"Yes, Otto's being stubborn." She looked around at him as she spoke, then took a quick breath, obviously taken aback. "You're the man from the auction."
The man from the auction? Then she didn't know who he was. Or was adept at pretending not to. "Yes," he said. "My name's Garvin MacCrae."
She didn't blush or go pale; she simply pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "Hi—Annie Payne. I hope there are no hard feelings."
He smiled a little. "Not many."
She smiled back, a glint coming into her eyes. They were pale blue, almost gray. "I thought the crowd was going to eat me alive there for a minute. Someone mentioned the girl in the painting's your wife. I hope she won't be too disappointed. Was it going to be a present?"
Garvin's throat tightened, and he managed to shake his head. A present for Haley. Annie Payne didn't know his wife was dead.
Who the hell was she?
She frowned, a touch of color appearing high in her cheeks. "I can see you're still upset. I'm sorry. It was nothing personal. To be honest, I didn't expect anyone else to bid."
"Neither did I." His voice was less strangled than he'd expected.
"That's an auction for you. I'm not much on auctions myself. When I want something, I just like to pay my money and take it home. I don't like this win-lose stuff."
So much for his compulsive auction-goer theory. Annie Payne turned her attention back to her dog, running one hand through her hair in frustration. She caught an ebony hair stick and dragged it out, shoving it into the depths of some skirt pocket. Her movements were unselfconscious, without any indication that she knew he was watching her as closely as he was. He hadn't expected to find the woman who'd beaten him out to be so matter-of-fact, so guileless—so attractive. He noticed the soft rise of her breasts, the slim curve of her hips, the creamy skin at her throat.
Not good, he thought.
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "I might not get the painting home if this dog doesn't move. He has to be the stupidest animal in the entire universe." She leaned forward, hands on hips. "Otto. Otto, I said move."
Otto didn't move.
"I thought rottweilers were smart," Garvin said.
"Not Otto. I think he fell on the rocks one too many times as a puppy."
Without warning, she balanced the painting against the bumper and climbed up into the back after Otto. Garvin grabbed her shawl just before it hit the wet pavement. Annie Payne seemed oblivious to anything but getting her dog to move. She went in on her hands and knees, leaving Garvin with a view of her shapely behind.
Grumbling and cursing, she pushed the huge dog's paws in an apparent attempt to get him to flop over onto his other side. He didn't budge, just kept staring at her with those enormous brown eyes.
"I'm taking you to dog obedience school," she warned him.
Otto seemed unimpressed. He opened his mouth—one designed for crushing—and yawned, frothy white slobber creeping over his jowls.
"There'll be no treat for you tonight, bub, if you don't move."
Garvin wondered what a dog as big as Otto would consider a treat. He folded the large, beautiful, but rather unusual, shawl. It, too, didn't fit his mental image of an uhrasophisticated, wily gallery owner.
Annie Payne, it seemed, had her own way of doing things.
Her tone changed as she tried cajoling, talking to her dog as if he were a recalcitrant toddler. "Roll over, Otto. Come on, buddy. Yes, roll over. Otto." Her tone sharpened, her patience unquestionably exhausted. "Otto. Roll over."
Otto ignored her.
She backed out, ducking her head to keep from banging it on the liftgate as she dropped back onto the pavement. Garvin handed her the shawl. She sighed, defeated. "He's paying me back for not taking him to the auction. I'll just have to wait him out." She squinted up at the gray sky. "I hope the rain holds off."
"What if you let him out of the car instead of trying to get him to shift position? Then you could slide the painting in and let him in again."
She shook her head. "He's not moving."
"Isn't it worth a shot?"
"I suppose." But she clearly didn't think anything would work. She turned back to her dog, patting her hip with one hand in an attempt to coax him. "Come on, Otto. Want to go for a walk? Here, boy. Come."
The big dog blinked at her, then stretched out his long legs, if possible taking up even more of the back of the little station wagon.
Annie Payne regarded Garvin without surprise. "You see? He's stubborn and stupid."
In spite of her disgust, Garvin had no doubt of her affection for her rottweiler and knew better than to agree with her assessment. This, he thought, was not his fight. She'd bought herself a painting for five thousand dollars. She could get it home on her own. "Well, I hope things work out."
"Oh, they will. Otto knows sooner or later I always get my way."