“Sounds like your dad is lucky he has you to step in when he needs help.”
Sydney huffed. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But for Dad, I’ll always be a little girl. He checks up on me every five minutes.”
And solving this case-finding the long-lost Sammy Oberlin heir-would impress the hell out of her old man. Russ could read between the lines. That was why she was pursuing the case. Well, that and the million-dollar commission.
“Why does the conversation keep turning back to me?” she asked, sounding put out. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions. What can you tell me about this cousin of yours?”
If he kept changing the subject, she would get suspicious. So he gave her some of the truth. “He’s an older man. A widower. Has some kids and grandkids. His family goes back at least four generations in the Linhart area.”
“Have you ever heard of him talk about relatives in the Las Vegas area?”
“Not that I recall.” Russ needed another distraction to delay Sydney from interrogating him. Otherwise, he was going to have to lie outright to her and he didn’t want to do that. “Are you hungry?”
“After the breakfast I had at the Periwinkle? Not likely. By the way, you were right about the sweet rolls.”
“Then would you mind reaching around to the cooler behind my seat and getting a snack for me? I haven’t had lunch.”
“Okay, sure.” She unfastened her seat belt and twisted her body around so she could lean between the bucket seats. Her skirt rode up on her thigh and Russ drank in an extended, appreciative and unapologetic look. Her legs were long for such a petite woman and she definitely had good muscle tone.
“Do you want pretzels, an apple or a granola-Oh, yuck!” She pulled back and rubbed furiously at her face. “That dog is in the car. He stuck his tongue in my ear.” She sounded utterly disgusted.
With a sinking stomach Russ glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this outing being a threesome. Sure enough, though, Nero crawled out from under a tarp in the backseat. At some point when Russ had turned his back-probably when Sydney was distracting him-the sneaky old hound had climbed into the back of the Bronco so he could come along for the ride.
Nero shoved his head between the bucket seats and madly sniffed at Sydney, who had her hands protecting her face from his inquisitive tongue.
“Nero, go lie down,” Russ said in a loud, stern voice.
The dog gave him a surprised, injured look before reluctantly retreating to the cargo area behind the backseat.
“He’s gone now,” Russ said to Sydney.
She started digging in her purse for something. “Does he go everywhere with you?”
“Most places,” Russ answered. “But today he’s a stow-away. I think he likes you.”
“Likes me? He tried to take a bite out of my ear.”
Russ looked over at Sydney’s pink shell of an ear, which certainly didn’t bear any teeth marks. “In twelve years, Nero has never bitten anyone. He’s not about to start with you. He licked your ear.” Maybe the dog liked the body lotion she used. Russ himself wasn’t immune to her delicate scent and thought that licking her ear wouldn’t be a bad place to start.
“He was tasting me,” she insisted. She’d found a moist towelette in her purse and was energetically washing the side of her face, her neck and any other place with which Nero might have come into contact.
Russ sighed and tried to drag his gaze back to the road, which wasn’t easy since she was wiping her cleavage. He was pretty sure Nero hadn’t licked there.
Still, the Nero incident was a perfect reminder. Just when he was starting to like Sydney, she gave him another reason why he shouldn’t.
“What sane person doesn’t like dogs?” he couldn’t help asking. “What’s not to like? Dogs are the ultimate embodiment of unconditional love. Even if I’ve only been gone ten minutes, Nero greets me like a long-lost friend. He lives for someone to scratch him behind the ears or give him a doggy treat. Dogs have simple needs.” Not like women, he almost added.
“You can save your breath. No private detective likes dogs.”
From the corner of his eye, Russ noted the rise and fall of her chest. His initial guess had been correct. She was afraid of dogs.
He shrugged. At least Nero’s timely show of affection had taken Sydney’s mind off Russ’s family.
“Do you still want a snack?” Sydney asked, regaining her composure.
“That’s okay. We’ll be at our destination before too long, and I’ll grab something then.”
She tugged down the hem of her short skirt and put her seat belt back on, peering over her shoulder every so often to ensure the dog remained in the cargo area.
“How come you’re so afraid?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m not afraid of dogs. I’m just not fond of them.”
“So you’ve never been bitten?”
She hesitated. “Well, yeah, I was. Just one more reason not to like dogs. You can’t trust them. They may fool you into thinking they’re domesticated, but one false move and they’ll turn on you.”
“How old were you when you got bitten? Or was it more than once?”
“Once was enough,” she said with a shiver. “I was five. A neighbor’s chow jumped me when I was riding my bike down the sidewalk. He’d always been friendly before that.”
Russ knew about dogs and bikes. He’d been chased down a time or two by territorial farm dogs. “A moving bicycle awakens some dogs’ prey instinct. The chow probably thought you were a very large rabbit.”
“Exactly my point. At any moment, they can revert to the wild.”
“So can people,” Russ couldn’t resist pointing out. He’d seen enough dog-eat-dog behavior in Vegas to convince him of that. “But that doesn’t mean you should dislike and avoid all people.”
“I’m sure your dog is a sterling example for the whole species, but I still don’t trust him. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.”
Russ laughed. “It’s your loss, missing out on the love of a good dog. That’s okay. Both Nero and I still like you.”
She eyed him curiously, apparently not sure how to take his flirting. When he grinned back at her, she looked away.
Another spear of guilt needled him. What kind of a degenerate flirts with a woman he’s lying to?
“Did the chow hurt you badly?” he asked, feeling sympathy for the small child she once was.
“I spent a week in the hospital and another three years in and out of surgery.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.” No wonder she didn’t trust dogs. No wonder she was afraid-even if she refused to admit it. He glanced over at her, giving her a frank examination. “I don’t see any scars.” At least, none that weren’t covered up by clothing.
She reached over, took his right hand off the steering wheel, and placed it under her hair at the back of her neck. “Feel the bumps?”
He nodded, running his fingers along her skin as if he were reading braille. Bumps or no, her neck felt nice.
“I wear scarves for a reason. But I did have an exceptional doctor. He got rid of most of the scars.”
“But not the ones in here.” He lightly touched her temple, then quickly returned both hands to the steering wheel where they belonged.
“Dogs sense something in me-hostility, maybe. I give off some scent only they can smell. If I walk into a pet shop, all the dogs start barking like they have rabies.”
“Nero likes you. Why else would he kiss you on the ear?”
At the sound of his name, the dog’s head popped up from behind the backseat. Sydney stiffened, though she said nothing.
“Nero, lie down.”
Nero’s hopeful eyebrows fell as he disappeared once again behind the seat. Sydney relaxed.
Figuring they’d talked enough about dogs, Russ kept Sydney distracted by pointing out a landmark here and a rock formation there. She responded with seeming interest, sometimes asking a question or simply nodding thoughtfully.