by Elle Rush
His train of thought derailed when Sydney laid her hand on his sleeve. Judging by the concern on her face, he must have been wearing a highly insulted look.
“It’s not that you don’t look all Double-Oh-My-God in that tux,” she offered as a compliment. “But it’s totally going to get ruined, and while I can spring for coffee I can’t afford a replacement Hugo Boss.” She patted his arm. “Is that okay?”
The whiplash this woman was putting him through was going to cause permanent damage. He hadn't expected flattery, and the last time someone was genuinely concerned about him was probably when he was living at home. He patted her hand back. “So what exactly are we going to be doing that will ruin a tuxedo?”
“Well, you did say you liked cats.”
“Are you going to explain about the cats?”
“Maybe we should discuss the sweepstakes’ rules and terms of services before I step on another landmine. I read them at the time but…”
He cut her off. “You actually read those things?”
“You don’t?”
Okay, that wasn’t him being impulsive. Nobody read those things. “Not really.”
“You should. Microsoft probably owns your first born at this point. But I digress. The rules seemed pretty basic. No sex, no nudity, no sexual contact, no sexual harassment.”
Today was sounding like less and less fun. “Who determines sexual harassment?” Chris asked.
“I’d assume the person on the receiving end.”
“For the record, I’ll accept hugs. Maybe a kiss with no tongue at the end of the day if you ask nicely.”
Sydney cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’ll be doing the asking?”
* * * *
Chris pulled off his bowtie. Now he was thinking about kissing Sydney. Kissing her and cats. Not kissing cats, just cats in general. He didn’t hate felines. He didn’t have an opinion about them at all. He’d never owned one as a pet. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it under the jacket that was already on the hanger swinging from the shower curtain rod. He pulled a black golf shirt out of his gym bag and shook the wrinkles out of it before he put it on. It worked with his khakis. It wouldn’t make any best dressed lists, but he’d look good in Benny’s photos.
He checked himself in the bathroom mirror. His new haircut was so short that pulling a shirt over his head couldn’t mess it up. He was reaching for the doorknob when one of his worst habits got the better of him.
The medicine cabinet screamed for a peek.
It was an invasion of privacy. He knew it was. And he valued his enough to know it was wrong. But it was like fudging your taxes. Everybody did it, but nobody talked about it. There was the private you never told anyone, and there was the private you knew was out there that people could find but you hoped they would never mention in public.
Sydney’s cabinet had a magnetic clasp.
His had a miniature digital lock. Of course, he knew what he was hiding, and ninety-nine percent of the people who entered his house would mention what they found in public or, more likely, sell the information for a hefty price tag if they had photos as proof.
All this would do was give him some insight into the woman he was obliged to spend the day with. Technically, he was making sure the event went as smoothly and successfully as possible. He was doing them both a favor.
Chris opened the door.
The bottom shelf was disappointingly normal. Spare lady razors, headache and cold medicine, half a sheet of blister-packed allergy tablets, and a nearly empty box of bandages. The second shelf was a bit more interesting with large bottles of mega doses of vitamins C, E, and B complex. There was an old bottle of antibiotic as well. The rest of that shelf and the one above it were crammed with creams. Glass jars and plastic tubes full of aloe, gotu kola, calendula, vitamin K, and a dozen brands he’d never heard of. He’d seen makeup artists with less variety. He didn’t even know what gotu kola was. But it was probably on the jar.
He was fumbling with the glass container when the phone in his pants pocket rang. He jammed the gotu kola back into the cabinet and slammed the door shut. “Chris Peck,” he greeted when he recognized the caller ID as the studio’s public relations department.
He “yupped” and “okayed” and generally faked his way out of the bathroom, through the main floor to the front door. Someone, some nameless person that he was going to track down and shoot later, had convinced Martine Peeples of the PR department that having a photographer assigned to the “slave for a day” sweepstakes winner was not enough. Now they wanted him and Sydney to come to the set for a presentation and photo shoot. He had barely convinced her to let him hang around for just the morning. How was he supposed to talk her into giving up two hours of her afternoon to do him an even bigger favor when the whole prize was supposed to be him helping her out?
Still, he had five hours to come up with a plan. No problem. Chris juggled the phone in his left hand to end the call and put it away since his right was holding up the garment bag holding his tuxedo and his tote.
Benny and Sydney stopped their quiet discussion when he opened the door. “Sorry about that. I had to take a call.”
“Anything wrong?”
“No, not at all,” he lied.
Sydney checked her watch and cocked her head the same way his sister did when she was doing mental arithmetic. “We should get started. Do you want to put the tux back in your car?”
“Aren’t we all going? You said that we needed to run some errands this morning.”
She grinned. “Not for this one. It’s just down the street.”
Chris laid the garment bag flat on the floor of the trunk and tucked his gym bag against the wheel well. Then he trotted back down the sidewalk behind the striding Sydney, admiring the nape of her neck under the folded up brim of her hat. A few wispy locks had escaped her braid and bounced as she moved. He was so interested he nearly missed the hairpin turn up the walkway three doors down.
Sydney leaned on her neighbor’s doorbell.
