Again the dog barked before traveling up several more stairs.
“For heaven’s sake.” She marched up to shoo the dog back down. “Go on, now. You can’t stay here.”
The shooing did nothing. Instead, Amos ran all the way up to plant his little white butt against Liza’s door.
“You cannot be serious.” She leaned over the railing. “Get up here and fetch this animal.”
Liza expected to see Kendall exit the cart and go after his dog. Instead, he yelled, “I’ll get him when I come back.”
Just like that, the golf cart disappeared beneath the house, only to reemerge from the back side and whip past the stairs, leaving Liza staring in shock.
“Wha . . . He can’t think . . .” Unsure what to do next, she looked up to see the dog waiting patiently, tongue out and tail wagging. “I don’t do dogs, you spoiled mutt.”
The declaration had no effect on the canine.
“Unbelievable.” Liza stomped to the top, determined not to let her unwelcome visitor come inside. But then she remembered the bit about coyotes and dogs and reluctantly changed her mind. “This is not going to become a habit.”
When she’d left earlier, she’d nearly locked the door until realizing no one had given her a key. Leaving her belongings unprotected had seemed strange, but there wasn’t much to be done if Liza wanted to get back inside. She’d assumed Ray’s front door would be locked, so entering that way wasn’t likely to be an option.
And heaven forbid she have to stay with Kendall longer than absolutely necessary.
The moment she opened the door, Amos scooted past to enter first. “Your manners aren’t any better than your owner’s.”
Dropping her hat on the coffee table, Liza headed for the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. When she turned back, Amos lingered by the couch, panting as if he’d run a marathon. “Does that tongue ever stay in your mouth?”
Dark-brown eyes blinked from an expressive face that said, “I need water, too.”
“I assume there’s a water bowl at your house. You should have gone there.” But Liza wasn’t immune to the pitiful puppy-dog eyes. Searching the cupboards, she found a large cereal bowl and filled it with water. “Here,” she said, setting it on the floor at the edge of the kitchen. “Try not to make a mess.”
As she’d assumed, the beast sent water sloshing over the sides as he slurped away. Liza grabbed a towel off the sink, covered the mess, and grabbed her laptop on the way to the couch. Maybe if she ignored Amos, he’d get the hint and not try this stunt again. She still couldn’t believe Kendall had left him like that.
“Find someplace to nap, buddy. I have work to do.” Seconds after she opened the computer, the dog joined her on the couch, curling against her thigh with his head on his paws. “Not exactly what I meant.”
Minutes later, after Liza caught up on emails, she pulled up the file that included her plan of attack for writing the book and made slight adjustments based on the assumption there might be some criminal activity in Ray’s past.
To her surprise, she didn’t mind the soft snores coming from the fur ball beside her.
Chapter 6
Liza jerked awake to the sound of a ringing phone. Before she could figure out where she was, something wet swiped across her mouth.
“Ew,” she muttered, wiping her face as she sat up. “That’s disgusting.”
The affable pooch smiled from his position between the couch and the table. At least he was on the floor.
The phone continued to ring until she located the glowing handset in a base on the counter. She hadn’t noticed it before.
“Hello?” she said with the receiver to her ear.
“It’s time for supper, my dear,” Ray informed her. “Come on down before it gets cold.”
“Oh. Um . . .” Running a hand through her tangled curls, she checked the clock above the fridge. Several hours had passed since she’d sat down to work. Work that had somehow turned into a nap. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“We’ll be ready.” The line clicked dead as Liza wondered who we were. Maybe Kendall had returned to pick up his errant pet. She wasn’t looking forward to sharing another meal with the man, but Ray had every right to invite whomever he wanted to lunch.
With luck, Kendall wouldn’t stay long.
Rushing into the bathroom, Liza tidied her appearance and brushed her teeth. Her dress was wrinkled, but she didn’t think her host would mind. Ready to get this project started, she snagged the laptop from the couch and exited the apartment on Ray’s side of the house. Amos, of course, trotted out first and led the way.
The traitorous thought that she’d miss the company when Amos left was quickly replaced by the reminder that she was not a dog person. No matter how insistent this particular dog might be of the contrary.
While descending the stairs into Ray’s living room, Liza spotted a diminutive Asian woman filling bowls at the kitchen counter. The moment Liza’s nose picked up the scent, her mouth watered.
“That smells wonderful,” she said as she reached the kitchen.
The shorter woman turned with a smile. “The best wonton soup this side of Shanghai.” Wiping her hands on a towel, she added, “You must be the writer.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Liza extended a hand. “Liza Teller. Are you this Francine I’ve heard about?”
Dark eyes narrowed. “Depends on what you’ve heard.”
Crap. Liza could not alienate another of Ray’s friends. “Only that you took Ray to an appointment this morning, and that your house is the most unique one on the island.”
A blush dappled the woman’s alabaster cheeks. “Ah, then that’s me. Who have you been talking to?”
“Kendall James. He’s been my escort of sorts since I got here.” Liza tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. “While you and Ray were out, he showed me around.” Amos barked at the mention of his master, as if reminding the women that he was listening. “This guy refused to go home with his owner, so I’ve been watching him.”
