Tutoring Tucker. Debrah Morris

Emilio’s appreciative look made Briny do a quick two-step. Now he had something to be nervous about.

      Dorian sighed. “I know I’m giving you a sow’s ear, Emilio. But when I return I expect to find a silk purse.”

      “I do love a challenge.”

      Briny bristled. “Where I come from, a sow’s ear would be a lot more practical.”

      “This isn’t where you come from,” Dorian pointed out archly.

      Put firmly in his place, Briny was about to ask what the transformation procedures would entail, but didn’t get the chance.

      “Your wish is my command, darling.” Emilio bowed and rolled his hand at Dorian in an exaggerated Ali Baba show of obeisance.

      She checked the time again and uttered a girly curse. “Oh, great! Now I’m late. Make sure he gets the full treatment, everything from the toenails up. Here are his new clothes.” She scooped the shopping bags off the floor and shoved them into Emilio’s arms. “I’ll be back by six. Ciao!”

      “You’re not leaving me here, are you?” Briny was in uncharted territory and didn’t know the trail. That’s why he’d hired Dorian. She rolled her eyes at his question, making him feel as abandoned as Reba had looked when he handed her over to the doggie spa attendant.

      “Don’t whine,” Dorian scolded.

      “I never whine.” In his experience, the squeaky wheel got the most lickings and demerits. He’d learned at an early age the truth about attracting more flies with honey than with vinegar.

      Their gazes locked for a long moment, and her expression softened. He thought he might have glimpsed a flicker of compassion in her dark eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure. For the first time since they’d met yesterday, she looked at him like a person and not a project.

      She quickly averted her gaze, retreating behind her armor. “I have to run. I’m expected to put in an appearance at the Art League meeting and can’t get out of the obligation. Burrells have always supported the arts.”

      Briny wished he had some gum. Or a beer. Something to ease the tension coiled in his mind and muscles. “Well, I guess if you have the family honor to uphold, I can manage on my own.” Which would be nothing new. He had been on his own since he was seven years old.

      “Of course you can,” she said. “Prepare to be pampered. I’ve ordered the VIP treatment all the way. Ordinarily, a booking here takes weeks to get, but Emilio was a sweetheart and squeezed you in.”

      “Anything for you, Dorian, dear.”

      “I really need to go. Emilio, take care of him now. Ta!”

      “Oh, it’ll be my pleasure.”

      Briny watched her turn and rush down the corridor, her tall, thin heels clicking on the fake-marble floor. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known.

      She might act cool and bored, but there was an appealing softness beneath her calculated indifference. Most people probably didn’t take the time to see the vulnerability she tried so desperately to hide.

      “Oh!” She stopped and spun around. “Emilio! Don’t forget to feed him. He may get hungry.” She clicked on for a few more steps, then stopped again when additional instructions popped into her mind. “Go with less hair.” Her finger fluttered under her nose. “And let’s lose the cowboy cookie duster.”