Here's what they're saying about In Love and War
"If you're looking for something more from your romances than the usual man meets woman and then they fall in love, this is it!"
"In Love and War is a well-crafted page-turner that will keep you engaged for the entire book."
"In Love and War by Tara Mills will keep you hooked from beginning to end and will take you on a beautiful emotional journey."
"I highly recommend this book. One of the best contemporaries I've read this year."
"If you're looking for a great book to curl up with and get lost in, In Love and War is definitely the book for you!"
"This is a fantastic read!"
"Take the time to discover Tara Mills and if you are not already a fan, you will be."
"- an outstanding evening's entertainment guaranteed to make you chuckle and cry, sometimes at the same time."
"In Love and War is a well-crafted page-turner that will keep you engaged for the entire book."
"In Love and War by Tara Mills will keep you hooked from beginning to end and will take you on a beautiful emotional journey."
"I highly recommend this book. One of the best contemporaries I've read this year."
"If you're looking for a great book to curl up with and get lost in, In Love and War is definitely the book for you!"
"This is a fantastic read!"
"Take the time to discover Tara Mills and if you are not already a fan, you will be."
"- an outstanding evening's entertainment guaranteed to make you chuckle and cry, sometimes at the same time."
In Love and War
Sometimes love really is worth fighting for, but picking your battles isn't so easy—especially when lives are at stake.
Ariela Perrine refuses to consider a certain type of man. She watched how loving a self-sacrificing hero destroyed her mother and left her orphaned at a young age. So yes, she does tend to go out with lackluster men—with predictable results. But she's safe. And bored, at least until an accident brings the interior decorator face to face with an unforgettable pair of blue eyes, a playful smile, and his overly affectionate dog.
Oh yeah, journalist Dylan Bond makes her sizzle, but dare she risk it? After all, he's just returned from Iraq--a war zone for crying out loud! Ariela’s weak resistance crumbles with his assurance that he's back to covering domestic stories and their relationship hits the tarmac at a dizzying speed. Unfortunately, an unexpected phone call lures Dylan back into danger and he falls off the radar outside the green zone. Sensing something’s gone desperately wrong, Ariela’s ready to make a deal with the devil to find him and bring him back. As the days of fear and panic stretch on, they’re both tested in ways neither expected. Will it bring them closer or destroy their fragile peace forever?
On sale now at Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, Google eBooks, Kobo, All Romance, eBooks.com, and iTunes.
Goodreads reviews follow the first chapter.
Ariela Perrine refuses to consider a certain type of man. She watched how loving a self-sacrificing hero destroyed her mother and left her orphaned at a young age. So yes, she does tend to go out with lackluster men—with predictable results. But she's safe. And bored, at least until an accident brings the interior decorator face to face with an unforgettable pair of blue eyes, a playful smile, and his overly affectionate dog.
Oh yeah, journalist Dylan Bond makes her sizzle, but dare she risk it? After all, he's just returned from Iraq--a war zone for crying out loud! Ariela’s weak resistance crumbles with his assurance that he's back to covering domestic stories and their relationship hits the tarmac at a dizzying speed. Unfortunately, an unexpected phone call lures Dylan back into danger and he falls off the radar outside the green zone. Sensing something’s gone desperately wrong, Ariela’s ready to make a deal with the devil to find him and bring him back. As the days of fear and panic stretch on, they’re both tested in ways neither expected. Will it bring them closer or destroy their fragile peace forever?
On sale now at Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, Google eBooks, Kobo, All Romance, eBooks.com, and iTunes.
Goodreads reviews follow the first chapter.
Read the first chapter
Ariela Perrine's face fell and she groaned when she saw the dark blue checked necktie hanging from the doorknob. Laying her ear against the door she could hear the unmistakable sounds of an action movie on the television. Her eyes dropped to the necktie once more and she bit her lip, wondering what to do.
Screw it, she was home now. They could move it into Jean's bedroom.
