Sanctuary Cove

He shook his head. “No charge.”

“But—”

“No charge,” he repeated. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”

“Oh. Well... Thank you.” She put her wallet back into her pocket and pulled on her coat. “What will happen to him once he’s better?”

“I know most of the dogs around here. I don’t think he’s local. I’ll try to find his owner.”

“Is he a dog, then?”

“He appears to be, but he probably has some wolf in him, too.”

“And if you can’t find his owner?”

Josh’s protracted silence worried Emma. She immediately thought of an animal shelter—or worse. “I’ll take him,” she said quickly. “If you can’t find his owner, I’ll take him.”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “One step at a time. First, I’ll make sure he’s okay and try to locate his owner. If that doesn’t pan out, and if his temperament allows, we can talk about finding him a new home.”

Emma opened her mouth but ended up huffing out a breath. What Josh said made sense. “Can I check in with you to see how he’s doing?”

“Sure.” He lifted a business card from a small wooden stand on the counter. “You seem to know my after-hours emergency number.” As he offered the card to her, a quick grin lit up his face. The sharp planes and angles were transformed with its potency. “My office number is on there, in case you don’t have it and want to catch me next time when I’m not just stepping out of the shower.”

She studied his appearance for a moment. He had a wide, sturdy chin, an appealing nose with a slight bump, as if it had been broken at some point, strong, well-defined lips and perfectly straight white teeth. He was tall, with a solid, athletic build—broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were pushed up, revealing well-muscled arms. The thought of him in the shower made Emma blush.

Their fingers brushed as she accepted the card, and the contact sent a quick jolt through her system.

Stuffing the card in her pocket, she walked to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she held his gaze. “Thanks again for what you did tonight. I’m sorry to have interfered with your evening. I’ll be in touch to check up on the dog.”

* * *

THROUGH THE GLASS insert of the door, Josh watched Emma head back into the storm. As tired as he’d been after treating the dog, it surprised him that the first thought he’d had seeing her in the reception area was that she was dazzling. In the harsh lights, he’d easily been able to make out the color of her eyes. They were gray. A deep, silvery gray.

Although he had always appreciated physical beauty, he’d never considered it his sole or primary focus. As such, he’d been astonished to feel another raw and powerful pull of attraction—especially in view of the situation. With Crystal’s most recent little escapade, hadn’t he just sworn off women for the time being?

Yet the tug was undeniably there.

Then he remembered something that had struck him as strange. When she’d been petting the dog, she’d said something about how someone could’ve hit the dog and left him. Josh had assumed that she was the one who’d hit the dog. What had he really had to base that on? Having seen her with the animal, her anguish apparent, it was likely he’d misjudged her.

She’d also offered to take the dog. Evidently, there was more to her than what met the eye.

He smiled as he walked back to his recovery room to check on his patient. It occurred to him that he was in a distinctly better mood than he had been before he’d ventured out that evening.

CHAPTER THREE

EMMA’S NIGHTMARES WERE MUDDLED. Richard, with his arm around an attractive brunette in a sundress, as Emma stood transfixed on the opposite side of a busy NYC street. The two of them laughing at her stupidity for believing he’d ever loved her...thought herself worthy of his love. The star-speckled evening gave way to a raging storm. A dog was lying injured and helpless at the side of the road, looking at her, imploring her to save him. As Emma’s anxiety and desperation became nearly unbearable, a tall, dark-haired man materialized through the sheets of rain, dry and unruffled, to save the dog—and to save her. When he touched her shoulder, then ran a hand along the length of her drenched hair and whispered that everything would be fine, she jerked awake, disoriented and breathless.

Sitting up, she reached for the bottle of water she habitually kept on her nightstand. After taking a long drink, she let out a heavy sigh and rested her forehead in the palm of her hand.

Max, her Alaskan malamute, was immediately beside her. His solicitousness dragged her out of the lingering daze of the nightmare. She gave him a hug and, noticing her bedside clock, rolled her eyes. It was only ten after five.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. It would be hopeless trying to fall back to sleep. Looking out the window, she was pleased to see the sky had cleared.

