Modern Romance August 2019 Books 5-8. Trish Morey

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СКАЧАТЬ thought of how much a dress like this might have fetched in an online auction, like when she’d been reduced to selling her clothes while married to Henry Winterborne. She couldn’t ever imagine telling Ciro that story. He wouldn’t believe her.

      She said, ‘Of course not,’ and sat down on a plastic chair, the adrenalin leaving her system. They were the only people at the vets. The harsh fluorescent lighting barely dented Ciro’s intensely gorgeous looks. He caught her eye and she looked away hastily, in case he saw something on her face. She felt exposed after her impetuous action. Less able to try and erect the emotional barriers between her and Ciro.

      If she ever had been able to.

      ‘Lara...’

      Reluctantly she looked at him.

      He shook his head. ‘Sometimes you just...confound me. I think I know exactly who you are and then—’

      At that moment there was a noise and Ciro stopped talking. Lara welcomed the distraction, not sure if she wanted to know what Ciro had been about to say.

      The vet walked in and looked at them both before saying, ‘Well, he is a she and it’s lucky you found her when you did. She wouldn’t have survived much longer. She’s about five months old and as far as we can tell she hasn’t been microchipped. She’s probably from a stray litter or got dumped.’

      Lara said, ‘Is she okay?’

      The vet nodded. ‘She’ll be fine—thanks to you for bringing her in. She’s obviously been in a scrap, but it’s just cuts and bruises. Nothing too serious. She needs some TLC and some food. We can microchip her and keep her in overnight to clean her up, then you can take her home tomorrow, if you like?’ He must have seen something on their faces because then he said, ‘I’m sorry, I just assumed you’d want to keep her, but I can see I shouldn’t have.’

      Lara didn’t want to look at Ciro, but all of a sudden it seemed of paramount importance that she got to keep the dog. As if something hinged on this very decision.

      Without looking at Ciro, she said, ‘I’d like to keep her.’

      The vet looked at Ciro, who must have nodded or something, because he said, ‘That’s good. Thank you.’ The vet was just turning to leave and then he said, ‘You should probably think of a name.’

      Lara sneaked a look at Ciro, who was expressionless. But she could see his tight jaw.

      ‘We’ll let you know,’ he said.

      The vet left and Lara said, ‘If you don’t want to keep her I’ll look after her and take her with me when I leave. You won’t even know she’s there.’

       She. Her.

      As if they were discussing a person.

      Ciro wasn’t sure why, but he had an almost visceral urge not to take this puppy. A puppy smacked of domesticity. Longevity. Attachment.

      ‘It’s fine. You can keep her.’

      Ciro told himself that Lara would soon tire of the dog and then he would arrange for it to go to a new home. A home with a family who would appreciate it.

      But even as he thought that he felt some resistance inside him. He was losing it. Seeing how Lara had been with the dog had made him feel as if he was standing on shifting sands.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Let’s go.’

      Lara walked out ahead of Ciro, his jacket dwarfing her slender shoulders. She should have looked ridiculous. Her hair was all over the place and she was smeared in dubious-smelling substances. Not to mention the blood. Yet she seemed oblivious to it.

      When they were in the back of the car Lara said, ‘Sorry—I know I stink.’

      Ciro looked at her in the dim light. Even as dishevelled as she was, she was stunning. More so, if possible. As if this act of humanity had added some quality to her beauty.

      ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a dog-lover.’

      Her mouth curved into a small smile. ‘My parents got a rescue Labrador puppy when I was just a toddler. We called her Poppy, we were inseparable.’

      ‘What happened to her?’

      The smile faded. ‘After my parents and brother died my uncle had her put down. She was old... She probably only had another year at the most.’

      Ciro absorbed that nugget of information. He could hear the emotion she was trying to hide in her voice.

      ‘Have you thought of a name for this one?’

      She turned to look at him and he could see the gratitude in her eyes. He really didn’t want it to affect him, but it did. He couldn’t imagine another woman looking so pleased about taking on a mongrel of dubious parentage.

      ‘Maybe Hero? I’ve always liked that name. After the Greek myth.’

      The fact that Hero had been a virgin priestess wasn’t lost on Ciro, but he only said, ‘Fine. Whatever you want. She’s your dog.’

      When they arrived back at the house Lara made a face and gestured to her clothes. ‘I should clean myself up.’

      She handed Ciro his jacket. He took it, and there was something vulnerable about the way Lara looked. He had a memory flash of having her ripped out of his arms by the kidnappers and thrown from the van to the side of the road. She’d been dishevelled then too. And the look of terror on her face had matched the terror he’d felt but had been desperate not to show.

      ‘Of course,’ he said tersely. ‘Go to bed, Lara, it’s been a long night.’

      Ciro went into the reception room and dropped his jacket on a chair, loosening his bow tie. Except he knew it wasn’t the fault of his tie that he felt constricted. It was something far more complicated.

      He poured himself a whisky and downed the shot in one go, hoping to burn away the questions buzzing in his head. Along with the unwelcome memories.

      He forced his mind away from the past and the image of Lara’s terror-stricken face to think of her as she was now—standing under a shower, naked. With rivulets of water streaming down over her curves, her nipples hard and pebbled. The soft curls between her legs would be wet, as wet as she always was when he touched her there—

      Dio! He had a wife, willing and hot for him, one floor above his head, and he was down here, torturing himself, when he could be burying himself inside her and forgetting about everything except the release she offered.

      Ciro slammed down the glass and went upstairs, taking two stairs at a time. When he got to Lara’s bedroom door he stopped, his sense of urgency suddenly diminishing when he thought of how vulnerable she’d looked. What she’d told him about her family dog. Her uncle had had her put down. Just after her family had been taken from her.

      Ciro had had his hand lifted, as if to knock on her door, but he curled it into a fist now, and walked away.

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