“Why don’t you get into that warm bed. I’ll be right there…”

Feeling brave, Mercy reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her panties were next. Once she was completely naked under the silky sheets, she relaxed.

Will didn’t come to bed, however. He went over to the armoire, which was filled with all kinds of adult toys and treats. She held her breath, hoping he wasn’t going for something too kinky.

Her gaze settled on his cute rear. Whatever Will did to keep in shape sure worked. There wasn’t a thing wrong. Not one thing. Well, except that he’d be leaving Hush soon.

This wasn’t about forever. It was about tonight. No way was she going to get sentimental.

She was going to have sex. With a gorgeous, nice man.

He turned, treats in hand, and gave her a long, lingering look. Mercy threw back the covers.

It was going to be fantastic…

JO LEIGH

has written more than thirty novels since 1994. She’s a triple RITA® finalist, most recently receiving a nomination from the Romance Writers of America for her Blaze® novel, Relentless. She also teaches writing in workshops across the country.

Jo lives in Utah with her wonderful husband and their cute puppy, Jessie. You can come and chat with her at her website: www.joleigh.com, and don’t forget to check out her daily blog!

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Hush and the DO NOT DISTURB mini-series!

Yes, I had to return one more time to my favourite hotel, only this time, we’re hanging out at PetQuarters, the luxury hotel/spa for animals. Something you should know – every pet mentioned in the book, every dog, cat and even fish, is someone’s real-life pet. I asked my blog readers to send me pictures and descriptions of their pet’s cutest habits and quirks. Each one was cast in a supporting role. Talk about fun!

As adorable as the critters were, it was even more fun to hang out with Mercy Jones and Will Desmond. Mercy is the pet concierge from my April 2009 book, Coming Soon, and it’s no wonder she got the job. The woman is magic with animals. Not so much with humans, especially male humans. Definitely not with a male of the extreme hotness of Will Desmond. When he walks into her life, what choice does she have but to go for it?

Be sure to visit my blog at www.joleigh.com/ wp and see the real pictures of the amazingly adorable pet guest stars!

Love,

Jo Leigh

HAVE MERCY

BY

JO LEIGH

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To everyone who shared their pets with me!

You guys are great!

1

AT THIRTY-TWO, Will Desmond had traveled the world, created a successful business and been with beautiful and accomplished women—sometimes simultaneously—but he’d never had a dog. Until now.

Buster, an odd blending of Jack Russell terrier and dachshund, was six months old and ill-behaved, but he was the kind of cute that made women stop in the middle of shopping to stare, to coo. It wouldn’t have shocked Will if a mere touch to Buster’s little brown head kick-started ovulation. And if attracting women had been his goal, Will would have been a very happy man. But he needed Buster for something else. Something far less pleasant.

Buster, the adorable puppy with the big amber eyes, was Will’s shill.

There was still a great deal to discover before the real work would begin. A lot of questions that needed answering. Why Hush, for example.

The hotel was as beautiful as it was controversial. A place no mother would send her daughter. Filled with celebrities, sex and scandal, according to the billboards, the tabloids, the ads in glossy magazines.

He hadn’t expected it to be this classy.

Art deco influences led the way to soft, cool luxury. Everything in the lobby was designed to welcome, to make the guest feel special and pampered. Even the staff had that beautiful but not unattainable aura about them, from the concierge to the bartender.

It was a hot spot for the young and wealthy. So what the hell was Drina doing here? Of all the hotels in New York, she’d picked Hush? It didn’t add up. Yet.

With Buster in his carrier, Will cruised through the bar, Erotique, liking the soft jazz that played in the background and the way the tables offered a nice place to sit and talk, instead of screaming over rock music. He thought about getting himself a cognac, but he still had to register, and besides, it was only five-thirty, and he hadn’t had dinner.

Instead, he studied the clientele. There wasn’t a slacker in the bunch. Designer labels, two-hundred-dollar haircuts, high-paying jobs. There were more Rolexes per table than he’d seen since he’d stayed at the Pierre. Although this crowd was a lot younger.

There’d been a big article about Hush in the papers a couple of months ago. A paparazzo had been murdered in the basement nightclub and a film mogul had gone down, but Will couldn’t remember the details. He’d have to look it up. What he did remember was reading about the amenities that came with every room. An armoire filled with sex toys, costumes, videos. Everything a true hedonist could wish for, and then some. Too bad he was here on business.

It was time to check in. Behind the glossy ebony reservation desk were two attractive staffers, both wearing the signature black tuxedos with pink bow ties. The pink neon Hush on the wall behind them looked surprisingly sleek. As polished as the hotel’s image.

“Reservation for Desmond.”

Charlene, who had amazing red hair and the complexion to go with it, smiled as she looked him up on the computer. She smiled wider when he put Buster on the counter and she got a glimpse of the charmer inside the box.

The downside was that it took about ten minutes to get his key, to get directions to PetQuarters, the hotel within the hotel that catered to pampered pets, and to pry Buster away from not only Charlene, but also Kennedy, Blake and Mia, all of whom were equally attractive and bedazzled by the mighty power of the adorable puppy.

Finally, it was just him, Buster and his rolling luggage in the elevator, along with a couple of worker bees from Dynatech who, from the looks of things, couldn’t wait to jump each other’s bones. But they got off on eight.

The elevator stopped three more times before reaching the fourteenth floor, and it was gratifying that not all of the appreciative glances from the lady passengers were directed at Buster.

He’d have to come back to Hush another time. When he had nothing on his mind but R & R.

Once inside the suite, Hush surprised him yet again. They’d gotten the details just right, from the extravagantly stocked bar to the art deco, to the linens. It wasn’t just first class, but five-star.

He recognized the artist of the painting over the hearth. He’d wager it would go for fifty thousand, at least.

Unable to help himself, he opened the legendary armoire in the bedroom. It was a cornucopia of sexual temptations, all neatly packaged and presented with candor. A variety of condoms led the way, with a soupçon of Kama Sutra and a bit of leather thrown in for good measure.

If only he’d had someone to share it with, this trip to Hush might not be such a chore. Someone other than Buster.

Closing the armoire, he quickly set up his laptop and did a sweep of his e-mail. All of it could wait, at least until tonight. Then he called down to the front desk.

“Drina Dalakis, please. She’s a guest.”

“One moment, sir.”

He waited, glanced at his watch. The call rang through but he hung up before she could answer.

She was at the hotel, all right. Checked in under her own name. Will bit back a curse as he unpacked his few things, checked out the suite’s bathroom, then got out all the paperwork he’d need for PetQuarters.

The dog was whining a bit and even though Will needed to check his phone messages he didn’t have much time left before the pet center would close.

“Come on, Buster,” he said as he got the carrier from the floor. “Just keep on being adorable, kid, and you and I will get along just fine.”

WITH LIGHTNING purring around her neck, Jessie pressed up against her right side, Goober on the left and the Kid on her lap, Mercy Jones was finally ready to start the meeting. It would be brief, as PetQuarters was jumping.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, one hand scratching Jessie’s butt, the other stroking the Kid. “We’ve hit critical mass with daily clients. So we’re going to have to do four walks a day.”

Someone—Eddy, she thought—moaned, but that’s because Eddy took out the big dogs. Everyone else seemed pleased. “I can’t tell you guys how much I appreciate your hard work over the last few months. We’ve tripled our revenue, and let me tell you, the powers are pleased.” She looked down into the Kid’s face. “And so are our guests.”

