaidfor sex.” The quirky grin was back, and she crossed her legs against the resulting ache it elicited in her.