Ariela knocked on the door three times - hard so they'd hear her over the movie.
"I'm home so you better zip up," she yelled tapping her foot impatiently.
"Hang on!" Jean called back.
You'd think they were still in college.
"Are you decent yet?" Ariela finally called again.
"All clear."
Ariela dropped the looped necktie over her head, accessorizing her smirk, and went in. Ron and Jean were still making wardrobe adjustments when she flopped into the easy chair with a dejected sigh.
Jean frowned. "Why are you home this early? I thought you were going dancing. What, you didn't like Jim either?" Jean tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against Ron. He pulled her close and kissed her on the temple.
Ariela sent her roommate a long suffering look. "Where would I even start?" She turned to the television. "So, what are you watching anyway?"
"Split Infinity," said Ron.
Ariela leaned back and stared at the screen but having missed the beginning of the movie, she couldn't catch up. "Is there anything to eat?" she finally asked.
Jean stared at her. "You just came from dinner."
"Like I could eat looking at that. The man never stopped talking, not even when the food came. I swear it was like watching a front load washing machine except with a washer there's usually no danger you're going to get hit by something flying out of it."
"You're kidding?" Jean asked, appalled.
"I wish. It was disgusting."
"So how much did you drink?" Jean asked perceptively.
"Two glasses of wine, then I pretended I was coming down with something and that's why I didn't have an appetite. Got me out of a kiss - thank god. That tongue of his wasn't getting anywhere near me."
"There's pizza on the kitchen table," Ron broke in with an amused smile.
Ariela popped up to go investigate. "Thanks. Anything I have to pull off of it?"
"'Shrooms."
"You guys," she whined.
"Hey, we didn't order pineapple because you bitched so much last time," said Jean.
"True," Ariela admitted.
Ron stood up too and stretched, letting out a low growl. "Well, I suppose I better clear out. I've got an early morning."
Looking over the top of the open pizza box Ariela saw Jean's pout. Ariela smiled and tore a slice free then peeled back the cheese to pick off the mushrooms.
"See you later Ron," she called as the couple kissed good-night at the door.
There was a pause before he answered back. "Be good Ariela."
Ariela rolled her eyes. She was always good. She was boring and bored by being so good. She wanted to be bad, to be a rabble rouser, to get into a little trouble. Too bad it didn't come naturally. She needed someone to corrupt her. Yeah, a bad influence would be good about now.
Jean wandered into the kitchen and took a glass down from a cabinet. She took it with her to the fridge and held up the carton from inside the open door. "Milk?"
Ariela considered it before shaking her head. "I think I'll have juice."
"I don't see any."
"Fine, I'll take milk too."
She was off to a great rebellious start. At least she was getting her calcium. Tomorrow she'd better get to the store and pick up more of her cranberry blends.
Jean set Ariela's glass in front of her and took a chair herself. Reaching into the box she peeled a cold slice free and bit off the tip.
"You know, I think I like cold pizza best," said Jean, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
Ariela shrugged. "I get into moods."
Jean dropped back in her chair and considered her roommate thoughtfully.
Suddenly wary, Ariela lowered her second slice of pizza and her eyebrows arched up. "What?"
"Nothing."
"No no no no. Tell me."
"It's just that I figured Jim was going to be a bust. He's just another dud in a pattern of duds for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You go out with losers, knowing they're losers and they're going to be disappointing. It's like you're setting yourself up on purpose."
Ariela snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm just saying. You know what you want and you refuse to go there." Jean took another bite of pizza.
"I go out with the guys who ask me out."
"You turn down any guy who might be interesting."
"I haven't met any of those."
"You don't want to." Jean tossed her crust onto the table in front of her and wiped her hands. "I think you're afraid to fall in love."
"Is that right?"
"I've known you a long time and I understand you better than you think. You're afraid to end up like your mom."
"I don't think this is how a psych session is supposed to work. I believe I'm supposed to be the one talking and you're supposed to take notes and nod occasionally while you say things like, "hmm," and "I see, very interesting"."
