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Bride in Training
Gail Gaymer Martin


Perfectionist Martin Davis's life is in turmoil. The lonely businessman's search for companionship led him to adopt a dog–a rather rambunctious terrier.And now Martin's at his wits' end. When dog trainer Emily Ireland offers to help, Martin is grateful–and intrigued. But he's wary of getting too close to the sweet, pretty Emily, especially when he learns of her scandalous past. Can Martin ever open his heart to the possibility that Emily just may be his perfect bride?









Mr. Tough Guy had been weakened by a little fluffy dog.


Emily pressed her lips together so as not to laugh. “We have dog obedience classes here a couple of nights a week.” She handed him a pamphlet.

“Do you teach these classes?”

“I mainly run the office, but I also own a dog-sitting and dog-walking business.” She hadn’t meant to tell him that, but it was too late now. He needed to learn to take care of his own animals.

“I—I might like to use your dog-walking service if you could fit me in.”

“I’m filled up right now.”

“I’d still like your card if you have one. You never know.”

She knew. She could handle dogs, but she couldn’t handle Martin Davis. She dug into her pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to him.

“Thanks. Will you call me if you get an opening?”

Emily forced herself to be firm. “My customers stay with me a long time.” When she looked at his expression, she wished she’d been gentler.

He didn’t look back as he marched outside. Apparently Martin wasn’t a man to accept the word no.




GAIL GAYMER MARTIN


A former counselor, Gail Gaymer Martin is an award-winning author of women’s fiction, romance and romantic suspense. Bride in Training is her forty-third published work of long fiction; she has three million books in print. Gail is the author of twenty-five worship resource books and also wrote the book Writing the Christian Romance released by Writer’s Digest Books. She is a cofounder of American Christian Fiction Writers, the premier Christian fiction organization in the country.

When not behind her computer, Gail enjoys a busy life—traveling, presenting workshops at conferences, speaking at churches and libraries, and singing as a soloist, praise leader and choir member at her church, where she also plays handbells and hand chimes. She also sings with one of the finest Christian chorales in Michigan, the Detroit Lutheran Singers. Gail is a lifelong resident of Michigan and lives with her husband, Bob, in the Detroit suburbs. To learn more about her, visit her Web site at www.gailmartin.com. Write to Gail at P.O. Box 760063, Lathrup Village, MI 48076, or at authorgailmartin@aol.com. She enjoys hearing from readers.




Bride in Training

Gail Gaymer Martin







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope.

—Ephesians 3:20


In memory of our daughter, Brenda Martin Bailey, who lost her life to ovarian cancer in 2006.

And to men and women everywhere who love dogs and provide them with loving homes. From those unions, families receive a blessing, unconditional love, which is an underlying theme in the three novels of the Man’s Best Friend series.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Letter to Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Good decision? Bad?

Martin Davis gripped his steering wheel as he eyed the shelter’s Time For Paws neon sign glowing in the dusk. He’d never thought he would darken the doors of a dog shelter, but here he was. Now the question hung in his mind. Was it a good decision or bad one? He’d become lonely without Suzette, his Bouvier, but he hadn’t been able to handle her. Sometimes he wondered what he could handle. Not dogs or women, apparently.

So if he couldn’t deal with Suzette, why come here to look for another dog? He released his grip on the steering wheel, fell back against the seat, and rubbed his temples. Because he couldn’t bear coming home to an empty house any longer. He’d been a failure as a husband. Cats were too aloof. Dogs? He had hopes.

Martin ran his fingers through his hair. He’d been alone for eight years since his wife walked out on him. The loneliness had faded, he thought, but since his brother, Nick, married, he had stopped popping by for visits. That was the whole of it. Being alone wasn’t for Martin anymore.

He turned the thought over in his mind. He recalled Steph and Nick talking about the unconditional love a dog provided. He’d never been one to worry about love or the lack of it, but unconditional love meant someone would be excited to greet him when he came home. A dog’s happy yips and wagging tail filled the bill, and a dog wouldn’t care if he were preoccupied with his business or even a little edgy at times.

Unconditional love. He shook his head. He sounded like a poet or a psychiatrist. The thought rallied an uneasy grin. Martin turned off the ignition and pushed open the door. If nothing more, he could take a look.

He slipped out of his car and gazed at the gray concrete building, once his friend Brent Runyan’s unoccupied factory until Molly wheedled away his building and his heart. They’d married, too. Everyone had gotten tangled in that web of “two by two.” He wondered if Noah had any idea what he started when he filled that ark.

Drawing up his shoulders, he headed for the door. The bell jingled as he stepped inside, and in the distance he heard dogs making a ruckus. He glanced at his watch. Dinner time, he guessed. His own stomach gave a rumble.

No one stood behind the desk. He waited, his impatience growing each second. He tapped his foot, staring at the doorway. Maybe this was a dumb decision. It could be God’s way of telling him to go home. But maybe not. It might just be bad customer service. Or his impatience. If he asked Nick, that’s what his brother would tell him. He had no patience.

Frustrated, he returned to the entrance and swung the door open and closed. The small bell jingled again. With no response, he walked deeper into the room and aimed his gaze at the door standing ajar. Through the opening, he could see a young woman at the far end of a long aisle, but before he could call to her, she turned and headed his way. Her dark hair brushed against her shoulders, her arms swinging past her trim hips as if she had nothing better to do. But he did.

Finally she noticed him and picked up her stride. When she came through the door, the woman paused, a look of curiosity on her face. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

About five minutes came to mind, but Martin didn’t offer one of his biting comments. Instead he wondered why she gave him that questioning look.

She stepped closer. “What can I do for you?”

He motioned to the door. “You might change that bell to a siren.” Okay, so he’d let that comment sneak out.

“Great idea. Now what can I do for you as far as our dogs are concerned.”

Martin noted the sarcasm in her voice, but with it, the flicker of a grin.

The grin faded as she studied him. “I think I know you.”

A frown burrowed onto his face.

“I don’t really know you, but I’ve seen you.” Her probing gaze raked across his face.

Martin’s eyebrow tugged upward.

She gave a knowing nod. “At Steph’s wedding. You’re Martin Davis, right? Nick’s brother.”

That explained the look. “Yes, the infamous Martin Davis.”

She didn’t blink. “I’m Emily Ireland.”

Martin eyed her slender hand reaching toward his. He grasped it, surprised her grip was stronger than he’d expected. He gazed into her eyes. Beautiful eyes, wide-set and the color of dark chocolate. Her straight dark brows lifted at the ends, giving her an impish look that caught him off guard. His mind snapped back, and he mumbled a nice-to-meet-you comment, although he wasn’t really sure if that would prove to be true. For all her innocence, she made him feel on edge.

Emily released his grip with a new expression more confounding than the last. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for another dog?”

Ah-ha. She had all the dirt on him from Steph, naturally. “Is that a problem?”

Her uneasiness deepened. “No. It’s…it’s good.”

Martin figured she was trying to make up for her earlier comment. He watched her squirm a little and rub her palms together as if trying to decide what to say or do next.

Martin shoved his hand into his pants pocket unable to understand why looking at her left him confused. Worse than confused. He wanted to give her a hug and suggest they start over, but it would ruin his apparent reputation. “I want a dog, but definitely one quieter and less work than Suzette. I’m sure you’ve heard about those problems.”

She flashed him an uneasy look. “Yes. You gave her to your brother.”

Martin’s brows knitted, sensing an undertone from this impish woman. “Suzette was rambunctious.” Her knowing gaze tripped his pulse.

“Dogs are until they’re trained.”

Her knowledge of him crept under his skin, and he itched to know more about her. She had the upper hand, and he didn’t like it. Maybe he could grill Nick. But subtly. If not, Nick would be all over him to know why he was asking about a Time for Paws employee.

Her demeanor softened, and Emily motioned toward the doorway. “I think I know the perfect dog for you.”

Martin arched his brow, curious why this dog was so perfect. Probably it was old and three-legged.

Emily didn’t let his look slow her down. She pointed again. “Through that doorway.”

He headed for the door, giving up on trying to understand the subliminal feelings charging through him.

