As before, there was no need for him to watch to gauge Emily’s reaction. Nothing in the world would delight his daughter more than to be thrown into a pit of puppies and told to pick whichever one she wanted. It was like the world’s largest candy store and theme park wrapped into one.

Which was why he tucked the phone away with a sinking heart.

Lila’s obvious lack of experience with children might have been amusing to start out with, but she clearly didn’t know how attached a six-year-old could become within the space of a few minutes. He liked dogs, he really did, but if Emily got her heart set on something like a greyhound or a Saint Bernard, which required more care than he had time to give, he was going to have to pull out his full bad-cop routine.

And he didn’t mean that in the fun way.

“Actually, before we go in, I was hoping we could—”

“Oh, is your phone call done?” Lila asked with one eyebrow carefully arched. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt something important.”

“Crisis averted,” he said, refusing to take the bait. “One crisis, at least. But before we create another one, we should probably lay a few ground rules.”

“Ground rules? About what?”

Off the top of his head, he could think of at least three, but none of them had anything to do with his daughter or puppies. On the contrary, they were founded solely in his body’s unexpected reaction to Lila’s laugh.

I will not picture this woman naked.

I will not picture this woman naked and in my bed.

I will not picture this woman naked and in my bed and making those phone-sex operator noises.

Those were three very good rules, and he planned to stick to them at every turn. Starting…soon. Very soon.

“Our house isn’t large,” he said, his voice only slightly strangled. He couldn’t help it—he was still caught up on that first rule. Lila’s beige suit might not be flattering, but there was something about the boxy simplicity that enhanced every long limb and packed curve contained inside it. “So the dog needs to be on the small side.”

“Oh, dog ground rules.”

“And my schedule is a flexible one, but I can be up against some pretty tight deadlines, so a puppy that’s going to require three-hour walks every day is a definite no.”

“Mr. Ford—”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. If she was going to insist on calling him Mr. Ford for the next six weeks, he was going to have a seriously difficult time with that whole not-picturing-her-naked thing. Formality might work in putting some men off, but that air of authority was only making things worse.