Chapter Eight
“Trip! Here, Trip!”
Isabella’s pulse thumped frantically in her ears as she called for the dog.
Lawn mowers droned somewhere in the distance. The leaves on the Bradford pears lining the street barely moved in the humid air. It was dinnertime. Most of her neighbors had retreated indoors after work, leaving the normally active townhome community unnervingly quiet.
No children riding bikes. No dog walkers. No parents pushing strollers.
And no sign of Trip.
She’d already walked the length of her block and was about to turn onto the busier road leading out of the neighborhood when the throaty rumble of a muscle car came from behind her.
Danny pulled into her driveway.
For a split second, her steps faltered, then she broke into a run as he got out of his car. He’d been the person she’d called as soon as she’d found her door open and Trip not in the house.
She’d think about why later.
“Danny!”
He looked up.
Isabella froze as she took in his expression. Even the shirt he wore, which looked to be straight out of a vintage shop, didn’t soften his cold, controlled features. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly from the distance, but she felt their chill.
Her gaze dropped to the gun in his hand.
“Did your alarm go off?”
“Alarm?” She had an alarm system, but her neighborhood wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. It was a nice, safe suburban neighborhood. That’s why she lived there, a single woman surrounded by families.
Danny closed his eyes briefly. “Bella. Tell me you didn’t enter the house.”
The sharpness in his voice brought her up short. “Of course I did. I had to see if Trip was inside. Which he isn’t. We need to find him.”
He glanced between her and her home, clearly weighing priorities.
“Please, Danny. What if he gets hit by a car?”
His nod was curt as he gestured to his Mustang. “Get in. We’ll drive around and look for him.”
“Thank you.” She blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes and hurried to the passenger side.
“Has he gotten out before? Is there any place he might gravitate to?” Danny asked. He turned the corner and drove down the street, keeping his speed to a crawl.
Isabella rolled down her window. “He slipped out once when I opened the door to talk to a neighbor but didn’t make it past my yard.” She called Trip’s name. “There’s a small pond in the neighborhood. I walk Trip past it all the time. He likes to bark at the geese.”
It was getting harder to breathe. Her hand slid down to where her skirt hemline met her thigh, and she dug her nails in.
Danny’s hand covered hers, fingers pressing gently until her grip loosened. He guided her hand to rest on his thigh.
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
He’d noticed her…tic, as she liked to think of it.
But the pressure in her chest slowly eased, replaced by an awareness of where her hand now rested.
She could let a finger—just one—drift to the hem of his cargo shorts and brush the hair-roughened skin below.
It was the first time she’d seen him in shorts.
More tattoos decorated his thighs and calves.
She wanted to read them like a book. Discover which parts of his life he’d chosen to ink his body with.
“Which way to the pond?”
Danny’s question jerked her back to reality.
She yanked her hand back into her lap. Her dog was missing, and she was daydreaming about the man sitting next to her. “Turn left up here, then the first right.”
He shot a look in her direction. “You okay?”
No. “I will be when we find Trip.”
When they reached the pond, they got out of the car.
Isabella called out to Trip.
A flash of reddish-gold fur moved in the bushes.
Relief rushed through her. “Trip, come here, sweetie!”
The landscape rustled, but no dog came running.
Danny put two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Trip!”
The unmistakable authority in his voice made her jump. A wet dog burst from the bushes, tongue lolling as he bounded toward them.
“Trip.” Dropping to her knees, Isabella gathered him close, fingers tight in his fur, uncaring of the pond water soaking her suit jacket. “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Looks like he took a swim.” Danny eyed the puddle forming beneath Trip before glancing toward his Mustang.
Following his gaze, she winced. “I’ll walk him home.”
“You don’t have a leash.” Danny hooked a finger through Trip’s collar. “And you aren’t going anywhere without me until I establish how he got out in the first place.”
An argument rose to her lips, then died. He was right. The adrenaline spike from her fear over Trip’s disappearance was fading, but another worry took its place.
A stranger may have entered her home. The thought sent a chill skittering down her spine.
Meanwhile, Trip followed Danny like a lovesick puppy as he returned to his car and popped the trunk. He pulled out a tarp and laid it on the back seat. “Trip, up.”
“Why is he listening to you when he doesn’t even know you?” Isabella slid into the passenger seat. And yes, she sounded disgruntled, but she didn’t care. Trip was her dog, not Danny’s.
