He looked at the filthy mutt again and thought of the impeccable interior of his month-old Range Rover. The plush carpet. The soft leather seats. The lingering, new-car smell. “Well, I—”
He stopped and cleared his throat, conscious that he was being regarded by two pairs of large, beseeching brown eyes. He sighed. “The dog has to ride in the back,” he muttered. “I’ll spread out the blanket I keep in my emergency supplies.”
It was almost worth the bother to be on the receiving end of Nicole’s brilliant smile. “Thank you,” she said, leaping up to kiss his cheek. “I knew you couldn’t just leave her here.”
He shifted his feet and avoided her eyes. “I’ll go open the hatch. You see if you can talk it into coming with us.”
No persuasion was required. The dog stayed as close as a shadow to Nicole, its scrawny tail wagging pitifully.
Andrew opened the hatch, spread the thin blanket carefully over his carpet, and stepped back, hoping for the best. Nicole crooned again to the dog, and patted the blanket invitingly. After only a moment’s hesitation, the dog jumped into the vehicle.
“Stay there,” Andrew said to the animal, then closed the hatch. “Get in,” he said a bit more curtly than he’d intended to Nicole. “You’re shivering. You really should wear your damned coat.”
She didn’t seem to take offense at his tone. She probably understood by now that he didn’t react comfortably to dramatic changes in his routine. She only nodded and hurried into her seat.
Almost the minute Andrew climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, the dog sailed over the back seat, landed on soft leather, and then tumbled into the floor behind Andrew’s seat. It rested its head on the console between Andrew and Nicole, shivering and watching them out of anxious, adoring eyes.
Andrew sighed. Looked like he’d be sending the Range Rover off for an interior cleaning after the holiday. He wasn’t sure it would ever smell quite the same again.
Giving Andrew an apologetic look, Nicole patted the dog and murmured soothingly to it. “She’s hungry,” she said. “Maybe we should stop at that convenience store ahead and get her something to eat.”
Great, Andrew thought. Dog hairs and food crumbs on my carpet.
“Yeah, sure,” he said tonelessly. “No problem.”
He turned into the otherwise unoccupied parking lot of the convenience store/service station. “I’ll go in and find something. You try to keep the dog from ruining my leather,” he suggested without much hope.
Nicole smiled at him. “I’ll do my best.”
Even annoyed with her, he found that he was no more immune to her smile than he’d been from the start. He nodded. “I won’t be long.”
There was only one occupant in the store, a shaggy-haired, bored-looking young man who was standing behind the counter, leafing desultorily through a men’s magazine. “Help you?” he asked without looking up.
“Do you have any dog food?”
The clerk motioned toward the back of the store. “Not much to choose from,” he said. “What we’ve got’s all in that corner.”
“Thanks.” Andrew studied the limited selection, finally choosing a small box of burger-shaped dry patties. He’d just returned to the counter when Nicole entered the store. He noted that she was wearing her glittery black coat this time.
“Since we’re having to postpone our meal, I thought I’d grab a candy bar or something to tide me over,” she explained. “Want something?”
He started to decline, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Anything with chocolate and peanuts. And a cola to wash it down.” He set the dog food on the counter and reached for his wallet. The clerk put the magazine aside and turned toward the register.
Nicole had just set her snack selections on the counter beside the dog food when the door burst open. The teenager who entered reminded Andrew of the neglected dog—dirty and ragged and desperate-looking. Unlike the dog, however, this stray looked dangerous.
Andrew instinctively braced for trouble.
“Get back away from the counter!” the newcomer shouted at Andrew and Nicole, pulling a gun out of the front of his jacket. “Just stand there and be quiet, you hear?”
Andrew spread his hands and backed away, staying between Nicole and the gunman.
Apparently satisfied that the man in the tuxedo and the slender woman behind him posed no threat, the robber turned to the clerk, whose bored expression had hardly changed. Andrew wondered if middle-of-thenight holdups were routine for the guy.
“Open the register and give me the money. And hurry,” the punk ordered.
The clerk nodded and punched a button to open the register. The gunman turned toward Andrew.
“Put your wallet on the counter,” he said, growing more confident when there was no resistance to his demands. The gun wasn’t quite steady in his hand, but it obviously gave him a sense of invulnerability.