Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) by Suzanne Halliday Page B

his dick to stone.
    “Have you always been this evasive? And bossy?”
    He bit down on his lower lip and waggled his eyebrows. “Just lulling you into a false sense of security.”
    Her roar of laughter surprised him. “Uh-huh.” Snatching up the glasses, she gave him a frosty look. “I’m letting you …” three words on which she placed great emphasis, “clear the table because my mother told me never to refuse a lended hand in the kitchen.”
    She stomped away, the dog trailing in her wake. “But the clock will be ticking once you’re finished. And I want answers.” Having gotten the last word, her sexy butt headed for the living room.
    What was it about a healthy, curvy woman in a pair of stretch leggings? Some men hated the look. Thinking it tacky or sloppy. Him? He’d never given it much thought until right this second, but watching the seductive wiggle of her butt and the way her hips rolled as she walked away made him an instant fan.
    Racing around the kitchen like a crazy man, he wrapped up the leftovers and got everything into the dishwasher in record time. Throwing his arms up in victory when he finished, Brody reached for the bottle of champagne, realized it was mostly kicked, and hurried to the refrigerator for another. Upending the open one, he swallowed the remaining two mouthfuls and tossed the empty into the recycling.
    “Alrighty then.” He looked around to make sure everything was in order. “So she wants to know about Arizona.” Tall order. How the hell could he adequately do justice to … Justice?
    In the living room, he found quite a scene playing out.
    “Aw, my god, George. Come on. Cut me a break.”
    “What’s going on?” he asked with a chuckle. Heather was curled against the arm of the sofa with the pup trying to nose and squirm his way under her shirt.
    Dropping her head on the sofa back, she muttered, “He likes skin. And if he can’t snuggle against my bare legs, he tries to go under my shirt. Big baby.”
    A year-old pup doesn’t quite grasp how big they really are, so seeing George wiggling under her floppy top was practically YouTube gold. And the more she struggled to push him away, the farther he got.
    “Here.” Brody snickered and held up the champagne bottle. “This’ll get his attention.”
    Ripping the foil wrap off, he made quick work of loosening the cork, met her amused gaze, and asked, “Ready?”
    “Oh, my god!” She laughed as the tip of George’s nose poked through the collar of her shirt. “Save me!”
    Aiming the bottle where it’d do the least damage if the cork went flying, he thumbed the stopper off with a loud pop. Startled, the excitable dog scrambled backward, making his way out of her shirt.
    Dropping to the sofa without landing on her curled-up legs, Brody snapped his fingers twice and pointed at the floor. George’s head swung back and forth looking from him to Heather. With a doggie sigh, he jumped down and obediently sat.
    Damn, sometimes he wished people were as easy to manage as a canine. “Good boy,” he praised while giving the dog’s head a good scratch. “Now, go lay down.”
    Chuckling at the retreating dog, he met Heather’s dumbstruck gaze. Lowering his voice, he boasted, “Mischief momentarily managed.”
    “I forgot about your magic skill with animals. How the hell do you do that?”
    Brody snorted and laughed at the same time. “Seriously? I have no idea. Kids and animals, y’know?” He shrugged. She wasn’t the first and probably not the last person to ask him that same question.
    He saw her slight flinch and could have kicked his own ass. Shit.
    “Yes, well …” Her tone landed halfway between frigid and miserable. “Not something I would know about.”
    What the fuck was he thinking by bringing up kids? Instinct told him he had just seconds to rescue her mood.
    “You know,” he prompted. “There’s an easy way to deal with George’s skin needs.”
    She wasn’t relaxed and curled up on the sofa’s