In Love and War Read online

  Jean stared at her, an expression of wonder on her face. “Wow.”

  “Is it crazy to be so hopeful about him already?”

  Jean shrugged. “I don’t know. Doesn’t every date start hopefully?”

  “Not the ones I’ve been on,” Ariela reminded her.

  “I’ll give you that.”

  “I wish I knew. I feel like a tornado is cutting through my insides.” Ariela looked bleakly at her friend. “Of course, his job is a big problem for me.”

  Jean cocked her head, a frown of confusion on her face. “He’s a journalist.”

  “A journalist who’s been covering war zones for years.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I wish I were kidding.”

  Jean was understandably sympathetic, but there wasn’t much she could offer as far as help went. She took another swallow of coffee and asked instead, “So what’s on your agenda today?”

  “I’m waiting for Dylan to call at eleven.”

  “You’re going to bend your rules and see him again?”

  Ariela threw up her hand, equally amazed. “I know. I’m insane. This makes no sense at all.”

  “Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing,” Jean said with obvious skepticism. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a nap. We didn’t get much sleep last night.” She set her cup in the sink and sauntered out.

  “Sure, rub it in,” Ariela called after her then sagged in her chair, suddenly worried she was losing her marbles over a gorgeous pair of eyes.

  ***

  Ariela went down to the office to use the computer just before ten. She wanted to create a card for Dylan, small enough to fit in his wallet, but with everything on it. Of course she realized she’d probably gone a bit overboard when she started playing with styles, fonts, colors, and various borders. It looked cramped—and needy.

  “Geez, why don’t I tell him my blood type while I’m at it?”

  Huffing out a breath she tapped the backspace key until all evidence of her mailing address and business number were gone. Better. It was a waste of cardstock, but she didn’t care once it came out of the printer looking fabulous.

  Only now did she glance at the clock. She’d spent forty-five minutes on this so far? Oh well. Committed to the project, she trimmed it down and tossed the scraps into the recycling. Too bad she couldn’t laminate it. As she stood there regretting the absence of a plastic sleeve for the card, she realized how insane it suddenly seemed. All told, she’d wasted an hour working on this. No way would she ever admit that to anyone—especially Dylan.

  His call came right on time, something else to like about him. Dare she hope he’d been counting the minutes too?

  “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

  Smiling, she spun slowly back and forth in her office chair. “Much better.”

  “Feel like helping me with something?”

  “That depends. If you’re thinking about moving furniture, forget it.”

  He laughed. “No, Max needs a bath.”

  No kidding. He could use a toothbrush too.

  “Ariela? You don’t actually have to help. Really, I was just hoping you’d hang out with us today. I’ll fire up the grill afterwards,” he added, sweetening the deal.

  She harrumphed, but she was smiling off into space when she did it. “Well, if you’re going to twist my arm, okay. I have something for you anyway.”

  “How soon can I come get you?”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Cool. I’ll be right over.”

  Ariela went back upstairs and swapped out her tennis shoes for sandals. If there was any chance her feet were going to get wet, the last thing she wanted to deal with later was uncomfortable shoes.

  She saw Dylan’s car coming down the alley from her bedroom window so she hurried out to meet him. With Jean home, and both of their cars already parked in back, there wasn’t space for him. Anxious about blocking the alley, Ariela ran around to the passenger side and hopped in without fanfare. She played it casual when she handed over the little card as soon as she was buckled.

  “Here, this is for you.”

  Dylan looked it over. “Very nice. It’s going right in my wallet.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  He was wearing a gray, zippered sweatshirt over an old, washed-out T-shirt. It was so beat up the detached collar hung around his throat like a necklace. His bare legs made quite an impression on her. He was wearing shorts and running shoes—no socks—so there was a nice, long stretch of manly leg showing. He had great legs. She kept stealing glances at them as they flexed and moved on the pedals. She couldn’t help it.

  Dylan pulled the car onto the concrete pavers embedded in his front lawn.

  “You don’t use the alley?” she asked.

  “There’s only one spot, and the upstairs tenant uses it.”

  “Oh, I thought you had the entire house.”

  “No, I just use the downstairs apartment. We go in through the side door. No one goes to the front.”

  Following him through the side gate, she asked, “Did you pick up for me?”

  Dylan stopped and turned with a puzzled expression, then broke into a slow smile of comprehension. “Oh ...you mean did I get rid of the stuff I stashed in here from the car?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s put away, but you’re not allowed to open any closets.”

  “I’ll try to resist the urge.”

  He gave a snort of amusement. “It’s for your own safety.”

  The guy could make her laugh. “Good to know.”

  Dylan reached for the unlocked door and pulled it open for her. She had one foot on the step when, out of nowhere, Max came charging, a dog with an escape plan, and knocked her legs right out from under her. Luckily Dylan’s reflexes were just as fast. He caught her as she fell back and smoothly set her upright again. His swift intervention was most appreciated. She didn’t need a second fall this weekend.

  “Damn!” he swore at himself. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you that could happen.”

  “I’m cool. Do we need to catch him?”

  “No, I closed the gate so he can run free in the yard.”

