hing in particular you’d like to eat?”
“Breakfast food. An omelet, maybe, or pancakes.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. There’s a—”
“Andrew!” Nicky suddenly cried, stiffening in her seat. “Stop the car!”
Reflexively, he slammed on the brakes after swiftly ascertaining that no vehicle was behind him. There wasn’t another car in sight, in fact. “What—”
Without warning, she threw open her door. Before Andrew could stop her, she’d unsnapped her seat belt, leapt out of the Range Rover, and disappeared into the cool, dark night.
He was left parked in the middle of the street, staring stupidly at the empty passenger seat.
With a muttered curse, he pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, out of imminent danger of being hit by an unwary motorist. Then he opened his door and climbed out, wondering what in the world Nicole was doing. And asking himself what other strange things would happen to him before this unusual night ended.
4
ANDREW FOUND Nicole kneeling in the shadowy, deserted parking lot of an insurance office a few yards from where she’d jumped out of his vehicle. He couldn’t help noticing the way her short skirt had hiked up high on her thighs, revealing almost the entire length of her shapely legs.
He told himself he was simply concerned that she was too cool in her sleeveless, partially backless, practically skirtless dress. He knew he lied; the truth was, he found the scanty garment—and the skin it revealed—all too appealing.
And then he saw the animal. It was a dog, of sorts, though Andrew wouldn’t even try to identify the predominant breed. It was dirty and matted and shivering, obviously a stray and just as obviously in need of care.
Andrew was not a dog-lover. “Nicole—”
“Look at her, Andrew. Poor thing, she’s miserable.”
“Yes, but—”
“Heaven only knows when she last had anything to eat. And, oh, there’s a scrape on her forehead. It’s bleeding a little. Do you suppose she was hit by a car?”
“It’s on its feet, so it must not be too badly hurt,” Andrew said cautiously. “You’d better not touch it, Nicole. It could be—”
But she was already patting the thing, crooning softly into one of its scraggly ears. “Don’t be afraid, baby. We’re not going to hurt you—and we’re not going to leave you here like this.”
They weren’t? No, of course they weren’t, Andrew told himself in resignation, studying the meltingly compassionate look on Nicole’s lovely face. “I’ll use the car phone to call the animal shelter,” he offered.
“I doubt that there will be anyone available on New Year’s Eve to come rescue a stray dog.”
He frowned. “Then what do you expect to do with it?” he asked.
She eyed the Range Rover.
Alarmed, Andrew held up his hands. “Now, wait a minute. Surely you don’t think—”
“She seems like a very sweet dog,” Nicole said entreatingly. “She’d make a very nice pet.”
“I doubt that your motel would appreciate you taking in a dirty stray,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “No dogs are allowed there. But maybe you—”
“I do not want a dog,” he cut in firmly.
“Are you sure? Strays are usually the best pets. They’re so grateful and loyal and—”
“Nicole,” he interrupted again. “I don’t want a pet.”
She seemed to accept his flat refusal. “All right,” she conceded with a sigh. “I know someone who’ll take her in and give her a good home. Will you drive us there?”