Emily moved ahead, her hair brushing against her baggy shirt. Hidden beneath, he sensed, was a woman who was hiding something. Her look was direct, but the flicker behind her intriguing eyes made him wonder. If he asked Steph, she’d be on him like a bloodhound.

As soon as Emily opened the door, a din of woofs and whines rose to greet them. Martin strode past her, glancing inside the pens as tails wagged and noses pressed against the wire fencing of the upper door while the shorter dogs leaped to see above the Dutch door’s solid bottom. Martin paused and took a good look at the inside of the pen. “The dogs have furniture. That’s odd.”

Her demeanor changed and took on a businesslike manner that let him know she’d been offended by his comment. “Coming here is traumatic enough for them, so we try to make the dogs as comfortable as possible.”

“Apparently.” He didn’t let her browbeat him.

“The dog I have in mind is down here.” She strutted ahead, her attitude decisive.

Martin followed her down the aisle, gazing into the dog pens. When she reached her destination, a tender look filled her face. She motioned to the little dog jigging beside the door, its tail wagging as it looked up at them. “Here you go.” She swung open the Dutch door and stepped inside.

Martin joined her, feeling his stomach growl.

Emily bent and lifted the dog. “What do you think?” She extended the furry ball toward Martin.

“What is he?”

“She’s a cairn terrier.” Without waiting for him to accept her invitation, she pressed the dog against his chest.

He drew back before grasping the squirming fluff ball into his arms but not before her pink tongue swiped his hand. He couldn’t stop the flicker of a smile. The dog wiggled until her chin rested on his chest, and she looked into his face. Martin gazed back, his heart giving a little kick.

“She’s quiet and well-behaved. I think she’d be perfect for you.”

What would be perfect for him? What did she know about him but hearsay?

“Nessie’s been spayed and is up to date on all her shots.” Emily ran her hand along the dog’s fur. “She’s five, by the way. A healthy cairn terrier can live to be fourteen or fifteen.”

“Nessie?” He tilted his head. “That’s her name?”

The dog’s ear’s perked, and she tried to climb higher up his jacket.

Martin adjusted his grip but not before she licked his hand again.

“Cairns originated in Scotland. You know, the Loch Ness. That’s how she got her name.” Emily touched his arm. “And she’s purebred, too. We have the papers.”

Apparently she’d heard of his preference for purebreds. But that had changed, too. His attention shifted from his thoughts about the terrier to Emily’s warm palm against his arm.

She held it there a moment before shifting her hand and taking the dog from his arms. “Would you like to look at a different small dog? We have a beagle.”

“No. They howl.” He gazed again at the terrier. If Emily were accurate, and clearly she knew dogs, she had made a good choice for him. Quiet and well-behaved. That he could handle. He pulled his gaze from Emily’s lovely eyes and turned his attention to the dog. “What do you think, Nessie? Want to come home with me?”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “You want her?”

His single nod sent her rushing toward the office as if she feared he would change his mind. He stood at the desk while she became all business again. As she explained the paperwork, Martin sensed Emily was seeing him as more than just Nick’s difficult brother.

When finished, she handed him the documents. “Now if you have any questions, Mr. Davis, just ask.”

He folded the paperwork and jammed it into his pocket.

“Here you go.” She snapped a leash onto the terrier’s collar, and Martin grasped it, waiting for the dog to tug and run. Instead she stood there, her tail wagging. But when he headed for the door, the dog’s personality changed. Martin gripped the leash as Nessie jerked him outside. For a small dog, she had power to spare. He tugged her back not knowing what else to do. She might be trained, but he wasn’t.



Emily grinned, watching Martin charge out the door with Nessie. She’d been honest. The dog was quiet and well-behaved in her pen, but when she found freedom, she became difficult to handle. She’d neglected to tell him about the elderly woman who’d owned the dog and kept her inside most of the time. Getting out into the world was a new experience, and Nessie wanted to live and make the most of it.

So did Emily, but it hadn’t happened and probably never would. It was just the way her life always seemed to be.

Martin’s parked car caught her attention. Through the window, she watched him try to move Nessie off the driver’s seat so he could get inside. He finally managed it.

When she’d first seen him in the office, she had been guarded in their conversation. Martin’s reputation preceded him, and she’d felt intimidated. Yet she did her best to stand up for herself, rather than let the world run over her as she usually did.

The check he’d written caught her eye. Martin Davis. She studied his signature and drew in a deep breath. He had a flourish that whipped off into a curved line. Steph and Molly talked about him often, especially when she first started working at Time for Paws. Stories of Martin seemed a form of entertainment. When she’d seen him at the wedding, wow, she’d caught her breath. He was totally handsome, so unlike the vision she’d conjured in her mind.

What was it about him? She liked his eyes. They were rich brown like the saddles she’d seen in Western movies. Brown with flecks of gold, and though she knew eyes reflected attitude, Martin’s hadn’t. Walking behind him along the dog pens, she had admired his frame, six feet, she guessed, and lean with broad shoulders that added to his good looks. But Martin had the tendency of lowering his eyes, and that look gave him away. He might have a sharp tongue, but inside, she suspected he was as insecure and vulnerable as she was. She’d spent her life hiding her past, but Martin confounded her. He had so much going for him. What did he have to hide?

Tonight Martin had shown a softer side despite a few barbed comments. When he held Nessie, he’d melted like a cheap candle. And she’d caught him in a brief smile. His chin had dimpled below his even white teeth. She liked that, but it had made her selfconscious and she’d dragged her tongue over her teeth, fearing the sandwich she’d grabbed for dinner had left a telltale residue. She’d never liked her teeth. One was a little crooked so she tried to cover it when she smiled.

She glanced through the window again, her curiosity growing. Martin’s car was still there, and she wondered if she should go out to see if he needed help. Instead, she gripped the desk and talked herself out of it. If she softened too much, she could be in trouble. He was single, she knew, and the kind of man that could make her life wonderful. She’d watched Molly and Steph marry, and though she had always figured marriage wasn’t for her, her singleness seemed empty and lonely.

Wanting to get that nonsense out of her head, she focused on the check. He’d paid for Nessie’s shots and added a generous donation for the dog shelter. Somewhere inside Martin Davis beat a kind heart. Someone just needed to find it. But definitely not her.

Emily edged forward and blocked the headlights’ glare on the glass to see outside. Martin sat inside the car with Nessie sitting on his lap. The sight made her laugh. As she did, she turned away from the window before he spotted her.

The door to the pens remained ajar, but the noise inside had quieted. She strode to the door and slipped it closed before the dogs got riled again. The bell tinkled behind her, and she spun around. Martin stood inside with his hand on the doorknob. She caught her breath. If he smiled now with those white teeth and that dimple, she couldn’t cope.

Maintaining a semblance of control, Emily moved closer. “Is something wrong?”

As the last word left her mouth, a horn blasted outside.

Martin spun around and peered through the window. “You didn’t tell me the whole story about that dog.”

“Whole story?” She hoped her voice sounded steady.

“For one, she prefers the driver’s seat or my lap.”

“She’s lonely.”

Something flickered on his face, then faded. “I guessed that.” He ran his hand over his jaw.

The horn blew again.

He waved his hand toward the window. “Any idea how to stop her from pawing at the horn?”

Emily chuckled. “Did you tell her to sit?”

Martin raised his shoulders, then lowered them. “About fifteen times.” He opened the door and beckoned to her. “Look.”

Feeling sorry for him just a wee bit, Emily strode to his side and looked at the car. Nessie stood on the steering wheel, gazing at him through the front windshield. When Martin didn’t respond, the dog jumped from the steering wheel to the passenger window, her sharp barks penetrating the glass. Martin spun around and faced Emily. “I’ve been out there for five minutes, frustrated.”

“It’s the newness. She’ll adjust. It takes time.”

“Time? I just need a few tips on handling her.”

“Nessie’s had basic obedience training.”

“Here’s the situation. I don’t have a clue how to…”

Emily pressed her lips together not to laugh. Mr. Tough Guy had been weakened by a little fluffy dog. “Let me give you a brochure. We have dog obedience classes here a couple nights a week.” She stepped to the desk, pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to him.

