“He did?” She tried to focus on the conversation, but for some reason, her attention kept drifting to his lips. They were actually quite perfect, the lower full and sensual, the upper with a distinct curve, and they had tasted—
“Hmm, said you wanted to introduce me to someone.”
Ah. Dani relaxed back in her chair and grinned. “Well, not someone exactly.”
“Oh no, it’s the dogs, isn’t it?” His smile slipped and alarm flared in his eyes. “You don’t have to introduce us, you know. We don’t even have to meet at all. I was telling the truth last night. I really don’t like dogs. And more to the point, they don’t like me.”
“Bad experience?” She tried to sound sympathetic but didn’t quite succeed.
“I was bitten when I was twelve.”
“A big dog?”
“A toy poodle.” Those perfect lips twisted into a grimace at the memory. “The pain and the blood—they were nothing—it was the humiliation that hurt the most. I’ve never lived it down.”
“Small dogs can be very intimidating,” she murmured.
He shuddered. “So can big ones.”
“Yes, but at least there’s no humiliation in being bitten by a Doberman. It’s definitely all pain and blood.”
He was watching her, no doubt looking for signs of weakness. “Do I really have to meet them?” Unfolding his arms, he took a step closer and spoke in a low voice. “I’m sure there’s something else we could be doing. How about those fantasies…?”
Dani slipped her dark glasses on and studied him. She knew he was only thirty-two but he appeared older, lines of experience etched on his face, laughter lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. It was a face that looked as though it had seen everything and found it all amusing. Though he didn’t look particularly amused at that moment.
“Yes, you really do.” She rose to her feet. “They’ll be running around your yard soon, and they have to know that you’re not for eating. Only joking,” she added. “They’re not trained to attack, only to make a noise and look aggressive. They’re actually real pussycats.”
“Hmm, pussycats?” he said, the disbelief clear in his tone, but he fell into step beside her as she led the way across the yard. The sun was low in the sky but still warm, and the scent of flowers filled the air. She felt strangely at peace.
“As a matter of interest,” he said, “where did you get your high opinion of me?”
“From your file.”
He stopped abruptly, hands shoved in his pockets. “You have a file on me?”
Dani kept walking. “Well, Jake does. He thinks his operatives should know something about the people they’re guarding.”
“And my file says I’m a playboy asshole?” He started moving again and quickly caught up. “I’m going to have to talk to Jake.”
She gave him a brief sideways glance and found him watching her. “Let’s say I read between the lines.”
“So you don’t think writing is a worthwhile occupation?”
Did she? She tried not to, as it made her particular disability seem not quite so…disabling. “I’m dyslexic,” she said, surprising herself with the admission. She wasn’t ashamed; she just didn’t normally talk about it.
He came to another halt and put a hand on the bare skin of her arm. A shiver ran through her, and she had little choice but to stop beside him.
“So it’s sour grapes then?” he asked.
Dani grinned. The reason she didn’t like talking about her dyslexia was that she hated the sympathy—real or otherwise—it always seemed to invoke in people. Obviously, that wasn’t going to be a problem with Zach.
“How bad?” he asked.
“Medium, I suppose. I can read slowly if I concentrate. The problem was they didn’t realize I was dyslexic until I was in the army, and by then it was too late to do much about it.”
“Why wasn’t it diagnosed earlier?”
She shrugged. “They just thought I was stupid.”
“Who thought you were stupid? Your parents—” He must have noticed Dani’s scowl because he cut off in mid-sentence and changed tack. “How about I read one of my books to you. That way you can have something real to base your low opinion on. And we could act out the interesting bits.”
“Interesting to whom?” she dismissed.
Zach peered down at her. A long way down. “You know,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I can’t actually believe they let you join the army. I didn’t think they let people that small in.”
“I was only seventeen—they probably thought I was going to grow.”
“So how tall were you?”
“Five foot one.”
“And how tall are you now?”
“Five foot one.”
He chuckled. “So what did your parents think of you going into the army?”
God, he was nosy. His hand was still on her arm and she pulled free. “Nothing,” she responded without making eye contact. “They didn’t think anything. Now, are we going to introduce you to these dogs? You really do have to meet them, you know, and better with me now than alone in the dark.”
Zach exhaled loudly and closed his eyes for a second. Finally, he nodded. “Lead on,” he said, not entirely enthusiastically. “I suppose if you can handle them, they can’t be too scary.”
Dani narrowed her eyes and tried not to hope that Angel and Spike would be on their worst behavior.
The kennels were around the back of the house under the shade of a huge old olive tree. The dogs were dozing in a patch of sunlight but leaped up, barking as they approached. They were beautiful animals, glossy tan and black coats, intelligent faces, long pink tongues, and big teeth.
“Look at those fangs.” He sounded almost in awe, and Dani grinned, feeling her black mood slough off in anticipation of the introductions.
“So did you train these?” Zach asked, peering through the wire mesh but keeping his distance.
“No, but I trained the trainer, and I selected them. I couldn’t do the work, as I was still in the army. That’s Angel,” she said, pointing at the bigger dog. “And the other is Spike.”
“Angel?” he asked. “It doesn’t seem appropriate somehow.”
“They’re named after Buffy’s boyfriends.”