Animal Attraction (San Francisco Dragons Book 2) Read online

  It took her about fifteen minutes of search-cruising before she found his place. Looking toward downtown San Francisco, the view matched the photo.

  As she parked her car, the realization hit her that she was about to barge in on what might be the entire Dragons hockey team. Before she’d arrived, all she’d focused on was getting Kirby back. She’d imagined herself going in and righteously claiming her dog. Her main emotion had been indignation. Now, a case of the jitters undermined her determination.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  She looked up at the spectacular two-story house. The sprawling property looked as if Arts and Crafts architecture and Japanese landscaping had a baby. Lush mature trees cast shade over mossy rocks and boulders. The wooden bridge leading to the front door crossed an actual pond, complete with brightly colored koi fish. As she looked around and the luxuriousness of the neighborhood sunk in, the jitters progressed into near-panic. She’d passed the Sierra Point friggin’ Yacht Club on her way, for Pete’s sake.

  No. She would do this. Kirby was hers. Even if she couldn’t offer him posh digs like these, they belonged together. She’d had him since puppyhood. They had a bond that couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be broken. Even now, he was probably wishing he were home with her, cuddling on her old sofa watching reruns of Friends and eating microwave popcorn. She told herself the players were only people, like her. People with unusual, high-profile jobs and bodies like gods.

  She went up to the front door where a sign said, “Come on in. Hope you brought beer.”

  Gathering her courage, she knocked anyway.

  No one answered. And it was kind of quiet. Maybe the party hadn’t started yet.

  She tried the door and found it unlocked. Before entering, she took a picture of the sign, because if this devolved and the police were called, she wanted evidence that, technically, she was invited in.

  “Hello?” she called hesitantly, crossing the threshold into the foyer.

  The house was just as gorgeous on the inside as it was on the outside. She’d seen it on the video, but in person, it felt richer and more personal. A San Francisco Dragons player actually lived here. Spencer Corbett occasionally sat on that couch. He walked on this plush rug.

  He—gulp—was standing right there, staring at her.

  “Hey, I thought I heard someone knocking. I’m Spencer.”

  He had blond hair and arresting blue eyes and he looked different…clean. She was used to seeing him with red helmet marks on his sweaty forehead. He wore an NHL Players Association T-shirt and jeans, and he looked pretty damned good—his arms, his shoulders, his muscular legs and tight ass. He was slimmer than she’d expected, but even so, she knew how much power he could summon on the ice.

  Another plus, he had all his teeth.

  They shook hands and male-female awareness spread over her whole body in one delicious, tingly wave. She suddenly forgot he was an NHL player. Every molecule in her body was honed in on the gorgeous, virile man in front of her.

  “I’m M-Maggie.” Stuttering, she felt as if her tongue didn’t belong to her. Desire, surprising but not unwelcome, smoldered between her legs.

  “You’re a little early. You want something to drink?” He started walking farther into the house. “I’ve got beer, wine, soda, iced tea.”

  Reminding herself of her mission today, she managed to get her body under control. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d ever be interested in a plain Jane like her.

  “No drinks, thanks. I actually just want my dog.”

  Realization dawned on his face. “You’re Maggie Hudson. I thought you were someone’s girlfriend.”

  Aha. Confirmation that he truly did get her message and subsequently ignored it.

  “I am someone’s girlfriend. I also want my dog.”

  He seemed taken aback. “Wait a second. Whose girlfriend are you? Marty’s? Zimmer’s?”

  “He’s not a Dragon. You don’t know him. I just came here to get my dog,” she repeated.

  “Oh.” He sobered. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call you. I did get your message and of course you want your dog back. But it’s really complicated.”

  “No,” she said, “it’s not. You give me my dog and I go home. It’s very simple.”

  “If you could just give me five minutes to explain.” Then he touched her elbow and let his fingers glide down until he was holding her hand. The desire reignited and she sincerely hoped her whole-body shiver wasn’t noticeable.

  She swallowed hard. “All right. Five minutes.”