  They walked right into a cozy kitchen and Dylan nodded toward the small, wooden table and chairs along the wall. “You can hang your purse on a chair if you want.”

  Ariela did just that. Turning with a shrug, she said, “Okay, I’m here. Now what?”

  “It isn’t much, but come on. I’ll give you a tour.”

  Dylan took her hand and towed her into the living room. The decorator in her resurfaced and decided the dull grays and blues were all wrong. They made the room feel smaller than it was. She felt genuine revulsion when she looked at his couch, hidden beneath the ugliest patchwork quilt she’d ever seen. At least the stylish easy chair facing the television was a step in the right direction. It just didn’t go with the rest. Good thing too. There was a rack of TV trays standing against the wall, not two feet away from the television. She had a hunch Dylan rarely ate at his kitchen table.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw TV trays?” she asked.

  He smiled. “How long?”

  Snickering with amusement, she walked over to them and followed the battered edge of one with her fingertip. “I must have been five or six at the most. They were down in my Grandma’s basement. She’d let me drag one upstairs to use for my art projects. I think she was afraid I'd get crayon on her coffee table.”

  “So you’re an artist too?”

  “I’m a designer. Crayons, pencils, markers—they’re all in my blood.”

  Her gaze returned to the sofa and she stared at it for a silent beat.

  “The couch belongs to Max,” Dylan explained, noting her reaction to the quilt.

  She nodded. The room was unfashionably comfortable, smelled of dog, but on the plus side, it had very good lighting. She admired the handsome windows—nicely proportioned and in good condition. However, the gl
ass itself needed a good washing. At least there was decent airflow. She turned to the walls again, interested in the framed pieces he’d hung. Where most people had artwork or family photos, Dylan had showcased news articles, dating all the way back to the Kennedy assassination and Nixon impeachment.

  “And you’re a political junkie,” she said with a bemused smile.

  Dylan grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

  There was a low shelf overfilled with books. Messy stacks sat on the floor in front of it, because there was no room to tuck anything more. A cardboard box was set beside the easy chair, and it was stacked high with old newspapers and magazines, the overflow beginning to crowd a tall, gooseneck reading lamp.

  “Homey.” Ariela smiled, all in all, approving his space.

  He tugged her along. “And this is my room.”

  His bed was made. There was a heaped basket of dirty clothes on the floor beside the dresser, but otherwise it was tidy. His warning about his closets leaped to mind, and Ariela smiled again.

  “And the bath,” he said, drawing her away.

  Ariela peeked through the door and went into shock. It was newly re-done, sleek and large, with an over-sized shower, huge mirror, and fantastic lighting. Even the towels looked plush. It blew her away. She wondered which of her competitors he’d used, because they’d done a terrific job.

  Dylan laughed. “Let me explain. I’ve suffered through some pretty horrendous bathrooms. I can’t even begin to describe some of them. If you’re going to crave luxury when you get home, go with the room that matters most first.”

  “This is fabulous!”

  “I felt an urge to splurge.”

  “Nice job.”

  “Maybe you can help me with the rest of the apartment—eventually.”

  “Possibly,” she answered with a noncommittal shrug.

  “It never mattered much before. I saw my place as just another motel room, or a temporary way station. But once I get this last trip over, I won’t be able to leave it this way. It's just not conducive to good mental flow”

  Big surprise. Ariela’s eyes went to the desk tucked into a corner of the room, facing the wall. “Well, the first thing you should do is move your desk closer to a window or at least face it out into the room. No wonder this place blocks you.”

  “I usually take a walk to get the old juices flowing, but you raise a fair point.”

  She wandered over to the smaller side window and looked outside. Max was tossing a toy into the air and racing around with it, a low, playful growl slipping out occasionally. Without turning, she said, “It seems a shame he has to go to a kennel so soon.”

  Dylan joined her at the window. “It’s the only option. Max is too strong for my grandmother.” He pulled the curtain back to follow the dog along the fence. “I still don't know the whole truth about her fall, but that doesn't change the fact that she's too frail to keep him. She asked everyone else in the family before finally checking with me. Knowing my job, she didn’t hold out much hope, but her timing was right. I was already thinking about making some changes. So she still gets to see him, and I have a dog again. It works out for all of us.” Dylan smiled when Max rolled onto his back and worried the hell out of his toy before flinging it away. He leaped up and ran after it.

  “That’s nice—sweet.” Ariela glanced over, and her eyes took an unguarded tour down Dylan’s body, finally settling on his legs again. She actually jumped when he chuckled, realizing, to her horror, she’d been busted.

  He turned his right leg out slightly, offering her a better look. “Well, what do you think?”

  Ariela laughed and chose the safest route open to her. “You’re a fancy dresser, I’ll give you that.”

  “I dress for the occasion.”

  “Aren’t I an occasion?” She enjoyed how he brought out her playful side.

  “That goes without saying, but I’d rather not deal with the dog in my Sunday best.” He walked over to the kitchen and lifted the window above the sink. “Would you mind screwing a hose to the faucet when I pass it through?”

  “And the value of having me around today begins to make sense.” She smirked. “Sure. I think I can manage that.”

