“Don’t you think I would have told you if I’d done the deed?” Belle asked. “Although I didn’t get a phone call from you until weeks after you’d slept with your guys.”

“I lost my virginity during a kidnapping. They took my phone or I swear I would have called you immediately.” Kinley made a cooing call. “Come on, Gigi.”

Kinley’s Yorkie yipped a little and jumped from her comfy spot in Kinley’s Prada tote. The dog tended to travel in whatever designer bag Kinley carried. The very pampered pooch stretched and yawned before jumping onto the ottoman and settling herself down. She didn’t make a move as Kinley placed the tiny veil on her head.

That was one well-trained dog.

The sound of yipping floated through the door as it opened and Dominic Anthony walked in. He looked urbane with his artfully mussed inky hair and perfectly tailored tux, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the three wriggling puppies in his arms.

“Kinley, sweetheart, you know I love you and I want you to have a great day, but I’m going to kill the puppies now. I’ll make it quick. They won’t feel a thing.”

“No, you won’t! Those sweet babies are proof of Gigi and Butch’s love.”

“They’re proof we should have gotten our damn dogs fixed. Number two pooped in my shoes. Three chewed up the curtains in the groom’s room, so we’re paying for that. And One ate a bar of soap, then yakked all over the place. Promise me our kids aren’t going to be this destructive.” He put the pups down and they immediately started darting all over the room, looking for mischief.

“No promises,” Kinley said with a saucy smile. “You’ve got about seven months before the chaos begins. I can promise you I won’t be having a litter, though. Just one for now. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t poop in your shoes. You know, it’s really a sign of affection. They like your smell.”

“Yeah? I don’t like theirs,” Dominic groused. “Now that they’re weaned, it’s time to find them happy homes.” Placing a gentle hand on Kinley’s stomach, he kissed her, then sighed. “And now I have to go clean my shoes. Damn it. Do not eat the flipping curtains again, Three. They’re expensive.”

As the puppy barked, Dominic shook his head and left.

Kinley and Gigi seemed utterly inured to the chaos around them. Belle watched as the pups continued exploring the room, nose first. “One, Two, and Three?”

“The guys won’t let me name them because they think I’ll want to keep them.” She petted her dog softly. “Gigi’s been fixed now so there won’t be any more little four-legged surprises. But I’m going to find these three the best homes ever.”

Belle hoped Kinley could work miracles. The poor little things wouldn’t find anyone willing to take them on looks alone. They were a weird mix of Yorkie and whatever the hell Dominic’s huge dog Butch was. In short, those were some fugly little pups.

But she had something in common with them. She was looking for a new home, too. Despite the fact that she’d settled into her Chicago apartment, somehow it just had never felt like home.

She thought again about the letter she’d received a month before. She’d been putting off addressing the issue because they’d had big cases to tackle at the firm. She couldn’t leave her bosses in a lurch. Then she’d been too tired, too battered by recent rains, too afraid to give up today when they might come around tomorrow. She’d found just about every excuse to not rock the boat.

But watching Kinley with her husbands made Belle certain this boat needed to be rocked. She’d tried to drop anchor in Chicago…but clearly it was time to float elsewhere.

“Doesn’t she make a beautiful bride?” Kinley held Gigi up and stared at her angular little canine face. The damn dog wore a wedding dress.

Belle loved Kinley, but sometimes, her bestie was completely insane. “Yep. Let’s get this show on the road. There’s an open bar at the other end of this wedding, right?”

Hopefully the reception wasn’t all kibble.

“Of course.” Kinley laughed. “I know a dog wedding is silly, but Dominic, Law, and Riley insisted on a quickie Vegas ceremony for us. They thought they could get out of a big party. Ha! I might be making an honest woman out of my Yorkie, but that reception is going to be all me. We’ve got a full bar, and those men will be dancing.”

Belle had to hand it to her friend. Kinley knew how to get her way. “Well, I’ll be there beside you.”

They finished getting ready and gathered the dogs. Belle couldn’t help but think that even the dog was getting married before her.

It was definitely time for a change.


* * * *


“We’re at a damn dog wedding. We flew down from Chicago to see two freaking canines bark out their vows. Please tell me someone else sees how illogical this is.” Tate Baxter shook his head as he looked at the happy “couple.”