He grasped it without interest. “I thought the dog had basic training.”

“But you haven’t. The classes are for you.”

“For me?” He glanced over his shoulder. “It’s too quiet out there.” He held up one finger and jerked open the door and headed outside.

In a moment, he was back, a look of relief on his face. “I peaked through the window. She’s curled up on the backseat. I think she’s asleep.”

“I told you.”

“This time.” He eyed the brochure for a moment. “Okay, I suppose I need to understand the basics. Do you teach these classes?”

“Molly handles that, and sometimes Steph helps. I mainly run the office and take care of the dogs when I’m needed, and I own a dog-sitting and walking business.” She hadn’t meant to tell him that, but it was too late now. The problems Nick had experienced with his brother skittered across her mind. Martin leaned on everyone but himself. He needed to learn to take care of his own animals. Too late. His face had brightened, and Emily knew she was in trouble.

He rested his hand on the desk. “I—I might like to use your dog-walking service if you could fit me in. Some days I work long hours, and I hate to leave an animal alone for that long.”

Emily gazed at his hand, noticing his long fingers with neatly trimmed fingernails. “I’m filled up right now.” That was the best she could come up with quickly, and there was truth to her response, though she always tried to squeeze in every new costumer…except this time.

The brightness dimmed on Martin’s face. “I’d still like your card if you have one. You never know.”

She knew. She could handle dogs, but she couldn’t handle Martin Davis. Even his hands intrigued her.

She dug in her pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He eyed the card, then tapped the edge of it against his thumb. “Will you call me if you get an opening?”

Emily swallowed and forced herself to be firm. “I doubt that will happen. My customers stay with me a long time. They rarely drop the service.” When she looked at his expression, she wished she’d been more gentle. But she had to stay in control.

Martin slipped the card into his pocket.

“You can call Molly about the training.” She tilted her head toward his pocket. “The shelter’s number is on there too.”

He didn’t look back. He grasped the knob and marched outside. Apparently Martin wasn’t a man to accept the word No.



Martin bounded toward his car, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I doubt it. Short but not sweet. Direct. No ifs, ands or buts. Though he’d always been able to manipulate people to do what he asked, he’d failed with dogs and obviously women. He’d never go to Molly or Steph for training. He’d feel uneasy. Feel stupid was more like it. He excelled in things. Martin Davis didn’t fail. But he had. He’d thought he could intimidate Emily a little, but apparently he’d been wrong about that, too.

He stood outside a moment drinking in the fresh air as Emily’s image filled his mind. When he’d first seen her, he’d taken a full sweep of her slender frame. She was tall like a reed. Thin and straight. She wore a long skirt that hung nearly to her ankles with that pale gray shirt that looked too big, as if she were drowning in her clothes. Beneath all that loose clothing he imagined a pretty woman with a nice figure who didn’t want people to notice. She aroused his curiosity—his interest—and that scared him.

A question sizzled in his head. Women never attracted him, so why did this one? Perhaps he felt safer with her. She was younger than his forty-three years. Barely in her thirties, he guessed. He was too old for her even if he were interested, and he wasn’t. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open as he glanced into the backseat.

His pulse soared. “Nessie, no.”

The terrier sprawled on the rear seat, gnawing on the handle of his attaché case. “What are you doing?”

She looked at him with innocent eyes. So had Emily.

Martin slammed his door and opened the back. Pushing Nessie aside, he jerked out his case, feeling the teeth marks embedded in the handle. “Bad dog.” He shook his finger in her face.

She licked it.

He lowered his hand and wiped it on his pant leg. “Nessie, I wanted a quiet, little companion. Don’t do this to me.”

Martin tossed the attaché case on the floor, lifted Nessie in his arms, dodging her tongue, and placed her on the passenger seat. “We’re going home. Be a good dog.”

The terrier wagged her tail, and Martin took that as a yes.

If only he could have Emily eating out of his hand, but she’d nipped at it instead. She’d given him little hope. No hope. He started the car and backed away from the building. No hope? That was unacceptable.




Chapter Two


Martin leaned over his dining room table, staring with blank eyes at the paperwork he had brought home. He usually never lugged work home. He stayed in his office to provide a good example to his employees. They needed to understand what devotion to a job meant. But he couldn’t concentrate there. All day his mind flew back and forth to Nessie at home alone, fearing what she might do to his house. He had given up and come home at noon.

If Emily ran her own dog-walking business, she should have been able to squeeze Nessie in sometime during the day. She had encouraged him to adopt the dog but didn’t want to help out otherwise.

Her face filled his mind, that impish look that was more a mask. At least when he smiled or frowned, that’s how he felt and everyone knew it. He’d heard his sister-in-law say dogs were honest. If they liked a person they wagged their tails. If not, they let him know with a bark or a nip. Emily had an innocent, vulnerable look, but underneath, she had a sink-in-the-teeth bite. He should have guessed from that determined handshake.

Martin glanced into the living room and spotted Nessie curled beside the low front windows where the sun spread along the carpet. Emily had been right about one thing. Inside the house, Nessie seemed to behave.

He pictured Emily’s slender hands, the way she kept her arms close to her sides with a slight swing, almost protective. He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to relax and hoping to get her off his mind. The documents he’d brought home needed action on Monday. Since tomorrow was Saturday, he had the weekend to delve into them and be home with the dog. Hopefully Monday would start a better week.

Nessie gave a yip, and Martin opened his eyes. Her tail wagging and her ears perked in attention, she rose and headed toward him. He looked over his shoulder, hearing the sound.

When Nick strode into the room, Nessie skittered to him and sniffed his shoes. “I heard you had a new friend.”

“Rumors travel fast.” Martin rose to greet him.

“No rumor. This looks like a real live dog to me.” He swooped the ball of fur into his arms while Nessie swiped his hand with kisses. “You cute little thing.” He glanced at the terrier’s belly. “Female, I see. You seem to have a dangerous bent toward women.”

“It’s a dog, Nick.”

His brother chuckled. “You’re asking for trouble when you bring a female into the house. You don’t get along with them, remember?” He set Nessie on the floor.

Emily’s face flashed through his mind, then Steph’s. “You can’t forget anything, can you?”

Nick strode closer and gave his shoulder a hug. “Just pulling your chain, bro.”

“Fine, but enough’s enough.” He turned away and strode to his recliner with Nessie following him with a longing look as if she wanted someone to play with her. One day he wanted to know about the dog’s last owner. As he sank into the chair, he motioned toward the sofa. “How’s Steph?”

“Better today. She did fine at work.” He strode to the French-pane picture window and looked outside. Nessie pattered beside him and curled up into a ball in a sunny spot.

Martin’s brow furrowed. “I thought her doctor told her to take it easy.”

“She has been.” Nick faced him. “Steph hired a young woman to come in and help with the dogs so she can do desk work and stay near the phone.”

He acquiesced, hoping they were making the right decision. Nick oozed a positive attitude. Martin wished he could follow his brother’s example. “Tell me about this woman that works at Time for Paws?”

“I don’t know her. Steph just hired her a few—”

“Not the new one. I meant Emily.”

Nick did a double take. “Emily? I don’t know much about her.” He gave Martin a scrutinizing look. “Why?”

Martin managed to act indifferent. “No reason. She has quite an attitude.”

Nick sputtered into a guffaw. “Attitude? You’re the king of attitude.”

Struggling with a rebuttal, Martin covered his lack of words with a groan. “I’m working on it.”

His brother stopped chuckling. “You are. I’ll be the first to admit that.” He crossed the room and plopped onto the sofa. “What happened yesterday?”

“Nessie gnawed the handle of my attaché case. This morning I found my Italian belt covered with teeth marks.”

Nick shrugged. “I can’t help you with that. Anyway, I meant what happened between you and Emily?”

The past evening fell into Martin’s mind, and he relayed her abrupt refusal to add him to her waiting list of customers. “I think she’s heard too many rumors from Steph, and—”

Nick leaned forward. “Wait a minute. Steph doesn’t spread rumors. If she said something it was true. You were horrible to her when you first met, and you know that, but you’ve made great strides, and I’m sure Steph has also mentioned that.” He flung his hands in the air. “I don’t know why they’re talking about you now, anyway, but don’t blame Steph.”