“You know that it isn’t even seven yet. You weren’t pleased when I showed up this early on a Saturday.”
She waggled her finger at him. “That was almost an hour ago. Besides, I’m expected.” She leaned on the buzzer again.
Chris swore he heard the staccato of paw nails on tile, but there was no barking from the other side of the door. “Why are we harassing your neighbor so early?”
Now he heard footsteps.
“I’m not harassing them. You are.” Sydney ducked behind him as the door opened from the inside.
A gray-haired lady in a lime green bathrobe and matching walking cast stared at him. “Who the hell are you?” she asked as she stroked a monstrous black cat she cradled in her arms.
Twice in one morning? He was going to get a complex. “My name is Chris Peck.”
“Hi, Betty. He’s here to walk Odin,” Sydney offered from behind him.
“Who’s Odin?” he asked over his shoulder.
Betty held the cat out to him. “This is Odin, the all-father of the Norse gods, ruler of Valhalla.”
Behind him, Sydney snorted. “You know. A fellow king of the gods.”
“Hello, Odin. I am Zeus, king of the Greek gods and ruler of Mount Olympus.” He reached out to scratch the cat’s head. It hissed at him.
Now he heard a belly laugh.
Betty pressed the cat to his chest. “Hold him while I go get his leash.” The woman hobbled a few steps down the hall and stuck her head into her front closet. All Chris could see was a bright green cast off to one side and her neon ass sticking out as he tried to keep from dropping the cat.
“You did this on purpose,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t make my worst enemy look at that,” Sydney replied.
“I meant the cat thing.”
“You said you liked cats. Benny will get a couple pictures of you walking Odin. I’ll stand in the background supervising. When we tell people the name o
f the cat, everyone will have a good laugh.”
“It will be humiliating.”
“You are my slave for the day, Mr. Peck, and I’m doing you a favor. At worst this is mildly embarrassing and highly entertaining. It’s nowhere near humiliating. Besides, karma is a bitch, and I have no intention of pissing her off today. If we have to do this stunt, we’ll keep it clean, fun, and short. Now walk the damn cat.”
Betty returned holding a neon lime leash, which she attached to Odin’s collar while Chris held it still. “Thanks a lot for doing this, hun,” she said. To Sydney.
“No problem, Betty. We’ll have the all-father back in about half an hour.”
Chris set the cat on the stairs and gave the leash a tug. “Come on, cat.”
They were close to the end of the block when Sydney stopped again. “What’s up?”
“I have to pick up the Jeffersons’ dog.”
“You take a dog and a cat for a walk at the same time?” That sounded ill-advised.
“Now you know why I’m letting you help. Normally, I just walk Polk in the mornings, but when Betty hurt her foot, I ended up with Odin too.”
“Polk?”
“Named after the president. The Jeffersons are very patriotic.”
“I’ll walk the dog instead of mighty Odin here,” Chris offered.
“No, you don’t want to do that.”
“I really do.”
“I realize you may not trust me after the Odin thing, but believe me when I say you are better off walking the cat.”
“Please let me keep a shred of my dignity and have the dog,” Chris pleaded.
Sydney stared at him and shook her head. “No. Now stop. Stay.”
This was taking a joke too far. What would it hurt to let him walk the dog? Yes, the cat would make a better picture, but he still had his image to maintain. No romantic comedy male lead had walked a cat in any movie ever. He was supposed to be able to use today to help his career, not tank it. He wondered if it would make a difference if he offered cash for the chance to walk Polk.
Then he saw the dog. Chris could barely stop himself from falling down and worshipping at Sydney’s feet. He’d keep the cat. He loved Odin. Gods like them belonged together. He would walk the fine specimen of a feline with pride and absolute pleasure.
At least Odin was recognizable as a cat.
Polk was a poodle. A white toy poodle. Polk was a white toy poodle with a turquoise Mohawk, a scarlet heart dyed in the center of her back, and a rhinestone-studded collar. Red, white, and blue was supposed to be patriotic. The dog was visual terrorism. It took a moment for Chris’ gaze to move past the monstrosity of the dog itself, but he eventually spotted the dog’s heinous rainbow-sequined leash. “What is that?”
Sydney stopped halfway down the sidewalk while the dog squatted on the front lawn. “This is Polk. Would you like to trade?”
“God, no! I mean, you’re the boss today, and you said that I had to walk Odin so that is exactly what I’m going to do. I’m walking the cat.”
“Can’t you be bribed?” She smiled at him and pulled her arm out from behind her back. “Polk comes with her own pooper scooper,” she teased. Sydney held out a little bedazzled shovel with a plastic baggie tied over the spade end, and an empty baggie tied to the handle.
Chris couldn’t back away fast enough. He could hear Benny squeezing off frame after frame, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. Holy hell, she was trying to give him a pooper scooper. Chris got his feet caught in the leash that Odin had twined around his ankles while he was momentarily blinded by the sparkling collar. He almost executed a face plant into the sidewalk before Sydney caught his arm. “I’ll keep the cat.”
“Thought so.”
She held her head up high as she led the way to the park. Benny ran ahead to get a better angle of the two of them walking by. From his grins, he got some good shots.