  He led her into the kitchen where he gestured toward a large dog bed. An old chocolate Labrador lay curled up. Her tail wagged as Spencer squatted to rub her head. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Maggie saw Kirby at the expansive doors that lead to the patio. He was pawing the glass like he was trying to dig a hole through it.

  “Kirby!” She dropped her purse on the ground and lunged toward the door. After wrestling it open, she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him as he bathed her face in canine kisses. Joy swept over her as he expressed a similar emotion via his laid-back ears, wagging tail and scrabbly front paws.

  The Labrador, Lulu, lumbered to her feet and gave one short bark and Kirby trotted over and gave her a reassuring muzzle-to-muzzle rub, then returned to Maggie and sat.

  Maggie wrapped an arm around him and said, “I rest my case.”

  “Then it’s my turn to present evidence,” he said, sitting down on the kitchen floor so he could pet the Lab. “This is Lulu. She’s fourteen years old and on her last legs.”

  Maggie sensed a sob story coming and steeled herself, but as he explained about how Lulu’s brother, Frank, had died and how despondent Lulu had become and then what Kirby had done for her just by being Kirby, the shield of righteousness she’d been holding got a little heavy. She began to understand why he hadn’t contacted her right away. She also noticed a painting of Lulu and Frank in the living room. She could see it from where she knelt and somehow the artist had captured the bond between the two dogs in their open mouths, lolling tongues, and bright but soulful eyes and how they leaned against each other.

  By the time he’d finished, Maggie’s hard resolve had softened. So had her desire to shame him in front of his teammates.

  “I’m really sorry about your other dog, but that doesn’t change the fact that Kirby belongs to me.”

  “No, I know and I’m sorry. I was a dick for not calling you back right away. I just…I guess I have to accept the fact that Lulu’s…you know.” He shrugged and squeezed Lulu’s neck affectionately. “When it’s your time, it’s your time.”

  The despair in his voice that he tried to hide with an apologetic smile tore her heart out.

  Damn it.

  He got up and tugged at the legs of his jeans. He certainly wasn’t lacking in the male junk department. No indeed. Her devilish imagination provided an image of him in boxer briefs, the cotton molding itself to his muscular thighs and butt like a second skin. It cradled his male package in a way that made her want to cup and caress him.

  She really needed to stop this before she started panting in front of the man.

  “Okay,” she said, retrieving her purse from where she’d dropped it. “So let me reimburse you for the food he ate while—”

  “No way. I’m not taking any money. Black—I mean, Kirby. Kirby was a good friend to Lulu. That makes us square.”

  She nodded and pulled the leash from her purse before she realized he was wearing an unfamiliar collar. She turned to Spencer. “That reminds me. He didn’t have a collar on when you found him?”

  “No. No collar. If he’d had a collar, I’d have called from the road when I picked him up. And nothing came up when my vet scanned him for a chip.”

  She frowned. “So you did have him scanned.”

  “Of course I did, but apparently, chips aren’t one hundred percent reliable.”

  After attaching the leash, she starting walking
to the door but Kirby resisted.

  “Kirby, come,” she said. “Come on, boy. We’re going home.”

  Nothing.

  As she retraced her steps, he went to sit next to Lulu.

  “Kirby,” she said in her I-mean-business voice, which worked for both dogs and children. “Come on now.” She pulled on the leash, a little annoyed now but mostly embarrassed that her dog was acting like he didn’t love her. He lowered his head and wagged his tail, but still didn’t budge.

  She stole a glance at Spencer, thinking he might be smirking, but he wasn’t. He had a puzzled, thoughtful, even hopeful look on his face.

  “He doesn’t want to go with me,” she said.

  “That’s what it looks like to me too.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Part of her felt proud that Kirby was being so loyal to his new friend. The poor guy was probably torn up inside, having to try to choose between Maggie and Lulu.

  Suddenly, shame swept over her as she realized her dog was a more compassionate being than she was. Clearly, Spencer loved his dog and took good care of her, but Kirby knew that wasn’t enough. Lulu needed him more than Maggie did right now. She felt even worse when she remembered just yesterday she’d read The Giving Tree to her students, a story all about generosity and selflessness.