Too late to undo his blunder. “I wasn’t blaming Steph. I deserved every remark she might have made about me, but you know I’m working on my attitude. I monitored my comments with Emily.” He revisited his evening with her. “Well, most of them.”

Nick crossed his ankle over his knee and pulled up the sock. “You’re upset because she wouldn’t add you to her waiting list for what?”

“For her dog-walker services. You know that I work late sometimes, and—”

“And you don’t have me to run your errands for you anymore.”

Martin drew back at Nick’s harsh comment. His stomach tightened. “Okay, I deserve that. But I haven’t asked in a long time. You have your hands full with a new marriage and Steph’s high-risk pregnancy. I worry about her, too.”

“I know you do, and I appreciate it. That’s the new side of you I really respect. You’re thinking of others more than ever. Although I will admit, you were always good with Mom. Much better than I ever was.”

“You’re too tender-hearted.”

Nick shook his head. “I suppose.” He leaned back again, looking more at ease. “How are you getting along with Nessie?”

The terrier heard her name and made her way back to Nick. When she realized he wasn’t going to pay attention to her again, she curled up at his feet and used his shoe as a pillow.

“She’s a nice dog, but…” That but again. Martin wished he could remove the word from his vocabulary. “That’s another thing about Emily. She suggested dog training, then pushed me off on Molly. I hate the idea of dog training, but if I decided to try it, I can’t go to Molly. Her husband and I do business together. What happens if I do something that riles Molly? There goes that relationship.”

Nick looked thoughtful. “And Steph isn’t training now.”

“Right.” He didn’t want to work with Steph, either. They had finally become friends. One wrong move could destroy that.

“Emily’s been employed there less than a year. Maybe she doesn’t train dogs.”

“She must know something to be a dog-walker and sitter. She told me herself she has a lot of clients. I don’t need classes. Just a few tips.”

Nick looked toward the ceiling as if he’d find the answer there. He finally turned to Martin. “I can ask Steph if she’d talk with Molly. I don’t know if it will do any good if Emily refuses, but Molly loves dogs, and I’m sure she wants you to do a good job with Nessie.”

“That’s all I want. I suppose I could look in the yellow pages for a trainer, but—”

“Hang on before you do that.” He reached down and petted Nessie’s head. “The poor dog has been shifted from one person to another. Time For Paws is familiar to her.” He eyed Martin. “Should I talk with Molly?”

“Yes. Thanks. It’s not really training for the dog. It’s for me.”

“You?” A silly grin stole to Nick’s face and he chuckled. “Even better. Let me see what I can do.”

Martin opened his mouth, then closed it. Let Nick laugh. One day the laugh would be on him. Nick had provided renewed motivation for Martin to be on his best behavior.

His pulse gave a kick. Talk about motivation, he sensed an ulterior motive going on in his brain, but he didn’t want to face it. The least likely person in the world to interest him would be someone like Emily. Nothing in common but a dog. He pictured Emily’s amazing eyes, her protective cover and her vulnerability. Then again, maybe they weren’t so different.



Emily tightened the boxer’s leash. Like most larger dogs, he had the strength of a bull, and she was glad she’d gained a little more muscle mass. She remembered taking her first couple of dog-walking jobs and feeling like the word “failure” was emblazoned on her forehead. When she’d let herself go a few years earlier, she looked gaunt, emaciated to some people, but now that her life had gotten back on track, she continued to work toward a healthier body. Dog-walking provided her a solid means to keep in shape.

Though she felt better about herself, she didn’t want to hear comments about her nice figure or her looks. People called her cute. She didn’t see that either. Her biggest concern was working harder toward a healthier attitude. She wanted to forgot those horrible years that had stifled her for so long. Over and over she’d reminded herself that God had wiped the slate clean, but a slate filled with sin remained vivid in her mind.

She tightened the boxer’s leash again while she located the key for his owner’s house. When she walked inside, the dog darted for his dish, the leash trailing behind him. Emily filled his water dish, unhooked the leash, then located the dry dog food. She emptied some into the dog’s bowl and watched him gobble it.

For a huge dog, this one had manners and always seemed happy when she arrived to walk him. Numerous times she’d been bullied by dogs she’d agreed to walk. She shook her head recalling some of the harrowing experiences, but with this boxer, she only had to battle his kisses.

Kisses. Martin Davis’s lips filled her mind, and Emily’s spine constricted. She hadn’t seen the man since Thursday—four days ago. She shook her head to remove the image of his engaging lips and his beguiling eyes.

Emily stood a moment, gathering her wits, then hung the dog’s leash on its hook and gave the boxer a final pet. As she headed for the door, the sound of her cell phone stopped her. She dug it from her purse and eyed the information. Molly. Molly didn’t phone her often. Emily pushed the button, concerned something might be wrong. Maybe something with Steph. When she heard Molly’s voice, she suspected she was right.

“You didn’t tell me the whole story about Martin Davis.”

Emily flinched. She’d thought she handled everything well. Fairly well. Martin’s request for her card rang in her mind. Maybe she hadn’t been kind when she said no, but she had to protect herself. “What do you mean? He didn’t bring Nessie back, did he?” She hated to think of him doing that to get even, but that evening, he’d charged out the door as if he’d spotted a tiger.

“No. No threats, but we have to keep our clients happy. Steph said he was nice enough when he talked with Nick, but he was upset that Nessie chewed the handle on his attaché case. You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know.” She shifted the boxer away from the door and opened it. “She must have done it when he came back into the office to ask some questions.” She decided to avoid the details. Emily slipped outside and checked the lock before heading for her car.

Molly gave a soft chuckle. “Well, that’s not all. The other morning Nick dropped in at Martin’s and heard Nessie had gnawed his Italian leather belt during the night.” Molly’s exhale sounded over the line. “I don’t suppose you warned him.”

“You should have seen him, Molly. He even smiled when Nessie licked his hand.” She stood beside her car, shifting to keep the sun from her eyes. “She’d been good with us, and I didn’t think of it.”

“She had toys here, not expensive leather belts and briefcases.”

Fear of what Molly might want her to do crept through her mind. She hoped she was wrong. “What does he want? Us to replace his belt?”

The line was silent a moment. “No. He wants training, and he would rather not take classes from me, because of his relationship with Brent. That’s what Nick said. They do business together, and…I don’t know, but he told Nick he’d be uncomfortable. So it’s your job. He doesn’t know you.”

And Emily wanted to keep it that way.

“He’s willing to pay extra for private home lessons.”

“Private? Why?” She’d be expected to spend time alone with him. She couldn’t keep him out of her thoughts now, and she’d only seen him once. Twice. The wedding flashed in her mind.

“You know men…especially this one. They have pride. He’s probably embarrassed that the dog knows more than he does.”

Emily stifled a chuckle, thinking of Martin’s know-it-all attitude. Then reality struck. “I’d rather not, Molly.” In the background, a dog’s bark echoed through the phone line.

“Are you afraid of him, or his reputation?”

“Probably his reputation. He was a little snarky Thursday.” Her mind tripped back to that day.

“Maybe he was trying to be funny and failed. You need to understand his bark is worse than his bite, and he doesn’t bark as much as he did.”

That gave Emily a rallying vote of confidence. “I’m still not convinced.” But she had changed. She had the Lord to thank for that. She’d witnessed Martin had changed, too. His tenderness with Nessie filled her mind and his occasional grin.

“I can’t force you, but it would be a favor to me, and Steph, too. Martin’s her brother-in-law.”

Emily let the thought rattle around in her mind. She wanted to protect herself but from what? A man. He wouldn’t give her a second look so what was she worried about?

A sigh escaped her. “I’ll see what I can do.” She tucked the cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she pulled a hunk of paper and a pen from her purse. “Give me the address and phone number.” Resting the paper against her car, she scribbled down the information. “Got it.”

“Thanks. I realize this is beyond the call of duty.”

She could picture Molly’s grin. “I know.”

