“Never mind,” Abigail quickly said. “He can sleep in my cottage tonight.”

She hoped Zach liked dogs. And she hoped Ozzy liked road trips. They had a ways to drive before she could settle him in his new home.

Five

The pathetic little puppy scampered across the hardwood floor of Zach’s compact suite on the third floor of the castle. He sideswiped the sofa, canted out of control and bumped his head against the ottoman, giving a little yelp.

Abigail glanced up from where she was typing on Zach’s laptop. He’d set her up at the small dining table in one corner of the living area and logged her onto the company network.

“He’s blind in one eye,” she explained.

“He’s also a little lopsided,” Zach noted, observing Ozzy’s odd gait. One front leg was shorter than all the others. The puppy sniffed his way along the fireplace hearth.

“That’s why nobody wanted him.” Abigail paused in her typing and turned in her chair.

Zach let his gaze rest on her pretty face. She’d changed into a feminine blouse and a pair of snug-fitting black jeans that showed off her curves. Her shoes were sexy now, too. She’d told him she’d stopped by her brother the mayor’s mansion in Lyndon. He supposed the mansion had a stricter dress code than Craig Mountain. Or maybe it was because she liked her brother enough to dress up for him-unlike the way she felt about Zach.

“Do you always take pity on strays?” he asked.

The puppy plunked himself down at Zach’s feet, gazing hopefully up at him with big brown eyes. Since Zach’s heart wasn’t made of stone, he lifted Ozzy into his lap.

“One more out at the ranch won’t make a difference.”

“You could have said no.”

She shrugged. “Why would I?”

Zach felt a sudden curiosity about this welcoming family utopia that was apparently the Jacobs ranch. He speculated how much of her description translated into real life.

She turned back to the laptop. “How many new jobs will the Craig Mountain expansion create?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Got a guess?”

“Why?”

Ozzy settled into Zach’s lap.

“There are three mandatory exemptions to the water-license moratorium. One, if a state of emergency is declared in the region. Two, if a strategic regional industry is threatened. Or, three, if the issuing of the license or variance has a fundamental impact on employment creation in the region.”

“Maybe a dozen new jobs,” he reasoned. “Give or take.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t sound like much of an impact.”

“Can we argue that beer is strategic?”

“This is cowboy country.” She allowed what seemed like a reluctant smile along with her answer.

“And who has to declare the state of emergency?”

“The governor.”

“So, not me.”

She ended up smiling at that one, too. “Not you.”

“So much for a mandatory exemption.”

She hit a few keys. “Our other option is to make representation to the committee.”

Ozzy shifted his little body, whimpering in his sleep, and Zach smoothed his palm down the puppy’s soft coat. “How do we do that?”

“We fill out form 731-800(e) and submit appendix Q along with supporting documentation and letters of intent.”

“I should be paying you to do this.”

She typed out a sentence on the screen. “You think money’s going to make me feel any better about the situation?”

Ozzy shifted again and twitched, his eyes blinking open.

“It would make me feel better.”

“You should feel great. You’re getting exactly what you want. Free of charge.”

Ozzy whined and twisted, sniffing at the arm of the chair.

“Any chance this little guy needs a walk?” asked Zach.

Abigail paused to look at them. She grimaced. “Probably, he does.”

“Okay, champ,” Zach rose, lifting Ozzy to the floor and brushing traces of black-and-white fur from his lap.

“Care to check out the grounds?” he asked Abigail. The walk would be a whole lot more fun if she came along.

“Sure,” she agreed. She quickly rose and headed directly for the suite door, obviously considering time of the essence.

The three of them made their way down the narrow hall, along a back staircase to the second floor, where they picked up the grand staircase that led to the foyer.

The ancient hinges creaked as Zach pushed open one side of the heavy, oak doors. He couldn’t help admiring Abigail as she passed by. There was a sinuous grace in her movements, and unconscious sensuality in the sway of her hips, the tilt of her chin and the silky flow of her hair.

“The mayor’s office has a dress code?” he asked, falling in behind her as they crossed the lighted porch toward the illuminated front grounds. Stars were scattered in the black sky, while the moon rose above the northern horizon.

“I did a little shopping in town.” There was a hint of censure in her tone. “Had some time to kill this afternoon.”