“How about we have breakfast and go for a long run?” she asked Max.

Recognizing the words breakfast and run, two of his favorite things, Max danced with excitement until Emma got dressed and they headed downstairs.

The sun had gilded the sky an intense pink and gold by the time they ventured outside. The air was cool, and she welcomed the bite of it against her skin.

A flagstone walkway, flanked by gardens, made a sweeping arc around the southerly perimeter of the cottage from the back deck to the front porch and toward the parking area. Butterflies flitted and bees buzzed from bloom to bloom. The sights, the sounds and the sweet and spicy aroma of the flowers lifted Emma’s spirits.

A large and fit dog, Max loped easily by her side as she jogged up the driveway to where it crested before it sloped down again to join Otter Creek Road. She stopped and turned back. Her view was mostly unobstructed to the cottage, and where the property dropped off steeply to the small lake beyond it.

With the stillness of the air, the deep blue surface of the water was as smooth as glass and mirrored the wispy white clouds scattered across the sky. The vista from here never failed to take her breath away. It reinforced for her how right her decision to leave the city and move to her cottage in Sanctuary Cove had been.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with the earthy smells of wet soil and recently trimmed grass, before she and Max sprinted away.

It was past nine thirty by the time they returned to the cottage. After showering, Emma called the veterinary clinic. She was told by the woman who answered the phone that Josh was finishing with a patient and would take the call in a minute, if she wanted to hold.

When he came on the line, Emma immediately asked about the dog.

“He’s doing well.” Josh’s voice sounded pleasant. Even friendly. “Were you able to dry out from all the rain?” he asked.

Emma thought of the wet clothes she’d peeled off when she’d gotten back to the cottage the evening before and had yet to toss in the wash. “More or less,” she said. “Is it all right if I visit the dog?”

There was a brief hesitation. “I’d prefer if you’d leave it for today. I want him to get as much rest as he can to regain his strength and help the healing process.”

Emma gazed out the window at the bright sunshine and tried not to feel disappointed. Had she been counting that much on seeing the dog? Or...? No, it couldn’t have anything to do with the veterinarian.

“Are you still there, Emma?”

“Oh...yes, of course.”

“How about a counterproposal? If you don’t have plans, have lunch with me and I’ll update you on how our boy’s doing.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. His offer flustered her. “Ah, thanks...but I’m sure you’re busy and—and I have a number of things to do today.”

“Maybe some other time, then?”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

After hanging up the phone, Emma leaned back in her chair. To her astonishment, she’d been tempted to say yes.

And what had kept her from agreeing? She’d avoided people since she’d arrived at her cottage nearly two months ago. All she’d been focused on was healing her wounds, and her work. What there was of it anyway.

She couldn’t keep living like a recluse indefinitely.

Josh was being friendly, that’s all. But even if he had been asking her out, where was the harm in it? With their house sold and the papers on their way back to Richard, that last connection to her ex-fiancé was gone. Thinking of Richard reminded her why she wasn’t interested.

Feeling her old insecurities bubble up, Emma was in no mood to concentrate on the brand proposal she’d been contracted to do. After she’d been let go from her job with communications giant Tyson, Myers and Smith, one of her former colleagues had put her in touch with the owner of a small but growing media relations company. In-house resources at Pinnacle Communications were at full capacity and they needed help. She’d agreed to freelance for them, but now she questioned the wisdom of doing so. Yes, the money had been a contributing factor to her decision. She couldn’t live on her savings and the proceeds from the sale of the house indefinitely.

But she didn’t know if she had the confidence in herself anymore to be able to do even the basic work that was expected of her. The brand proposal was a perfect example. A year ago—make that three months ago, even—she would have polished off the assignment in a day or two. Fast forward to the present, and she’d been struggling with it for a couple of weeks, and her deadline was looming.

