Sheltering His Desire (4 page)

That’s where this was going. Please let him
be wrong. Let this be something he couldn’t even begin to guess at.
“She hasn’t done that for years.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. And she’s fine.” Wonderful,
sexy, dangerously alluring.
Great, that’s what I need to be
thinking about right now. Not.

“So you are on speaking terms with her. Are
you personally handling her user experience for this little project
of yours?”

His mother already knew all this. Frustration
swelled inside. This wasn’t the time to let his cool slip. “I
wouldn’t put it that way, but I am her contact. You’re not here on
business, remember?”

“Of course. Tell her to drop the charges
against Bryce Jr., and give him back his dog.”

She’d almost cut straight to the point. That
was odd. “Why are you asking me?”

“You know her.”

“Jared knows her. She’s his younger sister.
You’re not in his office tossing passive aggressive formalities at
him.”

Her mouth pulled up at the corners, but her
eyes were cold. “Mr. Tippins has work to do.”

And Tate had the entire afternoon free? He
clenched his teeth. “Why doesn’t Mr. Thompson have this
conversation with Alyssia himself?”

“He tried. She was unreasonable.”

That almost made him smile. A hint of relief
amid his mounting irritation. “I can’t imagine.”

“Talk to her.” She stood. “Make this
vanish.”

“Or your boyfriend won’t put out tonight?”
Tate winced as soon as the words passed his lips. He’d let his
guard slip for just a moment, and he shouldn’t have done that. Just
because everyone knew his parents had an open relationship, and his
mother had spent as much time in Bryce Thompson’s bed as she had
her own in the last several years, didn’t mean it was appropriate
for anyone to talk about it. Oh well, too late to take it back.
“Sorry. Gentleman caller.”

Her eyes narrowed and she locked her gaze on
his face for several seconds before turning away. “She won’t like
the alternative, and experience tells me that means you won’t
either.”

The moment the door swung shut behind her, he
clenched his hands into fists and dug his knuckles into his closed
eyes. Stars danced against his eyelids. He took one deep breath and
then another, struggling to find his composure again. He didn’t
even know where to start unraveling his fury. Had that conversation
really just gone that way?

He took one more breath and tried to turn his
attention back to work. It wasn’t like his mother—or Bryce Thompson
for that matter—was going to order a hit on Alyssia or anything so
ludicrous. They were verbal bullies. His best bet was to make sure
Lys got her site up and running as quickly as possible, funded her
shelter expansions, and put this unfortunate coincidence behind
her.

He slammed his fist into the arm of his
chair. Why couldn’t he believe it was going to be that simple?

Tate glanced at his watch every few seconds
as he crossed the short distance from the elevators to his car in
the parking garage. Work had tied him up far longer than he’d
planned, with ‘just one more’ phone call and email rolling in, one
after another, until he had less than fifteen minutes to be at the
shelter. Tate had given himself enough time to get there half an
hour before the video guy who was shooting animal footage, and now
he was worried it might not have been enough.

He’d sent Alyssia a text saying he might be
late, but she hadn’t responded. It was earlier than her overnight
shift was scheduled to start, and for all he knew, she was still
getting ready. Unbidden, images flashed through his thoughts of her
in the shower. Tall, lean, with water cascading over her.

What was wrong with him? He dropped into his
car, pulled onto the road, and turned on a local talk radio
station. This time of night, they ran updates every ten minutes
about the stock exchange, and he liked to hear the highlights.

Some of his tension slipped away as he
navigated lighter than normal rush hour traffic. He might even make
it with a few minutes to spare.

“Tonight on ABC News at seven…”

The pre-recorded commercial filtered into his
thoughts, and blocked it out as standard chatter.

“You think you’re taking your dog to the vet
for a routine checkup, and suddenly the police are knocking on your
door.” The announcer’s voice held a hint of threat, just enough to
draw in listeners. Tate’s brain froze, and then honed in on the
words. “We’ll tell you which local shelter may be up to no
good.”

