Free Man's Best Friend by Ec Sheedy Page B

"See you then."
    "Barring flood, pestilence, or war, I'll be there. Bye."
    She was positive she heard him chuckle before he hung up the phone.
    She placed the phone in its cradle as if it were a delicate newborn. Awash in the rosy glow of anticipation, the mess that was her life suddenly didn't look so bad.
    A new worry hit like a crack of lightning. She slumped back in her chair.
    What the heck was she going to wear? It took her a full five minutes before she realized she'd missed the other call.
    * * *
    When in doubt drag out the little black dress, high heels, and gold hoops. Not terribly original but workable—and pretty much her only choice. Other than a hideous, baggy, beige... thing her alter ego had bought on a day she'd opted for retail therapy instead of Prozac.
    Tessa smoothed the clingy fabric over her hips, twisted to catch a glimpse of her backside in the full-length mirror on the closet door.
    She slapped a thigh. Not absolutely terrific. But not bad. Not bad at all. She jutted her chin at the mirror, pulled some long tendrils of hair from the updo she'd labored on for the past half hour.
    She stepped back from the mirror, frowned, barely managed not to laugh. She hadn't spent this much time on herself since prom night. It was kind of fun. And, hey, for any woman in pursuit of a hot man like Rand Fielding, making sure the equipment and accessories were A-okay was an essential part of her strategy.
    Okay, maybe she wasn't in full-throttle pursuit... yet. She smiled. But she was tired of being ignored. And Rand was definitely hot, and she was most definitely interested. He was the first man to fire up her sexual imagination since Donny Reed. Looking back, she'd gotten far too serious about Donny, far too soon. Just because you wanted a man didn't mean you wanted him forever.
    Anyway, it wasn't as if she were planning to be the mother of Rand's children. Her interest was more of a romantically physical nature. A kind of me Jane, you Tarzan kind of thing. She had no expectations beyond that.
    Did she?
    An unanswerable question which she ignored. She dashed a slick of something called Red Plum across her lips, rolled a tissue between them, and stood back from the mirror. She'd pass.
    "Ready or not, Fielding, here I come. In as close to battle-ready gear as a dog trainer can get."
    She slapped her thigh again. "Come on, Millie, Licks. It's dinnertime."
    * * *
    Ned did a splendid double take. "Tessa, you look terrific." He stood, came to the door, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. While he did this, Licks rushed over to his lord and master to shed a few thousand puppy hairs on his immaculate black slacks. Her heart warmed when that same lord and master didn't seem to mind, even rough-housed a second or two with Licks, until Tessa called him back and settled both dogs near the door.
    "And I like your perfume," Ned added, walking with her to the table.
    "Thanks. "Her eyes shot to Rand, who was standing beside his place setting at the long table.
    He stared at her, his intense look carrying enough heat to raise the room temperature by several degrees—and hers as well.
    "Lilac?" Ned asked, tilting his head.
    "Uh-huh." Tessa forced her attention back to Ned. "My sister, Annie, gave it to me for Christmas." Tessa harbored the suspicion it smelled like one of those room deodorizer plug-ins, but she'd never tell Annie that.
    "Your sister has good taste then." Ned gestured to the chair across the table from him, leaving Rand between them at its head. "And thanks for bringing Pam and Lansky. They're bedded down in the car as we speak."
    "You're welcome. Anytime." Tessa sat, grateful to tuck her knees under the table—although she hadn't missed Rand's lingering first look at her denim-free legs.
    He looked so wonderfully Heathcliffish, so dark and forbidding; black slacks, dark gray shirt open at the neck, a slim black belt accenting his narrow waist. Still too pale, though. She had to get the man outside.
    When Ned and Rand