The alarm clock sent up a racket from the bedroom. Maddy pulled away from him. “Ohmigod, it’s time to get moving. Breakfast first. I’ve got fruit salad and a new whole-grain cereal I got from an organic-foods website. I think you’ll like it. Then there’s—”
Tom held up his hand to stop her stream of nervous chatter. “Maddy, how about I fix breakfast for us as I’m now in no rush to get out to the office.”
“Would you? Could you?”
“I think I’m capable of serving fruit salad and cereal,” he said.
“I guess so.Thank you.” She looked deep into his eyes, traced the outline of his jaw with her finger, shook her head slowly from side to side. “Are you real, Tom?” she asked in a whisper of a voice. “Or just a wonderful dream?”
He laughed, enthralled by the tenderness in her eyes. “I’m real enough.You’ll wake up and realize that before too long. But I’d like a shower before I start in the kitchen.”
Maddy’s mouth curved in that so-sexy way that thrilled him. “I need a shower, too.” Her robe had fallen open, revealing a curve of creamy breast and a cheeky pink nipple.
He swooped her up into his arms. “Shower for two coming up,” he growled, carrying her toward the bathroom.
Surprisingly, although she squealed a little, she didn’t say a word about his caveman tactics.
Twenty-four
If happiness was being with the man you loved, being involved in his life, and having delicious, sneaking suspicions that he might be in love with you, too, then Maddy was the happiest she’d ever been.
Then there was the relief of the news that, one way or another, Jerome would be behind bars for quite some time. Once the authorities here had finished with him he would—as Tom had predicted—be deported back to England. The police would be waiting for him there. And with the criminal record he was rapidly racking up, he would never be allowed back into the United States.
She hadn’t realized how heavily the threat posed by Jerome to both her and Brutus had weighed on her until it was lifted.
The press had turned around, too. Now she and Brutus were media darlings rather than villains. And by selling the exclusive, inside story of the millionaire mutt to a national news magazine, she had both freed herself from everyday harassment and earned a substantial sum to donate to Walter’s favorite dog shelter.
The frosting lavished on the top of her happiness cake was yesterday’s promising audition—she’d heard back already that she was on the short list. A very short, short list. Humorously enough, although the producers had liked her “healthy, new twist to an old theme” concept for the show, it was the dog recipes that had done it. Her unique brand of canine cuisine was the deal maker. She felt very, very confident that the gig was hers.
That achievement had been made possible only by Tom’s generous action in giving her career priority at a time when their work commitments clashed.
Never would she forget what he’d done. Though she still hadn’t really puzzled out why he’d done it.
Now she sat in the backseat of the taxi heading for his ask-her-out-type date number two, the senior partner’s dinner. Tom held her hand as he briefed her about the “inner circle” five senior partners and their roles at Jackson, Jones, and Gentry.
“How will I ever remember all their names? Not to mention their wives’ names,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip.
Tom gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just look to me for clues. I’ll help you out as best I can. All you have to do is to be yourself. How could they fail to be charmed by you?”
“Hey, my ego is going to get out of control if you keep on saying things like that.” She leaned over and kissed his dimple, taking great pleasure in the proprietary gesture. He moved his head to connect with a kiss on her mouth.
“I’ll do my best for you, I promise,” she said. “I just hope I get seated next to a wife who likes cooking. It makes the conversation go so much better.”
“Or someone who likes dogs.”
“Horses, even.”
“Who knows, these ladies might even talk to their pets like you do. You could exchange tips on how to interpret their an swers.”
“Don’t tease me,Tom, I’m nervous enough.”
“You’ve no need to be. Have I told you how beautiful you look?”
Maddy smiled a secret, satisfied smile in the dim light of the taxi. “Several times.”
It was a wonder they’d gotten out of the apartment on time after he’d first seen her in her dress. Though only a simple black slip dress with a sheer overlay, Tom seemed to find it incredibly sexy.
