Fired with ideas she raced into the kitchen.
Several hours later she flopped exhausted but pleased onto the sofa. She had the whole format worked out for her audition. The lucky pony had done her stuff again.
Brutus jumped up next to her and laid his head on her lap. Would Tom approve of a dog on his leather sofa? She thought she knew the answer to that but she wasn’t going to boot her little pal off. Not when he was so obviously miserable being locked inside.
The little pet needed a treat. Before she did Tom’s fish she’d create some new Brutus-friendly doggy delights. No onions, no grapes or raisins, no macadamias, and definitely no chocolate. It could be fun . . .
Why not include some healthy dog recipes as a backup for the audition? Just in case they asked for more ideas. Treats dogs love that are good for them. It could work.
She scratched behind Brutus’s ears. “Only eight more days ’til you go home to your own yard,” she crooned. He wagged his plumed tail.
And how did she feel about going home? She’d go stir-crazy locked up for much longer in this gray room with a view. But although she’d been happy in her little apartment, it wasn’t the same since Walter had died. And maybe she wasn’t the same since she’d met Tom.
For a moment she closed her eyes and entertained a very warm and fuzzy fantasy of moving upstairs into Walter’s big house with Tom. Making a cozy home. Wild sex every night. Cooking him and Brutus healthy meals. Ironing . . . Her eyes snapped open. No way would she iron his underpants. Or even his shirts. She hated ironing. He could send them out to a laundry.
She tuned out of that particular fantasy and headed for the television. Would she allow herself just one daytime soap until she got back to the kitchen? But sliding open the drawer beside the TV she found Tom’s DVD collection—filed in alphabetical order. How very Tom. And there were a number of animated films mixed in with the standard guy assortment of action flicks and screwball comedies. Surely all these weren’t just for his nieces?
The Lion King
was there. “One of my favorites,” she told Brutus. “Let’s watch it. Though there are no dogs in it, I’m afraid, only nasty old hyenas.” Brutus licked her hand, liking the attention.
She hummed along to the Elton John song “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” and by the time she had sung the refrain for the third time the truth struck her and she stopped mid-bar.
That’s
why she was smiling to herself in such an inane way. Because that’s what she was feeling. The love. The wonderful, bubbling warmth of being in love with Tom O’Brien.
In love with his sense of humor, his kindness, even his lawyerly stuffiness. And that wasn’t counting his best-kisser-in-the-universe-type qualities.
She thought about the big fiberglass sculpture of Cupid’s bow and arrow in Rincon Park along the Embarcadero. They’d passed it on the way to Tom’s apartment. She’d been shot all right, fair and square in the heart.
She went to jump up, grab the phone, tell him. But reality jerked her back and she stayed put on the sofa.
Did she really want to take the risks involved in loving Tom? What about his plan? His rigid five-year plan. The no-serious-girlfriend, no-serious-kissing plan.
He’d said she was special. He hadn’t recoiled in horror when she’d said she thought he was special, too. Could she convince him to write her into the plan as some kind of amendment? Or was it addendum? He would know the correct terminology, she giggled to herself.
Yes. She’d make a big bowl of popcorn and finish watching
The Lion King
before she finalized preparations for the steamed Thai-style fish she would cook Tom for dinner. He’d like that, she was sure. And then maybe she could nudge the conversation toward the love stuff.
Tom arrived home to find the apartment in darkness. Fear grabbed him with icy claws.
Maddy.
Had Stoddard found her?
Then he saw by the light of the empty, flickering screen of the television that Maddy was asleep on the sofa. He sagged with relief. Brutus was snuggled into the crook of her knees, and there was a bowl with a few lone kernels of popcorn on the floor nearby. Brutus pricked up his ears.
“Stay,” Tom whispered to Brutus. He didn’t want to disturb Maddy. After today’s traumatic episode a good sleep was probably just what she needed.
He could tell her later that he’d discussed the assaults on both Serena and himself with the police. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever repeat what the police officer had said about self-defense with a china pony. Not in the cop’s exact words, anyway.
