Page 22 of I Hate You More

As if on cue, the golden retriever extended both paws out in front of him and executed a bow. It wasn’t an unusual position for a show dog. It was, however, an unusual position for a dog who balked at every command thrown his way.

Instead of being impressed by this sudden show of docility, Ruby drew closer, her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t trust it,” she warned. “He’s up to something.”

“He’s a dog. He’s hardly plotting a bank heist. Watch.” He snapped his fingers to draw Wheezy’s attention. “Mayonnaise, Wheezy. May-o-nnaise.”

Once again, Wheezy proved himself a paragon of show-dogmanship by twirling in a circle. He also grinned up at Spencer in a way that proved he was fully aware of his actions. It was the expression of a dog who knew he was being a Very Good Boy and who wanted to be acknowledged for it.

Spencer had always been a sucker for oversized brown eyes. “That’s right, Wheezy,” he said, patting him gently on the head. “What a good dog you are. What lovely manners.”

“I’m still not buying it,” Ruby said. She put up a hand to nudge Spencer a few steps back. The touch on his chest was light and impersonal, but he felt the imprint of it long after her hand fell away. “Wheezy, it’s high time we mayonnaised out of here and headed home.”

The dog blinked up at her.

“You can even ride in the front mayonnaise, if you want.”

His eyes started drooping.

“I’ll open the mayonnaise and you can hang your head out the whole way.”

He started to lower himself to the floor once again.

“Dammit, Wheezy!” Ruby swooped down to prevent him from lying down. “Help me, Spencer. If he hits the floor, I’ll never get him back up again.”

Spencer did as he was asked—andnotbecause of the pleading note in Ruby’s voice or the look she cast up at him, as if he alone was capable of coming to her rescue. It was just that he had to be out of here by eight o’clock, and Wheezy was already on his feet. That was half the battle right there.

It worked, too. With only a negligible amount of coaxing and references to his favorite condiment, Wheezy allowed himself to be led across the gym and out a side door. In true Seattle fashion, the evening had grown rainy and overcast, but even the sharp tang of ozone and a twenty-degree drop in temperature didn’t send the golden retriever running back indoors.

“Someone’s trained this animal,” Spencer said as the dog parked himself obligingly at his feet. “This performance isn’t random. Wheezy is responding to commands.” He thought of the way Wheezy had dropped at the sound of Ruby’s voice and amended, “He’s responding tomycommands, anyway.”

“Yes, well, that’s how danger words work, isn’t it?”

Spencer wasn’t so entrenched in the world of erotic literature that he could make the immediate connection. Ruby was quick to enlighten him.

“It’s not the word that gets the engine running,” she explained. “It’s the person saying it. A porcupine is just a porcupine until it crosses the right lips.Yourlips, in this instance.”

Spencer’s mouth went dry, but he refused to allow himself to read anything into the remark. He didn’t have any magical powers over the dog, and hedefinitelydidn’t have any over the woman.

“Try it and see what happens,” she said. When he could do no more than stand there goggling at her, she added, “Or do you need me to show you how it’s done?”

Spencer tried to shake his head, but he was having a hard time remembering how his muscles worked.

“That’s a lovely porcupine you have there, Spencer,” she cooed. The smile that played about her lips was full of danger—and temptation. Temptation most of all.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s the correct context.”

“So big and ferocious.”

He put on his best stern-veterinarian voice and tried again. “Porcupines are quite docile as a species. It’s a common misconception. They only attack when they feel threatened.”

His best stern-veterinarian voice didn’t work. Ruby clucked her tongue and jutted out one deliciously rounded hip. “Do you feel threatened by me, Spencer? You shouldn’t be. I promise I’m also quite docile—until I feel threatened, that is.”

His throat constricted. He couldn’t tell if she was flirting with him or taunting him, but it didn’t matter. Under no circumstances was he taking this woman to a seedy motel. If he was going to sneak off with her for a night worthy of an erotic novel, he’d take her somewhere private.Veryprivate.

That thought almost floored him—and made him feel thoroughly ashamed of himself. If given an opportunity, he’d do exactly that. Forget his position. Forget his dog show. Forget his brother. All this woman had to do was say the word, and he’d happily toss every other consideration aside.

And, oh, how he’d enjoy himself in the process.

When he only stood there staring at her, doing his bestnotto imagine Ruby in connection with a motel—seedy or otherwise—she dropped the sultry pose.