Danny got into the car. “Because he’s smart enough to know I mean business.” He shot her a look. “Unlike his owner.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer until they’d pulled into her driveway. “It means you need to trust me, even if you don’t like the reason I’m here.” He reached past her and opened the glove compartment, removing a pair of blue nitrile gloves. “Stay in the car with Trip while I check out your home.”
Was he mad at her? The big jerk.
When he got out, she leaned over the driver’s seat before he could close the door. “I called you, didn’t I?”
Danny stopped. Bent just enough to peer back inside the car. She could have sworn his expression softened. Just a little. “Yeah, you did.”
Isabella’s pulse beat double time when he reached beneath his untucked shirt and withdrew his gun. Danny crouched to examine the door handle, then slowly pushed open the door before slipping inside.
Her lips had gone dry. She licked them. Why was she on edge? She’d already searched the entire house. Other than the door being open, everything looked exactly as it had when she left for work this morning.
Hadn’t it?
Now she wasn’t sure because she’d been too busy looking for Trip to take in the condition of her home.
Danny reappeared a few minutes later.
She stepped out of the car. “What do you think?”
“Nothing obvious,” he said. His lips flattened. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Everything appeared normal when I got home, other than the open front door.” Even she could hear the hopeful note in her voice.
He looked far from convinced. “Let’s get the dog cleaned up.”
They wrangled Trip into the backyard. Danny hosed him down while Isabella ran upstairs to get a towel to dry him off. She took another quick look around to verify that nothing was missing.
And yet, something felt…off.
She gave a hard shake of her head. It was a toss-up as to who was more paranoid—her or Danny.
If someone had broken in, there’d be evidence—opened drawers, scattered belongings, missing jewelry.
The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.
Her front door must not have been closed properly.
If anyone had been in her house, she’d see evidence of it.
By the time she stepped into the backyard, Danny had finished washing Trip. He turned off the hose and reached for the towel.
“Watch—”
Trip did a whole-body shake, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.
“—out.” Isabella finished.
Water beaded on Danny’s face and hair, his shirt and shorts covered in wet blotches.
A snort escaped her, followed by a giggle.
Danny cracked a grin. Her giggle broke into a full belly laugh.
He let out a husky laugh, and when she could breathe again, she looked up. His blue eyes were lit with humor, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes more pronounced.
Their gazes locked. Held.
The laughter faded.
Heat flooded her, loosening her limbs and arrowing to her core.
His gaze sharpened as it dropped to her lips, then lazily traveled down the rest of her. She’d ditched her blazer, and her cream shell blouse was damp from Trip’s antics, clinging to the lace of her bra.
“Bella.” Danny’s voice was low, raw, and the sound of it melted her insides like hot candle wax.
She took an instinctive step forward, her lips parting with the need to feel his mouth on hers. To taste him in return. Her palm met his chest. Felt the thump of his heart beneath her touch. He smelled like wet dog, but also sea wind, ripe citrus, and driftwood.
Kiss me, she willed him silently, because she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.
He seemed to understand her anyway. His pupils flared.
He stepped into her, lowering his head.
Isabella closed her eyes and savored the brush of his lips against hers.
Soft yet firm. Smooth.
Her body quivered in response.
His lips brushed hers again, more firmly this time. The hand at her waist tightened, pulling her into his hard frame.
Ding dong.
Danny’s head snapped up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the house.
Her doorbell. A visitor.
“It’s my friend.” In all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten Talia was coming over.
He stepped in front of her, his hand sliding to the small of his back beneath his shirt.
She touched his shoulder. “It’s my friend, Talia,” she repeated.
His hand dropped to his side. He peered through the peephole, then threw open the door.
Out on the landing, Talia stood, still dressed in the cream blouse and navy trousers she’d worn to the office. She took a step back, her dark brown eyes going wide.
Isabella slipped out from behind Danny. “It’s okay, Talia. This is Danny.” She gave Talia the act like you’ve never heard of him stare. “The gala’s new head of security.”
Danny gave a respectful nod. “Ma’am.”
Talia tucked a strand of auburn hair behind one ear. “Ooh, ma’am. I don’t feel old enough to be a ma’am, but I think in this case I’m more flattered than insulted.”