Or maybe Amos was watching her. Liza couldn’t be sure at this point.
The tea towel hit the counter. “Amos left Kendall’s side?”
Liza looked down at the smiling dog. “He did. Is that unusual?”
Francine crossed her arms. “Well, I’ll be. I’ve never seen one without the other. You must have made a good first impression.”
On the dog, maybe. “If I did, I have no idea how. I don’t know much about dogs.”
“Are you a cat person?”
“Afraid not. I didn’t grow up with pets of any kind.” She didn’t count the suicidal goldfish she’d won at a carnival once. The poor thing had leaped out of the bowl the first night she’d had him, prompting a toilet-flushing funeral the next morning.
“None?” Francine asked. “Are you allergic?”
“Not that I know of.” She hadn’t sneezed once during her forced proximity with the pit bull.
“Huh. Strange.”
Liza didn’t think so, but before she could reply, Ray entered the kitchen.
“Hello, my dear. Did you have a good tour?”
“I did,” she replied, seeing no need to discuss the differences of opinion between Kendall and her. “Did your trip to the city go well?”
Francine and Ray exchanged a look that said much more than the “It was fine” response he gave. “Should we eat?”
“I’ve got it all dished up.” The cook carried two bowls to the table and returned to the kitchen for the third. “This recipe was passed down from my great-grandmother,” she said to Liza. “You won’t find any better.”
Once they were all seated, with Amos lounging not far from Liza’s chair, she took her first spoonful and had to agree with Francine. “This tastes even better than it smells. Wow.”
Ray pointed to his bowl. “I’ve had close to this in Chinatown, but Franny edges them all out.”
Happy to discuss familiar territory, Liza asked, “How long ha
s it been since you were in New York?”
“Three decades this year.”
Why would a New Yorker not return for three decades? That and a million more questions filled her brain, but she needed to pace herself. They hadn’t even established how they were going to make this project happen.
“Can we talk about the book a bit?” she asked, uncertain if he would want to discuss the topic with Francine present.
Ray lowered his spoon and dabbed his chin with a napkin. “Of course. That’s why you’re here.”
“Since I’ve never written a memoir before, I’m not sure how this works. As a plotter, I need a plan to follow, so I’ve come up with a basic outline and wanted to run it by you.”
“A plotter?” Francine asked. “So you aren’t one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants sort of writers?”
The thought made Liza shudder. “I know others who work that way, but I can’t do it. My brain rebels at the thought.”
“Creative minds are so different. I rarely know what will come out when I apply a brush to a blank canvas.”
“You’re a painter?”
“A painter?” Ray cut in. “She’s an artistic genius. Have you not heard of Francine Adams?”
Of course she’d heard of her. “You’re Francine Adams? I saw your exhibit at MOMA last year. It was amazing.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m glad someone went.”
“Are you kidding? The room was packed.” Liza couldn’t believe she was having lunch with the Francine Adams. “Your work is breathtaking. I thought the pamphlets said you were a New York artist.”
“Thank you for the compliments. As for the New York part, I have an apartment in Manhattan, but I live here on the island most of the year. As you probably noticed during your tour, Haven Island is a magical place full of inspiration. Hopefully, you’ll find that true for yourself as well.”
Recalling several works in the exhibit, Liza recognized some of the views she’d seen this morning. Magical was the perfect word for both what Ms. Adams created on canvas and the vistas available on the island.
“I hope so. I could use some inspiration these days.”
“Aren’t I your inspiration?” Ray said with a wink. “Or did you forget I was here?”
“No, of course you are. I didn’t mean—”
He waved her words away. “I’m only teasing. I’m no fancy artist, but I think my story will interest you all the same.”
“I’m sure it will. And don’t hesitate to share your own ideas about how to tell it.”
“You’re the expert, my dear. I’m happy to follow your lead.”
If only everyone on this island were so cooperative. “I appreciate that, but this is going to be a collaboration all the way.” Lifting her spoon once more, Liza added, “If we touch on any subjects you’d prefer to keep private, say the word and it’s off the record.”
“Nothing will be off the record. It’s time to tell the whole ugly truth.”
A response that lent credence to her suspicions of a nefarious past.
“Duly noted,” she said. “The whole truth it will be.”
While the writer part of her brain grew excited at the potential this story could have, another part sent up a prayer that the last chapter would not be this sweet old man going to jail.
“I never thought I’d see the day when Kendall James was scared of a woman.”
Larimore Baker never passed up the chance to bust his best friend’s balls.
“I’m not afraid of Liza Teller,” he defended. “I just don’t feel like arguing with her again. I had enough of that this morning.”
Hazel eyes twinkled from Larimore’s dark face, his southern accent carrying a hint of his mother’s Haitian heritage. “What do you have to argue about with a virtual stranger?”
Unwilling to reveal the secrets that had shaped most of his life, Kendall finished washing his hands and grabbed a towel off the counter next to the sink. “We don’t see eye to eye on this book thing. All I’m asking is that you drive her cart over, go inside and get Amos, and then I’ll drive us back here.”