And thinking of Tyson, Myers and Smith, where she’d worked for the majority of her career, most recently as a senior executive, brought her thoughts full circle to Richard, reporter Daniel Leighton and the assignment for Senator Alan Morgan that had resulted in her losing her job.

Emma brewed a pot of tea, poured a mug and settled in an armchair in the great room.

Senator Morgan was arguably one of the most high-profile politicians in the country next to the president, and it was a well-known fact that he had his sights set on the White House. Richard, a criminal defense attorney, had been working with the New York senator to address allegations of corruption that had been made against the senator regarding the award of a substantial armaments contract to American Freedom Munitions, a midsize contractor. As questions arose regarding the company’s qualifications, one reporter in particular, Daniel Leighton of the New York Advocate, began an investigation into how the company had been able to win the contract in the first place. In view of the persistent media interest, Richard had convinced the senator that he needed outside communications expertise.

On Richard’s recommendation, Senator Morgan had offered Emma’s firm a lucrative retainer for Emma to handle all media inquiries related to the allegations. If the situation escalated to the point where the senator’s reputation was challenged openly, she had also been expected to manage crisis communications—one of her specialties—to protect and defend him. When she’d accepted the assignment, she’d had no idea about the extent of the senator’s involvement. If Richard had known, he hadn’t been forthcoming with her. And—as she’d later discovered—that wouldn’t have been his worst transgression where she was concerned.

It was Daniel Leighton who’d shown her the copies of the checks that he’d claimed were evidence of kickbacks.

Emma’s ethics were such that she couldn’t continue with the assignment under the circumstances. When she’d discussed it with Richard, he’d ridiculed her. After all, he was a criminal defense lawyer. Who had she thought he defended, if not the guilty?

From that point on, things had gone from bad to worse. Richard had felt that her terminating the contract with Senator Morgan would reflect poorly on him, since he’d recommended her in the first place. He’d seen the Morgan contract as a way to cement his bid for a partnership with his law firm, and he’d been adamant that Emma needed to keep working with the senator.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lie on behalf of a client and—even ethics aside—do the job she was hired for, if her client wasn’t truthful with her. The net effect had been that Richard had left her.

Within days, her boss, the managing partner of Tyson, Myers and Smith, had told her about the elimination of her position. He’d tried to convince her that it wasn’t about her performance and it wasn’t personal. He’d said that it was about workload and a matter of having to cut costs. He’d said all the right things, but in her heart Emma knew better. The senator had pressured her boss to let her go.

In hindsight, Emma recognized that accepting the assignment had been the beginning of the end—with Richard and her career—and ultimately had precipitated her move to Sanctuary Cove.

Well, at least something good had come of it.

She was thankful that she hadn’t succumbed to Richard’s insistence while they were together that she sell it.

Finished with her tea, she took her mug back to the kitchen.

No, she didn’t feel up to working on the brand proposal, but she didn’t want to work in the yard, either, where she’d been restoring the gardens. She poured herself more tea and retrieved her laptop from her office.

She’d purposefully avoided checking the New York news feeds for a while. It had been almost an obsession to stay current with what was happening with the senator and the allegations when she’d first moved to Sanctuary Cove. For weeks after her arrival, she’d searched online and read snippets about the ongoing investigation, and the categorical denials of any wrongdoing from Morgan’s office. There had even been an interview with Richard, where he condemned the media’s attack on the senator. Each time she saw a new article, a painful knot formed in her stomach and hurtful memories resurfaced.

She’d ultimately forced herself to stop following the case and resolved to put it out of her mind. She’d been reasonably successful.

Until now.

She set her laptop on her dining room table and did a quick search of recent headlines. Months had passed since her fateful meeting with Daniel Leighton, and she still couldn’t find an article from him about Morgan and the kickbacks related to the AFM contract.