She closed her phone and slipped it back into her handbag. Something about Martin irked her but intrigued her at the same time. He had gall, expecting a personal home visit. Dog shelters didn’t provide individual service. They did the best they could to save dogs’ lives by making them adoptable. But Martin had clout, and from all she’d heard, he liked getting his own way…unless that had changed, too.

A revelation came to her while talking with Molly, and Emily wanted to take care of that first before calling Martin. And she needed to get her mind in order. She wanted the tone of their meeting to be professional.

Once on the road, Emily realized Martin’s house would be easy to find. He lived next to Steph’s old home, from before she married Nick. Thinking of Steph, her mind clicked back to her first days at the dog shelter. Steph ran her doggie day care in the back of the building while Molly owned the shelter in the front. Both women loved dogs as much as she did, and it seemed like providence when Emily stumbled on the job shortly after the shelter had opened.

Dogs and three women who loved them. Meeting Steph and Molly had been a blessing.

Emily slowed as she approached the next corner. She veered into the right lane and turned. Glad she had the idea, she headed for a pet supply store certain that Martin hadn’t planned ahead. Dogs needed toys, things they could chew, and she wanted to pick up a training device to help Martin. He’d said he knew nothing about working with dogs so a quick lesson seemed suitable.

Shopping took only a minute, and Emily was back in the car. She stared at her handbag. She had to make the call. Thinking of tropical breezes and a lovely sunset, she calmed her thoughts. The technique worked for her. A Caribbean vacation had always been her dream. So romantic. The word jarred her. She forced her mind to a quiet place, then dug into her handbag and pulled out her cell phone.

After locating the scrap of paper with Martin’s phone number, she faced the keypad. Her fingers hesitated as she pressed the numbers. “Get a grip.” The phone rang and in minutes, Martin’s voice rolled through the line.

“This is Emily Ireland. Molly asked me to stop by so we could talk. Is today okay?”

“Perfect.” Relief sounded in his voice. “Do you know where I live?”

She said she did and hung up as soon as she could. After tossing her phone back into her bag, she turned the key in the ignition, pulled into traffic and retraced the route. Before long, her car nosed into Martin’s driveway. She’d never paid attention before, but today she sat a moment to drink in the homey look of his property.

Cedar-shake siding gave it a Cape Cod look, except for its sprawling size. Dormers accented the front windows, and a long porch enclosed by a railing added an old-fashioned look. Though the landscape offered low spreading evergreen shrubs beneath the dormer windows, Emily longed to see flowers. In spring, tulips and daffodils blossomed in beds around many homes. Grape hyacinths clustered in borders, but not here. Instead, a shade tree grew from a raised island with large stones and low-lying ground cover. If the house were hers, she would add flowers. Nothing seemed to make a home prettier than bright blossoms.

The vision made her ache for what might have been if she’d had a different life. She drew in a long breath, and instead of letting the mood affect her, she grasped the package and left the car. The closer she strode to the front door the more her nerves came out of hiding. He’d asked her to come. It wasn’t as if she was making a surprise visit.

Emily stood for a moment to gather her confidence, then pushed the bell. She heard a pleasant chime from within and waited.

The door opened, and Martin gaped at her a moment before he spoke. “That was fast.” He pushed open the screen door. “I didn’t know you were so close.”

She took a step backward. “If it’s a problem, I can—”

“It’s not a problem.” A faint grin slipped to his mouth. “Come in.”

Emily stepped inside, her gaze lowering to Martin’s stockinged feet against the stone-tiled foyer. Her stomach tightened. The image of Martin Davis looking as homey as his house seemed unreal. She’d never pictured him in jeans and a pair of socks looking like a regular homebody. He’d even flashed her a smile. The vision rushed through her.

Past the foyer, a family room lay in front of her where she could see patio doors leading outside. When he motioned her to come in further, she clamped her jaw to hold back her reaction. The foyer flowed into a huge living room with a stone fireplace and cathedral ceiling. Across the thick carpet she spotted a dining area. She loved the large open room, and when she looked at him, she couldn’t help but tell him. “This is wonderful for entertaining.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She winced at his abrupt response. A distant sound distracted her followed by a scratching noise that caused her concern. “What’s that noise? Nessie?”

“I locked her in the laundry room where she can do less damage.”

Emily’s back tightened. “No.” She gave him a piercing gaze before she could stop herself.

He staggered back a step and looked at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“That’s not the way to train a dog.”

“No kidding.”

His sarcastic tone didn’t stop her. “Then why did you do it?”

His looked soften. “Emily, I don’t know how to work with a dog. That’s why I called Molly.”

She looked away, startled that she’d gotten so mouthy. “Let Nessie out of the laundry room. Then we can talk.”

He nodded and headed for the doorway off the dining room, his expression more like the man she’d seen when she walked into the house.

Although he hadn’t invited her, Emily followed. When she stepped into the kitchen, she quelled an appreciative moan. Expansive cabinets were highlighted by a large island. On the far side, a breakfast nook sat beside broad windows that looked into the backyard. She could imagine eating there in the morning, watching the birds flap their wings in a birdbath and squirrels skittering in the trees. She’d dreamed of a comfortable home with a pretty yard.

The scratching noise stopped, and Nessie darted into the room, her nails tapping against the wooden floor. She skidded to a stop beside her.

Emily lifted the terrier in her arms. Nessie’s tongue lapped across her hands before swiping her cheek. She cuddled the terrier, feeling her heartbeat pounding against her palm. “You poor little thing.” She nuzzled her face in the dog’s fur.

When she lifted her head, Martin watched her, a troubled look etching his face. “I didn’t think putting her in the laundry room was cruel.”

“No, but she’s frightened.” Nessie’s heartbeat slowed and she squirmed to get down. “Remember, she lost her owner, then spent two days with us, and now she’s with you. Can you imagine how you’d feel being taken from your home and locked in a cell like a prisoner, and then when you were bailed out and thinking you were saved, you were locked up again?”

Martin ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

His contrite expression wrenched her heart. When he lowered his hand, she gazed at his dark hair now ruffled by his fingers. He wore it with no part, short and thick with a natural wave. She longed to bury her hand in its thickness.

As if he heard her, Martin smiled.

Smile? She didn’t want him to smile. The pit of her stomach fell and rose, pressing air from her lungs. This yo-yo man vacillated from intolerable to lovable in the blink of an eye.

Her frustration weakened. “Can we talk?” She lowered Nessie to the floor.

He motioned behind her. “Let’s sit in the family room.” He pointed to the doorway.

As she moved ahead, he stopped in front of the refrigerator. “Iced tea?”

Emily thought of saying no, but nerves had dried her throat. “Yes, please. No sugar.” Though eager to view the family room, she watched him pull out glasses and pour the drinks. He looked comfortable in the kitchen, his stockinged feet padding along the oak planks. Who would have thought that Martin had a homey side in him? But he did, and she liked it.

Martin tilted his head toward the family room. “You didn’t need to wait.”

“I like watching you work in the kitchen.” The words sailed out with a mind of their own.

His grin brightened as he handed her the tea. “I find that interesting.”

She shrugged, wishing she had a snappy response. “I don’t have much of a kitchen. It’s a studio apartment.”

His grin faded, and she wished she hadn’t admitted it. She took one last sweeping gaze of his spacious kitchen before moving into the family room. When she did, sunlight filtered through the glass door onto the carpet, leaving sunny splotches and changing its color from beige to gold. Sunshine also radiated from above, and she lifted her gaze to the cathedral ceiling with a skylight. Ultimate luxury. She’d never known anything like this. She turned in a circle, searching to see if he’d thought to purchase a doggie bed for Nessie, a place she could call her own. She saw none.

Across from another fireplace—how many did one man need?—she eyed the wide patio door.

Martin stood in the doorway, watching her, but she didn’t care. She’d never been in a house like this. None of her clients had a home of this size. Nessie pit-patted beside her as Emily ambled across the room and looked through the glass. The large yard spotted with shade trees and shrubs looked inviting but lacked the flowers she loved.

She glanced over her shoulder. “I know it’s cool, but could we sit outside? Nessie probably needs to run, anyway.”

“Why not?” He followed her as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Nessie shot through the doorway, sniffing the ground and heading for an area in the back of the property.