“Do you have what you need?” Chris asked the photographer.
“Yeah, I’ve got some really good stuff already.”
Chris pointed to some empty picnic tables at the park’s entrance. “Why don’t you get them all transferred and uploaded while we walk? I don’t think anything else is going to happen.” He turned to check with Sydney. “Is anything else going to happen while we’re here?”
“No, I think the animals will keep us busy enough. It takes about twenty minutes to go around the park. I usually make one circuit and then take them back home. Does that work for you, Benny?”
“That’ll give me enough time to get all this done. We’ll meet back here when you’re done?”
“Twenty minutes,” Sydney confirmed.
They passed the play structure in the far corner of the park before either of them spoke again.
“This is awkward,” Sydney said quietly.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re a movie star. What could we have to talk about?”
“How did you phrase it before? Pretend I’m a normal person,” Chris suggested. He wanted this morning to work. If she were uncomfortable around him, it would be bad for everyone involved. It would also make the photo shoot incredibly awkward. It went beyond the job issue, though. Sydney really was doing him a huge favor, and she was doing it without embarrassing him. She was right when she said the cat setup was funny and clean. She could have done so much worse to him, and she hadn’t. She’d even gotten him out of the penguin suit. The very least he could do was make it as painless as possible. His life coach would be proud.
“We can’t pretend this is like a date. Terms of service, remember. Not to mention, you’re legally required to be here,” she protested.
“Think of it like a blind date set up by my boss. Nothing’s going to happen, but we can still have some fun.”
They strolled a bit farther in silence before she nodded. “I can do that. A pretend date. So now that we’ve introduced ourselves, we go on to the next part of the first date conversation?”
“Exactly.”
Sydney looked up at him with the same devious look she had when right before she’d introduced him to Betty and Odin. Her eyes sparkled under the brim of her hat. Evil was looking pretty damn attractive this morning. Then she spoke. “So, Chris, what do you do for a living?”
Oh, he liked this girl.
Chapter 4
After a disastrous start, the morning was turning out pretty well. She hadn’t gotten all the sleep she was going to need to get through the day, but the animals were walked and returned to their homes and she was in a limousine on her way to her next stop before the clock hit eight. Even in a private car, the ride was still more than half an hour. It was faster than the bus, but getting to the other side of Los Angeles took time.
While Chris gave her directions to the driver and then had a whispered conversation with the photographer, Sydney pulled out her phone and sent a flurry of texts. God, her friends were great. They were already up and running after a sake-powered Friday night and were headed out on their various assignments. She put her phone away and began playing with the switches on the panel on the backseat armrest. Sydney didn’t notice anything happening until a sunbeam hit her square in the eye. She squinted despite the sunglasses she wore. “I found the moon roof controls.” She flicked the tab until the roof closed again. She spared her pseudo-date a glance from behind the shaded lenses. “What? I haven’t been in one of these before.” She tried a dial. Rap music blared from the speakers behind her head. “Off. Off!” She was running out of buttons.
Chris leaned over, and the nasty sounds disappeared. “What do you think?”
“I was kind of expecting a panel that popped out holding bottles of scotch and champagne and crystal glasses,” she admitted.
“That is more for the larger limos. We didn’t ask for one of those. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s eight in the morning. It’s not like I would have drunk it anyway. The driver knows which grocery store I meant, right? The one on the corn
er of…”
“He knows.” Chris opened the sunroof again. “Do you mind some fresh air?”
Sydney leaned back into the soft leather seat. The sun hit her chest, warming it. “I don’t mind.”
She wasn’t as relaxed as she was pretending to be. Since this was supposed to be a first date, that was to be expected. She wouldn’t be completely relaxed on a first date, either. She looked at the bench on the side of the limo. Benny sat quietly, his camera in his lap, waiting for the next photo opportunity.
Chris looked totally at ease. She studied him out of the corner of her eye, keeping her glasses pointed straight ahead. She could do casual. She’d be faking like a bitch, and it might actually kill her, but she could pull it off. Sydney envied the way he stretched out, comfortable in his own skin even when he was among strangers. She was also a little jealous of his shirt. She’d been right earlier. He did have the six-pack and arms to match that she thought were hiding under the tuxedo jacket. His slacks were also snug in all the right places. He didn’t have the bulging muscle physique going on. He looked more like a runner. She’d dated runners before. They didn’t have the same brute strength as weight lifters, but they sure as hell had better stamina.
“Why are we going to a grocery store way up in Glendale?” Chris asked.
“Because I have a special order to pick up. Besides, this way I can embarrass you in another part of town.”
“I can’t wait.”
Speaking of arrangements, Sydney pulled a fat, spiral-bound notebook out of her purse. Her phone was great, but some things needed paper. The dog-walking had moved up half an hour, and the ride to the grocery store put her an hour and thirty-three minutes ahead of schedule, giving her a whole thirteen minutes immediately available for fun. She took a deep breath and returned the notebook to its zippered pocket in her purse. She hadn’t planned for time to breathe today. Now she’d knock a couple more items off her to-do list and be home with time to spare before lunch.