Strange, Emma thought. Daniel had all that information he’d shared with her, yet he hadn’t written anything about it. She’d been in the business long enough to know how it worked. If you had a story that big, you wanted to get it into print as soon as possible before someone scooped you. Yet Daniel hadn’t gone public with what he had.

An uncomfortable feeling crept into her belly.

Could those copies of the checks Daniel had shown her been fake, as Richard had suggested?

The discomfort in her stomach intensified.

Think. Think.

She tried to recollect everything she knew about Daniel. Senator Morgan and his chief of staff had portrayed him as unscrupulous, opportunistic. Nothing in her background check corroborated their view. In fact, everything she knew about Daniel pointed to just the opposite.

If she accepted the senator’s position that Daniel wanted to discredit him, why would a reporter who had built his career on a reputation of journalistic integrity and meticulous research choose to mount an unwarranted, unsubstantiated attack on a prominent politician?

Was there something more at stake for Daniel?

Emma watched a hummingbird dart around outside, then hover to feast on the nectar of a crimson bee balm.

Was it possible it was all about Daniel trying to reinvent himself as a political reporter, a position he’d been promoted to shortly before the allegations surfaced? Was he simply trying to advance his career?

Emma tapped a fingernail on the side of her mug.

The senator’s characterization of Daniel didn’t fit. Her research and her instincts both told her Daniel was not the type of reporter who would misrepresent the facts or fabricate a story. And why would Daniel have lied to her? Had he somehow seen her as a pawn to further his cause?

No. None of that rang true.

But if Daniel hadn’t lied to her, why was there no story?

Was it possible Richard had been right...about Daniel and about her? Could Daniel have misled her? And by misleading her, precipitated the events that caused her world to crumble?

“Oh, my God,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut.

It was unthinkable...

CHAPTER FOUR

EMMA HAD ANOTHER restless night. She woke exhausted and with a miniature construction crew gleefully hammering away in her head. But the insistent pounding hadn’t been enough to banish the nagging doubts about Daniel Leighton.

After swallowing two painkillers, eating breakfast and taking Max for his morning walk, she felt marginally better. She poured more coffee into her mug and took it to her office. Max followed her, stretched out next to the chair and was soon snoring softly.

If only her life was as tough as Max’s, Emma mused with a weak smile as she started up her laptop and opened the brand-proposal document. She sipped her coffee while she reviewed what she’d already done. Getting to the end of the document, she placed her mug on the coaster with more force than she’d intended, the smacking sound startling Max.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said to him and tried to tamp down her frustration.

The proposal was mediocre at best. It lacked originality and pizzazz. Thank goodness she didn’t have to have it complete until the end of the month.

Maybe Richard had been right, and she just wasn’t suited to work in her chosen field—even on a part-time basis and without final creative approval.

Had she ever been good at it? she wondered.

Yeah. Sure, she tried to bolster herself. She’d been in demand, had been promoted several times at Tyson, Myers and Smith until she’d reached the highest position she could without becoming a full partner. She’d been recognized with an award—communications professional of the year—twice!

But now...

She stared at the computer screen. She’d been insistent with the owner of Pinnacle Communications that she didn’t want her name associated with the work. She’d do it on a ghostwriting basis.

If that wasn’t an indication of lack of confidence in her abilities, what was?

The owner had agreed to her condition without much discussion. He’d said it was because he wanted her on board regardless. Staring at her screen, Emma decided to start fresh rather than fix the stale ideas in the existing document. She tried to immerse herself in it, but soon realized it was futile. Frankly, she had no idea how to differentiate the athletic wear manufacturer in an already crowded marketplace. Instead, she decided to work outside.

She mowed and weeded and pruned vigorously for hours, all the while thinking about Daniel Leighton, Morgan and, of course, Richard, and all that had happened. By the time she stopped midafternoon, she was exhausted but in a much better frame of mind.

She’d been jumping to conclusions. She couldn’t have been wrong about Daniel and what he’d shown her. She was positive that he was scrupulous.

There had to be another reason he hadn’t gone public with the information he had. With resolve, she pushed the matter out of her mind again.