“How about there?” Martin motioned toward the chairs arranged around an umbrella table.

Emily strolled over, forcing her mind to focus on why she’d come. The house and the attractive man gave her a fairy-tale feeling. Though she loved those children’s tales, she knew real life didn’t always have happy endings.

When she sat, she still clutched the paper sack in her hand. She set the package on the table and sipped the tea. The condensation wetted her fingers, and she wiped them on her jeans, then placed the glass on a coaster and gazed toward Nessie across the yard. “You have no flowers.” The thought shot from her mouth.

He looked up, peering at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What?”

Uneasy with her bluntness, she sank deeper into the chair cushion. “Your yard. It’s beautiful, but…”

His eyes searched hers, and a prickling sensation ran down her arms.

“Maybe it’s a woman’s thing.” He gazed across the lawn. “My mom always had flowers in the yard.”

His mom. The impact of his statement was unexpected. She’d never had anyone in her life she wanted to call Mom. Sometimes the word mother even clung to her tongue. Her hand trembled as she looked at Martin and thought of his home. She shouldn’t be sitting here like a friend. This wasn’t her world, and if she loved it too much, she—

“Is that for Nessie?”

His voice tugged her from her thoughts. When she looked up, his finger aimed at the sack. She lowered her hands to her lap, willing them to steady and begging her heart to stop pounding. “It’s for both of you, really.” Her voice sounded breathy. She sucked in air. “You can open it.”

Martin unwound the top of the bag and looked inside, emptying out a raw hide, a squeaky toy, and tug rope. He squeezed the plastic hotdog, releasing its high-pitched squeal. “Thank you so much.” He grinned. “I didn’t buy a thing for her.” He raised on one hip and slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, his face so tender her knees weakened.

Panic filled her as Emily shook her head. “No. It’s a gift.” Her heart pummeled her chest as she rose. “Nessie needs a spot to call her own, too. Everyone needs a place…” She dragged in some air. “A place to call home.” She stepped back from the table, overwhelmed by her feelings of sadness and fear.

Martin frowned and leaned forward, his wallet still clutched in his hand. “What are you doing?”

She backed away. “I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

“But what about—”

“I’m sorry.” She rushed to the patio door. “Thank you for the tea.” She dashed through the house and onto the porch, as if midnight had struck and she had to make her getaway.




Chapter Three


Martin stood in the floral shop eyeing the bouquets, but his mind remained on Emily. Since she walked out three days earlier, he’d been baffled about what he’d done. They were talking and she was fine until she jumped up and ran off. Racking his brain, he couldn’t think of what he’d done that might have offended her. He’d been stirred by her thoughtful gift. She didn’t have money for dog toys. Anyone who lived in a studio apartment likely couldn’t afford much. He’d only tried to pay her for her thoughtfulness.

He could hear the toy hotdog squeal in his head. Nessie loved it, and Martin admired Emily’s kindness.

The toys for Nessie triggered another thought. When he had gone to throw the bag in the trash, he felt something else inside, a small clicker of some kind. It certainly didn’t look like a toy. Glad he found it, Martin had tucked it away. He needed to call Emily about it. He closed his eyes, giving his idea a second thought. Having no clue what happened that day, Martin didn’t want to get his head chewed…like a rawhide. Maybe asking Steph about it was a better idea.

The scent of flowers drew his mind back to the floral display. He focused on the bouquets. Roses? Carnations? He wanted something cheerful for his mother. When he spotted the mixed bouquet of spring flowers, he decided that was it. Bright, cheery and full of hope. Spring always left him with expectations—rebirth of nature and hopefully his own rebirth as he worked to alter his attitude and his life. Hopeful, yes, but sometimes that job seemed hopeless. Emily’s race from the yard had sparked that thought.

With the bouquet wrapped and paid for, Martin slipped into his car and headed for Waltonwoods to visit his mother. Although she’d resisted moving to an assisted living residence after her stroke, she’d given in and now was adjusting well to residing in the independent living facility. Martin’s guilt had subsided. He turned onto Walton Boulevard and pulled into the visitor parking. Grabbing the bouquet, he headed inside, signed in and took the elevator to his mother’s apartment. A small placard next to the door read Julia Davis. The Julia was printed in a large font. Identity. Everyone needed it, especially those who’d lived a full life and sometimes struggled to find a purpose.

When his mother opened the door, her eyes twinkled as he remembered from childhood—except those times he’d done something wrong, when he had seen hurt in her eyes. Martin kissed his mother’s cheek and placed the bouquet in her arms. His chest tightened seeing pleasure on her face.

She buried her nose in the blossoms. “They’re lovely, Martin. And they smell so sweet.” She cradled the bouquet as if it were a baby and motioned him inside.

The sting of fleeting years pricked Martin’s senses as he strode across the room and sank onto the sofa. He didn’t envision the joy of holding his own offspring. He’d remained single since his divorce, ashamed that he’d been abandoned by his wife. Her reason had left him staggering: he wasn’t a good husband. That’s what she’d said. He’d spent his days working to make a home and hopefully to provide well for a family, but Denise had walked out without giving him a chance and with no desire to make it work.

He’d married for better or worse, never expecting he would be the worse for Denise. Nick encouraged him to get over it, but Nick hadn’t fared much better with his first fiancé walking away before the wedding. But Nick had found love again, lessening Martin’s bitterness. Nick and Steph made a great couple, and now there was a baby on the way. The knife twisted deeper.

“Is something wrong?”

Martin jerked his head upward, sorry he’d let his mind wander. “Not a thing. In fact, I have some good news.”

Her face brightened. “Really? Is it someone new in your life?”

Martin squirmed as a vision of Emily filled his mind. “She’s a cairn terrier named Nessie. A bundle of fur.” He rose to evade the disappointment on her face and grasped the flowers. “Do you have a vase for these, Mom?” Rather than looking at her, he scanned her small apartment for a container, the kitchen taking a corner of her living room with a bedroom and bath beyond. “Martin.”

He glanced her way.

“Look on top of the cabinet there.” She pointed. “Use that crystal one. Your father brought that home for me once filled with roses.”

He reached above the cabinet and lowered the vase, recalling how often he’d seen it filled with flowers in their home when he was a teen. Flowers. The memory of Emily in his yard slipped through his mind until he refocused. “Dad was a good man.” He found the courage to face her.

A sweet smile curved her mouth. “I didn’t know if you boys realized that. He was strict and not always there for you when you needed him.”

A void rushed through him and he remembered his yearnings to have his father notice him the way he noticed Nick, but he provided for them and cared in his own way. “We knew.”

He turned his attention to filling the vase with water and jamming the flowers into it. He had no idea how to arrange them. “What do you think?” He stepped past the cabinets and held the vase so she could see it.

“I think you should let me meet your new pet.”

Though she’d faltered over her words, Martin realized how much she’d improved since her stroke, but he also caught her message. His stomach knotted. She wanted to be with him or Nick and not here. But they both had jobs and… “We’ll work something out now that you’re walking better.”

“I’ve tried.” She turned her attention to the flowers, sending him a crooked smile left from her stroke. “Do you need help with those?”

“Probably.”

She beckoned him to bring her the flowers.

“Sorry. I don’t do arranging.” Martin chuckled as he approached her, but he didn’t feel the humor. He shifted a wooden TV tray closer to her chair and set the flowers on it. “What do you need?”

“Scissors.” She motioned toward the corner of her cabinets. “In the end drawer there.”

He opened it and found the scissors.

“And some paper towel.”

Nick unrolled the toweling and brought it to her with the scissors, then sat in the nearest chair to watch. Her earlier comment about bringing her home for a visit had unsettled him. He and Nick should be more available to her, but somehow life got in the way. He visited regularly, but his mother wanted more. He lowered his head, knowing that visiting this way meant he could leave after an hour or so when it was convenient and then get on with life.

But this was her life in this limited space with only a few mementos of the past, like the vase that meant so much to her. He closed his eyes a moment, wishing life didn’t hurt so much. But the Lord promised believers Heaven, where pain and sadness would be gone. He forced his head upward and watched his mother manipulate the flowers, clipping off an end here and sliding in a stalk of greenery there until the flowers looked like a real arrangement.

