Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

of one who'd made the trip often and was just plain accustomed to people following her.
    Jordan trailed behind, patiently leading the indolent Winston. The dog leaned against Jordan's calves, making walking difficult, but as usual, Winston was determined to keep constant contact with him the entire time he was there. The walk was routine, and Jordan let his thoughts wander.
    But just as things are wont to happen when one grows complacent, as they approached the door to the waiting room, Winston rallied a burst of ambition that drove him through the door with unprecedented enthusiasm. Jordan stumbled to a stop just as the bulldog slammed full-bodied into the back of denim-clad legs. Very nice denim-clad legs wearing boots and bowed just right. Attached to said legs was a long body capped with wide shoulders, snugly encased in white and topped off with an unruly mop of jet black hair.
    The knees buckled and the man barely righted himself before whipping around, only to be brought up short by Winston settling his weight directly onto his boots. Jordan had about a second and a half to appreciate the man's dark appeal when startled, thickly lashed brown eyes landed for one brief but stunning moment on his. Unfortunately, they dropped just as quickly to stare in shock at the huge bulldog that was slobbering all over his calves.
    "What the—" the understandably stunned man grunted. "Somebody get this drooling beast off of me, please?" Okay, so not so much a dog person, Jordan noted. Or maybe he just suffered from an aversion to the drool of big, ugly bulldogs. Either way, he had to admit that he pulled off snarling with surprising appeal. And he might have noticed that the snarl did little to detract from the lusciousness of those smooth, full lips. They were the sweet, plump kind of lips where the top one is slightly fuller than the bottom so they appear a little pouty even when pressed together in annoyance.
    "Excuse us!" Jordan hid his frown at the breathlessness of his own voice as he dropped to one knee in front of the bulldog that looked very much like he had no intention of releasing the attractive man from his fat belly clutches. Jordan scoffed at the animal that only moments ago had been rubbing up against his own legs. The traitor ditched him the minute a nicer pair of sticks showed up.
    "Come here, Winston," Jordan commanded, not willing to look up at the stranger even when he noticed he'd gone completely still. There was a strange male kneeling at his feet, after all. Jordan could only hurry this along as quickly as possible. He focused on the pale, watery eyes of the canine as they blinked, but otherwise showed no comprehension. Or interest. Jordan ground his teeth and leaned closer, keeping a firm grip on the leash while reaching for the dog's collar. He swore his daily allotment of patience was completely consumed by one encounter with this animal.
    Jordan's skin prickled with awareness when his movements brought him alarmingly close to the stranger's rather impressive bulge, hugged so nicely in its denim trappings. For a second he imagined he saw swelling behind the fly but his damned professional ethics had him dropping his eyes quickly. Reason had him ruthlessly dismissing the thought. Heat tinged his cheeks pink, which only annoyed him more. He couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed, and he sure as hell had no intentions of starting again now.
    "Today, please?" the stranger growled, shifting and trying to shove at the dog with one leg to tug his other foot free. Winston just sighed and followed, his weight falling back against those sexy legs. He couldn't really fault the dog for that. But Jordan did have to appreciate the stillness of the man, considering how likely it was that he really just wanted to kick hard at the obstinate thing.
    Jordan could see this getting out of control far too quickly. His body was instinctively reacting to the inescapable vision of manhood standing before him, while the stubborn dog seemed intent on pulling him increasingly closer to temptation. He was one small dog-tug away from landing face first in an unsuspecting— and no doubt unwelcoming— man's junk.
    Imagining himself doing just that was not going to help. Picturing himself booting the dog out of the way like a soccer ball and tackling the black-haired beauty to the ground, so he could hump and grind away on him like an animal, was even less productive. Jordan dug deep to rein in his sudden, inexplicably