Gregg had on his old high school jacket, and was wearing his hair a little long. He was the one who’d found her weeks ago, raised all the flags for help, got her to the hospital. Back when they were in high school, he’d started football, quit. Started college, quit. Started one job after another, quit. Gregg never heard of an idea involving quick money that he didn’t fall for-but Carolina loved him, warts and all.
“You’re looking good. For a sister.” He ruffled her new haircut while she thumped down the mail and started a fresh pot of coffee. “Hey. I had an idea.”
“Yeah?” She paged through the heap of mail, tossing out the junk mail, separating the bills…and then stopped. Her heart, her head, everything stopped.
She saw Maguire’s Washington return address. Opened the heavy envelope, found a fat, thick catalog. It was for an auction in Paris, of last year’s designer shoes. She paged through, her throat thickening. There were pages and pages and pages of frivolous, uselessly, miserably uncomfortable, gorgeous shoe designs.
My God. How dirty could Maguire get? How ugly? And by using his real return address, he’d of course identified himself as the culprit-upping the ante.
“It’s just…” Gregg knew where her mugs were, poured two cups. “I’ve got an idea for a start-up business, sis. A coffee shop. I know, there’s lots of those. But most of them are really expensive and fancy. What if I started a place that served really good coffee, but cheap. I’ve got a friend…”
Her head shot up, although her finger was still stroking the page with the ostrich sandals.
“He’s got the coffee. He’s got the plan. We just need some seed money to get it going-”
Temporarily, only temporarily, she closed the shoe catalog. “You know what, Gregg? One of the cold hard truths I’ve tried to face in the last month is that I’m just plain terrible with numbers.”
“That’s not a problem, sis. See-”
She carefully interrupted again. “So I decided I’d better not make financial decisions myself. I’ve researched some really good people, with terrific reputations. If you want to give them a business plan, I’ll tell them you’re my brother. But actual decisions on issues like this, I’ve moved out of my hands.”
Gregg’s jaw dropped. “But it’s your money.”
“I know. But I wouldn’t do my own brain surgery. Or fill my own cavities. Same with this, you know. This isn’t something I’m good at, so I found people who were.”
“But I’m your brother.”
“And I couldn’t love you more in a million, thousand years.”
Her brother left twenty minutes later, not too happy with her, but that was okay. Someday maybe family could have a conversation with her without asking for money-but if not, not.
She had more interesting things to worry about.
She jogged back to the catalog, thumbing through it again, page by page. That damn man. Tempting her with shoes. How low could a man get? What happened to Maguire’s integrity, his honor?
And if he’d sink this low…just maybe she could entice him to sink a wee bit lower.
Like down to her level.
Chapter Twelve
“Sir! Mr. Cochran! Sir!”
Maguire and Tommy both turned at the same time. They’d only ambled a half mile into the woods when they suddenly heard Henry’s voice. Maguire had never seen Henry run hell-bent for leather before.
Henry reached them, put his hands on his knees, heaving in breath. “Sir, you need to go back to the house.”
“Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“It’s not me. I’m fine. But at the house-” Henry motioned, still breathing too hard to talk well. “She’s done something.”
Henry could have been referring to any number of “she’s” worldwide, but there was probably only one that could induce that panic-stricken gallop across the woods. “Is Carolina ill? Hurt? Need help?” Maguire asked swiftly.
“Nothing like that. You and Tommy. Just go back to the house. You’ll see.”
Maguire had already started running back to the lodge, Tommy keeping pace beside him-but it was Tommy who surged ahead when they reached sight of the back door, Tommy who let out a squeal loud enough to wake the mountains.
The dog sitting on the porch step seemed to have a foot-long tongue-and a five-foot-long tail, which immediately started wagging when Tommy ran toward him. The golden retriever looked to be full grown, extra big, extra golden. Maguire shouted a warning to Tommy, who paid no attention, just surged toward the unfamiliar dog with his arms outstretched.
Tommy had no sense of caution. He knocked the dog over, and himself at the same time. Maguire reached them both in seconds, but not fast enough to prevent Tommy from giggling to high heavens as the retriever lavishly, lovingly washed his face.
Henry brought up the rear, still panting like a race-horse. “There was a note attached to its collar. There, by the door,” he gasped out.
Henry kept talking. Tommy kept rolling and giggling with the dog. Maguire sank down on the step, and opened the folded envelope. Inside was an extensive vet history on the dog, and a short, personal note.
Her name is Taffy. She’s almost four. The man who owned her was a pilot, so she’s used to traveling-by plane, or car or any other way. Her owner died of cancer. She has no one else. She’s extremely well trained. She just needs someone to love.
You told me to go after what I wanted, Maguire. So that’s what I’m doing. What I want…is for you to let this dog love you.
Maguire was still holding the note when the dog’s golden head poked under his arm. She angled next to his side, sat down and put her head on his knee, closed her eyes. “Taffy,” he said.
She wagged her tail faster than thunder, but her eyes stayed closed.
Maguire looked up at Tommy, at Henry.
“No one just gives someone else a dog. It’s wrong at every level.”
“I concur, sir.”
“Think of the dog hair. The dirt. The drool. The difficulties traveling around with a dog. It’s all horrendous.”
“I was thinking the same thing, sir.”
“I’ve never had a dog.” Maguire sucked in a breath, let his fingers drift into the dog’s thick fur. “I’ve had everything money could buy. I just never…had a dog. She couldn’t possibly know that. I never said I wanted a dog.”
“I never heard you say that,” Henry agreed.
“Because I didn’t. When I was a kid…nothing was steady. Great schools, everything a kid could want playwise. But moms didn’t stick, not my original, or any of my father’s replacements. We were always moving to different places, different cities. I got it.”
“You got what, sir?”
“That that’s the way it was. You have to be careful not to count on things. Because nothing stays the same. Material things, those you can always have. But things that live and breathe, Henry. It’s just a lot easier not to get attached.”
“Please, Mr. Cochran. Tell me we’re not keeping her. Think of the dog hair. You might be allergic,” Henry said hopefully. “In the summer, she could have fleas. She’ll have to be brushed. You don’t have time for something like a dog, sir.”
“I can’t believe she would do this to me.”
“Neither can I, sir.”
“Have you ever seen me duck a responsibility? Ever? Even once, Henry?”
“Never, sir.”
“But I don’t take in dogs. Or cats. Or people. Not long term. You get attached. Then when something dies or leaves or divorces or whatever, your world’s ripped out from under you. Asking for that is stupid. It’s like napping on a train track.”
Tommy was looking at him with a world of hope in his eyes; Henry was giving him the frantic say-no stare. Maguire’s gaze narrowed on the dog.
This time, Carolina had gone over the line. Way, way, way over the line. She knew why a person drew lines in the sand. She knew about boundaries. She knew why a person needed boundaries-to be safe.