“Good job, Mom.”

She grinned, adding the final few flowers, her veined hands, fragile and almost transparent, working deftly with the blossoms.

“Arranging flowers is sort of a lesson in life, Martin. Sometimes you have to clip away a bad stem or shorten a blossom so it doesn’t overpower a more delicate one. You have to discard ones that are broken or dead to make room for the flowers that are still lovely.”

Discard the dead and broken. Why couldn’t he do that? Dead dreams and broken promises. Cut them away so they didn’t overpower what was worthy and beautiful.

“When you tuck something beautiful beside the plain, each enhances the other.” She turned the vase around to face him. “What do you think?”

“It looks great. Just like a professional.”

She waved his words away, and he grinned seeing both hands functioning now after the stroke that had left her with so many problems.

He rose. “Where do you want the vase?”

“On the table there.” She pointed to the small dining table. Her eyes drifted from the arrangement to him. “Tell me about the dog.”

“I adopted her from Time for Paws, where Steph works.”

Her eyebrows raised. “From the shelter?”

Her tone let him know she hardly believed he’d obtained a dog from there. “Yes. She’s five, but her life expectancy is three times that.”

She gave him a motherly look and pushed the table to the side. “I suppose Steph helped you select this dog.”

He fought his growing anxiety. “No. I decided to stop on my way home from work and take a look. The part-time girl was there.”

“You mean Emily?” Hearing her name caused his pulse to skip. “I met her at the wedding. Very sweet.”

“I suppose.” His heel tapped against the floor, and he pressed his hand against his knee to control it.

His mother noticed, and he squirmed while she studied him. “Emily’s nice, don’t you think?”

He drew back and gave up on quieting his knee. He knew what his mother was getting at. If she were still living in her home, he would be invited to dinner once a week to meet some young woman who was the daughter of a friend or a friend of a friend. She believed God meant everyone to be in twos. Just like the ark. Hear that, Noah?

Martin gave up. When his mother probed for information, she knew how to do it. He’d run into the same technique as a child. He couldn’t get away with anything, but then, he rarely wanted to. As the oldest child with his parents’ full attention, he’d demanded much of himself, not wanting to disappoint them.

Emily became the topic of conversation for the next few minutes. He told her about his problem with Nessie, and how Emily had dropped by with the toys.

“That’s strange. Why would she do that?”

“I’d asked her about obedience training, and…” His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Yes, I’m sure Emily would be happy to help.”

Knowing his mother, she’d never stop. Never did when he was a boy, and she wouldn’t now. Instead of trying to respond, he dug out the phone and flipped it open. His chest constricted. Emily. He stared at her number, then closed the lid. “Important?”

No. His stomach rolled. Yes, it was important. He wanted to know why Emily had called. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked away. “I’m sure.” Then he rose. “Mom, what’s on your mind? Do you think every time my phone rings it’s some woman you can trap into falling in love with me? It’s not going to happen.”

“Martin. No one needs to be trapped. You’re a handsome man with a successful business, a lovely home, and a new dog.” She shook her head. “And I want you to have the joy of being a father one day.”

“A father?” He shook his head. “I need a wife first.”

“Now, that’s what I want to hear.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s work on that.”

Let’s? Martin leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll put that in your capable hands.”

She grinned as he turned away. He’d never get that idea out of her head.



Emily leaned against the shelter’s storage room doorway and clutched her cell phone. Calling had been a bad idea. Martin hadn’t answered, and though he might have a good reason, she suspected he didn’t want to talk to her. She’d pondered her behavior for the past three days trying to make sense out of it. When she’d sat in his lovely yard talking to him, she’d had an overwhelming feeling that she didn’t belong there. That was it.

Yet somewhere deep inside her, Emily wanted to apologize. How could he ever understand her behavior unless he knew her, and he didn’t. That’s how she wanted it. But then, when he pulled out his wallet… It had been too much.

A sound caused her to turn as Molly appeared in the doorway, looking slim again after the birth of her new baby Zachariah. Such a big name for a little boy. Emily glanced at her watch. “Is it that time already?”

“Brent came home early so I left him on diaper and bottle duty.”

“Good for you. Make him work.” Emily managed a smile. She shifted a dog food bag against the wall and uncoiled her back, then pulled up her shoulders and sucked in her belly to force her spine to straighten.

Molly eyed her a second, then put her fists on her hips. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. I haven’t slept well for the past couple nights.”

Molly’s brows arched. “The past couple nights? Is that my fault, Emily? Don’t tell me you had a bad time with Martin. I shouldn’t have insisted you—”

Martin’s name shot through Emily like a dart. “No. He was fine.”

“Really?”

She nodded and looked away before Molly asked anything more. “I picked up a few things on the way to his house—a rawhide and a couple of other toys…and a clicker.” She’d forgotten it was in the bag until yesterday.

“I hope he paid you.”

Her pulse skipped again. “No. It—it was a gift.”

“A gift? Be careful. He could easily take advantage of your kindness. Martin can do that to people.” She slipped her arm around Emily’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “The Lord will put extra stars in your crown though. That was nice of you.”

Stars in her crown. Emily doubted if she’d have a crown. Getting into Heaven would be blessing enough. “He seemed different Wednesday.” In stockinged feet.

Molly squeezed her shoulder. “Steph gets along with him now.”

Martin’s image settled in her mind. He’s been friendly enough. “But people can also slip back into old habits.”

Molly nodded, but her expression had darkened, and it made Emily suspect she was thinking about Emily’s past. Shortly after she’d started working at the shelter, Molly had spotted the scars on her wrists. Even her watch and bracelet didn’t cover them completely. Molly had never asked for details, and she hoped it would stay that way. Emily pushed her thoughts aside and changed the subject. “We had a good day. Two new adoptions. Buster and Rosey are gone.”

“Wonderful.” She took a step toward the door before turning back. “How did the lesson go?”

“Lesson?” Her stomach twisted, fearing Molly would be upset if she knew Emily had walked out. “I gave him the toys and left.” She focused on Molly. “What’s wrong?”

“You.”

“Me?” She kept her hand steady as she pressed her index finger against her chest.

A grin slipped to Molly’s face. “You’re blushing.”

Emily pulled her hand from her chest and cupped her cheek in her palm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My face isn’t hot.”

Molly’s grin broadened. “You blushed when you mentioned Martin.” She faced her, her arms akimbo. “What’s going on?”

“What could go on? I’ve known him a week, and that includes today.” Her lips pressed together, but she forced them apart. “I don’t know where you came up with that dumb idea.” Yes, she found him attractive. Yes, he stirred some emotion, but…

“I fell in love with Brent a couple days after I met him.” Molly uncoiled her arms. “Maybe not in love, but I fell in deep like.”

“Deep like.” Emily chuckled a little too heartily. “That’s a new one.” Silence.

Molly gave her a playful smirk. “I don’t think so. We’ll just wait and see.”

“You’ll have to wait a long time.”

Molly grinned and strode toward the office while Emily watched her go, feeling helpless. Yes, she’d thought about Martin and about Nessie. More about Nes… Maybe they’d both been on her mind, but she certainly hadn’t fallen in love or even like. Actually, she’d been confused. Where did Molly come up with something so ridiculous? She turned away, opened the dog food bag and continued filling the dogs’ dishes. Her day ended when Molly arrived, but she never left a job half finished.

The dogs wagged and wiggled to get to the food. They looked happy and healthier than some had looked when they’d arrived. Homeless dogs, abandoned dogs broke her heart. She and they were kindred spirits.

Emily grabbed her handbag and said goodbye to Molly as she hurried through the office and stepped outside. She didn’t want to talk with Molly about falling into anything.

Outside, she stopped and drew in a deep breath. The spring air filled her lungs and refreshed her in the same way the Holy Spirit had filled her with hope. In the sunlight, she leaned against her car and thought. Martin had hung on her mind many times during the day. Did he give Nessie the rawhide? Would he remember to purchase a doggie bed?

