She’d wanted a dog for ages, but not like this. While Erin sipped the tea her great-aunt Venetia had handed her, she listened to a long explanation of why her aunt couldn’t take her dog along when she visited her sister.
‘She’s allergic to animals,’ Erin said, cutting off a repeat of the story.
‘You could put it that way, dear. She won’t have Ming in the house, and he’s certainly not used to camping.’
The Pekingese snorted. Sitting on a red satin cushion on the sofa, he stared at Erin with a haughty air. She stared back. Flynn wouldn’t like a dog in the house either, but she was past caring what her husband thought about anything.
‘It’s only for three days,’ Venetia said. ‘I’ve no one else to turn to.’
‘OK. Let’s get this little fellow packed up.’
‘I’ve already done it. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. His suitcases are in the hall.’
Suitcases?
She was past caring what her husband thought
‘His day and night beds are in that one,’ Venetia