"I've just made observations over the years that's all and you have to admit, you don't go deep with men. You keep them shallow where they can't hurt you."
Ariela laughed. "Okay then, point me in the right direction because I'm obviously mucking things up on my own."
"Be serious," Jean said with an understanding look in her eyes. "You can't run away forever."
Daylight had faded over an hour ago and the only illumination left in the room now came from the computer screen as it cast an unnatural glow over the man at the keyboard. It sharpened and defined Dylan Bond's features, the planes of his face, the clean line of his nose. His eyes, lost in shadow, flashed black, all pupil, the lapis blue iris obscured by the hunger for light.
It was well over two hours since he'd given any thought to his aching back. All sense of time and discomfort were lost in a flurry of mental activity. He was in his zone, a maestro of political commentary as his words flowed across the screen.
'- and unfortunately for the American people, Senator Norton has never acted on any legislation before his financial terms have been worked out first. The Carpenter bill is a prime example. It makes this jaded journalist pine for the days when money was passed discreetly under the table instead of brazenly and unapologetically in the open.'
Dylan lifted his hands from the keyboard dramatically, kicking back in his chair with an exhilarated smile.
"Take that you bastard - hope it stings like a bitch!"
He dated his column and sent it in. As it was transmitted he reached for his long forgotten beer and took a good swig. His face contorted into a wicked grimace.
"Warm and flat." He shuddered and rolled back his chair to stand.
Max thumped his tail on the floor, perking up when he saw Dylan grab the last two cheese puffs. Dylan popped one into his mouth then grinned at the dog, tossing the second to him. Max snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.
"You could at least pretend to taste it for my sake," said Dylan dryly.
The golden retriever hopped up and followed his master into the kitchen, parking himself directly behind him as he threw open the refrigerator. Bottles clattered together in the door.
Dylan went on a search, finding a container of forgotten lunch meat in the back. He peeled open the lid and took a cautious sniff then jerked his head back and sent the bologna sailing across the room. It landed in the trash with a satisfying whump. Max gave it an interested look.
"Don't even think about it," Dylan warned. Shit, there was nothing to eat.
He slammed the refrigerator door and straightened up, finally attuned to the stiffness that he'd ignored while working. Rubbing his lower back thoughtfully he looked at the dog.
"How does a hoagie sound to you?"
Max's tail pounded the floor ecstatically.
Dylan chuckled and patted his leg. "Yeah, like you know what I said."
Max leaned heavily against Dylan's thigh as he rubbed the dog's ears.
Glancing at his watch, he realized if they didn't hustle they'd miss out.
"We've gotta book," said Dylan grabbing the leash off the counter and slapping off the lights.
The next morning, Ariela was already leaning over a bowl of cereal with a magazine open in front of her when Jean shuffled blearily into the kitchen.
Jean gasped in alarm at the sight. "Oh my god, put that away."
"What? I'm not doing anything." Ariela frowned and returned to her article.
Jean snorted. "Yet." She got herself a bowl of cereal.
Not a minute later Ariela glanced up and said, "We should really have green tea on hand."
"You don't like tea."
"I could learn. I should."
Jean sighed. "Here we go. Do me a favor and stick to the makeup tips and fashion pages and stop reading those health updates. I don't need you imagining you have a wheat allergy next and I'm through, I mean it, I'm through with all those stupid fad diets."
"You make it sound like I'm a hypochondriac or something."
Jean turned slowly and gave her roommate a significant look.
Ariela rolled her eyes. "Cut that out."
Jean pulled out a chair and sat down. "So what time is Mrs. Corley coming in?"
"Nine."
"Lucky you. Are you going down right away?"
"Might as well."
"I have to bring those books over to Banks Brothers at eight."
"I'll be around."
"Good."
Though it was their policy to fawn over their clients in general, Mrs. Corley appreciated more fuss than a normal person. Unfortunately it didn't prevent her from being just as difficult on this visit as the previous two. Her habitual indecision was trying, but the money on the line made it worth all the trouble.