Her gaze went back to her people. It still felt odd to be in charge. She was used to being the one in the back. The one who did all the work no one wanted to do. And then, just because she happened to be at the animal rescue shelter on that December night…

“Andrew, did you figure out what was going on with the pool?”

“It’s fixed. The filter had gotten screwed up, but Lloyd replaced it.”

“Great. Anything else we need to discuss while I’m here?”

Alexis, who was a young apprentice, a volunteer who hoped to someday become a pet concierge in her own right, raised her hand.

“Yeah?” Mercy said, switching off her petting hands.

“Be on the lookout for a couple of leashes. Charlie’s at it again.”

Mercy shook her head. She needed to figure out a way to get Charlie, an otherwise wonderful Lab/bull terrier mix, to stop stealing and hiding anything he took a fancy to. First it was dog bowls. Then chewies, then squeaky toys. One of these days he was going to take the wrong thing from the wrong dog, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “Thanks, Alexis. We’ll all watch out.”

“Mercy, can we talk about the fridge—”

At the mention of the word, half the crew groaned.

Chrissy, who was on permanent staff, put her hands on her hips. “Come on, people. Even the dogs, except for Charlie, don’t steal food from each other. If the bag says Chrissy, it means Chrissy.”

“She’s right.” Mercy shifted on the big mat, causing Lightning, a gorgeous tabby cat who loved nothing more than masquerading as a scarf, to look up. “You know all of you are welcome to go to the employee canteen on your lunch breaks. I know it’s a hike, but the food is so good. You really should leave poor Chrissy’s sandwiches alone.”

“It’s just that her sandwiches are so good,” Gilly said, and that comment got a laugh. From everyone but Chrissy.

“Anything else?” Mercy put the Kid on the floor, then extricated herself from beneath her doggy blanket. She didn’t even bother to swipe at the hair all over her coat and pants. There was simply no escape.

“I’d be willing to pay if someone, anyone, can figure out how to get Pumpkin to shut up.”

That was Lauren, an apprentice.

Mercy saw she was smiling. Kind of. That wouldn’t do. “Pumpkin is just one of those pooches,” she said. “Chihuahuas are highly strung, nervous dogs. The only power they have is their bark. But there’s something you can try, Lauren. You can go in with her, in her suite, and with some patience and a real sense of calm, Pumpkin might surprise you. I’m betting she’ll respond to an air of tranquility. Maybe some soft music. Let her sniff you, and get all the barking out of her system. That’s without censure, mind you. Let the barking wash over you, and soon, she’ll see that you won’t be intimidated.”

Mercy kept her eyes on the girl. She was in her midtwenties and loved animals, but she was teetering on the edge. She wasn’t accustomed to such hard work, and she might think of this as a punishment instead of a lesson.

“I’ll give it a try,” she said, her smile still a bit rueful.

“Great. Let me know how it works out.”

“Mercy, come to the front desk, please.”

The call over the PetQuarters loudspeaker, which actually wasn’t very loud, finished the meeting, which was all right with Mercy. Dogs needed walking, grooming, massages, playtime. There were still about fifteen minutes to go until the front desk would shut down to new guests, but that only heralded the beginning of night service for all their overnight pets. Never a dull moment at PetQuarters.

With Lightning purring in her ear, Mercy went to the front desk, which was separated from the main facility by a big door with a No Admittance warning. The desk itself was where the human business of PetQuarters took place. Retail sales of highly overpriced, brand name pet toys and treats. Videos, training books, all manner of items the wealthy denizens of Hush could buy were always at the ready. Behind the desk was the schedule of dogs and workers, the computer files, the dossiers on each and every pet. It was a large enterprise, and because of Mercy, getting larger each day.

Once she’d closed the door behind her, Mercy saw why she’d been called. Mrs. Kenin, Chance’s mom, was waiting, and she didn’t look happy.

Mercy’s throat tightened and her hand went to Lightning’s soft fur. “Hello, Mrs. Kenin.”

“Miss Smith, is it?”

“Jones.”

“Yes, well. Chance was very upset last night. He didn’t sleep at all well, and he piddled where he shouldn’t have.”

Mercy loved her job more than anything in the world. All except this part. Give her the biggest, roughest, toughest dog in the world, and Mercy would find a way to its heart, but people? Guests? That was what she dreaded.

She’d warned them. Piper Devon, the hotel’s owner, Janice Foster, the GM. Mercy had been completely honest from the beginning, letting them know that her people skills pretty much sucked. But they’d assured her she’d learn. She’d become as skilled with the people as she was with their pets. So far, it hadn’t worked out very well.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’m going to get Gilly. She was watching Chance yesterday and if something happened, she’ll know.”

Her about-face was quick enough that Mrs. Kenin’s objections were cut off by the door. Gilly, Mercy’s closest friend, was wonderful with the guests. She’d handle the situation with grace and aplomb.

Gilly was busy, of course. She was mopping the small dog pen. Chance, a very spoiled Lhasa Apso, was on a comfy pillow, happily chewing on a stuffed mouse.

After Mercy filled Gilly in, they swapped places. Mercy much preferred mopping up pee to appeasing a client, and she sighed happily as she got down to work.

Lightning stretched, her signal to be let down. Mercy put her on the floor outside the pen, and the large cat meandered toward Mercy’s office, where she would flop down and rest until the urge to perch on a warm neck struck once more.

Mercy headed for the grooming room, still pleased about the growing popularity of PetQuarters as the animal destination for those who lived and worked in midtown Manhattan, and not just as a pet hotel for those who stayed at Hush.

Soon, perhaps even this year, there would be enough profit to warrant the expansion into the building next door. And that would mean that Mercy would earn her bonus. And that would mean she could finally move out of the hellhole of her apartment, a notion that was becoming more and more urgent as each day passed.

WILL MADE IT TO PetQuarters in the nick of time. There was a young man behind the desk who looked up from the computer as Will stepped inside. It was just a front office with some retail space. He couldn’t see any of the other animal guests, which wouldn’t do.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Will Desmond, here to check Buster in.”

“Yes, we have your registration.”

For the next several minutes, Will filled out forms as the kid, name of Andrew, checked over Buster’s bona fides. There was a lot to make up, as Buster had been acquired just this afternoon, but he didn’t think he’d set up any red flags.

“He’ll be fine, Mr. Desmond,” Andrew said, after the last paper had been signed. “There’s plenty for him to do, and lots of friends to play with.”

Will moved the carrier slightly back. “I’d like to speak to the concierge, if you don’t mind.”

Andrew didn’t let the request alter his Hush smile. “Of course.” He picked up the phone, pressed a button. “Mercy, could you come to the front desk, please.”

Will looked at all the pet goodies while he waited, determined to get into the back room. Now would be a good time. They were getting ready to close the doors, which meant that staff would be busy, careless perhaps. He’d make sure to take his time, to see everything he possibly could.

The inner door opened. A young woman stepped up to the desk, and while she wasn’t the most beautiful of the staff he’d seen today, there was something about her that had his immediate attention.

Mercy Jones, according to her gold nametag. Pet Concierge. She looked to be in her late twenties, with long, straight blond hair, wispy bangs over her forehead and slightly frightened green eyes.

Frightened. Why? Did she know who he was? Had Drina warned her?

Andrew introduced him, but something told Will not to attempt to shake her hand. He hadn’t imagined it, the woman was nervous.

Then she saw the pet carrier with Buster inside and her demeanor changed. Her slender shoulders relaxed, her generous lips formed a slight smile. She moved toward Buster with a confidence that had been completely lacking only seconds ago.

“How can I help you, Mr. Desmond?”

“It’s Will. And I’d very much like to see where Buster’s going to stay. Ask you some questions.”