“Sorry about that.”

She shrugged as they started down the wide, stone steps. “Oh, well, I needed a manicure anyway.”

He glanced down at her fingers, noting what must have been her favorite lavender color. “I guess ranch work can be hard on the hands.”

Ozzy chugged enthusiastically ahead, beelining for a clump of shrubbery.

“A little,” she allowed, following in the general direction of the puppy.

As she stepped onto the thick lawn, she stumbled in her high shoes. Zach quickly reached out to grab her, steadying her with a hand at her hip, another on her shoulder. His body’s reaction was instantaneous. His muscles zipped tight, and his senses went on high alert. Her soft scent surrounded him, and he remembered her taste, craved the feel of her in his arms.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling to get away.

But his brain was slow to react. He didn’t let go.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, jerking back.

He forced himself to release her.

He cleared his throat. “So, how are things going back home?”

“Fine.” She made a show of straightening her blouse.

“You’re really not much of a conversationalist, are you?” But he knew it wasn’t true. He’d talked to her for hours on end that first night, one topic flowing into the other, discovering a shared sense of humor and shared opinions on books, films and many current news events.

“You know perfectly well how I feel about the ranch,” she pointed out.

“I do,” he allowed.

“So, why do you think I’d want to talk about it?”

“Exactly how unhappy are you?” Not that he could fix it for her. But he realized he would if he could.

She tossed her auburn hair and lifted her pert nose. “I’m not unhappy at all.”

“I didn’t take you for a liar.”

“And I didn’t take you for a blackmailer.”

They faced each other, and the night air seemed to smolder between them. Every nuance of their lovemaking rushed back to him. He searched deeply into her eyes, subconsciously easing closer. His hands twitched with the need to reach out to her. But it wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be fair. She’d made her position clear, and he’d already made the hard choice between his company and his feelings for her. There was nothing left but for him to be a gentleman.

“I really do like you, Abby,” he allowed himself.

“Funny, I don’t like you at all.”

“Liar,” he whispered.

“Not about that.” But her golden eyes had gone liquid, cheeks flushed, and her lips softened in the glowing light. Her chest rose and fell with deep, indrawn breaths.

Zach threw propriety to the wind. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.”

“I don’t want you to kiss me.”

He shook his head. “I guess that was predictable.”

She pivoted sharply away from him, taking a couple of steps across the lawn. “Ozzy?” she called. “Where are you, puppy?”

Zach glanced around the expanse of lawn, searching for the pup’s movement. The lawn was night black, interspersed with pools of lamplight. He squinted to find the flashes of white in Ozzy’s mottled fur.

“Ozzy?” Abigail called again, voice louder this time.

They heard a yelp, then a whimper. It was from the direction of the cliffs.

Abigail glanced back. “Zach?”

“He probably banged into a boulder.” But Zach quickened his steps, striding toward the rocky ledges that overlooked the lake.

Ozzy whimpered again, and the sound of the waves grew louder.

Abigail took a few running steps, catching up to Zach. He saw that she’d stripped off her shoes.

“Wait here,” he instructed as they came to the edge of the lawn. “The rocks are sharp.”

“Ozzy?” she called.

The puppy let out a long whine.

Zach zeroed in on the sound. “I’ll get him,” he assured Abigail.

Walking carefully from rock to rock, skirting the biggest boulders, he made his way toward the cliff edge. He’d been out here this afternoon, so he knew it was dangerous terrain. He also had a pretty good idea of how close he could safely get to the edge.

Ozzy barked, and Zach stopped, looking right.

In the traces of moonlight, he could just make out the shape of the puppy. He’d either jumped or fallen into a rocky depression that boxed him in. It couldn’t have been more than two feet deep, but he seemed perplexed by the task of climbing back out.

Zach chuckled low, squatting on his haunches to reach down.

“You poor, poor thing,” he muttered, scooping his palm under the pup’s belly.

Ozzy went limp with compliance, content to have Zach lift him out. Zach secured him against his chest.

“Got him,” he called out to Abigail, rising to make his way back across the uneven ground.

She looked relieved as they approached.

“He’s a bit of a candy-ass,” said Zach. “I hope ranch life won’t be too tough for him.”