The knotty pine cabinets she chose were suddenly out and now she wanted a radical new look for her kitchen. Something sleek and modern, say oak? Ariela crossed off the tile counter tops without blinking and listened patiently as her client asked about something granite, but not necessarily granite, instead. Could she do that?
"That's no problem," Ariela assured her then brought out samples for Mrs Corley to look over.
Then they moved on to wallpaper samples. That alone took well over an hour, even with Ariela gently steering her client in the right direction again and again.
It was nearly noon by the time an exhausted Ariela escorted the impossible woman to the door and waved her off. Ariela was sorely tempted to give her a boot in the ass too but she smothered the impulse in the end. It was probably better to fantasize about it anyway. She could have hours of sustained pleasure from that without the blow back and guilt.
Being Friday, Ariela was on her own for lunch. Jean always ate lunch with Ron on Fridays. Ariela flipped the sign in the window, locked the door, and headed down the front steps to the sidewalk.
Gorgeous, the day was simply gorgeous, warm sunshine, clear deep blue sky, and the lazy hum of bumblebees on the old fashioned roses growing along the neighbor's fence. Ariela drew the fragrance in through her nose and sighed at the unexpected subtle finish of freshly mowed grass that came with it. It was a perfect day to play hooky, or maybe have a picnic.
Truth be told, Ariela didn't mind the Friday routine. She had an hour, one whole hour all to herself, and she liked to stroll over to the little market at the end of the block. They usually had something good in their deli case and a nice selection of sparkling juices and waters to go with it.
Dylan left the Spiffy Mart with a candy bar in his jacket pocket and two newspapers under his arm. Max was right where he left him, tied to the bike rack out front. Dylan had to tug the dog back to loosen the knot but as soon as the dog felt the slack in the leash he took off, nearly jerking Dylan's arm out of its socket. He struggled frantically to keep his newspapers from raining down on the sidewalk one section at a time.
"Max wait!" said Dylan impatiently. "I said wait, damn it."
If he lost anything, Max was going to pay. A newspaper was a treasure, and though Dylan could get all the information he needed off the internet, there was something intrinsically satisfying about holding a paper, having to wash the inky residue off of your fingers when you were done reading, that could never be replaced by a screen, and he could still make notes in the margins. Plus there was the daily crosswords too. He'd missed those most of all while he was gone.
Dylan hauled the dog back at the corner to keep him from darting into traffic. Giving up the fight for the moment, Max waited patiently, happily fanning the air with his tail. Then the light changed and Dylan eased up on the leash and the dog took the lead, this time striding as regally as a show dog. His owner chuckled. Right, anyone who saw them might be fooled but he knew better. Max was a disaster waiting to happen.
He looked up from the dog as they crossed the intersection, the smile still lingering on his lips, and was just in time to see a bike messenger shoot out of a dental office parking lot and barrel right into a woman on the sidewalk. The large hedge growing next to the lot must have blocked her from view.
The impact threw the woman backwards and Dylan winced when he heard the crack of her head hitting the concrete over the traffic. He broke into a run and reached the scene as the stunned bicyclist fought his way back to his feet. The man stared bug-eyed at the women lying in front of his tire.
Max, always the friendliest of dogs, chose that inopportune moment to leap up on the man nearly knocking him over again. Dylan dragged Max back by his leash.
The messenger turned his horrified eyes on Dylan. "I didn't see her. I swear. She was just there." They both looked at her now. "Do you think she's okay?" the messenger asked anxiously.
The woman raised her head, a confused look on her face, and mumbled something.
Dylan dropped to one knee beside her. "Are you all right?"
She felt her forehead. "I think so." She tried to look at him but the sun hit her right in the eyes. She gave up with a grimace and shut them again, turning away from the light.
Dylan shrugged to the bicyclist. "Seems okay, but I'm not a doctor." One thing was certain - she was going to have one whopper of a goose egg on the back of her head.