  If you’re going to talk the talk, you’d better walk the walk.

  She let her gaze fall on Lulu, who remained in the dog bed. Dropping her purse again, she went to her and knelt. The dog’s eyes were cloudy with age and she was a little underweight but had a sweet, sweet face and those velvety Labrador jowls.

  “So, I can see you’ve made a real impression on Kirby,” she said to the dog. “His name is Kirby, by the way.” She cast a sideways glance at Spencer, who was standing aside, hands in his pockets.

  Lulu sniffed the hand Maggie held out. Kirby pushed his own muzzle—what there was of it—close to get in on the action.

  “Maybe you could bring Kirby over to visit,” Spencer suggested. “I’ll pay you…”

  As tempting as that sounded, now that she had stepped back from her own situation and looked at the bigger picture, Maggie knew that wasn’t going to do much for Lulu.

  Maggie shook her head. “No. First of all, I won’t take your money. Secondly, that won’t work. You know it and I know it. He has to—” She broke off, suddenly choked up. She swallowed hard. “He has to stay here, but just until…”

  “Until Lulu doesn’t need him anymore,” he said. He had a compassionate expression on his face that almost pushed her all the way to tears.

  She got up, suddenly not wanting to be here anymore. She pulled out her business card—the ones the school district printed up for the teachers. “Here’s my contact info. Call me when…when he can come home, okay?”

  She pressed her lips together, determined not to break down in front of him even though the tears were right there.

  “Hey, wait.” Spencer followed her, but she walked faster. She just wanted to get out of here and have a good cry. She opened the front door and came face to chest, pretty hard, with Ian Zappala.

  4

  Ian was magnificent, of course. Tall, muscular, devastatingly handsome and with penetrating eyes that were almost too pretty for a man. She’d been going so fast, he’d grasped her arms to steady her.

  “Hey, you’re going the wrong way,” he said. “Party’s that way.”

  For some reason, it was too much. The tears spilled over. This was a total nightmare.

  “No.” Maggie shook her head trying to hold back the sobs. “I’m going home.”

  “Why? Hey, are you crying? Corby, what the hell’d you do? This woman’s really upset.”

  That’s when Ian Zappala put his arm around her comfortingly. Even though she was an emotional mess, she mentally recorded the moment to tell Jade later.

  “He didn’t do anything,” Maggie said, digging in her purse for something to dab at her eyes and failing.

  Spencer closed the door. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Ian frowned, looking from Maggie to Spencer and back to Maggie. “I’m confused. Someone had to have done something.”

  “Where’s your bathroom?” Maggie asked.

  “Down that hall and make a right.”

  After closing the bathroom door behind her, she examined her reflection in the mirror. Her nose was a little red, whether from the abrupt encounter with Ian Zappala’s chest or from the crying, she couldn’t tell. Because all she had on was some waterproof mascara, it wasn’t long before her eyes looked passable.

  Her hair, on the other hand, was an unruly mop, as usual. The big mass of brunette tangles could be tamed, but it took too long for her to do on a daily basis. So she’d come to terms with looking like she’d been electrocuted. The only time she appreciated having wild hair was on Halloween. Her standby costumes were pre-makeover Mia Thermopolis from the Princess Diaries and Hermione Granger. Conveniently, the basis for both costumes was a school uniform. For Mia, she just put on thick black glasses and added a backpack. For Hermione, she exchanged the glasses and backpack for a Gryffindor scarf and a wand.

  With a deep breath, she went back out. She could hear the two men in the kitchen. Kirby licked her calf.

  “Hey, feel better?” Spencer asked.

  She nodded. “Sorry I fell apart.”

  “No apology necessary.”

  “Corby’s the one who should be apologizing,” Ian said. “Guy’s always filching stuff that doesn’t belong to him. He stole my car once, back in the day.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes. “Borrowed.”

  “Without permission. Which is stealing.”

  “I needed it and you couldn’t drive anyway. You were drunk off your—” He glanced at Maggie. “Buttocks.”