“Not a problem,” she said. “Andrew knows everything about PetQuarters. He’d be happy to—”

“Nothing against Andrew,” Will said, “but I’d prefer to do the walk-through with you.”

She looked at him then, and that haunted expression came over her face. Too bad such a lovely woman had such obvious issues, but for his purposes, she was absolutely ideal. “I—”

“You are the concierge, yes?”

She smiled. “I’d be happy to show you around. Let’s get Buster out of that cage first, shall we?”

He nodded, knowing she was going to use Buster as a sort of safety blanket when showing him around. He’d seen the behavior before, and he considered it one of his great strengths that he could size up a character quickly and, for the most part, accurately. He wondered about Mercy’s story, although whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He’d get what he wanted and then he’d be gone. Since he wasn’t going to keep Buster, he’d never return to PetQuarters.

After a few moments where she held Buster up to lick her face, she tucked the pup into the cradle of her arm, then lifted the hinged desk, giving Will access. He saw it could be locked from underneath with an old-fashioned safety lock. That was in addition to the lock on the front door.

Mercy held the inner door for him, and he entered a world of color, movement and odor. Not that the odor was necessarily bad, just definitely canine in nature. Canine and antiseptic.

“This is the main floor,” Mercy said, petting Buster in a way that had the dog completely at ease. “The three pens are for group play. We separate the dogs by size and temperament groups. You’ll never have to worry about Buster getting into too much trouble. Our goal is to wear out the pups with vigorous play, long walks and socialization.”

He’d give her one thing—despite her discomfort, she didn’t skimp on the tour. He met half a dozen staff members, all wearing black jeans, black lab coats with a pink Hush embroidered on the lapels and pink satin bow ties. Most of them wore black Hush baseball caps.

Mercy was the only one whose bow tie had tiny black dogs printed on the pink satin. He wondered if that was something management had thought up, or if it was her own touch. If he had to bet, it would be on Mercy. Just watching her with the animals told him more about her than she’d probably be comfortable with.

Her voice didn’t quaver and her step, now that she was inside, was confident, but there was a story there, and not a pleasant one. She’d found herself a refuge, though. One with a lot of wagging tails.

They went to the pet suites in the back of the main room, and he focused once more on business. Mercy might be interesting, but she was a bit player. The star was here. Somewhere. There was no other reason for Drina to have come here with a dog of her own. Drina, who was about as fond of dogs as he was of spiders.

They passed a yapping Chihuahua that looked more like a rat than a dog, a German shepherd, several dogs who looked like mutts to his untrained eyes, and then he saw it. A little dog, one with a great deal of white fur. Combed to within an inch of its little life. A bow in the hair, pink painted nails and a collar that was studded with diamonds.

Mercy said his name, and when he looked at her, he realized he was smiling a bit too brightly. It didn’t matter. Let Ms. Jones think it was because he was delighted with the accommodations.

This wasn’t going to be a difficult job, after all.

2

MERCY KEPT HER eyes peeled for Gilly as she showed Mr. Desmond—Will—the pet suites. It was a good thing for him that he’d made a reservation as all the suites had been booked. That was one of the things that would change when they took over the building next door. They would triple the number of pet suites, add another grooming salon and so much more.

“These are nicer than some hotels I’ve stayed in,” Will said. He was standing in the currently unoccupied Southwestern suite. Each pen was its own room, complete with a twin bed, TV, piped-in music, food and water station, toys and, if a guest so desired, blankets and trinkets brought from home.

“They’ve all got themes,” she said, “although that’s more for the parents than the pets.”

“I can tell Buster’s going to be spoiled.”

“We discipline the dogs, gently, of course. We believe strongly in rewarding good behavior.”

“You’re going to have to be extra gentle with Buster. He’s had no training.”

“Oh? How long have you had him?”

“Not long. He’s a gift for my nephew back in Wichita. I’m taking him with me when I head back home. Cory’s birthday is coming up and he’s been begging for a dog.”

Mercy scratched the little one’s chin. “I’m sure Cory will be thrilled.”

“I hope so.”

She looked into the main room again, and there was Gilly, playing with Rio. The dog was huge, well over a hundred and fifty pounds, but he was as gentle as a kitten. Mercy was convinced that Rio had been a Buddhist in a past life. He calmed everyone down, including the most high-strung of the dogs.

Gilly glanced her way. Mercy waved her over, but all Gilly did was smile and go back to tugging on Rio’s toy.

Damn her. Gilly knew Mercy hated giving the tours. This one was especially hard because Mr. Desmond was, well, gorgeous.

He was tall, maybe six-two, with dark, thick hair, dark eyes, dark lashes. He was as trim and toned as an athlete, and if she’d been someone else, someone who wasn’t a total and complete coward, she’d have asked him what he did for a living. She knew he was successful. He wouldn’t be staying at Hush if he wasn’t. But that didn’t tell her much.

“What about food?”

It took her a few seconds to realize he was talking about Buster. “I’ll show you,” she said. The meal room was near her office. She led the way, wishing like anything that she didn’t feel so awkward. She kept thinking about all the dog hair that was stuck to her jacket and pants, about Mr. Desmond’s eyes, about the fact that he wore no wedding band, and how a man like him would never look at a woman with dog hair all over her.

She opened the door and Will stepped inside. She let him take it all in—the refrigerator, the different food formulas for every kind of nutritional need, how spotless everything was.

“Nice,” he said. “What is Buster going to eat?”

She told him about the puppy food, and how often Buster would eat. And she told him he’d be able to order the food from Hush if he wanted. They shipped all over the world.

Will looked at her, nothing dramatic, not even really a stare, but it was enough to ignite her blush. Her curse. She blushed at everything, always had. At least when she was talking about PetQuarters, she could lose herself in the canned speeches.

“What brought you here?” he asked. “Before this week, I didn’t know there was such a thing as a pet concierge.”

“It’s a new field, but I’ve been working with animals since I was sixteen. I met Ms. Devon when I volunteered at an animal rescue shelter. She’s very fond of pets and wanted to make sure that no guest would have to leave their critters at home.”

“Piper Devon.”

“That’s right.”

He looked back into the main room. “It seems to be going well.”

“Very. We’re expanding our role, catering not only to registered guests, but pet owners in midtown. We have a lot of daily visitors. Quite a few have already been picked up, but our clientele know we can accommodate crazy schedules.”

“So someone’s always here.”

“Oh, yes. We have night teams. The dogs are mostly worn out by nightfall, but there’s always at least two of us standing by in case of emergency.”

“Good to know.” He stepped outside the food room just as Emily and Matt came in. Dinner was in half an hour, and even with that much notice the two of them would have to hustle. So many of the pets were on special diets.

“What’s back there?” he asked, pointing toward the grooming salon.

“That’s where the pampering takes place. We offer any number of grooming options, from a simple bath to dog show prep.”

“I noticed you offer pedicures.”

She nodded, making sure she didn’t roll her eyes. “Everything a pet could ever want.”

“Yeah. I’m sure the dogs line up.”

“Well, no, but a lot of these pets are like children to their owners.”

Will shook his head. “Damn foolish, if you ask me.”

“We also offer rehabilitation services. We have a pool for our arthritic guests and we have an acupuncturist here on Mondays, a chiropractor on Wednesdays and we also do wellness checkups given by a really wonderful vet.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”

“We do. Including walks to the park, unstructured playtime and one-on-one attention from the staff for at least a half hour a day.”

He’d wandered back to the suites, standing outside Lulu’s room. The dog was already on her little bed waiting for her dinner. Lulu, with the painted toenails and daily grooming, not to mention a collar that was worth more than Mercy would earn in three years.

