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checked the front of the magazine. The date was from the previous week. She told herself that a similar photo could’ve been snapped of her and him at the gala where they’d met and they weren’t in any kind of relationship. That she was even entertaining thoughts about the two of them was ridiculous.
The door to the vet’s exam room creaked open, and Scotty walked toward her. He wasn’t smiling, but she hadn’t expected him to be. She’d seen what shape the dog was in. She snapped the magazine closed and tossed it on the table.
“He’ll have to stay here for a few days.” He sat in the chair next to hers and dropped his head into his hands. “But he’s not in as rough shape as he looks. The vet says he’s made of strong stuff; he’ll pull through. She’s got him on an IV.”
He ran one hand around the back of his neck and then met her eyes.
She felt her heart drop to her belly. She wasn’t only looking at him, but into him. He had a deep capacity to love, she could see it. Could actually see the compassion reaching out from him. But she quickly told her herself that she mustn’t confuse his love for an injured dog with affection toward her.
“That’s great news,” she said, wishing her voice hadn’t wavered.
“Yup, and I’m going to keep him. He’s not chipped. Any jerk who would neglect a dog doesn’t deserve to have him.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
As soon as she said it, butterflies started tumbling in her stomach. But what danger was there in driving him home? After all, she knew her mind. And while she didn’t exactly trust her body anywhere near him, surely her mind and will could force it to behave. She hoped they could, even though from the first time he’d touched her she’d wanted to push further, explore the emotions he’d stirred. He’d opened untraveled territory, and she’d loved it. Had wanted more.
The feel of his hands and the strength of his kiss had called her to taste life in a way she never had. And why shouldn’t she? Didn’t she deserve passion?
But he was a ballplayer. Thus the dilemma.
Right instincts, wrong guy. Right desires, wrong time.
It was as though she had an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other, both whispering to her at the same time so she couldn’t decipher the no from the yes .
But all that was concern for another time; she simply couldn’t let him take a taxi. In San Francisco you could wait ages for a taxi.
At least that’s how she rationalized her offer.
The whispering voice that rejoiced in spending thirty more minutes with him in the close confines of her car, out sang the voice trying to tell her it was a bad idea.
     

Chapter Five
     
Scotty managed to talk Chloe into stopping for Indian takeout and coming up to his place for a bite. She’d resisted; he expected it, maybe liked her better for it. Most women threw themselves at him, not that he’d ever complained. But though he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with her and might not get another chance anytime soon; the team was headed out on a three-day road trip after the game that night.
“Make yourself at home,” he said as he rummaged through his cabinets for plates and forks. He didn’t have much in the way of kitchen items, but he did have four great plates his grandmother had given him.
“We could eat in the living room,” she suggested. “You have a great view of the bridge.”
“I love that bridge.” He stood for a moment admiring the orange towers and the arching cables of the Golden Gate Bridge. “I love everything about San Francisco.”
He put the plates on the redwood burl coffee table and pulled the food out of the bag. He watched her scan the bookshelves that lined the back wall of the living room. She stopped in front of a shelf that held photos of his family, picked up a framed photo and smiled. He’d have to do some serious concentrating to ignore his desire to kiss that beautiful mouth of hers.
“Are all these people related to you?”
He