She showered, and dressed in faded jeans and a yellow T-shirt. In deference to the heat, she bound her hair up in a high ponytail. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d missed lunch. While she ate a sandwich, she thought about the injured dog...and the veterinarian.

She considered calling Josh at the clinic but rejected the idea. She wanted to see for herself how the dog was. She didn’t want to give Josh the opportunity to talk her out of it again.

The clinic closed at five and it was nearing that time when she parked her X5 in front of it next to a green Toyota. She was struck again by the size of the building. Granted, it was a combination of Josh’s home and the clinic, but the clinic was a relatively small addition. The main house itself was large and rambling. While there was no obvious symmetry, the wood and stone of the façade complemented each other and the surrounding landscape.

Josh was behind the reception counter with his back to Emma when she walked quietly inside. He was preoccupied with a computer sitting on a side table. The only other person in the room was an elderly lady, cradling a white toy poodle.

Josh dragged his fingers through his already mussed hair, and continued to fidget with the mouse.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Fields,” he said, without glancing back. “I’ll have your invoice ready in a minute.”

“That’s all right, m’dear. Take your time. I don’t mind waiting,” Mrs. Fields replied. She stroked the poodle’s wiry fur and gave Emma a wide, toothy smile.

The computer finally prompted the printer, and Josh let out a sigh. As he grabbed the invoice he’d just printed, the telephone rang. He placed the invoice on the counter for Mrs. Fields to review, then snatched up the receiver and turned. His gaze collided with Emma’s, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Her heart rate quickened and she forced a smile in return. She waved to him, then at a loss with what to do with her hands, she tucked them in the front pockets of her jeans.

Josh greeted the caller, but his eyes remained steady on hers.

She met his stare with an odd mixture of discomfort and excitement. There was no denying Josh’s appeal, but appearance wasn’t everything. His personality probably left a lot to be desired, as he’d been temperamental and unpleasant the night they’d met.

Her smile faded, and she ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. She immediately regretted the gesture, when Josh’s gaze dipped down and his smile turned into a grin. And that grin alone made it difficult for her to breathe.

In what she hoped looked to be a casual move, she went to the display shelving at the far side of the room to examine the pet foods the clinic offered for sale.

She knew he was still watching her by the heat of his gaze on her shoulders and an itch along her spine. She lifted a can of dog food, pretending to examine its label, and listened to Josh conclude the phone call and turn his attention back to his client.

“Here’s your credit card, Mrs. Fields. Try not to worry about Muffy. She’s perfectly healthy and should stay that way for a long time.”

Emma marveled at the charm and warmth in his voice.

“Enjoy the rest of your day and please give my regards to your sister,” he said.

“I will, of course. Dottie should be in soon with her Ginger. Bye, now,” the gray-haired lady said as she walked out.

Josh flipped the hanging sign on the door to Closed.

By the time Emma turned to face him fully, he was leaning casually against the door watching her.

Her heart rate kicked up another notch, both surprising and annoying her. She struggled to not let it show. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“Not at all. Mrs. Fields’s Muffy was my last patient for the day. The clinic is now officially closed. Thankfully,” he added with a relieved smile.

“Bad day?” He looked tired and his clothes were just a little rumpled. She felt herself soften toward him.

“Not really. Just an exceptionally busy one. We were booked solid, and Sherri, my assistant and all-around miracle worker, was off today. That means I had to do all the paperwork, too—not my favorite task.”

“If you’re busy, I won’t keep you. I just came to see...” Emma hesitated, wishing she knew the dog’s name.

Josh stepped toward her. That lazy smile and those warm brown eyes sent her pulse skittering.

“No problem. Our patient’s doing much better today.” He motioned toward the recovery room. “Let’s go see him.”

As they entered, the large dog gazed at Emma with guarded eyes. She remembered Josh’s warning about the unpredictable behavior of injured animals and glanced back. “Is it okay to touch him?”