A yelp made Mercy spin to the middle-dog pen. She handed Buster over to Will and headed straight for the ruckus.

It was Cooper, the Belgian shepherd, who had a lot to learn about playing well with others. She went directly into the pen and to Cooper’s side. He dropped the bone from his mouth as he looked up at her.

Tobi Wan Kenobi—a lovely beagle/pit bull—sat down, the bone he’d wanted so badly a moment ago forgotten in his attempt to please Mercy.

She didn’t scold Cooper or Tobi, but she did make sure that they were calm and happy before she left them to play in the pen. No one got hurt, no feathers were ruffled. It might be after six but the middle-size dogs were going to get another run tonight, in fact, as soon as she got rid of Will Desmond.

For his part, Mr. Desmond didn’t appear to be in any hurry. He was still outside Lulu’s suite, leaning against the door, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest.

Talk about a pack leader. Whatever he did in Wichita, he was good at it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he ran a great big company, like an airline or a restaurant chain. He exuded that kind of power, the kind where everyone around him put on their nicest clothing in the hopes he’d notice.

Which also meant he got all the girls. All the beauties. She couldn’t see him settling for second best. Not with something as important as status.

“How’d you do that?”

“Pardon me?”

“You didn’t say anything. I didn’t even catch a hand signal. But both those dogs straightened up in a heartbeat.”

“Oh. Well, they know I’m the pack leader.”

He didn’t say anything for a long minute, then he smiled. As he did so his dimples made their debut. Two of them, one on each cheek. They were real dimples, too. Big ones that gave his smile resonance, that changed him from the man you wouldn’t dare cross to the man you wanted as your best friend.

It wasn’t in the least bit fair. Sort of like Audrey Hepburn or Angelina Jolie. Not only were they stunningly gorgeous, but they were gorgeous actresses as well. Wouldn’t it have been nicer if they each got one fabulous gift and spread the wealth?

“I think Buster’s going to be very happy here,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I—”

“Mercy, could you come to the front office, please?”

It was the loudspeaker. “I’m sorry, I have to—”

“Ms. Jones!”

Mercy spun around at her name, said so harshly it could only be one of the pet owners. Ah, there she was, standing near the door. Mercy couldn’t remember her name, just that she belonged to Pumpkin, the nervous and insistent Chihuahua.

Mercy headed toward the confrontation, wishing she could teach some of the owners about misplaced aggression and how to behave.

“Ms. Jones.” The woman was older, maybe in her sixties, had an accent Mercy couldn’t identify and she was striking. Beautiful, really. Her hair was silver and sleek, cut in a style that should have been too young for her, but wasn’t. She dressed young, too. A nice pair of green pants, a white blouse with a lifted collar. She had nice jewelry, too. Nice as in expensive. “I was supposed to get a phone call this afternoon about Pumpkin’s massage.”

“I’m so sorry. Was there something in particular you wanted to know?”

“She was limping last night. Something happened here that hurt her leg.”

“Why don’t we go check on her now?”

The woman sighed, then nodded curtly.

When Mercy turned around, Will Desmond was nowhere to be seen. He might have decided to go exploring on his own, which wasn’t good, but then Gilly wasn’t around, either. The rat. She’d probably absconded with Desmond, taken him somewhere intimate and private.

Pumpkin’s mother followed Mercy to the suite, where Pumpkin greeted them with ferocious barking from atop her bed. Mercy opened the door and went inside. Surprisingly, Pumpkin’s mother didn’t. It took several minutes to calm the little tan dog down, but finally it was quiet again. Mercy was able to put Pumpkin on the floor. She proceeded to walk around, and there was no sign of a limp.

“She seems to be doing well.”

“I suppose so. But I still should have gotten a call.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ll look in to it and find out what happened. I’m sorry.”

Without a move to touch her dog, the woman turned toward the door. She took a step, then stopped. “I’m going out tonight, so you can keep her here. I’ll look in on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her.”

The woman nodded once more, but instead of heading straight to the exit, she wandered down the line of suites. Finally, after looking at all the dogs, she made her way across the room and let herself out.

Mercy picked Pumpkin up. The dog trembled, but didn’t bark. After a few minutes of gentle petting, Pumpkin settled and seemed to enjoy the contact.

Something was off between owner and pet, but that wasn’t unheard of. “Poor little thing,” she whispered. “We’ll play tomorrow, you and me. We’ll get to know each other better.”

Mercy put her down, then left the suite, only to be surprised by Will Desmond. He stood just a few feet away, watching her. Mercy closed the door behind her, then turned to him. “Was there something else?”

He nodded. “I’d like to sign up to have you help me train Buster.”

She shook her head. “That’s the one thing we don’t do. Not yet, at least. But I can give you several referrals who are excellent.”

“No. I want you.”

The words, even in their proper context, made Mercy flush. For a split second she pretended—but then it was over and she walked to Buster’s suite to look in on the pup. He’d piddled on the floor and he’d found a long, stuffed dog to play with. He seemed content, not at all frightened. That was a good thing. “I’m sorry. I don’t train dogs.”

“You should. You’re amazing with them.”

“I respect them. I don’t see them as little furry humans.”

“So bend the rules. For Buster.”

“I’m sorry. When you come back tomorrow, I’ll have the referrals ready. I really have to get going now.”

Instead of turning around, instead of leaving, he moved closer. So close she could see the slight shadow of his beard, the hint of his dimples even with his face in repose. He was too good-looking by far. She stepped back.

“At least consider it,” he said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She couldn’t move farther back even though his nearness was too much. Was that his cologne she smelled? No, it was too subtle. Soap. That was it. Her gaze shifted down but the dark smattering of hair on his arms teased her. Made her think of other parts of his body.

“I have work—”

“I know. I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’ll leave you, for now. Just please, think about it.”

She nodded.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

The slow simmer of blush that had filled her cheeks burst into a heat that burned. She didn’t care if he left or not. She was out of there.

Behind her, as she hurried to the grooming salon, she heard his measured footsteps. It was only when she was safe with a door and a room between them that she felt the trembling, immediately followed by a hot surge of humiliation. She was twenty-seven years old, and she still was a complete idiot when it came to men. Not that she was completely inexperienced, but then, none of her experiences had been very good.

She’d missed out on the whole flirting thing. For that matter, she’d never really dated, not like normal girls had. In the end, it was just easier to be with the animals. At least there, she knew just where she stood.

“GET ON TAYLOR'S case first thing in the morning,” Will said as he logged into his laptop. “That delivery should have been made yesterday.”

“Got it,” Anita said. She moved on to the next order of business in her usual professional manner.

Anita had been his administrative assistant for three years, and she was damn good at her job. She kept the distractions to a minimum and while they were friendly, she didn’t bother him with her personal life, or expect to know about his.

He’d formed the company eleven years ago, when he’d seen the signs that corporate wellness was going to become a matter of necessity. WD Fitness Equipment designed health facilities for businesses across the country. He had a great team working for him, but he was still the man in charge, and taking any time away from work was costly.

“I’ve made your reservations for the trade show in Paris. You’ll be leaving on the twenty-first.”

“Fine. Where are we with the end-of-month numbers?”

He listened as he glanced at the e-mails, at least sixty, waiting for him, then clicked over to Google. After typing in “diamond dog collar” he was surprised to find so many hits.

Anita said something that he made her repeat. When she was finished, he wrapped things up, anxious to get to his personal business.

“Will you be coming in tomorrow?”

