The dimple was back. “Oh, really?”
She nodded.“I warned you about how she looked, remember.”
“What a weirdo,” said Tom. “Thank God we’re out of there. I would have killed you if you’d accepted the coffee. I couldn’t have spent a second longer in that awful room.”
“Yeah, well, the poodle-print sofa was a bit over the top. But I kind of liked all her doggy decorations. She’s obviously crazy about dogs. I think her decor shows character.”
“Character? You’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “More an excess of bad taste, I would have thought.”
Maddy tilted her head on one side. “Let me guess.Your place doesn’t have a tchotchke or knickknack anywhere. Sleek, slick, and everything in its place.”
“How did you know that?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Just a lucky guess,” she said, thinking back to how uncomfortable he’d looked in her pretty apartment full of her favorite things.
“Yeah, I like things plain. No clutter.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the way I am.”
“No need to apologize. I wish I was neater—and less sentimental about the stuff I have all over the place.”
“But you’re creative; you’re allowed to be like that.”
“And you’re logical and orderly; I admire that.”
She laughed and so did he—his laugh warm and rich with good humor. He was nice—really nice. And that was on top of being the handsomest hunk she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,Tom,” she said on impulse.
“Apology accepted, and no offense taken,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. “But seriously, I have a thing about being ordered around by men.”
“A thing?” he said, his brows drawn together.
“If you met my family you’d know why. I love them madly but my father is just plain domineering, and my brothers—two of them, both older than me—have ideas about women that passed their use-by date about a hundred years ago.”
“What about your mother?”
“She ... she died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thanks. I ... I still miss her.” She paused before she continued. “We have a cattle ranch upstate in Fall River Valley—that’s eastern Shasta County. I kind of had to step into her shoes. Look after my father and brothers. Luckily I liked cooking. But—I still get mad when I think about it—they seriously thought I should leave high school.”
“But you didn’t?”
“My grandmother stepped in and made them get some paid help. And then, thank heaven, when I was eighteen, my brother Mike met a girl whose only ambition in life was to be a farmer’s wife.”
“Some ambition.”
“Don’t knock it. It works for some, including my beautiful sister-in-law. She convinced the menfolk to let me move into town and live with Grandma.That way I got to go to college.”
Behind a fence a dog started barking. Brutus pulled frantically on the leash. Maddy’s arms felt like they were being wrenched from their sockets as she tried to hold him in check. “Here, will you take him? He needs the alpha-male touch.”
Tom took the leash. “Brutus. Heel,” he said in a commanding voice. Brutus immediately did as he was told.
Maddy looked from the dog to Tom. “It’s the alpha-male thing, all right,” she said. “Brutus recognizes it.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Tom, “he’s just spoiled rotten and knows he can get away with murder around you.”
“Hmm,” she said, not willing to concede her theory.
Wouldn’t anyone think Tom was an alpha-male type? Physically, he stood head and shoulders above other men and he had an undeniable air of authority. His voice was deep and strong. And when it came to kissing he was without a doubt 200 percent, hot-blooded, testosterone-powered male. Her cheeks flushed warm at the thought of it.
They reached home and Maddy was grateful for the chilly breeze from the water, both to cool her face and to blame for the way her nipples had tightened thinking about Tom’s testosterone.
“Thank heaven we found this naughty dog,” she said in a forcedly light voice as they walked down through the yard. She hoped Tom wouldn’t notice her breasts and folded her arms in front of her.Which actually only drew Tom’s gaze to her chest.
He looked, she flushed deeper, but then Tom turned away and unclipped the dog leash. Brutus scampered toward his kennel.
Deep breath, deep breath, try to act normal, she urged herself. “He can have a drink of water. Then I think I’ll take him into my apartment with me where I can keep an eye on him,” she said. “I’ve got to finish my recipe testing—I’m due in the office by three for a meeting.”
“I’ve got back-to-back meetings for the rest of the day,” said Tom, sounding anything but enthusiastic at the prospect.
“Poor you,” she said. “Before you go, why not come in and taste the pie I’m working on? I’d like some feedback on it.”