  Buttocks? Maggie had to smile.

  Ian scoffed. “You say that as if it’s okay to steal from drunk people. In my opinion, that’s even more despicable. You have no moral compass and frankly, I fear for your soul.”

  This time Maggie laughed. Spencer laughed too. She couldn’t believe she was standing here with Spencer Corbett and Ian Zappala as they poked fun at each other.

  And then Max Stone, Dustin DeVries and several other Dragons arrived. She had several of their autographs on her jersey. She’d stood in line for an hour and a half to get Dustin’s signature at a car dealership.

  Her heart rate sped up and she felt like she was in a dream as she smiled and shook hands with them. Max and Dustin had girls with them, beautiful blondes, casually but stylishly dressed. Maggie hadn’t dressed for a party with millionaire hockey players and their girlfriends. She’d put on her Back-to-School Night outfit—a modest long-sleeved navy shirt dress, a bunched up print scarf and her black cowboy boots with the navy stitching. This outfit said, “I’m a professional in a position of authority, but I have a quirky, approachable style.” It did not say, “I am a desirable woman with whom you should have screaming hot sex.” Which was unfortunate. In retrospect, she probably should have gone with something less staid.

  Not that any of these guys would be interested in her. Not when they had their pick of the female population of the Bay Area.

  Plus, there was her quasi-boyfriend, Pete, to consider.

  “So, I want you to stay for the party,” Spencer said. “Please. Are you a hockey fan? We’re going to watch the All-Star game.”

  “I am a fan,” she said as most of the players wandered out of the kitchen. “I love hockey.”

  “Then you’re staying. What do you want to drink?”

  Still uncomfortable, but willing to ride it out if it meant she could spend the afternoon with them, she said, “I don’t know. You have iced tea?”

  “I do have iced tea,” Spencer said with a grin. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

  He jogged toward the kitchen and one of the women said, “I guess we’re chopped liver.”

  “Hi,” Maggie said, holding her hand out to one of the blondes, “I’m Maggie.”

&n
bsp; “I’m with Ian,” she answered. Then apparently realizing she hadn’t said her name, she added. “I’m Shay.”

  Shay’s handshake was brief and weak.

  “I’m Cassidy,” the other woman said with a bit firmer grip. She gestured to Maggie’s boots. “Are you from Texas?”

  Maggie laughed. “No. I’m actually a California girl. I just love cowboy boots. I have five pairs.”

  “Five pairs? Wow, amazing,” Shay said, not sounding one bit amazed. “I don’t think I own anything that would go with cowboy boots.”

  “You’d be surprised. Just give them a try,” Maggie said.

  “No thanks. There’s a reason they call them shit-kickers,” Shay said with a light laugh.

  Spencer came back with a glass of iced tea with a lemon slice adorning the glass, which was a nice touch. “Here you go.”

  Still smarting from Shay’s mean-girl comment, Maggie put on a grateful smile for Spencer. “Thank you.”

  “You forgot about Cass and me,” Shay said with pouty lips. “We’re thirsty too.”

  Spencer waved a hand toward the back of the house. “Help yourself to anything you want in the man cave fridge.”

  Ian clapped his hands. “You’ve got to see this fridge, Maggie. It’s the ultimate.”

  “Really?” Maggie said, following the group. “Does it have a robotic arm that pops the tops of your beer?”

  Ian’s eyes went wide. “No, but that’s a great idea.”

  They trooped down a flight of stairs to a level that wasn’t visible from the street. The man cave was a little larger than Maggie’s entire apartment. A pool table took up a good chunk of real estate. An enormous flat screen TV covered the far wall and there was stadium seating for about a dozen people. Ian was waving Maggie over to the refrigerator, which was a walk-in.

  “This is something,” she said as she entered. She’d never seen anything like this, especially in someone’s house.

  The selection of beverages was impressive. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he just went to a Bev-Mo and took a six pack of everything they had. Shay and Cassidy both got hard lemonades. The men got beers. Maggie was the only one with a glass.