“I’ll see. I might be able to come in around ten, but don’t make any appointments.”

He heard a phone ring in the background, and let Anita go. The office wasn’t far, just across town in SoHo, but until he knew exactly what was going on with Drina, he didn’t want to leave the hotel.

He went back to his online search, running down the list of hits. Although he didn’t see many links to diamond dog collars made recently, there had been several in the news from the 1920s. Evidently, diamonds on dog collars had been in vogue, and several well-known socialites had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to upstage their neighbors.

There were a few pictures, and one of them looked a lot like the collar he’d seen on Lulu. He’d call an old friend of his, a P.I. from Jersey, and get him to look into the possibility that the collar had been purchased at auction or if the transaction had made the news. He wished he could have turned this whole mess over to Ricky, but the matter required his personal attention. So while Ricky did the research, Will would do some digging the old-fashioned way—by getting someone to talk.

Not someone. Mercy.

He wondered again about her story. She really was lovely. Tall, slender but not ridiculously so, she reminded him of a colt. Skittish and headstrong, it would be a challenge to get past her defenses. But worth it, he thought. Not just because she would know about the collar, either.

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get to the bottom of things here, but he wasn’t quite as anxious as he’d been this morning.

Mercy had been clear that she wasn’t going to help him train Buster. Will smiled as he recalled her delectable pout. He’d always liked a challenge, especially when the reward was so tempting.

3

THE HUSH ROOFTOP garden was as lush with fragrance as it was with beauty. Drina had found a small wooden table under a shade tree where she could drink her mimosa and stare at her still-empty journal. She closed her eyes as a warm humid breeze caressed her face, wishing as always that Marius could be with her.

If Marius had still been alive he would have approved. Her duty was to make sure the bastards paid for what they’d done. To catch them at the perfect moment and expose them for the thieves they were.

After another sip of her drink she picked up the pen that had been her husband’s. It was silver and it had once had the name of a stranger engraved on the top, but now there was no name, only the memory of her beautiful Marius…and how she missed his touch.

She put the pen to the paper, marking down the date, the weather, the scent of roses. And then she went back in time, to before she was born. The stories of how the family had come to America were more vivid to her than the television show she’d watched last night.

All her life the old ones had repeated the tales, had sat the children around the tables and gone through the litany of trials they’d faced while keeping each other safe, always begun and ended with the dangers of assimilation. They were separate. They were special. No one was safe outside the circle of family.

She wrote quickly, not lifting the pen for a page, then two, as she remembered her mother. She’d been fourteen when she’d come to NewYork, already married and pregnant with Drina’s eldest brother. The trip over on the boat had nearly cost Stefan his new life, but once Mama had gone to New Jersey with Papa, he’d flourished. The family had grown with uncles, aunts, cousins. They worked together, lived together. Drina had spoken the old language until she’d been forced to go to school. It had been a horrible time for her. Strangers, strange ways. The other children laughed at her Romanian accent, at her lunches, at her hand-me-down clothes.

It didn’t matter. The family was everything, and from the time she could walk she’d been in training.

In her family, the girls were treated no differently from the boys except that they learned early to use their sex. Not that way. That was what the outsiders believed, but in her family, they raised good girls. Good girls who were expert pickpockets and who understood how to work the con.

She’d been pure until the day she’d married Marius. How she’d wanted him. He was the best-looking boy she’d ever seen. The moment they’d met, she’d known they would be together. Forever.

They would have still been together if it hadn’t been—

The ding of the elevator made her look up, forgetting for a moment where she was. A blink later she remembered why she was here, and that she had to be careful.

She closed the memory book, finished the rest of her drink. Then sat back in the shadows to wait. To see if they kept to their schedule. To see the bastards who’d sent her Marius to prison and to his death.

Five minutes passed with nothing but the breeze to stir the air. She thought of Dennis, her current gentleman friend. He was pleasant, a decent man, but just another distraction. As she waited, she wondered again why she bothered. The only thing that mattered in her life was this. Was revenge.

Another two minutes, and she wished she hadn’t finished her drink. Then a sound.

She waited, knowing she would see them as they walked the dog, but that they couldn’t see her. Knowing they wouldn’t leave the path. They were predictable and that made them fools.

This dog, unlike the annoying Pumpkin, didn’t bark. But it did make enough noise that Drina was able to back up even farther before she saw them.

The diamonds in the collar glittered in the sun but Drina’s eyes narrowed for another reason. The two of them—her holding the leash, him with his hand in his pockets—walked through the garden as if they weren’t evil. As if they’d never betrayed the family. Never spit on the memory of their ancestors.

They wouldn’t gloat for long. Soon, they would be sorry. They would curse the day they’d turned on Marius, and they would have the rest of their lives to think about their sins. The dog was the key.

Fools. Did they imagine she needed Marius to figure out their con? Drina had known from the first. It had taken strength and perseverance to figure out their plan, but she’d been trained by the best. She would have her revenge and it would taste like her husband’s kiss.

FOUR DOGS, each of them over seventy pounds, walked behind Mercy in polite formation, undistracted by the pedestrians, the cars, the scents of Madison Avenue. They knew they were heading for the park, and the park meant rolling in the grass, sniffing all manner of things, running like mad.

Gilly had four dogs of her own, not as large as Mercy’s group but just as well-behaved. The two women couldn’t walk next to each other as they would have owned the whole street, but they still managed to talk.

This morning’s walk, there was only one topic. Will Desmond.

“He was totally flirting with you,” Gilly said. “I was across the room and I saw it.”

“He was trying to get me to help train his dog.”

“That was his excuse, Mercy. He wants you.”

Mercy laughed. “Yeah, right. Did you look at him?”

“The more important question is have you looked at you?”

“I have,” she said. “I’ve even had dinner with me, and I’ll tell you right now, a man like Will Desmond is as interested in me as he is a toaster.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Gilly, don’t be absurd.” They turned the corner, and her dogs got a bit excited, lunging forward. They all knew the route to the park, and they wanted to be there now. She corrected the behavior and like the good puppies they were, they eased back into contented pack mode.

Gilly followed suit with her group.

Gilly had already been at Hush when Mercy had gotten the job. She’d been a cocktail waitress at Exhibit A, the downstairs club that had been the sight of the recent scandal, but she’d hated the work. She’d taken a huge pay cut, but Gilly had a real affinity for the animals.

Mercy had liked her from the first day, and while she’d never had a lot of friends, she and Gilly had grown closer and closer as they’d worked side-by-side.

Mercy loved that Gilly was so open and friendly, although it probably would have worked out better for both of them if Gilly would stop trying to fix her up.

Although she was as honest as she could be with Gilly, she hadn’t been able to tell her a lot about her past. A person doesn’t just come out with that kind of stuff after a lifetime of holding it in. Gilly didn’t understand that Mercy hadn’t lived the kind of suburban, middle-class life that included boys and dating and sock hops or whatever the hell people did in the suburbs.

“When’s the last time you went out?”

Mercy sighed. “Gilly, let it go.”

“No. I won’t. You haven’t been out with a guy in a hundred years.”

“That’s true. And it’ll be another hundred until the next one.”

“Mercy!”

“I’m not pursuing this. It’s ridiculous. The man is so far out of my league he’s in another dimension, so let it go.”

“What if he isn’t? What if I’m right and he was hitting on you?”

“So?”

They stopped at the street corner, Gilly moving up so that all the dogs were lined up as if they were going to race. Mercy ignored the evil glances from their fellow pedestrians. Normally, she’d have pulled back, but the light was going to change in a hot second.

“Let’s make this hypothetical.”

