Free Rich Bitch: Everything's Going to the Dogs by Nancy Warren

raptly up at the pair of them. The Dob sat, alert, as though at any moment a Frisbee was going to go sailing down the hall and he had to be ready to fly after it. Mimi was fully reclined, her head resting on her ridiculous manicured paws, only her beady black eyes following the conversation, her pom-pom tail wagging softly when she heard their voices.
    Instantly, Sophie’s eyes flashed sympathy. “Oh, Vince. I am so sorry. I did not think. I only went to the French bakery. Come. I will make us some coffee, and you may scold me all you please.”
    She bustled past him, her hands full of dog leashes and paper sack, trailing an illusive fragrance that made him want to get her naked ASAP.
    Pulling himself together with an effort, he followed her into his apartment and to the kitchen. Refusing to act like some boorish brute who let the little woman do everything, he got the coffee started while she put bread, cheeses, and jam on the table. Not to be outdone, he pulled out his plastic squeeze bottle of honey in the shape of a bear. She fussed a little with dishes and napkins. Sliced melon and rinsed fresh strawberries. Put on a CD that one of his old girlfriends had left behind. One of those female crooners with a single bizarre name. Dido, maybe. Or Enya.
    Once they were sitting and he’d poured them both coffee, he took a good hit of caffeine to get his brain in gear.
    “Look, Sophie.” He reached across and took her hand, was about to say, “You can’t do that; you can’t go out without telling me,” when she leaned forward, squeezing his fingers with her own.
    “I had a wonderful time last night.”
    Boom, there it went again, any sensible thought. He’d always thought the idea of a woman blowing a man’s mind was a figment of songwriters’ imaginations or teenage boys with crushes. But nope. Here he was, a thirty-four-year-old man with his mind blown clean of all rational thought.
    Except the completely rational urge to be intimate with this fascinating woman. Nothing could keep the answering grin off his face. “I had a fantastic time, too.” It was almost scary how good he felt this morning. Which only made her safety that much more vital to preserve. “But here’s the thing. You can’t go out like that without telling me.”
    A tiny frown appeared between her brows. “But I have to. The dogs must be walked. I must shop for food.”
    “I’ll walk the dogs until we have that bastard back behind bars.” And if Vince could arrange a half hour or so with Sophie’s insane stalking ex before the police nabbed him, he’d remind him that it was a very bad idea to attempt to hurt Sophie ever again.
    Her frown deepened as she looked at him. Absently, she rubbed the spot where the wood chip had grazed her. “I can’t believe Gregory would shoot at me. It doesn’t seem like him.”
    “I know, honey. I’m sorry. I’ve got some friends who are cops. I’ve already called my buddy Ed. They’ll get him soon, I promise. But until they do you have to stay here and be safe.”
    She pulled her hand away and reached for a slice of baguette, still warm from the bakery. “I must shop,” she reminded him.
    “We’ll go together,” he said. “We can buy in bulk, enough food for a few weeks.”
    Her nostrils flared as she made an expression of disgust. “Shop in bulk? One does not buy good, fresh food in a warehouse, Vincent. I cannot work this way.”
    A jug of wine, a stack of frozen Hungry Man dinners, and thou would do fine for Vince, but he had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t feel that way.
    Food kept you alive. Why did she have to go and make it an art form? “You can give me a list of things. I’ll get them fresh.”
    “But I am supposed to be the caregiver. You can’t do my work.”
    “I think after last night we’ve moved to a different level. Please. I can’t let anything happen to you.”
    “But I’ll be like a prisoner. I can’t live like that.” She rose suddenly, walked to his landline,