She opened her car door, but instead of climbing in, she leaned against the sedan, thinking about the call she’d made to him. She pulled out her cell phone and checked for messages. Nothing. Maybe she should call again and—

No. She’d called once. If he wanted to talk with her, he’d call back. If he found the clicker in the bag, he may have figured out how to use it. He didn’t need her.



Martin opened the door from the garage and heard Nessie’s nails clicking across the kitchen. Before he closed the door, the dog had reached the laundry room, her tail wagging. He bent down and petted her. Her dark eyes with long wispy brows gazed at him as if he were a hero. His chest tightened. Some men had children look at them like that. At least he had the dog.

When he closed the door, Nessie skittered off the way she’d come, and when Martin stepped into the kitchen, he found her posed by her dish. “Hungry?”

Her tail wagged as he headed for the bag of dog food. He added nuggets to her dish. And refreshed her water, then strolled into the family room and wandered to the patio door. In moments, Nessie padded to his side. He slid open the glass and let her out. She’d been pretty good since she had had the toys to gnaw. The clicker didn’t make sense to him so it lay on the kitchen counter. He guessed that’s why Emily had called.

An empty feeling settled in his chest. She would never come back. He sensed it. Success wasn’t his friend when it came to relationships with people. His mother had always seen his good side, but others? He didn’t want to go there.

He stepped onto the patio, pulled his cell from his pocket and settled into a chair at the umbrella table, the phone clutched in his hand. A cooler breeze drifted past, smelling like rain. Martin looked into the gloomy sky, noting the heavy clouds that had covered the sun. He hated dismal days. They made him feel worse.

The cell phone warmed his palm, and his chest tightened as he hit dial. It rang twice. He held his breath. As he mustered control, her hesitant voice met his ears.

“I couldn’t answer earlier, Emily. Sorry.”

“I—I didn’t want to bother you, but—”

“You’re no bother.” He drew in a quick breath. “I’m glad you called.” He fought his instinct to ask her why she’d run off. “You left something in the bag when you were here that I think belongs to you.”

“The clicker. I bought that for you. It’s a method to train Nessie. I—”

Silence ran through the line, and he opened his mouth but held back, knowing she had something else on her mind.

“I’m sorry about running off. I’d meant to show you how to use it.”

“Emily, listen. Let’s back up. You don’t need to apologize. I know something happened, and I feel badly. Would you drop by so we can talk? Or if you prefer, I’ll meet you somewhere.” More silence.

He couldn’t bear it and drew in a lengthy breath to calm himself. “The toys worked like a charm. Nessie hasn’t eaten a leather belt or the handle off of anything.”

Her faint chuckle whispered through the line. “That’s good.”

His foot tapped against the patio tiles as he waited for her to respond to his suggestion about meeting. Waited for her to say anything. He forced himself to remain silent.

“There’s a park not far from you,” she said finally. “It’s on—”

“I know where it is. I used to…Nick used to walk Suzette there.”

“I can be there in a few minutes. I’m not too far away.”

“Great.” He loosened his grip on the phone. “I’ll see you there.”

“Bring Nessie.”

He agreed and clicked off, his mind racing. She’d apologized. He still didn’t know why, but it was a beginning. He dashed inside, slipped out of his dress pants and tugged on his jeans and a polo shirt. Nessie was at the patio door when he returned to the family room, and he let her inside. As he headed for the laundry room for her leash, Martin grasped the clicker from the kitchen counter and slipped it into his pocket.

Nessie grew excited when she saw the leash. She needed to be walked, and he’d tried, but he hadn’t learned how to master the dog and the tether.

“Come on, little girl. We’re going for a walk.” He maneuvered Nessie to the front door and strode outside with the dog barreling ahead.

The park was close, but Nessie added time to the walk by tangling his legs in the leash. He had no idea what to say to the dog to keep her heading forward at a stride, not a sprint. A car passed him as he neared the grassy area. It slowed and pulled up to the curb. Emily slipped out and waited for them, a sympathetic grin on her face. His heart began to skip.

“Nessie did a great job getting you here.”

He shrugged and added a grin. “I told you I need practice.”

Emily strode toward the grass, glancing over her shoulder as they followed. “Did you think to bring the clicker?” She wore a pair of slacks beneath a long shirt, the sleeves rolled up. The clothes looked as if she’d borrowed them from a brother.

Yet no matter what she wore, he found her attractive. In the sunlight, he noticed her creamy skin. She wore only a trace of makeup. He liked the natural look. It fit her. Honest and simple.

He’d wanted to talk with her first, but apparently she wanted to work with the dog. He drew in a breath, dug into his pocket and pulled out the gadget.

She opened her palm, and he dropped it in. “We use this to enforce good behavior. When Nessie does something right, you click this and give her a treat. Eventually, you can either click or offer the treat, and she’ll understand.” Emily glanced at him as if she’d expected him to bring along the dog food nuggets.

He watched while Emily demonstrated, and then he tried using the gadget, but Martin noticed most of the time she was evading his eyes. He was captured by the innocence in her face, almost as if life was a bus she’d missed and she was waiting for another to pass by. That interested him. He winced, not wanting to admit it was more than interest. He was attracted to Emily.

When he didn’t respond, she turned his way, her eyes questioning. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you avoiding me?”

She almost did a double take. “I’m here. Does that look like I’m avoiding you?”

Her response frustrated him. She’d redirected the question. “Avoidance can mean more than absence.”

A faint scowl flickered across her face.

“Did I do something the other day when you darted off? If I did, I apologize. I thought we were—”

Her hand jutted upward, accidentally sounding the clicker, but she didn’t grin. “It wasn’t you. I had something on my mind, and I needed to leave.”

“But so suddenly?”

This time she searched his face with an intense look as if wanting to continue, but the tightness of her lips warned him not to pursue it further.

She eyed her watch, turning a little as if she didn’t want him to know what time it was. When she turned back, she knelt down and petted Nessie. “You have the idea, right?” She edged her gaze upward.

He sensed she’d become antsy. “Let me try again. This time walking with her. That’s when I have most of my problems.”

“I noticed.”

The lilt of her voice had a playful ring, a total change from moments earlier. A drop of rain hit his cheek, and Martin glanced up, spotting a dark cloud overhead. Emily hadn’t seemed to notice, and he didn’t mention the rain. He strode away, holding the leash shorter and tighter, saying “good girl” with a click as Nessie stayed close. He sensed he was pressing his luck when she spotted a bird and tugged at the leash. He drew her back, and when she pattered beside him, he clicked again and reached down to pet her. Her tail whipped like a flag in the wind.

A raindrop hit his hand as another struck his nose. He turned back, maneuvering Nessie toward Emily. Before he took a step, the sky opened, and rain poured. He bent down and scooped Nessie into his arms, hightailing toward the street while Emily waved him forward as she slipped into her car.

He opened the passenger door and jumped inside, putting Nessie on his lap. “That came on fast.” His shirt stuck to his back and Nessie’s fur dripped rain onto his lap. When he focused on Emily, her hair lay plastered against her cheeks, making her look even more guileless and sweet than he could remember. “Thanks.”

“You’re soaked.” She covered her grin with her fingertips.

“So are you.” He grinned back.

She turned the key in the ignition, switched on the wipers, and pulled away. He tried to make small talk, but she seemed distracted. He suspected she didn’t like to drive in a rainstorm. A zap of lightning split the sky followed by a distant roll of thunder that sounded above the slap of the windshield wipers.

Emily rolled into the driveway, and he eyed the water dripping from her hair. “You should come in for a minute and dry off.”

“I’ll be home shortly, but thanks.”

Her playful tone had vanished again, and he decided not to push it. “When will we get together again?”

A frown shot to her face as she turned toward him.

“I mean for some more help with Nessie, and I’d still like you to walk—”

“I’m not the one to do this.” She blinked at him, her frown deepening. “You should call Molly about the lessons. She has the experience. And Nessie’s doing fine.”

But I’m not. The words longed to be spoken, but they held too much meaning to him. “I thought—”

“Really, you have the idea. You’re doing fine.”

Her anxious look prodded him to nestle the dog in his arms and push open the door. “Thanks for the ride.” He shook his head, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry if—”




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