“No. Let’s not.”

Gilly glared her way, then went on as if Mercy hadn’t said a word. “Let’s say Will thought you were hot. That he asked you to help train Buster as a way of getting to know you.”

“Gil—”

The light turned green and the team crossed the street in a frenzy of sniffing and lurching. They were too close to the park to be having this stupid conversation.

“Let’s say that you agreed to help him train the dog. And you agreed to do it in his suite. Which is suite fourteen-twelve, by the way, one of the really, really expensive suites.”

“I’m not listening.”

“You are so. Anyway, you go up to his room. Get Buster to sit. Will pulls you into his arms for a bone- melting kiss—”

“Gilly, stop.”

“You tear off each other’s clothes and go at it like poodles. You’re happy and exhausted. He’s happy and exhausted. Buster knows how to sit on command. What’s so terrible about that?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s a guest?”

“In your case, we can make an exception. I think I saw it in the employee’s handbook. Anyone who hasn’t been laid in a year gets to screw any guest they want to.”

Mercy looked at her ex-friend. “Gee, next time, maybe you can have that printed on a T-shirt so everyone would know.”

“No one on this street cares if you’ve gotten laid.”

“I do.”

Mercy jerked around to see a grinning homeless man standing a few inches away.

She scowled at Gilly and speeded up.

Gilly laughed so hard the dogs got scared. Not that she cared. Gilly was one of those people who walked through life as if it was her playground. She didn’t get scared, didn’t blush, and when she made a fool of herself she shrugged it off with such ease it made Mercy cry from envy.

It didn’t hurt that she was pretty, either. Tall, voluptuous, with dark curly hair that framed her face and made her look a hell of a lot more innocent than she was. Gilly also had a fabulous boyfriend, Gordon, who was a concierge at the Muse.

The park was just across the street, and while they waited to cross there was no use even trying to talk. All focus was on the dogs, who were salivating to go inside the fenced-in doggie area and run around in the grass.

It was always a joy to take off their leashes, to see them grin their puppy grins as they darted into the thick of things. Today, the dog park was a little crowded, but there was still an empty bench, which she and Gilly snagged.

“The great thing about him is that he’s leaving,” Gilly said as she wrapped her leashes into a big roll.

“He’s a guest.”

“He’s leaving. You know how people are when they check in to Hush. He’s got that whole chest of toys just sitting there, calling him. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I get fired.”

“Come on. That’s never gonna happen. Piper loves you. She’d never fire you.”

“If I’m caught, what choice would she have?”

“You won’t get caught.”

Mercy smiled. “That’s right. Because I’m not going to do it.”

Gilly shook her head. “You’re too smart to let this opportunity get away from you. He’s gorgeous, he’s horny, he’s leaving. It’s a gift, Mercy. You just have to unwrap it and it’s yours.”

“I just have to take care of the pets,” she said.

Gilly’s look was meant to urge her on, but all Mercy felt was pathetic. She should never have talked to any of them about her personal life. Hadn’t she learned by now to keep her big mouth shut?

“Maybe it’s okay, once every five years or so, to take care of yourself. The animals are great, Mercy, but they’re not a substitute for love.”

“Love?” Mercy snorted. “Come on—”

“Okay, so maybe not love, but how about human companionship? How about comfort? People need contact. It’s how we’re designed, and you’re no different.”

“I’ve had all the contact I need.”

“No, you haven’t. Besides, if it gets you out of your apartment for a night…”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes any sense.”

“See? I knew you’d come around. Now, we just have to make sure Gorgeous Will comes back to visit Buster—”

Mercy slugged her friend in the shoulder, which did shut her up. But it wouldn’t stop her from plotting and planning. It’s what Gilly did best.

IT WAS JUST PAST six when Will found himself an empty stool at Erotique, the Hush bar. He’d tried, with no success, to change Mercy’s mind about training Buster, and with that defeat he’d realized he’d have to take another tack.

“Glenfiddich,” he said to the bartender.

“I’ve got the single malt or the special reserve.”

“Single malt.”

The bartender, a tall guy who was undoubtedly working here until he got his big break on Broadway, went off to fetch the scotch and Will turned to case the room. The bar was just starting to fill with the after- work crowd, and he was once again amazed at the obvious signs of wealth. This place was a treasure trove of watches, diamond rings, laptops, iPhones and electronic gear of every stripe. Even the briefcases were polished leather and monogrammed, of course.

And the women were all beautiful. Even if they hadn’t been born that way, they used every trick in the book to appear as if their good looks were nothing special. He wondered how many cosmetic surgeons were sending their kids to Harvard from this crowd alone.

He was one of the lucky ones. He’d been born with his grandfather’s dark handsomeness, and he’d learned early not to squander the gift. It had made so much of life so much easier.

Women had never been a problem, and even in business, people were more likely to part with money if the person asking had a symmetrical, pleasing face and body.

Personally, he never understood why so many people didn’t clue in to the beauty factor. It was just a fact of human nature, not good, not bad. Simply useful.

“Here you go, sir,” the bartender said. “Can I get you anything else?”

Will pulled a folded hundred out of his jacket pocket and discreetly pushed it into the young man’s hand. “Tell me something, Karl. What do you know about Mercy Jones?”

“Mercy…oh, you mean the pet concierge.”

Will nodded before taking his first sip. The scotch was unbelievably smooth, and he savored the slow, subtle burn.

“Let’s see.” Karl picked up a glass and a cloth, and proceeded to use one on the other. “She’s one of Ms. Devon’s projects. Found her in a shelter.”

“I heard she worked for animal rescue?”

“Yeah. But she was something of a rescue herself, although that’s all rumor. She’s the quiet type. About everything. I see her in the cafeteria from time to time, but she keeps to herself.”

“Not dating anyone?”

“Not that I’ve seen. But one of the waitresses knows her. I’ll ask.”

“Thanks, Karl. I appreciate it.”

Karl took a few more orders, but given the size of his tip, Will felt sure he’d find out all he could. And now that that piece of business was in motion, it was time to relax. To appreciate his drink, to think about Drina and the damned diamond dog collar.

Drina, he surmised, was going to steal the thing. Fine. What he couldn’t figure out, however, was what she was planning to do with it, after she had it. The collar was undoubtedly insured, and since it was such an unusual piece, the police would notice if it suddenly came on the market. He doubted any reputable fence would take the thing, at least not for a few years.

Besides, it wasn’t a smart move. That made him more uncomfortable than anything else. Drina was not a stupid woman, and she didn’t make big mistakes. Was she losing it? Or was there something about this collar that he hadn’t discovered yet?

His money was on the latter.

“Mr. Desmond?”

So Karl had gotten his name. Smart kid.

“Mercy doesn’t have a boyfriend, no. She spends all her time at PetQuarters.”

Will bit back a smile as Karl leaned in and told his tale as if he was spilling the beans to Jason Bourne. All very hush-hush.

“She’s very tight with Gilly, who works with her, but that’s about it. Word is she’s doing everything she can to get her big bonus so that she can move to a place of her own.”

“Big bonus?”

He nodded. “She’s trying to get enough day business so Piper will turn the building next door into a huge pet facility. If Mercy does it, brings in enough revenue, she gets a bonus. I’m not sure how much, but I can probably find out.”

“No, that’s fine, Karl, thank you.”

“Sure thing.” The young man smiled and turned to help his other customers.

Just before he was out of earshot, Will said, “Karl, one more thing.”

“Sir?”

“You know anything about that crazy dog collar? It’s a fake, right? It has to be a fake.”