“Pie?” said Tom, a look of yearning on his face. “I thought I smelled pie.”
“I’m experimenting with a new recipe, pear and pecan with a honey glaze.”
It was Tom’s eyes that looked glazed. “You tasted like honey when—”
He fell silent. So did she and the silence hung between them.
“When I kissed you,” he slowly finished.
He was only kissing distance away and Maddy found herself gazing in fascination at his mouth. His lips were full and firm, the top one with an uneven curl she found most intriguing. She remembered how he tasted. How he felt.The heat of his body.
“I ... I thought we weren’t going to talk about kissing ...” she managed to get out in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Or about why we shouldn’t be kissing,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
She was melting like chocolate again. Her lips parted, she found herself swaying toward him—when she saw movement from Brutus’s kennel.
“Brutus! What is he eating?”
She dashed over to the little dog who was wrestling with a steak nearly as big as he was. He’d managed to chew off a sizeable chunk.
“I didn’t give him that; did you?” she said, snatching it away from the animal. Brutus yapped his outrage.
“No, I didn’t,” said Tom, standing beside her. “Let me see it.”
She handed the steak over. Cautiously, he sniffed at the meat. “It smells okay.”
“Jerome might have given it to him,” she said.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Tom.
“Surely Jerome wouldn’t—?”
“We don’t know the guy, Maddy. Walter warned me about him. He specifically said that he didn’t want him inheriting, he thought so little of him.”
“He reminds me so much of Walter, it’s hard to believe ...”
“It’s in our best-interest to keep Brutus alive, but Jerome might have another agenda altogether.”
“If you think—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Brutus had suddenly gone quiet. She looked down. He lay on the grass with his legs collapsed under him.
“Brutus!” She dropped to her knees. The little dog raised his head, his button eyes glazed with pain and confusion. “Brutus, what’s wrong?” Her voice felt strangled with fear.
Tom grabbed his cell phone. “Call his vet.”
Maddy’s hands shook as she took his cell. “Oh God, I don’t know the number. It’s in the house. Brutus, I’m so sorry.” She felt paralyzed by terror and panic.
“Call nine-one-one.”
She started to punch out the numbers. “Does nine-one-one help dogs? Of course they help dogs.” She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t stop herself. Guilt. Fear. Anxiety. All were churning so fast in her head she could scarcely think.
As she punched the final number, Brutus hauled himself up from the grass. He staggered. Then started to retch so violently she could see the muscles straining under his fur.
She dropped the cell. “Ohmigod, Brutus.” Her mouth went dry with terror.
“Don’t panic,” said Tom. “If that steak was poisoned, this is good.”
“You’re right.” Maddy stroked Brutus encouragingly on the back of his neck. “Come on, baby. Get rid of that nasty stuff.”
After what seemed like an agonizingly long period Brutus barfed, expelling chunks of barely chewed steak. He retched until there was nothing left.
When it ended,Tom heaved an audible sigh of relief. “I never thought I’d be glad to see a dog do that. If the meat was poisoned, it wasn’t inside him for long.”
“Oh God, I hate Jerome. How could he have done this?” Maddy scooped Brutus into her arms and cradled him like a baby. She looked to Tom. “The vet. Now. C’mon.”
Was it the word “vet” that perked Brutus up? Maddy couldn’t be sure but the next moment he was wriggling and squirming. His eyes were as bright as ever and his tail thumped against her arm. He gave a put-me-down-now bark.
Maddy pressed kisses to his furry little head. “Thank heaven! But you still have to go to the”—she spelled out the word—“V-E-T.” Brutus twisted and turned to get out of her arms but she held him firm.
Maddy looked from Tom to the ground and back again. “Tom, the vet might want to inspect the ... the ... puke.”
Tom’s face went so green she wondered if he might be the next to perform.
“Quick. There are some doggy-doo bags behind the kennel,” she said.
Still holding the protesting Brutus, Maddy dashed inside her apartment to pick up her purse. When she came back out, Tom was waiting outside the door, a small plastic bag held at arm’s length.