Thompson’s station. Please don’t let this be
about Lys’s shelter. His gut clenched at the reminder of the scene
he’d left behind the night before, and his mother’s threat echoed
in his head. The remaining time it took to reach his destination
passed like cold molasses. Should he tell Alyssia she might want to
check this story out? Keep what he’d heard to himself? She didn’t
need more stress, and there was no guarantee the news report was
about her.

The moment he walked through the front door,
Sara nodded toward Lys’s office. “She said you could go right
in.”

He might have been worried to hear otherwise.
He paused, hand on the doorknob, and spun back toward the waiting
room. The TV they kept behind the counter was on, turned to the
news, and a promo video for upcoming stories. Sure enough, the
image on the screen was the front of the shelter. Shit. So much for
figuring out whether or not he was going to tell her.

He pushed into her office, and knew
immediately from the sound coming from her speakers that she was
streaming the news.

She looked up from her monitor, forehead
pinched, and jaw clenched. “We’re so screwed.”

His chest ached at the worry in her eyes. “It
can’t be that bad.”

“No?” She raked shaky fingers through her
hair. “The camera crews showed up about two hours after I told
Thompson he couldn’t have his dog back. I was already home asleep.
The staff wouldn’t tell them anything, because that’s our policy.
And now I see this on the commercials? How could that possibly be
anything but bad?”

He forced a calm he didn’t feel past his own
concerns. “We’ll watch; you’ll deal. Life will go on.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, and mouth
flat. “That’s not as placating as you may think.”

*

Alyssia wasn’t going to snap at Tate. She had
too many other things going on to deal with his brand of calm. He
was trying to help, which was why she was biting her tongue, but
sometimes he tried a little too hard. The streaming news shifted
scenes, and her gut clenched. She crossed her arms. She was vaguely
aware of Tate moving behind her, but her attention was focused on
the news clip.

The lead-in to the story was almost the same
as what she’d been hearing teased on commercials since she woke up.
And then her world crumbled a little, and an insistent throb
twitched behind her eye. The reporter was talking to Bryce Thompson
Jr., his parents sitting next to him on the couch in a living room
larger than her entire townhouse.

He frowned and sniffled as he explained how
his dog had been struck in a hit and run. A growl slipped from her
throat. The dog’s injuries didn’t coincide with that. He went on to
say he hadn’t known what to do. His parents were gone for the
evening, but he was lucky a member of the staff was around. She
took the dog in for treatment at an all-night animal hospital.

Alyssia’s blood boiled hotter the longer she
watched. The newsman talking about “and that’s when the nightmare
began.” The camera and reporter trying to get into her clinic. The
footage—only about three seconds compared to the truth on her own
security cameras—made it look like Ricco had literally kicked them
out on their asses the moment they’d walked in. “The shelter took
his dog, and refuses to return the animal to its family. They
declined our requests for comments. But as of now, they’ve
kidnapped this poor child’s best friend, and locked it away, cold
and scared in some back room kennel.”

She sank back in her chair, acid churning in
her gut. A quiet, “Fuck,” slipped past her lips and frustration
stung her eyelids. God damn it. What was she going to do?

She slowly became aware of Tate’s hand
resting on the back of her neck, his thumb kneading at the tight
cord running from her shoulder to her skull. His quiet tone seeped
into her thoughts. “Press release. Letter to the station. Contact
Legal about slander.”

His methodical list took the edge off her
mounting fear and frustration, but didn’t erase it. She nodded. “I
should get on that.” How could he sound so sure and calm right now?
Everything inside her was screaming at her to do something. That
this was bad. That the local news had just told the entire
community that her shelter was essentially kidnapping dogs.

Nausea bubbled up again, and she swallowed it
back. It didn’t help. “I’ll call the lawyer. And have Sara start on
the press release. Someone needs to contact the station now. I
should do that first. Can I counter before the ten o’clock news? We
have security footage, we can show them that’s not how this
happened. This isn’t right, we can’t—”

“Stop.” His voice was still low, but the
single word stamped out her rambling. “Do the first two. Don’t fly
off in a frenzy and try and fight this war publicly. This is
Thompson’s TV station. Going into things half-cocked won’t
help.”