  Dylan went outside and removed the screen. He passed her the hose. “Careful not to pinch off the flow when you close the window,” he said through the opening.

  “No kidding.” Her sarcasm came with an eye roll—a two-for-one special. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, come out and join me.”

  She attached the hose to the faucet before stretching to shut the window.

  He ran back, calling out, “Wait! I forgot—you need to turn on the water. Make it warm, not hot.”

  “Warm, not hot,” she mumbled. “How’s this, good?”

  “Perfect. Now come out.”

  She found Dylan holding Max by the collar. The dog looked perfectly happy standing in a plastic kiddie pool. She stayed well back while Dylan sprayed the animal down.

  He glanced up. “This would go a lot faster if you helped me.”

  Seeing her squirm, his left eyebrow went up. “Haven’t you ever washed a dog?”

  She screwed up her face and shook her head. “No.”

  “Ever have a dog?”

  “Never.”

  “I suppose you’re a cat person.”

  Ariela shuddered and gave her head a violent shake. “No way.”

  Dylan stared at her. “Seriously? You’ve never had either?”

  “My grandmother said they smelled bad and would make the house a mess. She was right.”

  “You poor kid.” He went back to spraying Max.

  “Au contraire. My friend Missy had a cat and a dog and their house was covered in fur. It looked clean, but it wasn’t. I dropped a cupcake on their just-cleaned kitchen floor once, and when I picked it up, there was so much hair in the frosting I nearly gagged. They could never keep the cat off the table or the counters, either. That grossed me out even more, because all I could think about was the cat in his litter box.”

  “Cats clean themselves, you know.”

  “You’d have to dip him in bleach, and I still wouldn’t be satisfied.” She shuddered with horror. “After the cupcake incident, I never ate anything that wasn’t right out of a sealed package when I was there.”

  “That’s sad, but I understand.” He ran his hand over Max as he continued to wet his back. “I once made friends with a kid just so I could play with his dog.” He smiled at the memory.

  “It isn’t that I don’t like animals, in theory. I just never wanted one.”

  “Well, I won’t make you touch Max, but would you at least consider being my official hose handler?”

  “Hose handler? You’re joking.”

  “Garden hose.” He innocently waved it in front of her, but his grin admitted more than he did. “You spray Max when he needs it, and I’ll do all the dirty work. Deal?”

  She couldn’t hold back the little smile when she wandered over and held out her hand.

  He slapped the nozzle into her palm. “He needs more under his belly.”

  Ariela crouched down and pointed upward, wetting not only Max, but nailing Dylan right in the face.

  He jerked back in surprise. “Holy shit! You shot water up my nose.” Dylan buried his face in the crook of his arm and dried himself on his sleeve while still managing to hold onto the dog who was wriggling just as wildly as if they were about to play a new game.

  Ariela shook with laughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  Dylan came up sputtering. “I’d be more convinced if you weren’t laughing.”

  “I can’t help it,” she said, certain she didn’t look remotely sorry.

  He nudged her with his elbow, but he was grinning too. “Don’t make me take that hose away from you.”

  “You’d have to fight me for it, and I’d win.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Her thumb toyed
with the molded trigger and she gave him a feisty look.

  They both jumped when Max cut off their teasing with an impatient bark.

  Ariela laughed. “Looks like he loves this.”

  “He’s a water hound. If I don’t close the door to the bathroom when I’m in the shower, he’ll nose right in with me. Trust me—the last thing you want to feel is a wet dog against your leg when you’re half asleep.” He doused the dog, drenching him. “I think we’re ready for the shampoo. Could you hand it to me?”

  Ariela picked up the bottle, and just as she put it into Dylan’s hand, he pulled back in alarm.

  “Look out!” Max went into a full body shake, spattering them both. “Now, why would you do that?” Dylan asked the dog. “We’re just going to have to wet you down again, stupid mutt.”

  Fifteen minutes later, freshly bathed, Max tore around the yard, rolling in the warm grass while Dylan bent down to grab one edge of the pool.

  Ariela walked up behind him, admiring his muscular butt. “You sure know how to impress a girl. Need any help?”

  “Sure.”

  Together, they tugged the pool over to the bushes and tipped the water out of it. Dylan took it from there, rolling the pool on its edge into a gap between the fence and the back of his garage.

  He turned, wiping his hands on his wet shirt. “You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Good. I’ll light the grill then we can go in and wash up.”

  When they got inside, Dylan paused to open a bottle of wine to let it breathe. Ariela looked at the glasses he set out, then at him. “Don’t assume you’re getting lucky tonight.” Her tone was teasing, but the message wasn't.

  He reeled back dramatically, as if she'd struck him. “Well, fine. What’s the point then? I’ll just get my keys and take you home.”

  Ariela was staring at him, stunned, when he spun back with a chuckle. For a second there, she thought he was serious. Making a face, she said sarcastically, “Very amusing.”

  Shifting into host mode, Dylan opened the refrigerator. He whipped around a second later, a wild look in his eyes. “Tell me you like steak!”

  “I like steak.”

  He patted his chest. “Whew.”