It was what it hinted at rather than what it revealed, he’d explained as he’d pulled the dress over her head and carried her into the bedroom. In the taxi, she smiled to herself again as she recalled the passionate lovemaking that had followed. She’d had dessert before they’d even left for the restaurant.
“You know I bought this dress from your mother’s boutique.”
“You did?”
“Yes. She said it would be perfect for me and I guess she was right.”
Tom frowned. “I didn’t know you were on such good terms with my mother. Before the probate court hearing, I mean.”
“I used to chat with her when she popped around to see Walter.”
“So that’s when she showed you my baby photos.”
She laughed. “To be honest I didn’t look at them too closely. She was pushing her wonderful son so hard on me it had the opposite effect and I backed off.”
“I’ll have to have a word to her about that,” Tom said. “I’ve told her what I think about her matchmaking.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t be too hard on your mother. In the end she was right, wasn’t she? About us maybe . . . liking each other if we met.”
“She certainly was,” he said as he kissed her again.
Would she ever, ever tire of kissing Tom O’Brien? By the time they got to the restaurant she wouldn’t have a scrap of lipstick left.
The senior partner’s dinner was being held in a fashionable new waterfront restaurant at the other end of the Embarcadero.
Maddy knew the chef; they’d been friendly rivals at one stage. She was looking forward to sampling the Cal-Asian fusion menu that was earning him such rave reviews. But tonight wasn’t about business, her business, anyway. It was about being Tom’s date and helping him to impress the people who counted so much to him.
She stood at the entrance to the restaurant.Tom’s hand rested comfortably at her waist. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. Maddy took a deep, steadying breath before they entered the room.
Tom introduced her to the five senior partners and their wives, who chatted easily with her over drinks. Her nerves began to dissipate. Until she found herself separated from Tom when they were seated.
On one side she was seated next to a beautifully groomed woman in her fifties, introduced as Vanessa Kent, wife of senior partner Simon Kent. On the other side, another of the senior partners. Opposite sat Clive Gentry, the most senior of the senior partners.
To her dismay, Tom was diagonally opposite her; she’d been counting on him being only holding-hands distance away. He looked across the table at her and discreetly signaled his apology. But the seating plan had nothing to do with him.
Immediately after their orders were taken,Vanessa Kent swiveled around on her chair and leaned close to face Maddy. At her ears and throat Vanessa wore the most enormous pearls Maddy had ever seen. Serious diamonds flashed from both hands. The rewards of partnership were obviously substantial. No wonder Tom was so keen to achieve it.
“First of all, let me tell you I’m a great fan of yours,” the older woman said. “I subscribe to
Annie
and love your recipes. They’re sensational.”
Though the magazine was aimed at young women, Maddy was always delighted to know her features reached a wider audience. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Yes, I’ve cooked your seafood risotto several times—it’s become a favorite.”
Maddy smiled her thanks.Vanessa moved closer. She lowered her voice. “You know this is the first time we’ve actually met one of Tom’s girlfriends.”
“Really?” Maddy schooled herself to be noncommittal.
“Yes. He’s always been very cagey about his personal life. Let me tell you, my husband and his colleagues are pleased that he seems to be serious about you. They prefer the partners to be in a stable relationship.”
“Really?” Maddy said again. So much for Tom’s much-vaunted plan that excluded a serious relationship. Little did he know, but his insistence on staying single might work against him.Would she tell him or let him find out for himself?
Vanessa nodded. “The senior partners believe that not having to worry where the next girlfriend is coming from enables a new partner to focus entirely on the business.”
“So what’s the partner’s, um, wife meant to be doing while the partner is concentrating on the business?”
“Why, getting on with her own career or looking after the family, whatever has priority at the time.”
“I just wondered.” She couldn’t help but puzzle over where she might fit as the girlfriend of a partner in such a conservative establishment.
“I hear you’re living with Tom in his apartment,” said Vanessa. “My dear, is there an announcement to be made?”