“But he’s verbally destroying the shelter.”
She wanted to scream. Was Tate trying to make this difficult? “He
just told the entire town I’m a fucking puppy kidnapper. I have to
tell them otherwise.”

“Lys.” Tate’s gentle tone was still there but
an edge lined the single syllable. “You should and you will, but
not without a plan. Don’t rush into this unprepared, okay?”

She ground her teeth at the condescension,
but didn’t have the words to argue. “Fine.”

Her speaker phone buzzed, and Sara’s
tentative voice filled the room. “There’s a camera guy here?”

Her already fractured thoughts shattered
further. “They’re back? What the hell? Can I go talk to them now?
This is my chance, right? I can set things straight.”

Her chair spun and she found herself face to
face with Tate. He was half kneeling in front of her, gaze locked
on hers, forehead wrinkled in concern. He rested a hand on her neck
again, thumb stroking her cheek. She wanted to slap his arm away,
but the shock of his touch raced through her and filled in the
cracks in her thoughts with glue.

When he leaned in and kissed her, lips soft
and tender, her entire world ground to a stop. Her tension was
still there, struggling in the back of her mind to be heard, but
she couldn’t focus on it. Her attention was on the rough fingers
against her skin, the tiny nips he laid along her bottom lip, the
way his tongue swirled around hers.

She exhaled softly, when he broke away and
rested his forehead against hers.

“Paying attention now?” The edge was gone
from his voice. Was he breathless? No, she wasn’t thinking
straight. He was just trying to keep that infuriating calm
demeanor.

She wanted to lean in for another kiss.
Something more intense to chase the flutters through her veins like
the night before. Instead, she nodded.

He bit his top lip for a moment, before
continuing. “Good. It’s Greg from the office. He’s going to take
video of the animals.”

She swallowed, struggling with disappointment
and relief, but she wasn’t sure what the source of either feeling
was. “Right.”

“I’ll hook him up with one of your
volunteers. You start making phone calls about this news thing.” He
finally pulled away, and as he stood, she swore his hand was
trembling.

“Right. Press release from Sara, and call
Legal.”

The moment the door closed behind him, the
borders protecting her compartmentalized thoughts disintegrated.
Had he really just kissed her? And why was she focused on that?
Because it was an easier question that what the hell she was going
to do about this possible media shitstorm. She took a few deep
breaths. They had a plan, and she would follow it.

Her stomach lurched when she reached for her
phone, and she pushed aside the nausea. She could do this.

*

Tate couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. A
single night of no sleep and a little stress and he was letting
instinct and lust drive him? He was really off his game this week.
Her taste still lingered on his lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But
instinct had kicked in, and he’d needed to calm her down.

It was nothing more than a distraction to
bring her nerves under control. Things were high stress right now.
He obliterated his doubt, left the cameraman in capable hands, and
pushed any tension or worry from his mind before he stepped back
into Alyssia’s office. He kicked the door shut behind him, only
half aware he was locking it, when he registered the sight in front
of him.

She was pacing and muttering to herself, not
even looking up at the click of the latch. She raked trembling
fingers through her hair, her feet slapping hard against the floor
with each step. “I can’t do this. It’s not what I signed on for.”
Her tone grew louder and higher pitched with each word. “I can
confront the abusive jackasses. I’m prepared for that. But to have
to defend myself publicly, for something I didn’t do, against a man
who’s never even wondered what it might be like to not have so many
people responding to his every whim. I can’t do—”

“Whoa.” Tate stepped in front of her, palms
on her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eye. He couldn’t
watch this anymore. Her tension twisted every muscle in his body
until he was sure something inside might snap if he didn’t move,
and her near-hysteria added a layer of something unfamiliar. If he
had to name it, it was need. The need to wrap her up and protect
her. The need to hold her and comfort her and let the rest of the
world bounce off. The need to do something more than just gloss
over things and move on.