Hot Under the Collar

By Summer Devon

Attorney Sam Trevisani never thought he'd play the bad guy, but now his job makes him the enemy of every dog owner in town—and whenever he meets his main opponent, Dan Bailey, the vet gives him the evil eye. Tired of playing for the wrong side, Sam has to find a solution. Maybe the tempting Dr. Bailey can help him find a solution for his restless need for change. Or maybe it's his attraction to the vet that pushes him to pay a late-night visit.

Tired of town politics and manipulative games, Dan has no interest in helping the flashy lawyer. Yet Sam's dogged interest in him proves oddly appealing. Dan reluctantly allows the attractive lawyer into his house, and sparks fly. Sam doesn't mind hookups, but Dan doesn't do them--yet in one night, they both change their minds.

Determined to keep Dan from running away from something promising between them, Sam has to get past his attorney uncle, Dan's pack of misfit dogs, and a powerful but unpleasant client who could end not only the town's chance for a dog park but any chance of romance between the lawyer and the vet.

A novella by award-winning author Summer Devon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summer Devon
• Release date: Oct 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393724636

Summer Devon

We are Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon and we write books together!

Book preview

Attorney Sam Trevisani never thought he’d play the bad guy, but now his job makes him the enemy of every dog owner in town—and whenever he meets his main opponent, Dan Bailey, the vet gives him the evil eye. Tired of playing for the wrong side, Sam has to find a solution. Maybe the tempting Dr. Bailey can help him find a solution for his restless need for change. Or maybe it’s his attraction to the vet that pushes him to pay a late-night visit.

Tired of town politics and manipulative games, Dan has no interest in helping the flashy lawyer. Yet Sam's dogged interest in him proves oddly appealing. Dan reluctantly allows the attractive lawyer into his house, and sparks fly. Sam doesn't mind hookups, but Dan doesn't do them—yet in one night, they both change their minds.

Determined to keep Dan from running away from something promising between them, Sam has to get past his attorney uncle, Dan's pack of misfit dogs, and a powerful but unpleasant client who could end not only the town's chance for a dog park but any chance of romance between the lawyer and the vet.

Hot Under the Collar

Summer Devon

Dedication

Eli, Linda, Kim, Molly, Hubert, Robin, Suz, and even Frances. Some walk on two feet, some on four. Mostly for Bonnie, because she has good ideas.

eBooks are not transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Hot Under the Collar

Copyright © 2017 by Summer Devon

Cover by Fantasia Frog

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Chapter One

Sam stood at the microphone. He glanced at the hostile people sitting near him and behind him and tried not to look three rows over at Bailey, though his gaze automatically shifted in that direction.

The city hall council chamber was packed tonight, and he suspected it was all due to this one issue—and Sam practically had VILLIAN written across his forehead.

He cleared his throat and continued his stupid argument. Part of the land parcel is designated wetland, and from what I can understand—or invent on the spur of the moment—it might not be suitable for the project, due to the presence of... He adjusted his tie and tried to come up with a word that wouldn’t offend sensibilities. Feces.

He hoped no one would point out that geese and ducks shat all over the area regularly. Of course, a second later, Bailey rose to his feet. It would be goddamn Bailey. The lanky man in the blue flannel shirt and worn jeans just stood up and didn’t even bother going to the microphone. No formality with that ex-farmhand. I think as you can see by our studies done in other towns and cities, dog parks will leave the area cleaner than it is now. He spared a disdainful glance for Sam. And the dogs will chase away all the birds.

Several people in the crowd applauded. There were shouts of You tell him, Dan!

Sam waited for the clapping to die away before pulling out the only real weapon he had: the agreement his lawyer uncle had drafted ten years ago with the city of Clayton. The document made sure the Fitches’ claws stayed dug into the land even after they’d gotten a tidy sum from the city. Attached to it was the letter Dixon Fitch, the scrawny gray-faced old stick-in-the-mud—and the firm’s best client—had dictated to Sam that afternoon.

Sam held up the paper and announced the only real weapon he had. Today Mr. Fitch refused final permission.

As he walked down the line of aldermen and past the mayor, handing out copies of the agreement, he watched their faces fall. All over the room, his magic wand of disappointment cast its spell.

