Quickly, she combed through the strands with her fingers then pinched her cheeks, only to have the butler walk in seconds later.
“I see we haven’t changed,” the butler said, spying Charlie. By this point, the terrier had grabbed hold of one corner of the carpet and pulled it back. “Still wild as ever. I’d hoped he’d slow down while Mr. Bonaparte was gone,” he said to Jenny.
“I’m sure he’ll calm down once the excitement of being home wears off,” she said. Of course, she was the same woman who thought Charlie had calmed down at her house, only to find he’d replaced furniture chewing with other activities.
They both stared at Charlie, who had moved on from digging the carpet to squirming across the surface on his back. “Perhaps,” he said. He turned his dour expression from Charlie’s latest gyrations to her. “Mr. Bonaparte will give you exactly five minutes. Follow me.”
As she followed the man down a long corridor that was as opulent and foreboding as the foyer, it dawned on Jenny that she could be one of the few, if not the only person in Chandler’s Cove, to meet Nicholas Bonaparte face-to-face. Whenever Charlie got in trouble, it was always a staff member who came to bail him out—never Mr. Bonaparte. Occasionally a check would arrive for one of the local causes—the library renovation, the new lacrosse field—but Bonaparte himself remained a mystery. Even when he summoned Gabby to his house back in January and asked her to dog-sit, he did so through the butler and a note. If not for the occasional, distant sightings of him walking the grounds after sunset, she’d think the man didn’t exist.
A pair of heavy oak doors blocked the end of the hallway. Before either human could reach for the handle, Charlie, who had apparently decided to join them, cut in front and began pawing for entrance.
The butler gave a weary sigh. “I should have realized you’d need to be first,” he said, granting him access.
Whatever Jenny had been expecting based on her brief tour so far, it wasn’t the dark, almost gothic atmosphere that greeted her. Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows, killing any trace of the sun. In fact, the only interior light at all came from a pair of laptops that sat atop a gigantic desk. Oddly enough, the monitors pointed outward. Jenny could see the squiggly lines of the screensavers. The angle turned everything else into colorless shadows.
Behind the desk stood the biggest shadow of them all: Nicholas Bonaparte.
Jenny jumped as the door shut behind her, locking her and Charlie inside. She waited for the shadow to come closer, but Bonaparte stayed where he was, shrouded by darkness.
“Cyrus said you wanted to see me.” His voice was low and rough like whiskey. Jenny felt another shiver as the sound wrapped around the base of her spine. “He said it was important.”
“Um, yes.” She swallowed her nerves. Five minutes wasn’t a long time; she could handle this. “It’s about Charlie. I’ve been watching him the past month.” She looked over at the dog who’d settled in a wingbacked chair by the unlit fireplace.
“What do you mean, you have been watching him? I left the dog in Gabrielle Wilson’s care.” He didn’t sound pleased with the change.
The last thing Jenny wanted was to get her friend in trouble. “I’m doing her a favor. She recently married, and I thought she and her husband might like some privacy, being newlyweds and all.”
“Hmmm.” Again, not pleased. “Well, if this is about payment, you need to talk with her. She was paid in advance.”
“I know. I’m here for a different reason.”
“Which is?”
He sat down. Jenny found it interesting that the expansive desk managed to dwarf everything in the room except his figure. Meaning he was as tall and broad as his silhouette suggested. If standing toe to toe, he’d best her height by a foot or more. Or so she assumed. The glare off the computer screens made it impossible to see his features clearly.
If he was trying to use the shadows to intimidate her, it worked.
“It’s about Charlie. Are you aware the dog was never…” She paused, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Under the circumstances, spelling out words felt awkward. Unfortunately, Charlie had a habit of reacting very poorly to words he didn’t like. “He was never F-I-X-E-D.”
Silence. “Your point?” he asked finally.
“My point is that my Lulu’s pregnant.”
“And when you say Lulu, I assume we’re talking about a dog?”
“My dog. Lulu is my cavalier spaniel. I had planned to breed her.” High school English teachers only made so much and thanks to her misspent youth, she didn’t have a lot in the way of savings. “Now I have to wait another year. In the meantime, there’s the matter of veterinary care for her and the puppies, until they’re placed anyway.” She reached into her satchel and retrieved the paperwork she’d tucked neatly in there earlier. “Here’s the report from Dr. Gideon Roth.” When he didn’t reach out to take them, she dropped the papers on his desk. “I’m sure as a businessman, you can appreciate my predicament. Not only have I lost potential income but I have to pay for the cost of carrying and placing the unplanned litter.”
“And you expect me to compensate you for these costs.”
“It’s only fair, don’t you think?”
“The world is hardly fair, Ms. Travolini.”
Didn’t she know it? If life were fair, she wouldn’t have traveled down the road of her youth, endangering her physical well-being and leaving her self-respect in shatters.
“That may be true, but I’m hoping you will be.”
“I see.” A hand reached for the paperwork, and Jenny caught a glimpse of smooth, tight skin in the dim computer light. “All this says is that your dog is carrying a litter of puppies,” he said after a moment. “Doesn’t say anything about who sired them.”
