A Highlander for Christmas (22 page)

Small, pointed ears flopped forward, and the puppy lunged for Jared’s bow tie, covering it with saliva.

“I can see I’m going to regret this.”

Maggie laughed. “I think he’s cute. All that hair goes so well with your evening jacket. So does the puppy saliva.” She smiled smugly. “And since you can hardly take him to dinner, I’ll go get a taxi back to my hotel.”

Jared frowned at her over the wriggling fur. “Hold him for a moment, will you? I think he’s caught.”

“Do you really expect me to fall for that?” Maggie shook her head. “Not on your life. Enjoy your meal and your new friend.”

“I’m serious. It’s his paw.” Jared frowned at the restless dog. “Somehow he’s managed to get twisted in my shirt.”

As Maggie reluctantly bent closer, the dog yelped. Ears flattened, he struggled, clearly in pain. “Poor thing. Come to Maggie, then, and let the mean old man tug you free.”

Jared ignored her jibe, gently probing to find the little paw, now solidly thrust between the studs on his evening shirt. With every movement the dog whined pathetically. “They must have hurt him,” he said harshly.

“I think he’s bleeding. There’s something dark on your shirt, and he doesn’t want me to touch his neck.” Maggie gave up and thrust the puppy back to Jared. “Just tell me where he’s caught.”

“Fourth one down, I think.”

Maggie
stared at the white shirt and counted downward. She had half an idea to leave now, while Jared was so distracted.

But with a resigned sigh she went to work, one hand sliding the restless animal while she searched for the first button. A moment later Maggie found they weren’t buttons at all, but impossible little circles caught through the tightest of holes. “What are these things, anyway?” she muttered, bent over Jared and trying to avoid the yelping puppy.

“They’re studs.”

Studs. It figured.

“I’m afraid they’re going to be tight.” Twice her fingers slipped free, and the wriggling paws didn’t help a bit.

“Do what you can.”

Maggie bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to cause the puppy any more pain. “Hold him tighter, and move over there beside that light post so I can see what I’m doing.”

They must be a sight, she thought, her following Jared with one hand wedged beneath his shirt.

A middle-aged couple strolled past. Their eyes widened, registering sharp disapproval. “Can we get this done before anyone else wanders by?” she muttered. “What will they think?”

“That they’ve just interrupted the prelude to a steamy evening,” Jared said calmly. “And that I am a very lucky man.”

“Because I’m tearing off your shirt in lust?”

“Something like that.” Jared raised his arm, pulling the crisp white fabric tighter across his lean chest. “Tear away.”

The trouble, Maggie decided, was that the shirt was cut too well and she had no room to maneuver. And the real trouble, she decided a moment later, was that he was too warm, too hard, too muscled beneath her fingers.

She frowned, trying to keep her thoughts on the job, on anything but that expanse of hard male chest. She finally managed to grip one metal circle and rip it free to the puppy’s excited barking.

“One down, three to go.”

“I only hope he’s housebroken,” Jared muttered.

Maggie’s gaze swung up in shock. “He hasn’t—”

“Not yet, but I wouldn’t put it past the wretch. Hurry, can’t you?”

Another stud tore free, giving Maggie room to shove her whole hand under the shirt. She thought she saw Jared’s jaw tense as she brushed his ribs.

Warm skin.

Hard, shifting muscle.

She closed her mind down tight, telling herself she felt nothing, wanted nothing. “There’s some sort of string here. I think it’s wrapped around his paw.”

“I thought it had to be something like that.”

The dog’s wild movements had shredded one edge of Jared’s cummerbund, leaving the creature trapped tighter than ever.

“Did you find it?” There was something odd and distant about his voice.

Maggie tugged hard, following the thread lower until it vanished.

Right beneath his waistband.

“I can’t,” she snapped.

“Why not?”

“It’s gone beneath your—your clothes,” she said in a strangled voice.

Panting, the dog lurched wildly up at Jared’s face, only to collapse with a shiver of pain.

“You’ll have to, I’m afraid. Much more of this and he’ll hurt himself badly. I can’t say it’s pleasant for me either,” he added hoarsely.

Maggie shot a glance at his face, trying to read the expression in his eyes.

He raised his arms higher. “Just have at it, will you? The dog and I will both survive.” He muttered a low phrase of Gaelic as her fingers edged down toward his waist. “At least I hope so.”

Maggie found the waistband and followed the heavy thread lower. “It’s caught.”

“I know that.”

“No, it’s caught lower. On your … on one of those button things.” She bit her lip. Trust him not to have a zipper like any normal man. “Give me the dog and you finish it.”

Jared shifted the restless, frightened animal toward her and was rewarded with a low howl and a burst of kicking limbs. He muttered a graphic curse. “No good. You’ll have to do it. Just think of me as another insensate diamond that you’re mounting.” His mouth twitched. “No pun intended.”

Maggie closed her eyes and searched lower, tracing that hard, flat stomach.
Don’t think about it
, she thought angrily.
Don’t remember how he looked with his jeans half open.

She stiffened as she found the damnable thread. And something else was clearly outlined against her fingers. Her gaze snapped to his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“You—”

His eyes were very dark. “Of course I am. You can’t probe at me with those amazing hands of yours and not expect a reaction,” he said flatly. “You’d have a dead man twitching.”