The courier checked his wristwatch. "Man, I really have to fly. I'm on the clock here."
"Do you have a business card?" Dylan asked since the woman wasn't asking for herself.
"Yes." He pulled a card out of a ridiculously tight pocket and handed it to Dylan before going into an apology.
Dylan raised his hand, stopping him. "It's cool. I'll stick around."
"That's great. Thanks. I appreciate it." He didn't waste another second in their company.
"Well," said Dylan turning back to the woman still sprawled on the sidewalk. He felt a chill slice through him. She was too quiet, too still. He went back down on his knee to take a closer look.
"Still with me?" he asked hopefully.
Nope. She was doing one hell of a Sleeping Beauty impression. He wondered what she'd do if he bent down and kissed her awake.
"Better not," he said to Max.
Dylan leaned closer. She was quite pretty actually and she smelled wonderful. Dylan took a long drag of her perfume and patted her cheek.
"Miss, miss? Can you hear me?"
Max chose that unfortunate moment to make her acquaintance as well and nosed his way in, licking the poor woman from chin to hairline in long drippy strokes.
"What the hell!" Dylan wrestled him back and banished the dog to the nearby grass. If an animal could sulk, Max was certainly doing it now.
"Just stay there. I mean it." Dylan pointed sternly at the animal.
"I'm bleeding!" the woman wailed unexpectedly.
Startled, Dylan's head whipped around to find her feeling her wet face, a look of outright panic in her eyes.
"You're not bleeding. That was just my dog. He licked you. Sorry about that." Who could blame the animal? Dylan was having similar thoughts himself.
"I feel wet," she said weakly.
"I know, that's because my dog -"
"What?" Then she started to fade.
"Hey! Can you focus on me?" Dylan took her head in his hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
Her eyelids fluttered open again and she locked onto his deep lapis blues.
"Wow," she whispered before going limp.
Screw it, she was home now. They could move it into Jean's bedroom.
Ariela knocked on the door three times - hard so they'd hear her over the movie.
"I'm home so you better zip up," she yelled tapping her foot impatiently.
"Hang on!" Jean called back.
You'd think they were still in college.
"Are you decent yet?" Ariela finally called again.
"All clear."
Ariela dropped the looped necktie over her head, accessorizing her smirk, and went in. Ron and Jean were still making wardrobe adjustments when she flopped into the easy chair with a dejected sigh.
Jean frowned. "Why are you home this early? I thought you were going dancing. What, you didn't like Jim either?" Jean tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against Ron. He pulled her close and kissed her on the temple.
Ariela sent her roommate a long suffering look. "Where would I even start?" She turned to the television. "So, what are you watching anyway?"
"Split Infinity," said Ron.
Ariela leaned back and stared at the screen but having missed the beginning of the movie, she couldn't catch up. "Is there anything to eat?" she finally asked.
Jean stared at her. "You just came from dinner."
"Like I could eat looking at that. The man never stopped talking, not even when the food came. I swear it was like watching a front load washing machine except with a washer there's usually no danger you're going to get hit by something flying out of it."
"You're kidding?" Jean asked, appalled.
"I wish. It was disgusting."
"So how much did you drink?" Jean asked perceptively.
"Two glasses of wine, then I pretended I was coming down with something and that's why I didn't have an appetite. Got me out of a kiss - thank god. That tongue of his wasn't getting anywhere near me."
"There's pizza on the kitchen table," Ron broke in with an amused smile.
Ariela popped up to go investigate. "Thanks. Anything I have to pull off of it?"
"'Shrooms."
"You guys," she whined.
"Hey, we didn't order pineapple because you bitched so much last time," said Jean.
"True," Ariela admitted.
Ron stood up too and stretched, letting out a low growl. "Well, I suppose I better clear out. I've got an early morning."
Looking over the top of the open pizza box Ariela saw Jean's pout. Ariela smiled and tore a slice free then peeled back the cheese to pick off the mushrooms.
