Searching For Her Prince. Karen Smith Rose

by the city as she was everything else about the United States—even more fascinated by Brent running beside her. He was wearing shiny black running shorts. His legs were hair-roughened, his thighs powerfully muscular. His soft black T-shirt was loose. As he ran, it molded to his well-defined muscles, and she could see the power in his body. She was sure he was slowing his pace so she could keep up.

      Brent glanced over at her often, and she didn’t know if that was because of her hot-pink running suit in the latest fabric for sportswear or because he just wanted to look at her. She knew she’d be a sight at the end of their run. She always was. She’d banded her hair into a ponytail, but strands escaped and floated around her face.

      A few joggers passed them as they ran along a wide path. Amira tried to keep her attention on her breathing rather than on Brent and everything she remembered so vividly whenever she looked at him. He’d given her a perfect day yesterday—absolutely perfect. And that kiss last night…

      His first kiss had thrilled her and scared her. Last night’s kiss had opened a doorway and given her a glimpse of the kind of passion they could share. That was almost worse than being scared. It was a temptation from which she knew she had to turn away. Everything she’d been taught, all of her mother’s counsel, warned her she was headed for disaster. Yet on this October day, with the sun shining so brightly on her head and in her heart, she couldn’t heed the warning.

      “Do you hear that?” Brent asked, suddenly stopping.

      Caught up in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard anything unusual. Now she listened and heard a low whine coming from a copse of bushes. “It sounded like an animal.”

      “My bet is it’s a dog. Come on, let’s go look.”

      Slowly…cautiously…Amira followed.

      Pushing away the bushes, Brent hunkered down and looked beneath them. “Hello there, fellow. Are you hurt?”

      “What is it?” Amira asked, crouching down herself.

      Brent held his hand out to the animal that Amira still couldn’t see.

      “We’re not going to hurt you,” Brent said as if he expected the animal to understand. “Can I bring you out here?”

      Since the animal stood perfectly still and didn’t snarl or bark, Brent gently pulled the dog out into the sunlight.

      Amira got her first good look. “Isn’t she adorable? What do you think she is?”

      The dog was small, brown—the color of hot chocolate—and bedraggled looking, as if she’d been on her own through days of wet and dry weather. Her fur was muddy and there were leaves clinging to it, but she seemed to like the idea of Brent scratching her between the ears. She barked a few times.

      Brent ran his hands carefully over the dog’s body. “Probably a mutt—looks like part beagle. She’s too thin, but other than that, she seems okay. Nothing a good bath wouldn’t fix.” He examined her neck. “No collar or tags.”

      “What are we going to do about her?”

      “We can’t leave her here. She could eventually run into traffic, or someone might hurt her. She needs food and care.”

      “But if she belongs to someone…”

      “In case she has one of those identifying computer chips under her skin, we’ll take her to a vet and get her checked out. Is that okay with you? I know it’s going to cut short our jog.”

      “The jog doesn’t matter. We have to take care of her.”

      The smile Brent gave her almost made her melt. “It looks as though we’re both animal lovers.”

      “Yes, it does.” She was finding so many things about Brent that she liked…too many things. Their gazes locked, and the intensity in his eyes should have scared her, but it didn’t today.

      Suddenly the dog barked again, and Brent laughed. “It seems she wants our attention.” He scooped her up into his arms. “Come on, let’s see if she has a home.”

      An hour later a vet had checked the dog over thoroughly and agreed that except for needing a bath, she seemed healthy. There was no computer chip in evidence, and he asked Brent what he was going to do.

      “I’ll take her home.”

      “You’re going to keep her?” Amira asked, a bit surprised by that, since Brent worked so many hours.

      “Just for now. I know of a place she’ll be happy. In the meantime, I’ll get her cleaned up and fed well.”

      Back at Brent’s penthouse—a half hour later—doggy shampoo in hand, Brent led Amira into his bathroom. It was huge with black and white tiles, a shiny black enamel sink and a huge black whirlpool tub. He filled it while she cooed to the pup and fed her a biscuit they’d gotten from the veterinarian along with other supplies.

      “Did you ever have a dog when you were a boy?” she asked Brent now, as he checked the water to make sure it was the right temperature.

      He didn’t answer right away, just concentrated on the water flowing into the tub. Finally he said, “No, I didn’t,” and didn’t elaborate. Something in his tone alerted her to pain behind the simple statement.

      “You don’t talk about yourself easily do you?” Even though they’d spent all day yesterday together, she hadn’t learned much about him.

      “Usually no one wants to listen,” he said jokingly.

      Again she caught some truth behind his words. What makes a man bring home a lost dog? Maybe a loneliness in himself? Maybe knowing what it’s like to feel abandoned? “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me,” she said softly.

      Time ticked by in heartbeats. “I think right now we ought to name the dog,” he finally said. “Any ideas?”

      She’d learned already that Brent was good at turning attention away from himself, and she let him do it this time. “I think she’s the color of hot chocolate.”

      “How about Cocoa, then?”

      “That’s perfect!”

      Unmindful she’d been given a name, Cocoa put her paws on the edge of the bathtub and peered into the water. Amira glanced at Brent. He wasn’t watching Cocoa; he was watching her.

      His gaze held her hypnotized as his voice lowered and awareness grew between them. “Thanks for being such a good sport about this. It’s probably not what you envisioned for today.”

      With the huskiness in Brent’s voice, the sparks of desire in his eyes, she felt breathless, hot and altogether excited. “I’m having fun, and I can’t think of anything better to do than rescue a dog.”

      The crackle of electricity between them was so strong Amira tingled all over from it. Then Cocoa barked and Brent picked up the small dog, depositing her in the water. The pup looked startled for a moment and barked a few more times. Brent casually sprinkled water over her as Amira poured the shampoo into her hand.

      A few minutes later, after a sudsing and rinse, Cocoa shook to whip the water from her fur. Amira and Brent laughed and again became caught up in enjoying each other’s company. Amira had never before felt a bond like this with a man.

      After they dried Cocoa, Brent said, “Let’s go see what Flora’s cooked up for lunch.”

      Cocoa wiggled away from Amira’s hand and took off down the hall.

      “Do you want to let her loose?” she asked, concerned for his obviously expensive furniture.

      “Sure. She’s clean. There’s nothing she can hurt.”

      “You said you had a home for her. Where?”

      As Brent stood and gathered up the wet towels, he was silent for a few moments. “It’s a place called Reunion House.”

      Longing to know