Karl shook his head. “Oh, no, sir. It’s no fake. Everyone knows about the diamond collar. It was even in the paper. It’s worth, I don’t know, almost a million dollars. At least, that’s what I heard. Can you imagine? Putting that kind of money on a dog?”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I never would have guessed.”

“You’d be surprised the kind of crazy stuff that goes on in a hotel like this. I could tell you stories—”

“I’ll bet you could. Tell you what, though. Let’s refill this glass, first.”

Karl nodded and headed for the bottle.

Will got comfortable. He probably wouldn’t learn anything useful from Karl’s tales of hotel life, but it was worth listening nonetheless. It wouldn’t hurt to get an insider’s view, and besides, he’d learned young not to let any opportunity slip by.

Just the fact that all the employees knew about the collar was something that might come in real handy.

His smile fell as he thought about Mercy. He’d been right about her. She wasn’t being coy with those blushes. She’d had enough trouble in her life to want to keep it to herself. That should have made him happy. So much easier to get what he wanted from a woman with big issues. But all he felt was tired.

He wanted to go home. He wanted…

Shit, he didn’t even know what he wanted.

4

THE WALK FROM the bus stop to Mercy’s apartment was always the scariest, if not the worst, part of going home. She lived in an area of New York that had been taken over by drugs and spiraling unemployment. There were hookers and dealers and gangs and a whole bunch of other things to be worried about every time she stepped off the bus.

But she had the routine down pat. She wore a backpack instead of a purse and kept her money in her shoe. She made herself small, but made sure not to look like a victim. She never ran. Her key was in her hand before she got off the bus, and in her right front pocket she kept a switchblade. Thank goodness she’d never had to use it. At least not while she’d lived here.

This wasn’t the first time she’d lived in a scary place. In fact, there hadn’t been many nonscary places in her life. Truth be told, she preferred the fear to be on the outside of the house. It was easier to sleep that way.

She made it the six blocks to her apartment building without incident, even in the four floors up to her door. As usual, it smelled like a pit in the stairwells, and sounded just as bad, but there were no junkies lurking.

She unbolted the door, stepped inside and tried not to look around. It would just depress her more to see the squalor she lived in.

She had a minimum of four roommates. Sometimes six, depending on who needed a place to crash and who was desperate for money. The whole place was just over four hundred square feet. One bathroom, a micro-kitchen that had a half fridge, a hot plate and an oven that never worked. There were three couches in the main room, usually doubling as beds.

Her room, the only slightly serene place to be found, had been a closet. It now held all her earthly possessions, most of them folded in stacked milk crates she’d painted blue.

Her bed was a single mattress on the floor. The walls of her closet were pale blue, too, and the best thing was she actually had a window. It was small, too high to see out unless she climbed on a chair, but sometimes when she was there in the daytime, the sun hit the end of the bed.

All this, including the fact that she had to dead-bolt herself inside the closet before she went to sleep, for just under nine hundred per month.

It all would have been tolerable if she’d been able to share the space with a dog, or even a cat. But there were no pets allowed. For her that meant no joy allowed.

She’d been spending the night at Hush so often she was afraid someone was going to tell the GM, and they’d tell her to stop. Even though she worked when she was there overnight, she still slept better, felt safer. She’d even thought, briefly, of asking if she could move in to PetQuarters permanently. Well, until she got her bonus.

That ten thousand dollars was going to free her. She’d find another apartment, with a maximum of one roommate. And she’d have a dog. Maybe a dog and a cat. Wouldn’t that be something?

She got into her sleep shirt, then waited until she heard whoever the hell was in the bathroom leave. She never even bothered to shower there anymore. There was a great staff shower at PetQuarters, thank goodness. But she did brush her teeth, then scurry back to her room.

Inside, she turned on the good light, fixed her pillows and went back to her book. It was an old favorite about a veterinary practice in the English countryside. From her backpack she pulled out a PowerBar and a bottle of water, and waited for the magic.

Books had always been her sacred place. Through years of horrific foster parents and equally horrific state homes, she’d found she could lose herself in two things—books and animals.

However, tonight she couldn’t get into the rhythm. She’d read a paragraph, then have to go back and read it again because she had no idea what it said.

Over and over she tried, until she finally surrendered to the thoughts that had plagued her since this afternoon when Will Desmond had come to visit Buster.

She hadn’t heard him come in. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him if it hadn’t been for Lightning.

The cat was around her neck, as usual. Then, in a trick that had made more than one guest shriek, she’d lifted her head and hissed. At Will.

He’d stepped back, his eyes wide and his body defensive. Mercy had been just as surprised but her defensiveness was for a completely different reason.

She’d been working with Goober, a little Doberman mix, getting him to settle down so he could go into the pen with his buddies. Naturally, Goober started barking, which scared Lightning, who’d jumped down from Mercy’s back, leaving a few choice claw marks. Mercy focused on Goober, shushing him and calming him as she tried to calm her own heart.

Will had apologized, but he hadn’t left. He’d stayed until Goober was in the pen. Until she’d gotten Buster from his pen and handed him to his Uncle Will.

Even then, even when she went to the grooming room to check on Lulu and Chance, Will and Buster had trailed along.

They’d talked about the facility, about NewYork, about the different grooming techniques. It seemed to Mercy that he had an unending supply of questions. Finally, when she’d mentioned that he wasn’t having much of a vacation, he’d confessed that he came to the city all the time. That he liked the feel of PetQuarters. That he liked the company.

Thank goodness Gilly hadn’t heard that. She’d have jumped all over that silly comment. Mercy had dismissed it as nonsense from a lonely traveler, but she hadn’t really bought it.

Now, sitting in her crappy little room on her crappy little bed, she faced the truth.

Gorgeous Will, with his dark good looks and his big old dimples, had flirted with her.

Why? She wasn’t anything special, and he was. It didn’t make sense. It was easy to imagine him with the most amazing women in New York. Hell, she could see him with Piper Devon, and that didn’t happen much. Well, especially because Piper was happily married, but still, they would have looked right sitting together at Amuse Bouche, sharing champagne and caviar.

So why was he flirting with her?

Of all the things her life had taught her, the number-one lesson was that people were predictable. They stayed with their own kind. If they had to shift out of their comfort zone, it was almost always because they wanted something.

So what did Will want?

He was staying in a suite, for God’s sake, in Hush. That cost a fortune. He’d said he came to the city from Wichita all the time. He was a wealthy, successful guy. Why would he want to slum it with a working stiff like her?

Maybe that was the point. Maybe he was looking for something different, something a little dangerous. Slumming it with her might be his version of a walk on the wild side.

If that were true, he sure as hell had his act down. He’d never made her feel like she was trash. In fact, he’d said a lot of really nice things. Not random things, either. He’d noticed how she handled the dogs. How they all responded to her. He’d commented on the setup in PetQuarters—seen how she’d arranged things to work smoothly and cleanly.

He’d even complimented her on her staff, and man, that had given her a lump in her throat. More than that, the dogs liked him. Not just Buster but all of them. They wagged their tails and eagerly accepted his attentions. Nothing could have convinced her that Will was a decent guy more than that.

Then, just before he left, he’d asked her again to help him train Buster. The dog was such a sweetie that she’d almost said yes.

Okay, that’s not why she’d almost said yes. Gilly’s words had haunted her since the walk. Will was a guest, a stranger, a visitor. He wasn’t going to stick around for long, so how messy could things get?

He wanted her to bring Buster up after hours. So she’d already be in his suite. But anyway, she’d be there, and the bedroom would be right there, and since everyone was kind of used to her spending the night at the hotel…

No. She couldn’t. It was too risky, and not just the part about Will being a guest.