"See you later Ron," she called as the couple kissed good-night at the door.
There was a pause before he answered back. "Be good Ariela."
Ariela rolled her eyes. She was always good. She was boring and bored by being so good. She wanted to be bad, to be a rabble rouser, to get into a little trouble. Too bad it didn't come naturally. She needed someone to corrupt her. Yeah, a bad influence would be good about now.
Jean wandered into the kitchen and took a glass down from a cabinet. She took it with her to the fridge and held up the carton from inside the open door. "Milk?"
Ariela considered it before shaking her head. "I think I'll have juice."
"I don't see any."
"Fine, I'll take milk too."
She was off to a great rebellious start. At least she was getting her calcium. Tomorrow she'd better get to the store and pick up more of her cranberry blends.
Jean set Ariela's glass in front of her and took a chair herself. Reaching into the box she peeled a cold slice free and bit off the tip.
"You know, I think I like cold pizza best," said Jean, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
Ariela shrugged. "I get into moods."
Jean dropped back in her chair and considered her roommate thoughtfully.
Suddenly wary, Ariela lowered her second slice of pizza and her eyebrows arched up. "What?"
"Nothing."
"No no no no. Tell me."
"It's just that I figured Jim was going to be a bust. He's just another dud in a pattern of duds for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You go out with losers, knowing they're losers and they're going to be disappointing. It's like you're setting yourself up on purpose."
Ariela snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm just saying. You know what you want and you refuse to go there." Jean took another bite of pizza.
"I go out with the guys who ask me out."
"You turn down any guy who might be interesting."
"I haven't met any of those."
"You don't want to." Jean tossed her crust onto the table in front of her and wiped her hands. "I think you're afraid to fall in love."
"Is that right?"
"I've known you a long time and I understand you better than you think. You're afraid to end up like your mom."
"I don't think this is how a psych session is supposed to work. I believe I'm supposed to be the one talking and you're supposed to take notes and nod occasionally while you say things like, "hmm," and "I see, very interesting"."
"I've just made observations over the years that's all and you have to admit, you don't go deep with men. You keep them shallow where they can't hurt you."
Ariela laughed. "Okay then, point me in the right direction because I'm obviously mucking things up on my own."
"Be serious," Jean said with an understanding look in her eyes. "You can't run away forever."
Daylight had faded over an hour ago and the only illumination left in the room now came from the computer screen as it cast an unnatural glow over the man at the keyboard. It sharpened and defined Dylan Bond's features, the planes of his face, the clean line of his nose. His eyes, lost in shadow, flashed black, all pupil, the lapis blue iris obscured by the hunger for light.
It was well over two hours since he'd given any thought to his aching back. All sense of time and discomfort were lost in a flurry of mental activity. He was in his zone, a maestro of political commentary as his words flowed across the screen.
'- and unfortunately for the American people, Senator Norton has never acted on any legislation before his financial terms have been worked out first. The Carpenter bill is a prime example. It makes this jaded journalist pine for the days when money was passed discreetly under the table instead of brazenly and unapologetically in the open.'
Dylan lifted his hands from the keyboard dramatically, kicking back in his chair with an exhilarated smile.
"Take that you bastard - hope it stings like a bitch!"
He dated his column and sent it in. As it was transmitted he reached for his long forgotten beer and took a good swig. His face contorted into a wicked grimace.
"Warm and flat." He shuddered and rolled back his chair to stand.
Max thumped his tail on the floor, perking up when he saw Dylan grab the last two cheese puffs. Dylan popped one into his mouth then grinned at the dog, tossing the second to him. Max snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.
"You could at least pretend to taste it for my sake," said Dylan dryly.
The golden retriever hopped up and followed his master into the kitchen, parking himself directly behind him as he threw open the refrigerator. Bottles clattered together in the door.
