Trask chose to ignore the fact that he’d been so turned on by having Jett in his arms, that the airport could have blown up and he wouldn’t have noticed. He scoffed at his unaccustomed lapse.Nowoman had the power to disengage him from reality.
Which meant…
He must be coming down with something.
Or maybe he was calorically challenged.
Yeah. That was it. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and his brain was starved.
Feeling like he had himself under control again, Trask determined that when Jett returned from retrieving her pups, he was going to place things between them back on a professional footing; unload the dive gear she’d brought, and wave goodbye.
See you later.
Just as he made up his mind to that, he caught sight of Jett again, laughing and stumbling across the tarmac, headed back his way. She was…a sight, and she had to have treats in her hands that were held high, because the dogs were dancing and prancing around her, doing bouncy, half-pirouettes that had Jett in danger of losing her balance. Again. The damned woman. She was clearly destined for a face-plant. How often did that happen?
With a huge sigh, Trask forced himself to stride toward her, where—without asking—he took the biscuits from her hands and barked an order to the dogs. “Down,” he snapped.
Both dogs stopped jumping.
“Sit,” Trask continued, and two butts descended.
“Paw?” he questioned, glancing at Jett.
She was grinning like a loon, but nodded.
Trask sent out one hand, which immediately received two excited paws, one on top of the other, as if they were playing a game of what he’d once called “Slapsies”, in his youth.
“Good boys,” Trask praised, then gave them each a treat.
He turned his attention back to Jett. “Do you need leashes for them so we can keep them under control while we unload your plane? I really need to be on my way, and you probably do too, so we should speed this up.”
Trask didn’t miss the look of hurt and disappointment that instantly swept across Jett’s highly expressive face, and he immediately wanted to take back his last sentence.
Yeah.He was an asshole, giving her mixed signals. And he must seem like a nutcase; kissing her like his life depended on it, then blowing her off.
“Unless you’d like to grab something to eat before you leave,” he amended almost immediately.
Fuck.Where the hell hadthatcome from? He’d made up his mind to be shed of Ms. DeLuca, and now he was issuing a lunch invitation? The woman was clearly trouble, with a capital “T”. So why had his big mouth offered food?
Her smile broke back out. “Which question do you want answered first?”
She’d really brightened with his mention of a meal.
“The dogs,” he gruffed, wondering if there were some way he could rescind his proposal.
“That’s easy. They’re usually not the type to wander off, but this time their noses got the better of them. There’s a man over there loading food onto a small, private jet, and part of today’s menu is steak.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder and smirked. “What dog could resist that?” she asked without concern. “Luckily, I got there before they grabbed any of the food containers. So, to answer your question, no, they don’t normally need leashes.” Her smile actually grew, if that were possible.“And the guy I talked to? Super sweet. He even asked me if I needed any help; that he'd be more than happy to assist me with anything I wanted.”
Trask nearly growled. He justbetthe guy did. How dare some rando try to make headway with…
Shit.
Hewas acting like some rando.
Trask didn’t really know Jett from beans, and he’d kissed her, rubbed his hard cock into her tight belly, and… Now he’d invited her to eat with him.
“As to your second question,” she continued as if his pained expression was par for the course. “I’d love to grab food. But is there a place where the pups will be welcome?”
Trask suppressed a sigh. It looked like there was no getting out of this.