She wasn’t good with people. With men. She blushed like an infant, she stumbled over her words, she knew squat about etiquette and civilized behavior. It would mean getting naked. That couldn’t end well.

On the other hand—

No. There was no other hand. It was only nine-thirty, but Mercy turned off the good light and got under the covers. No way she was going to do anything with Will. His dimples be damned.

WILL WATCHED Drina as she ate her lunch. He was sitting in a far booth, one that was positioned perfectly, allowing him to see her, but keeping her from catching him at it.

He’d ordered some fish and as he waited for the meal to arrive, he simply watched her. Even at her age, she was a beauty. Her hair was silver now, short, classy. Her wardrobe was modern, and yet there was an old-style grace in the loose scarf around her neck.

She was the very picture of a wealthy woman, a woman used to luxury and comfort.

He knew better.

She was a thief of the first order, that one. One of the best con artists he’d ever seen. Devious, beguiling, charming. She’d never met a person she couldn’t con.

Damn it, why couldn’t he figure out what she wanted with the collar? There were easier things to steal. Easier things to fence. What was it that had her checking in to Hush? Getting a dog of her own?

He had to get to the bottom of this thing before it went too far. He needed to find out about Lulu’s owners. He’d already asked Ricky to do some checking on the insurance angle.

Maybe the owners had hired Drina in order to collect on the insurance? Maybe that collar wasn’t as real as the papers would have him believe. Maybe—

His fish came, and with it renewed determination. He was going to ease his way into PetQuarters. Into the confidence of Mercy Jones.

It wasn’t an unpleasant assignment. In fact, it was the only bonus in a distasteful situation.

He really liked the way she blushed. There was more to her than that, of course, but it wouldn’t do him any good to go there. She was a means to an end. He’d try to leave her with good memories and a smile. That was the best he could offer.

Mercy was his ticket in. Period.

In fact, after lunch, he’d go back to PetQuarters, and this time, he wouldn’t leave without her agreeing to his offer.

She’d been on the edge yesterday. Today, he’d do whatever was necessary to tip her over.

ON FLOOR TWELVE, Mercy had a total of five stops. Three dogs, two hotel-supplied goldfish. Spiffed up in her hotel uniform with her kitty tie and ponytail holder she pulled her cart along, trying to remember if Jacob and Alexis were going to stay the night, or if it was Oliver and Grace.

At twelve-twenty, she knocked on the door. “PetQuarters.” As she waited, she held on to the fish food in her pocket. She’d brought a new, clean dog bed for Corkie, the beautiful cocker spaniel mix who was currently being bathed with a lavender dog shampoo Mercy liked quite a bit. She knocked again, made one more shout out that she was from PetQuarters, then used her pass key to enter the room.

Mostly, the guests weren’t there at two in the afternoon. She wasn’t sure why, but she found more guests in from noon to one than two to three, so that’s when she, or one of the other permanent staff, made house calls.

Inside the room, which was a junior suite, she went first to the fishbowl. She’d actually come up with the idea—loaning fish to guests who might like some company. Mr. Evans had been charmed by the idea and said he’d gotten the fish as a companion for Corkie.

He’d chosen a gorgeous Siamese fighting fish, brilliant blue with a double tail. The fish had been given the unimaginative name Blue, but he’d ignored the indignity and become one of the most sought-after of the loaners.

She tapped the side of the bowl, causing Blue to investigate. Before she got to feeding him his delicious mix of betta pellets and frozen bloodworms, she figured she’d get Corkie’s bedding taken care of.

Corkie, like most of the pets who spent their nights with their parents, slept in the bedroom. Mercy got the new bed from her cart and brought it close so she could sniff. They got the beds from a small company in New Jersey who stuffed them with Poly-Fil and cedar chips, which the dogs seemed to love. This one was light green and smelled like comfort.

She got two new packs of their homemade food along with several treats to put on Corkie’s place mat.

The bedroom door was closed, so just to be sure she knocked, loudly. “PetQuarters.” After a full minute with no response, she opened the door, calling out once more.

It was dark, the drapes drawn. Mercy stepped inside and turned on the light.

There was Corkie’s food bowl, empty, and there was Mr. Evans, completely and utterly naked, tied to the bed, gagged and, in a sight that would haunt her for years to come, erect.

Mercy froze. She’d heard stories about things like this, but she’d never actually seen it. Mr. Evans had come to PetQuarters three days ago, where he’d picked out Blue and introduced her to Corkie. He was a magazine publisher or editor, something like that, and she remembered quite clearly seeing the wedding band on his finger.

He’d seemed nice. Normal. Frankly, he’d seemed like he’d be much smaller.

He made a sound and she realized she’d been staring. With a blush that could have started forest fires, she turned off the light and backed out of the bedroom.

Murmuring “Oh, God” over and over she stood by the door, her hands filled with dog accessories, her mind screaming at what she’d just seen.

Aside from the incredibly naked man, there had been other…things. Things from the sex chest. Things she didn’t think a guy would use, at least not by himself.

But he’d been tied up. He couldn’t have done that on his own, right? Someone had to have been there to gag him. To wrap the rope around his ankles. Or…someone was still there. A woman. Maybe his wife? Or maybe it was a man!

She should leave. Now. Go hit herself on the head with something heavy so she’d forget what she’d seen. Forever.

But what if he was in trouble? What if he’d been hurt? If she ran, and he died, she’d feel horrible. Wouldn’t she? Yes. Yes, she would. That would be a terrible thing.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a naked guy before. Usually they were younger and in a lot better shape, but it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever witnessed.

She’d just go back in, untie the man and leave. The end. No big deal. No need for her face to flame or her hand to shake as she turned the bedroom doorknob.

The light went on, proving to her that no matter how desperate and justified the wish was, there were no magic elves. It was just her and Mr. Naked Erection Man.

She cleared her throat as she put down the dog supplies on one of the cushy chairs. Then, telling herself there was no need to freak out, she approached the bed. She’d undo the gag first. That way, he could tell her to get out. Or to call 911.

Her steps felt leaden as she got closer to the bed. Jesus, she looked at it. Him. It. Her gaze skirted away to something safe. The wall. The nice pastel wall.

She could still see Naked Man, but only in her peripheral vision, which was still too much. But she made it to the head of the bed and saw that the gag had been tied pretty tightly.

Through squinted eyes, she located the knot. She had to lean over to get to it, and crap, crap, she looked at it again. She shut her eyes tight, but then she lost where the knot was.

Opening her eyes just a bit, she found the knot again. Her hands were shaking so it was hard to untie the damn thing, but she held her breath and went for it. Finally, the knot gave and she pulled the gag out of Mr. Evans’s mouth.

“Thank God,” he said, right before he coughed.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice so high she sounded like a mouse.

“No. I’m not hurt at all.”

Although the words should have reassured her, they had the exact opposite effect. Against her will, Mercy looked at Mr. Evans. His smile was so wrong it made her skin crawl.

“The only thing wrong with me is that I’m lonely.”

“You’re…”

“Why don’t you stay? I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I—Are you kidding?”

“I never kid when I’m this horny, beautiful.”

Mercy took a step back, then another. Until her back hit the bedroom door. Two seconds later, she was on the other side, Mr. Married Naked Pervert still calling out to her to stay.

She grabbed her cart and got the hell out of there, still freaked, still blushing, still mortified. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the elevator that she remembered.

This time, she didn’t knock. She didn’t call out, or even bring the cart in. She ran straight to the fishbowl, fed Blue and ran out of there.

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