Dylan went on a search, finding a container of forgotten lunch meat in the back. He peeled open the lid and took a cautious sniff then jerked his head back and sent the bologna sailing across the room. It landed in the trash with a satisfying whump. Max gave it an interested look.
"Don't even think about it," Dylan warned. Shit, there was nothing to eat.
He slammed the refrigerator door and straightened up, finally attuned to the stiffness that he'd ignored while working. Rubbing his lower back thoughtfully he looked at the dog.
"How does a hoagie sound to you?"
Max's tail pounded the floor ecstatically.
Dylan chuckled and patted his leg. "Yeah, like you know what I said."
Max leaned heavily against Dylan's thigh as he rubbed the dog's ears.
Glancing at his watch, he realized if they didn't hustle they'd miss out.
"We've gotta book," said Dylan grabbing the leash off the counter and slapping off the lights.
The next morning, Ariela was already leaning over a bowl of cereal with a magazine open in front of her when Jean shuffled blearily into the kitchen.
Jean gasped in alarm at the sight. "Oh my god, put that away."
"What? I'm not doing anything." Ariela frowned and returned to her article.
Jean snorted. "Yet." She got herself a bowl of cereal.
Not a minute later Ariela glanced up and said, "We should really have green tea on hand."
"You don't like tea."
"I could learn. I should."
Jean sighed. "Here we go. Do me a favor and stick to the makeup tips and fashion pages and stop reading those health updates. I don't need you imagining you have a wheat allergy next and I'm through, I mean it, I'm through with all those stupid fad diets."
"You make it sound like I'm a hypochondriac or something."
Jean turned slowly and gave her roommate a significant look.
Ariela rolled her eyes. "Cut that out."
Jean pulled out a chair and sat down. "So what time is Mrs. Corley coming in?"
"Nine."
"Lucky you. Are you going down right away?"
"Might as well."
"I have to bring those books over to Banks Brothers at eight."
"I'll be around."
"Good."
Though it was their policy to fawn over their clients in general, Mrs. Corley appreciated more fuss than a normal person. Unfortunately it didn't prevent her from being just as difficult on this visit as the previous two. Her habitual indecision was trying, but the money on the line made it worth all the trouble.
The knotty pine cabinets she chose were suddenly out and now she wanted a radical new look for her kitchen. Something sleek and modern, say oak? Ariela crossed off the tile counter tops without blinking and listened patiently as her client asked about something granite, but not necessarily granite, instead. Could she do that?
"That's no problem," Ariela assured her then brought out samples for Mrs Corley to look over.
Then they moved on to wallpaper samples. That alone took well over an hour, even with Ariela gently steering her client in the right direction again and again.
It was nearly noon by the time an exhausted Ariela escorted the impossible woman to the door and waved her off. Ariela was sorely tempted to give her a boot in the ass too but she smothered the impulse in the end. It was probably better to fantasize about it anyway. She could have hours of sustained pleasure from that without the blow back and guilt.
Being Friday, Ariela was on her own for lunch. Jean always ate lunch with Ron on Fridays. Ariela flipped the sign in the window, locked the door, and headed down the front steps to the sidewalk.
Gorgeous, the day was simply gorgeous, warm sunshine, clear deep blue sky, and the lazy hum of bumblebees on the old fashioned roses growing along the neighbor's fence. Ariela drew the fragrance in through her nose and sighed at the unexpected subtle finish of freshly mowed grass that came with it. It was a perfect day to play hooky, or maybe have a picnic.
Truth be told, Ariela didn't mind the Friday routine. She had an hour, one whole hour all to herself, and she liked to stroll over to the little market at the end of the block. They usually had something good in their deli case and a nice selection of sparkling juices and waters to go with it.
Dylan left the Spiffy Mart with a candy bar in his jacket pocket and two newspapers under his arm. Max was right where he left him, tied to the bike rack out front. Dylan had to tug the dog back to loosen the knot but as soon as the dog felt the slack in the leash he took off, nearly jerking Dylan's arm out of its socket. He struggled frantically to keep his newspapers from raining down on the sidewalk one section at a time.