Gigi and Butch were seated in places of honor at the elaborate reception, silver bowls in front of them. He often marveled at the crazy things people did for their pets. He’d never had one. Didn’t see the rationale. When he wanted company, he walked into Eric’s room. That had caused a few uncomfortable situations because he’d never seen any particular reason to knock first.

“It is,” Eric agreed.

Tate sat back in his chair at the table he shared with his two friends, still shaking his head. “I put off prepping for an important case tonight to come to this event.”

Well…sort of. The case was on his laptop, so he could just as easily do it on the plane ride home tomorrow, but that wasn’t the point. He certainly hadn’t come because he had any grand desire to see two dogs get hitched.

“Not exactly,” Eric corrected. “You came for the same reason I did. We want to be wherever the hell Belle is. But hey, it ended up being the most entertaining wedding I can remember. The groom tried to hump the bride in the middle of the ceremony. And right in front of their three illegitimate kids,” he joked. “And did you see that one of the puppies peed on the minister?”

Kellan set his beer on the pristine white tablecloth in front of him, shaking his head. “Don’t fool yourself. This shindig wasn’t about the dogs. Kinley is topping from the bottom in a big way. She wanted her grand wedding and this is how she got it. I would say she’s earned one hell of a spanking, but Dominic’s gone soft.”

Tate fought hard not to roll his eyes. Kellan was a hard-ass. He took the whole Dom thing way too seriously, if anyone asked him. Which they didn’t. And that was a mistake because he’d been smart enough to figure out that he liked to dominate a female sexually, but he needed a woman who took charge of him when he missed social cues or forgot to put on matching shoes—stuff like that. “Ease up. She’s pregnant. They’re being indulgent.”

Law Anders was out on the dance floor with his wife, swaying to the music and wearing a big smile as he rubbed himself against Kinley. Dance had been a mystery to Tate for years, until Eric had explained that it was really just an excuse for a guy to rub his penis all over a girl and not get slapped in the face. After that, Tate had totally seen the logic and understood why men bothered with dance. He really enjoyed it now.

As he glanced around, Tate looked for Belle, hoping for an opportunity to rub his penis all over her. Inside her would even be better. Whatever she’d allow.

One year, two months, and four days. Four hundred thirty days all totaled, but he hated to calculate their time together that way. It depressed him. Ten thousand three hundred twenty hours wasn’t much better, considering that was how long he’d gone without sex. Because that was how long it had been since he’d first laid eyes on Annabelle Wright. She’d walked into his office with her resume in hand, and he’d just stared, dumbstruck. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he’d found lust in that single glance. Oh, yeah. He’d taken one look at the goddess applying for a job and known exactly why he’d gone to the gym five times a week since he’d turned seventeen.

But love? He’d taken a whole week of consideration before deciding that he had fallen in love with Belle. After all, he was a careful man. He liked to think things through.

“Indulgence leads to chaos. Dominic is going to rue the day he let that sub run wild.” Kellan frowned at Kinley.

Tate just swiveled his gaze toward the dance floor. “Who is that?”

Kellan’s gaze shot straight to the dance floor and he scowled.

Belle danced with some overgrown ape whose smile seemed way too friendly. She looked gorgeous in her emerald cocktail dress. Its V neck and body-fitting lines showed off her every curve. She wasn’t a tall woman, but those crazy-sexy black shoes she wore made her legs look deliciously long. Tate had no idea how women maintained their balance on those high, thin heels. He was pretty sure, however, they would look great wrapped around his neck.

The only thing he didn’t like about the way Belle looked was the animated expression she turned up at the lug hanging on her. Then she laughed—a sound that always did strange things to his insides.

Eric slapped a big hand across his back. “Chill, buddy. That’s Cole Lennox. He’s a PI here in Dallas. We’ve used his company before. He’s happily married. I don’t think he’s trying to mack on our girl.”

Tate still didn’t like it. “Why isn’t he dancing with his own wife?”

He was rational enough to know that jealousy was a completely illogical response in this situation. Technically, Belle wasn’t his. She’d never even gone on a real date with him. They’d had lunch exactly fifty-two times over the last year, but they’d mostly talked about work. He’d taken her to happy hour fifteen times, where she always ordered vodka tonics, Cîroc or Grey Goose with a half a twist of lime. They’d still talked about work. And the weather. None of that counted, though, because she’d treated him like a colleague, not a boyfriend. He hadn’t kissed her or made his intentions clear, so he had no right to be jealous that Belle danced with another man. For once, he didn’t care if he made less-than-perfect sense.