‘Conan!’ She didn’t know why she sounded surprised. She had known he would come. The dog was leaping excitedly up at him, with no regard for his designer tailoring, while Conan, with a face like granite, stood rigidly impervious, his nostrils flaring and his olive skin infused with something almost akin to anger. ‘I’m sorry. He isn’t usually like this,’ Sienna apologised, rushing forward to grab the dog’s collar. In fact, after bringing the six month old Shadow home from an animal rescue centre two years ago, she had been pleased when her pet had flown through obedience classes with the equivalent of a doggy distinction. Rather grudgingly though she decided that just the mere sight of a man like Conan Ryder was enough to make even a mere animal forget its manners. ‘May I come in?’ With every nerve on alert, still holding the dog’s collar, Sienna backed away to admit him. Immediately the walls of the narrow passageway seemed to close in on all sides, the space between them shrunk by his imposing physique.
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