Tonight marked the second time Sam had had to put the kibosh on the park. The last proposed site had been land that Fitch still owned. Sure, it had been up for sale, cheap, but the old blister had refused to let the city have the half acre once it became clear they wanted it for that purpose.

Sam had wanted to win tonight’s argument using something other than the Fitches’ clout and money for a change. The problem was, there was no real reason to say no. Mr. Fitch hopes you will consider the idea of using that land for a parking garage since it is located near a commercial area and—

Enough. The mayor held up a hand. She scowled around the room. I guess it’s a no. She leaned forward and spoke into the mic so everyone could hear. The search for another property will have to begin again.

A little kid who’d been holding up a hand-drawn picture of a dog began to cry.

Dear God, this was a new low.

Sam needed another job.

Catching sight of Bailey’s dark anger, he added relocation to his list of needs. The look Dan Bailey aimed at him, narrowed eyes, furrowed brow, was a surprisingly dark expression from the amiable Wisconsin farm boy.

From now on, Sam would be known as the man who killed the dog park twice. He had more secret reasons to be known as a villain. Sitting at his computer, he’d help find loopholes so the last Fitch project could be jammed through. He’d even put icing on that ugly cake by arguing the plans could include adding additional floors to the hideous condo development the family had shoved into a space downtown. A space that had once been a community garden.

When he’d agreed to his uncle’s arrangement, Sam knew he’d be making wills and setting up trusts. He never suspected he’d be hired to kill unfavorable news stories, destroy dog parks, or demolish city greenscapes. He’d purchased his law degree and the blue silk tie with the price of his soul.

His uncle played the role of mover and shaker. Sam delivered bad news and acted as executioner.

He packed up his soft leather briefcase, gave a nod to the mayor and aldermen, and took off before the next piece of business began or before the dog park fans rushed him waving pitchforks.

Hey! Hey, you! Wait up. Shit. Bailey had followed him. Sam walked faster out the big glass front doors of the city hall under the curious attention of the people hanging around for the rest of the evening session.

Sam’s own beater was in the shop, so he’d borrowed his uncle’s car. Yeah, and somehow he’d forgotten where he’d put the Benz. Or what color it was, something dark. He clicked the beeper and strode up and down the rows of cars. He found it at last. And standing next to the Mercedes was Dan Bailey, his hands on his hips, the look on his face pure, scowling poison.

Listen. We need to talk, Bailey said. I don’t know who you are, but—

The best way to beat an opponent bent on aggressive behavior was to do something unexpected—and welcoming. Sam plastered a smile on his face and stretched out a hand. Sam Trevisani. We went to high school together.

Bailey took a step back. We did not. I’m not from around here.

Sam let his hand drop, but he took a step forward, big smile still in place. Yup, I know. You were a year behind me. I don’t think we had any classes together, but we both graduated from Beaumont High.

What? Bailey’s scowl deepened.

Yes, kind of amazing, huh? We’d both come from a town about a thousand miles from here. I’m not sure how you ended up here but I have family in the area. How have you been?

The frown relaxed. Bailey blinked at him. I don’t remember you.

Hey, it was a big school. The fact was Sam hadn’t recalled Bailey by name either—not until he did some basic research on the biggest nuisances facing the Fitch family plans. Once he saw the picture of Bailey, a strong image flashed back. In high school, Bailey had been whippet thin but fiercely strong. Sam had one clear memory of him—Bailey hauling around some heavy buckets, helping at some school function. That skinny tanned boy carried buckets, one in each hand, that might have weighed as much as he did. It had been a memorable moment, those muscles straining under the tan skin, the easy grace of the way he’d walked along holding them out to the side.

Not exactly the stuff of hot dreams, but for some reason, the image had stuck with him.

He was kind of surprised Bailey had become a veterinarian. He’d seemed even poorer than Sam’s family and didn’t appear much interested in school.

Sam stretched out his hand again, and Bailey gave in at last.

That big hand with the raw-boned knuckles was surprisingly warm. Bailey’s grip was firm, no big surprise there.

Sam knew how to do the politician’s walk. He beamed at Bailey. So, I’m Sam, and you’re Dan. Nice to meet you so far from home.

Dan’s pale brows drew over his eyes in fierce concentration. Okay, wait. Now I remember you. You were a pain in the ass. You skipped class and smoked and acted like a troublemaker... Seriously. He shook his