Larimore and Kendall lived close enough to walk between their homes, and today, Larimore had arrived on foot to deliver the bottle of whiskey he owed Kendall. They’d been wagering on football games since they were teens, though back then, the winnings had been nonalcoholic.
“I’ll ride over there, no problem, but why should I have to retrieve your dog? Man up, son. Don’t let the writer lady intimidate you.”
“You’re an ass.” Kendall tossed the towel aside and marched toward the door. “I’ll remember this the next time you want an excuse to get out of book club.”
Larimore followed him onto the porch. “You’d avoid those meetings, too, if you had to hear Bitty Tillerson wax poetic about her bad-boy fantasy when we were supposed to be talking about The Godfather.”
“You should turn on your best Capone impression and really get her going.”
“She’s old enough to be my grandmother.”
Kendall hopped into his own cart as Larimore climbed into Liza’s. “Grannies need love, too.”
With a disgusted look, Larimore shook his head. “That’s sick, man. Real sick.”
Switching his cart into reverse, Kendall ignored the comment and backed out from under the house. By the time he reached the road, Larimore was behind him, and they made the quick trek to Ray’s in a matter of minutes. Kendall waited for his friend on the stairs, and then they climbed to the top together.
“What’s she like, anyway?”
Kendall didn’t know how to answer. His first thought was that she was beautiful and smart, but then words like stubborn, argumentative, and arousing came to mind. He blocked the last one out immediately.
“You’ll see for yourself.”
At the top of the stairs, he gave three quick knocks on the door. Seconds later, Francine greeted them. “Hello, boys.” Over her shoulder, she yelled, “Kendall and Larimore are here.”
“Bring them in,” Ray called.
“You heard him.” Francine stepped back to let them enter. “There’s wonton soup on the stove. Anyone want a bowl?”
“Heck yeah.” Larimore marched off toward the kitchen.
Francine looked to Kendall. “How about you?”
“We aren’t staying.” From the doorway, he yelled, “Come on, Amos. Let’s go.”
Kendall followed Francine into the kitchen as Amos trotted around the corner. Liza followed him, offering a friendly smile. “I took him out a little while ago and made sure I stayed with him,” she said.
Kendall nodded, surprised she didn’t look less happy to see him. “Appreciate that. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
She cocked her head as her eyes dropped to the dog. “I don’t mind. He’s a good dog.”
“Yesterday you called him a beast and refused to get in the cart with him.”
“I didn’t know him then,” Liza defended. “He’s actually really sweet.”
Kendall could have told her that, but he doubted she’d have listened. “Get your soup to go, Larimore.”
“Who is Larimore?” she asked, spinning toward the kitchen.
“A buddy of mine drove your cart over. It’s parked under your stairs. You need to leave it plugged in when you aren’t using it.”
A look of concern crossed her features. “Aren’t you going to show me how to use it?”
She couldn’t be serious. “You watched me drive a cart all day. They all work the same.”
“Right. Of course.” She backed away. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Larimore asked, soup in hand.
“The cart,” Kendall replied. “You ready?”
“You really need to chill out.” Larimore turned to the newcomer and extended a hand in greeting. “Since Kendall doesn’t have any manners, I’ll introduce myself. Larimore Baker, Charleston native and resident real estate expert, at your service.”
A faint blush
crept up her cheeks as she accepted his hand. “Nice to meet you, Larimore. I’m Liza, and I’m well acquainted with your friend’s lack of manners.”
They acted as if he wasn’t standing right there.
“My manners are fine. Can we go now?”
“What manners?” Larimore said.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Liza muttered, a smile teasing her lips. “He wasn’t very friendly when he picked me up yesterday.” She leaned close to whisper. “And then he nearly threw me out of the cart on the way here.”
Kendall rolled his eyes. He’d been expecting to pick up a man. Finding her perched on that bench had thrown him off.
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Larimore shook his head. “He gets flustered around pretty women. I know he looks like a tough guy, but inside he’s nothing but a cream puff.” Liza snorted as he continued. “Allow me to give you a proper greeting.” Whipping a card from his back pocket, he said, “Welcome to our humble island, Ms. Teller. We’re happy to have you. If you need anything while you’re here—a friendlier guide, perhaps—I am at your disposal.”
The idiot had always been a shameless flirt, but something about the way Liza’s blush deepened at the offer set Kendall’s teeth on edge.
“She doesn’t need another tour guide; she has me.”
Where the hell did that statement come from?
Two sets of eyes turned Kendall’s way. While Liza’s brows arched, Larimore grinned.
“I see.” The Caribbean charmer turned his attention to the blinking woman as the card disappeared back into his pocket. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Teller. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”
Liza nodded, looking as if she’d lost track of the conversation.
Larimore exited the house, whispering as he did so. “This is going to be fun to watch.”
Kendall ignored him. “If you have trouble with the cart, let me know, but it should be fine from now on.”
“Um, okay. Thank you.”
They stared at each other in silence until Amos whimpered, drawing Liza’s attention. Bending down to scratch behind his ears, she said, “Thanks for keeping me company, big guy. You’re a good nap buddy.”
Ask me to Stay Page 6
