Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(15)

Nerve endings prickled over her skin at the genuine warmth in his words. Why did he have this effect on her? It wasn’t in her nature to simmer under a man’s attention. She dated and had had several short-term relationships. None had been serious. But then, none of her former boyfriends had been as intense or demanding as Conor.

He stopped in front of a white-brick building. The words VETERINARY CLINIC were stamped on the glass. “This is it.”

When he let go of her hand to open the door, she missed the contact. When was the last time a man had held her hand?

Never?

The men she usually dated didn’t lend themselves to intimate romantic gestures. They sent her expensive roses and bought her jewelry, all lovely but impersonal. None of those gifts had made her feel raw and edgy and hot. Even her silk blouse felt scratchy.

A bell mounted on the door jingled as they went into the clinic. The air smelled of animals and antiseptic. The scrub-clad technician at the reception counter greeted them with a smile. Her hair was braided in small cornrows that lay flat against her scalp, setting off sharp, exotic cheekbones.

“I’m here for my dog.” Conor gave his name.

“I’m glad you’re here. She won’t eat for us. I hate to see such a sweet dog scared.” The tech grabbed a file and presented Conor with a bill. “I know it’s a lot, but you wanted her up-to-date on her shots. On the bright side, her injuries are superficial.”

“It’s OK.” He winced at the total and paid with a credit card.

The vet tech brought the dog into the waiting room. The animal’s head and tail hung low.

“Oh no. That poor thing. She’s so thin. Are those bite marks? Did she get into a fight?”

“More likely she was put in a fight.” Conor described how he’d found the dog the night before. “She looks better than when I dropped her off this morning.”

At the sound of his voice, the dog’s mangled ears pricked up. Her gaze landed on Conor. The stubby tail lifted and wagged back and forth.

“What horrible person would do that to an animal?” Louisa asked.

“The cops have been cracking down, but dog fighting is still a real problem in this city.” Conor took the leash from the technician. “A pink collar and leash?”

The vet tech laughed. “We thought she needed something girly. The way they butchered her ears gives people the wrong impression. Consider it a gift for not dumping her at the shelter.”

“Anything special I should do for her?” he asked.

“No.” The tech handed him a sheet of paper. “She’s been starved for a while, so reintroduce food slowly. If her appetite doesn’t pick up in a week or so after she settles in, then bring her back. We’ll also want to spay her, but I’d like to wait a couple of weeks and let her get stronger first.”

“Thanks.” Conor folded the paper and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He led the dog outside. On the sidewalk, he squatted and rubbed her head. “Bet you’re glad to be out of there.”

Louisa bent down. “Can I pet her?”

“You’re not afraid of her? Some people might find her scary.”

“Should I be? She looks pathetic.”

“She is pathetic.” Conor sighed. “Let her smell your hand first.”

The dog gave Louisa’s hand a sniff, then licked her fingers.

“She likes you.”

Louisa stroked the animal’s neck, being careful not to touch the healing wounds. Except for the scarred areas, her fur was silky soft, like crushed velvet. Her mother had been allergic to animals. After her death, the aunt who’d raised Louisa had forbidden animals in the house. “I’ve never had a dog.”

“Would you like this one?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with her.” But the thought was strangely appealing. Louisa gave the dog one more gentle pat before straightening. How hard was it to take care of a dog? “And I work all day.” Though she could easily go home at lunchtime most days, and she’d seen the Rittenhouse staff walking other residents’ dogs.

“You keep thinking about it. For now, let’s see if we can get her to eat.” Conor headed back toward the bar. The dog practically plastered herself to his legs.

“She’s very attached to you.”

“I don’t know how that happened.”

“I imagine it’s because you were kind to her.” Louisa fell into step beside him, her interest in the dog a welcome distraction from her acute reaction to Conor. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I have a confession. I actually did take her to the pound this morning, but I couldn’t leave her there. She was terrified, and the place was already full of pit bulls.” Conor took her hand again. “Do you want to name her?”

This time Louisa barely hesitated before wrapping her fingers around his palm. “You’d let me name your dog?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Sure. Why not?”

“Seems like a big responsibility.”

“Let me put it in perspective. We had a dog named Sneezes once because my parents let Jaynie name him. She was three, and it was her turn to name a pet. I assure you that Sneezes didn’t care what we called her as long as we slipped her scraps of food under the dinner table. The dog was so fat, she waddled.”