"Miffed? Annie, that's not a word I'd associate with me. Pissed, annoyed, irritated. They'll do. But not miffed."
She scowled at him. "All right. So you're irritated because I'm in a good mood and you're not."
He leaned over the table toward her. "Why do you suppose that is?"
"Because I have a dog and you don't."
He laughed. He couldn't help himself. He threw back his head and roared, just because he had never, ever, in his life encountered a woman like Annie Payne.
She jumped to her feet. Now she, he thought, was miffed. "This is ridiculous. I'm going to brush my teeth and put on some lipstick. If you can manage it, I'd appreciate a ride to town. If not, I can call a cab or find a bus. Maybe Michael Yuma would give me a ride."
She started to breeze past him, but Garvin caught her by the arm and swung her into him, remembering the feel of her skin against his last night. "Annie," he said into her ear, "I'm not in a bad mood because I don't have a dog and you damned well know it."
She swallowed.
He persisted. "Admit it, Annie."
"Admit what?"
He pulled her lower, settled his palms in the small of her back. Let her wonder at his next move. It was one way of calling her bluff. Dogs. The hell he was irritated because of a damned dog. The hell she thought he was irritated because of a damned dog.
"All right, all right." She scooted away from him, clearing her throat selfconsciously. "You're not jealous because I have Otto. I don't know what your bad mood's about."
He gave her a dark look.
She pushed her hair back with both hands. "Oh, all right. I do know. You can't stand it that I woke up smiling and you didn't. Well, it's nothing to get mad about. I'm smiling because I knew you'd regret not staying in bed with me last night. And you're grouchy because I'm right. You do regret it." She dropped her hands to her side. "There you have it. Simple."
Garvin folded his arms on his chest, still saying nothing.
"And also because of Otto," Annie added quickly. "I'm smiling because he's all right."
"Annie." He kept his arms folded on his chest, his eyes on her. "How do you know I regret what I did last night?"
She returned his gaze, a sly smile at the corners of her mouth. "Don't you?"
"Let's say I do. Why does it put you in a good mood?"
"It doesn't."
He was going to throttle her. It was the only sensible course of action.
"Knowing you'd regret last night does. It suggests..." She shrugged, as if she didn't know what it suggested. Or knew and didn't want to tell him. "It suggests a lot of things."
"Name one."
"That I'm cottoning on to you. That I'm unraveling who you are and sorting it out, getting comfortable with the intricacies of your nature. No, comfortable's not the right word. Maybe familiar is better."
He frowned. "Annie, I'm not a damned painting."
She cleared her throat. "This is true."
"So forget about unraveling my intricacies or whatever the hell you've been doing and concentrate on this."
He swept her into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers, feasted on the taste of her, the feel of her, the very scent of her. He would have pulled away if he had felt even the slightest resistance. But he didn't. Annie settled her arms around him, plundered his mouth as eagerly as he did hers. Probably getting familiar with the intricacies of his nature, he thought.
Well, let her.
Finally, he set her back down on her feet. She ran her fingers through her hair and licked her lips. "Yes," she said. "Something to concentrate on, for sure."
He grinned. "You'll force yourself, will you?"
She regarded him with half-closed eyes. "Don't look so victorious, Garvin MacCrae. You won't have any easier a day than you had a night." She tossed her head back. "Now. I'll be ready in ten minutes. Otto awaits."
It was weird not having Otto with her at the gallery. Annie felt more alone than she would have expected, never mind Gran's many exhortations on animals being no substitute for people. Gran had loved animals, especially the birds she fed and the cormorants and ducks and occasional blue heron that would feed in the bay in front of her cottage, but she'd needed people, too. She had her volunteer work, her friends. Of course, she'd never understood Otto and her granddaughter's attachment to him and would have disdained her missing him when he was in perfectly good hands. It wasn't the dog, she'd say. It's that fellow, Garvin MacCrae. He's got you all in a muddle, and it's easier for you to say it's the dog than him.
She might have been right. Otto was probably having the time of his life in Garvin's big house. Annie trusted Garvin to look after him. After last night, she should be glad all was as well as it was. She was glad.