He caught his breath. Maddy looked so beautiful sprawled on his sofa. One arm was tucked around her head exposing the lovely line of her neck, the other trailed on the carpet. Her hair seemed to shine with a light of its own, her skin luminous in the semidarkness. She was still wearing his blue shirt. He envied his shirt for its closeness to her.
Thank God she was okay. His fear when he’d thought she was gone from the apartment had jolted him into realizing that all barricades against her had been destroyed.
The curtains were open, framing the view of the marina and the city lights. As his eyes got used to the light, he looked around him and noticed a few subtle changes. A jug of roses sitting on the coffee table, an artfully arranged bowl of fruit, some magazines fanned open. Assorted dog toys were scattered around the floor, some exceedingly well chewed. Maddy’s shoes lay where she’d kicked them off.
The room smelled differently, too, the sweet scent of the roses mingling with Maddy’s own lavender and the unmistakable hint of dog.
Three weeks ago he would have hated the disruption to his designer-perfect room. Now he sat and relaxed into it. Reveled in it, in fact. Even the doggy smell.
His perfect bachelor pad. Infiltrated now by a beautiful girl and a not-so-beautiful mutt and he, the bachelor, in willing defeat.
He turned away and walked quietly into the kitchen. She’d packed away the shopping. In the fridge was a whole fish marinating in some spicy stuff and some finely sliced vegetables. Looked like she’d been planning dinner but it didn’t seem like she’d wake for it.
He padded down the hallway and into the bedroom. Again, her presence was inescapable, her scent part of the air he breathed.
Her ridiculous lucky pony was sitting on the bedside table. He didn’t dare touch it. Just in case he screwed up her luck.
The bed was neatly made and draped across the foot was a short, lacy black nightgown. He resisted the urge to pick it up and bury his face in it.That would be too weird.
He heard the sound of dog tags clinking and glanced up to see Brutus trotting into the room. The dog stopped, cocked his head, and looked up at him expectantly.
“So you’re hungry, too, Brutus? We’ll have to fend for ourselves, I’m afraid, old buddy. I saw some cans of—”
Tom stopped himself, horrified at the sound of his own voice. He was actually talking to the dog. Talking to the dog in the same eccentric way Maddy did.
He shook his head in disbelief. Thank God she hadn’t heard him. He’d never live it down. The final bastion had been breached.Time to pack up the defenses and fly the white flag.
He picked up the phone and dialed an order to his favorite noodle restaurant just a block away. It would be ready by the time he got there to pick it up.
He went back into the living room and stood looking down at Maddy for a long time. He could easily carry her into the bedroom where she could sleep more comfortably. But what if she woke up? Woke up and accused him again of caveman tactics?
After last night, he didn’t want to scare her off by coming on too strong. He wanted . . . he wanted something more than no-strings sex with Maddy. She was worth way more than that to him.
He needed to know if she was totally serious about the two-date thing. Was she still hurting from a past relationship? The fiancé maybe? Or did she only see him as Brutus’s attorney? If so, he would have to convince her otherwise.
He shook out a soft gray throw that usually lay immaculately folded on the sofa and laid it lightly over her. Then he looked at her some more. Just soaking up the sight of her and musing on the changes she’d brought to his well-ordered life. Changes he wondered just how to incorporate into his plan.
While he ate his solitary noodles he’d plot how he was going to keep this wonderful woman in his life after the twenty-one days expired next Thursday.
Nineteen
Maddy woke up feeling totally disorientated. Morning sun filtered on unfamiliar pale gray walls. The slide of a leather sofa beneath her. Her shirt twisted around her. The rich smell of coffee. She sat up. Ah, Tom’s living room. And Tom in the kitchen brewing coffee.
Blinking, still a little dopey with sleep, she watched him head toward her bearing a large mug.
“Thought you might like to start the day with coffee.” He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and his hair was slicked back from his face as if he had just showered.