Amazing hands?

She stared at the ground, her breath coming hot and fast. “Look, I can’t do it.” She spoke in a rush, wishing she were anywhere else. Why did it matter so much? Why couldn’t she just smile and be blasé, as either of her worldly cousins would have done?

Because she’d never been good with blasé. In fact, she’d never been good with much of anything except cold gems and glittering metals. Certainly not with men.

“I can’t.” she said raggedly.

Jared freed one hand, touching her face gently. “Hard going, is it?”

She nodded, eyes lowered. “Look, I’m not—oh, I’m not the one for this, Jared.”

His soft laugh feathered over her cheek. “I wondered when you would get around to using my first name. Considering where your hand is, it seems about time.”

She had expected mockery and irritation. Instead she found eyes that crinkled with quiet sympathy. She stared back, oddly moved by the laughter lurking in his face.

Surprised most of all that the gentle laughter seemed for himself as much as her.

“Why don’t we muddle through this together? Try to forget I’m even here.”

Right
, Maggie thought.
As if I could forget that warm chest and all those hard muscles.

He cleared his throat. “Anytime would be good.”

“It might hurt.”

“My dear girl, it already does. Worse than you can imagine,” he said dryly. His lips twisted in a crooked smile as he raised the struggling puppy once more. “I’m at your mercy.”

A smile tugged at her lips. How could she refuse when he was being so damnably nice about all this? The man could be dangerously charming when he tried.

Maggie closed her eyes, wedging her hand lower, beyond the trembling paw and the stiff waistband, trying vainly to ignore the interesting texture of soft cotton and harder outlines beneath. Cheeks hot, she eased her hand deeper into the encasing fabric.

Almost there. One more good tug…

Maggie gnawed anxiously at her lip. “Jared, this is it. Pulling might hurt.”

No answer.

She was bent on one knee before him, searching madly. Her head rose at his silence. “Are you—”

“It would be very good if you could finish the job.” His voice was low and gravelly.

She heard the tension and the tight edge of control.

Ignoring everything else, she pulled harder. To her infinite relief, the threads unraveled and tore free, accompanied by the puppy’s wild barking.

“It’s all done.” Maggie surged to her feet, her cheeks burning.

His eyes were closed tight.

“Jared? Did I—are you…”

“Alive. Barely. One day I’ll probably thank you for a most intriguing experience.” Stiffly, he tucked the dog under one arm and took her hand with the other. “But not just now,” he muttered.

“He needs to go out.”

They had reached the edge of Chelsea. The wind was rising, and dry leaves skittered over the front window.

“Out?” Jared frowned down at the puppy wriggling with distress in Maggie’s hands.

“You know—
out
. At least I think so. I’ve never had a dog.”

A pet had never been a possibility while she was growing up. Her mother had been too frail to have an animal underfoot. Later, when Maggie was on her own, there had never been time for a pet with all her other responsibilities.

“Out it is.” Jared pulled to a halt beside a straggly field bordering a construction project and opened his door. “Off with you, Max, and don’t be long.”

Maggie hid a smile. “Max?”

“Short for Maximilian. Something tells me he’ll grow into the name.”

Maggie watched the puppy trot off to explore a mound of dirt, yipping happily. “You’re not going to give him away, are you? To one of those terrible … farms?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he’s partly my responsibility.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “I can’t just let him be shoved into a cage somewhere.”

He angled her face back to his. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

Maggie
shrugged, trying to ignore the touch of his hard fingers. “The usual kind. Someone with no time and a dozen pressing responsibilities. In fact, you’d have every reason not to keep him.” Her voice was shaky, but she refused to believe that it had anything to do with the way Jared was caressing the corner of her mouth. “And I wish you’d stop that.”

“This?” His thumb spanned the curve of her lower lip.

“That.” Her voice wasn’t half as annoyed as she would have liked.

“Illogical creature.”

She stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You refuse to think of poor old Max stuck in a cage. Then you do the very same thing to yourself.”

“I do not.” Maggie glared at him “I can relax when I want to. I know how to have fun. As a matter of fact, I have lots of fun.” Sometimes she did, anyway. “And for your information, I’m perfectly relaxed.” She saw his slow grin. “
What
?”

“If you’re so relaxed, why are your knuckles white where you’re gripping the armrest?”

“It’s just a thing I do with my hands. Habit.”

“And that would also explain why your foot has been tapping out Morse code against the door for the last five minutes.”

“My foot?” Maggie stared at the offending body part and flushed when she realized it was true. Why did he get to her this way? “It doesn’t mean a thing.” She swallowed. “Isn’t that dog done yet?”

Jared slid a strand of hair behind her ear. “Max is doing fine. It’s you I’m worried about, Maggie.” His hand drifted over her cheek “Very relaxed. Any more relaxed and you’ll dislocate your jaw.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m
fine
.” Dimly, she heard her foot tapping again.

“Too late. Somehow I’ve gotten used to worrying about you. Heaven knows why, since you fight me every second.”

“I’m not fighting, I’m discussing. That’s what mature adults do.” Even as she spoke, Maggie had a strange urge to lean closer and find out if his mouth felt as good as it looked.