Maddy flashed a desperate look over to Tom but he was deep in conversation with Clive Gentry. She swallowed hard. “No, um, I . . .”This was worse than being on the stand.
Vanessa patted her hand. “You don’t have to explain, Maddy. Some things are better kept private for a while. I know you haven’t known Tom very long—”
“Yes. That’s it. Not long enough to . . . to . . . well, get that serious.” She thought about the partners’ approval of Tom’s “steady” relationship and frantically backpedaled. “Uh,
yet
. Not that serious
yet
,” she amended. “We only met because of Brutus. You know, the little dog—”
Vanessa laughed. “You don’t have to explain who Brutus is, my dear. We’ve all been enthralled by the story. The drama of it. The courtroom uproar. Those juicy articles in the press. So much hanging on the twenty-one days for all of us.”
For all of us? Maddy wondered at Vanessa Kent’s choice of words. Surely the twenty-one days only mattered to her and Brutus?
But she had no chance to ponder it further as another wife next to Vanessa asked her what it was like to work at a glossy magazine and did she really squirt hairspray on the food to make it look so good for photography. Maddy was only too happy to deny the hairspray allegation.
Tom thought he would burst with pride as he glanced across the table at Maddy. Over dessert, she had her end of the table enthralled by something or other she was saying. Maybe it was the naked-girl-in-the-bath-of-chocolate story. The senior partners would relish that one.
He strained to hear her. “Then just as we were about to shoot this perfect eggs Benedict, the photographer’s cat sneaked up, stole the slice of ham from under the hollandaise sauce, and ran away with it,” she told her rapt audience, gesticulating with her hands as she embellished the story.
Maddy was adorable. Utterly adorable. Obviously she was a huge hit at the dinner—her girl-next-door appeal combined with the glamour of a magazine career went down wonderfully. Already three of the senior partners had indicated their approval of his date.
The funny thing was that he couldn’t care less what they thought.Yeah, it was great Maddy fit in so well, had made such a great impression, probably enhanced his chances for partnership. But it was how he felt about her and how she felt about him that counted. Not his employers’ opinions.
He loved Maddy Cartwright and he was hoping like hell that she felt the same way about him.
His shoulders tensed as he realized how devastated he’d be if Maddy didn’t stay a part of his life. They hadn’t discussed anything much beyond the rapidly expiring twenty-one days—down now to mere minutes. Was she planning to go back home to the Fall River Valley one day? Or follow her career to New York? And what would that mean for him if she did?
Tom drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He’d take no further chances. After dinner he’d take her somewhere romantic—with a view of the bay and the bridge perhaps—and tell Maddy he loved her.Talk about the future.
She must have felt the intensity of his gaze because she looked up and gave him a little wave and pulled a discreet “rescue me” face. Dammit, why wait until after dinner? He rose up from his seat to go to her. But Clive Gentry put his hand on his shoulder to keep him in his place.
The senior, senior partner tapped the rim of his wineglass to get the table’s attention. The chatter came to a halt. The older man thanked everyone for coming. He reminded them with witty though ponderous words what it was like for an aspiring new partner to have to undergo such a dinner, the “final trial” as he called it.
Then he turned his attention to Tom. “Tom, the senior partners of Jackson, Jones, and Gentry are pleased to invite you to join us as a partner on the terms we discussed at our meeting yesterday afternoon.”
Touchdown. Winning basket. Home run. And the triumph was so much the sweeter for Maddy’s megawatt smile and clenched victory fists from across the table.
He started to thank Clive Gentry, though the words of the speech he’d written in anticipation just in case had fled from his brain. But Clive hadn’t finished yet.
Maddy was aching to dash around the table and congratulate Tom on his triumph. He looked a little shell-shocked; she was pretty sure he hadn’t expected an actual offer of partnership to be made tonight at the dinner.
She’d signaled her good wishes across the table but she wanted to hug her man hard; she knew how much this partnership meant to him. So why was Clive Gentry still rambling on?