"Max wait!" said Dylan impatiently. "I said wait, damn it."
If he lost anything, Max was going to pay. A newspaper was a treasure, and though Dylan could get all the information he needed off the internet, there was something intrinsically satisfying about holding a paper, having to wash the inky residue off of your fingers when you were done reading, that could never be replaced by a screen, and he could still make notes in the margins. Plus there was the daily crosswords too. He'd missed those most of all while he was gone.
Dylan hauled the dog back at the corner to keep him from darting into traffic. Giving up the fight for the moment, Max waited patiently, happily fanning the air with his tail. Then the light changed and Dylan eased up on the leash and the dog took the lead, this time striding as regally as a show dog. His owner chuckled. Right, anyone who saw them might be fooled but he knew better. Max was a disaster waiting to happen.
He looked up from the dog as they crossed the intersection, the smile still lingering on his lips, and was just in time to see a bike messenger shoot out of a dental office parking lot and barrel right into a woman on the sidewalk. The large hedge growing next to the lot must have blocked her from view.
The impact threw the woman backwards and Dylan winced when he heard the crack of her head hitting the concrete over the traffic. He broke into a run and reached the scene as the stunned bicyclist fought his way back to his feet. The man stared bug-eyed at the women lying in front of his tire.
Max, always the friendliest of dogs, chose that inopportune moment to leap up on the man nearly knocking him over again. Dylan dragged Max back by his leash.
The messenger turned his horrified eyes on Dylan. "I didn't see her. I swear. She was just there." They both looked at her now. "Do you think she's okay?" the messenger asked anxiously.
The woman raised her head, a confused look on her face, and mumbled something.
Dylan dropped to one knee beside her. "Are you all right?"
She felt her forehead. "I think so." She tried to look at him but the sun hit her right in the eyes. She gave up with a grimace and shut them again, turning away from the light.
Dylan shrugged to the bicyclist. "Seems okay, but I'm not a doctor." One thing was certain - she was going to have one whopper of a goose egg on the back of her head.
The courier checked his wristwatch. "Man, I really have to fly. I'm on the clock here."
"Do you have a business card?" Dylan asked since the woman wasn't asking for herself.
"Yes." He pulled a card out of a ridiculously tight pocket and handed it to Dylan before going into an apology.
Dylan raised his hand, stopping him. "It's cool. I'll stick around."
"That's great. Thanks. I appreciate it." He didn't waste another second in their company.
"Well," said Dylan turning back to the woman still sprawled on the sidewalk. He felt a chill slice through him. She was too quiet, too still. He went back down on his knee to take a closer look.
"Still with me?" he asked hopefully.
Nope. She was doing one hell of a Sleeping Beauty impression. He wondered what she'd do if he bent down and kissed her awake.
"Better not," he said to Max.
Dylan leaned closer. She was quite pretty actually and she smelled wonderful. Dylan took a long drag of her perfume and patted her cheek.
"Miss, miss? Can you hear me?"
Max chose that unfortunate moment to make her acquaintance as well and nosed his way in, licking the poor woman from chin to hairline in long drippy strokes.
"What the hell!" Dylan wrestled him back and banished the dog to the nearby grass. If an animal could sulk, Max was certainly doing it now.
"Just stay there. I mean it." Dylan pointed sternly at the animal.
"I'm bleeding!" the woman wailed unexpectedly.
Startled, Dylan's head whipped around to find her feeling her wet face, a look of outright panic in her eyes.
"You're not bleeding. That was just my dog. He licked you. Sorry about that." Who could blame the animal? Dylan was having similar thoughts himself.
"I feel wet," she said weakly.
"I know, that's because my dog -"
"What?" Then she started to fade.
"Hey! Can you focus on me?" Dylan took her head in his hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
Her eyelids fluttered open again and she locked onto his deep lapis blues.
"Wow," she whispered before going limp.