She stifled a yawn. “Great. Thanks.” She took the cup from him. “It’s not some healthy type of coffee, is it?” she asked, unable to hide the suspicion from her voice.
“The full caffeine hit,” he assured her.
She took a few sips. It was not as strong as she liked her coffee, but she appreciated his gesture and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“I had to guess,” he said. “I actually prefer it stronger but—”
She laughed. “I can live with it stronger. Next time make mine the same as yours.”
Next time? Did she just say
next time
? Next time Tom brought her coffee in bed? This being in love thing was making her careless with her words.
To cover her confusion she started to apologize. “I’m so sorry. Last night.The dinner. I was going to cook for you. I had fish—”
“Don’t worry about it. I ordered takeout.”
She swung her legs off the sofa. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”
“My personal chef was asleep. Snoring her head off.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I wasn’t.”
He laughed. “No, you weren’t. But Brutus was. That dog needs to go back to puppy school.”
“I don’t think they teach dogs not to snore at puppy school. I certainly didn’t notice it on the brochure.”
“What about his other seriously bad personal habits?”
“Not them, either. Besides, they won’t have him back. His report card reads ‘delinquent dog.’ He flunked all his classes.”
“I told you he needs some homeschooling. Of the tough-love kind. What was that Mrs. Green said about a muzzle?” There was a hint of dimple so he probably wasn’t serious but she couldn’t be sure. Not after the BMW upholstery incident.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, getting up. She took her mug over to the dining table. It was time to change the subject. “I guess you were glad to have your bed back last night.”
His bed. Her hands clenched around her coffee mug yet she scarcely felt the heat. So why did she have to mention the bed?
“Uh, wh . . . where is Brutus?” she asked, changing the conversation again before Tom had a chance to reply to her inane question about the bed. Before she had time to conjure up images of him in it, his tall, muscular body sprawled across the same place where she’d lain the night before, his body imprinted on hers. The same place where he’d kissed and caressed her all the way to step five.
“Still asleep in the bedroom,” said Tom. “He had an active night—snoring, scratching, clanging his tags together, you know, that kind of noisy stuff. He obviously passed Insomnia for Owners 101.With honors.”
Maddy shook her head in sympathy. “Poor you. He was too zonked to disturb me the night before. That was after you . . . after we . . .”
“After he barfed in the bathroom you mean. After—”
This conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory. She didn’t want to analyze or discuss what had happened so spontaneously between them. Not now when she was still getting used to the idea of being head over heels in love with him.
Luckily Brutus chose that moment to trot into the room, heading straight for his food bowl.
“Here he is now,” she said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. Saved by the dog. “Good morning, little guy.” She gave Brutus a vigorous pat down. “Were you a naughty boy again last night? Keeping your alpha male awake.”
She cast a sideways glance at Tom. Strangely, he didn’t react to her calling him Brutus’s alpha male. Even stranger, he didn’t tease her for talking to the dog as if he were a person. In fact, she could probably describe the look on his face as indulgent. Maybe he was mellowing.
Tom leaned down to scratch Brutus behind the ears. Their hands brushed.Tom took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back. The simple, affectionate gesture made her feel ridiculously happy.
Brutus looked adoringly up at Tom with his black button eyes. When the twenty-one days were over and she was back home, she supposed she’d have to organize some sort of visitation rights. But what about visitation rights for her? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Tom on a regular basis when their imposed time together came to an end.
“So,” she said, “is it back to the office for you today or do they allow you Saturdays off ?”
“I have to bill a lot of hours but I won’t work all weekend. I thought . . . I thought we could spend the day together today. If that suits you, of course.”
“I have no plans. Just lonely incarceration in your apartment.” The mournful tone of her voice was only half a joke.
Tom finished his own coffee. He put the mug down on the table. “Maddy, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
He looked so serious, his brows drawn together. What could be so important? Her stomach knotted with apprehension.Then Tom coughed, a little dry clearing of the throat that let her know he was nervous.Tom nervous? Of her?