She followed him, two steps to his one, as he strode up the side path toward the street. Only to bump into his back as he came to a sudden halt. She blinked at the flashes that exploded in her eyes. Then peered at the two men who stood outside the gate.
Tom’s arm restrained her. “Remember. No comment.”
She recognized the cameraman from the media posse at the church steps. The one who had made the offensive mistress remark. She didn’t know the other one.
He leered at her. “Cozy up to your boyfriend for me, Maddy. C’mon, give me a good shot.”
Horrified, intimidated, and sick with anxiety at the delay in getting Brutus to the car, she shouted, “Leave us alone!” She pushed open the gate. “Let me through. This dog has been poisoned. I have to get him to the vet.”
She didn’t have to hear Tom groan beside her to realize that it was completely the wrong thing to say.
Nine
Maddy was helping her friend Serena into a bathtub full of chocolate sauce when her cell phone rang. Darn! Since yesterday’s incident with the reporters she had been wary of answering it. But she had to pick up. She was expecting some last-minute props to arrive by courier at the studio and it was already well into the afternoon.
Her heart thudded into double-quick time when she heard Tom’s voice.
“You okay? No more harassment?”
“I left really early this morning to avoid them.”
Then her revved-up heartbeat nearly stopped at his news.
“The steak was poisoned? Jerome. I hate him.”
“We have no proof it was Jerome,” came Tom’s reasoned lawyer tones.
“Only a heck of a suspicion.”
She felt sick at the thought of what might have happened if Brutus—never known for his discrimination in choice of food—had eaten more than just a bite of the T-bone. As it was, the vet had dosed the little dog with charcoal to stop any poison absorption. Then, after a few hours’ observation, she’d pronounced him okay.
“Where is Brutus now?”Tom asked.
“With me. I’m on a shoot, and I brought him along. After yesterday I didn’t want to leave him home alone.”
“Good girl,” said Tom. Surprisingly, Maddy found herself basking in his approving tone, rather than bristling at being patronized as she would have done before he’d kissed her.
“Maddy,” complained Serena, sliding down into the tub, “this chocolate stuff is cold. Could you get off the phone?”
“Tom, I’m working,” Maddy said, not even attempting to explain what that work entailed, “I’ve got to go.”
“We need to talk about this, Maddy.” His tone was urgent. “Can we make a time to meet?”
“I’ll be finished here soon, why not come over?”
“Where’s ‘here’?”
Maddy gave him the address of the photographic studio in the SoMa District and then disconnected her cell phone.
“The ten-out-of-ten lawyer?” quizzed Serena. “The one who is hotter than hot? I saw him on TV with you outside the church.”
“Tell you later,” said Maddy in an undertone, aware of Joel the photographer by her elbow. Joel had tried to hit on her several times, and she guarded her privacy around him.
Actually, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share even with Serena the irrational, bubbling excitement she felt at the thought of seeing Tom again. It was too new, too unexplored.
“Right,” said Serena with a lift of her perfectly arched brows. “Later. And I’ll hold you to that.”
“C’mon, girls,” said Joel, “let’s get on with it. Serena’s boobs are nicely covered in chocolate and ready to shoot.” He leered and made exaggerated licking motions in Serena’s direction.
Maddy groaned and Serena pulled a face before they both laughed and told Joel to shut up.
It was great fun working with Serena. She was a part-time model, a part-time veterinary technician student, and Maddy’s best friend. They’d met when Serena was waitressing in a restaurant in North Beach where Maddy was sous chef.
When Maddy had come up with the girl-in-a-tub-of-chocolate idea to illustrate her “The Ultimate Chocolate Fix” feature, naturally she’d booked Serena for the job.
“Right,” Maddy said to her friend. “I’ll get the triple-choc brownie. I want you to look at it as if—”
“As if it’s your lover, darling,” said Joel.
Tom climbed his way up the stairs of the huge old building, once a warehouse, now converted to photographic studios.
He managed to get past the heavily made-up girl manning the desk at the entrance of studio five. She had a pierced tongue that he’d found it difficult not to stare at while she spoke. In his dark business suit and carrying a briefcase he felt totally out of place.