“Doesn’t have to. Charlie sired them.”
“Assuming Charlie’s the only dog she mated with.”
Jenny bristled. He did not just poke that hornet’s nest, did he? “Are you suggesting Lulu’s some kind of doggy whore?” Although she knew it was impossible, she could almost hear his whiskeyed voice in her head. Like dog, like owner….
“What I’m suggesting is that taking Charlie from Ms. Wilson provides you with a convenient way to pay your vet bills.”
Terrific. So he was simply accusing her of trying to scam him. Like that was so much better. “Did you read the bill? Do you really think, if I were trying to extort money, I’d go for such a modest amount?”
“I think the best con artists know to be realistic, especially when first dipping into your wallet. Best not to take what anyone says at face value or believe a source too completely.
“I’ll tell you what.” He picked up a pen. “When your dog has her puppies, have the vet do a genetic test. If the bloodline matches, then we can talk reimbursement.”
With that, he bowed his head over his paperwork, essentially dismissing her.
Jenny seethed. It was like she was back in Chicago, being tossed aside by another so-called boyfriend who didn’t think she was good enough for a real relationship. She felt small and insulted and angry as hell. Only she wasn’t twenty years old anymore and she no longer let men take advantage. She’d send Nicholas Bonaparte his genetic test all right, along with the bill for it and Lulu’s care—and demand an apology with his reimbursement check.
As she turned to leave, she caught sight of Charlie sitting expectantly in the chair and felt a pang of regret. In spite of the craziness with Lulu, she’d grown fond of the little guy over the past month. He was basically a good dog who, while rambunctious, was also gentle and friendly and wanted nothing but someone to love him. She hated to see him pinning his hopes on the wrong person. How many times had she made the same bad mistake? Ten to one he found his way to Gabby’s studio before the week was out.
“No one would blame you if you did, pal.”
“What?”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, but now that she had, she decided to own her words. Someone should le
t Bonaparte know how neglectful he was being. How badly being tossed aside hurt. “I said, no one would blame him for running away from this place,” she repeated, louder this time. “You do know pets need more than food and water, don’t you?”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Bonaparte had unleashed her schoolteacher instincts. Now he would be forced to listen to the lecture. “They need attention and love and nurturing. They need to know they’re wanted. It’s only when they don’t get affection that they turn destructive. They tear up the house.” Or run around from man to man hoping to find love elsewhere. “Did you ever think that maybe the reason Charlie’s so out of control is because he wants you to notice him?”
When she finished, Bonaparte sat back in his chair, sending him deeper in the shadows. The movement was so deliberate, Jenny felt a spark of hope that her words sank in.
“Thank you for your insight.”
So much for making her point. He clearly found her insight unwelcome and unnecessary. Jenny gritted her teeth. Poor Charlie. How on earth was she supposed to leave him? This wasn’t a home; it was a marble mausoleum. He deserved better than to be stuck here with a grumpy butler and a hardhearted owner.
To hell with returning him today. “You know what?” She scooped the squirming Jack Russell into her arms. “If you want to wait until you get the genetic testing; you can wait for your dog, too. Come on, Charlie. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Two
“Are you seriously just going to let her march out of here with your property?” Cyrus asked, his eyebrows raised.
Nick stared at the car driving away from the house. She had marched, hadn’t she? He didn’t think the term applied to anyone outside a drum and bugle corps but it fit Jennifer Travolini’s exit perfectly. He could still hear the heels of her flat shoes slapping against the marble.
“Yes, I am,” he answered, letting the drape fall back into place. Not only would he let her march out, but he planned to let her keep the damn dog if she wanted as well. Wasn’t as though he’d win a prize for pet owning anyway. Truth was, he never should have indulged Megan in the first place. But then, he’d always indulged Megan, so when his fiancée fell in love with the purebred puppy, he’d said yes. He should have realized she’d lose interest in the animal after a few months. And, when she walked out, leaving the terrier behind, he couldn’t bring himself to punish the animal for her thoughtlessness, or his, by shuttling him off to a shelter. After all, in a way, the two of them were kindred spirits. Both were dumped after she stopped finding them attractive. In retrospect, keeping the dog was the bigger punishment. Ms. Travolini was right; the dog deserved more attention than he could give.
“Do you know why the dog wasn’t neutered?” he asked, turning his attention to the reason behind Jennifer’s visit.
The guilty expression on his butler’s face answered his question. “Miss Megan canceled the surgery. Said she might want to breed him in the future. I assumed you knew.”
“I didn’t.” But then, Megan failed to share many things during their engagement. Starting with the fact that she didn’t love him.
“But you told Ms. Travolini otherwise.”
“Your eavesdropping skills are rusty, Cyrus. I neither confirmed nor denied knowledge. Besides, aren’t I allowed to save some face?” He managed a wan smile. “No pun intended.”
“Of course the pun was intended. You have a warped sense of humor.” The butler’s lips curled into a cross between a grimace and a sneer. During the ten years he’d worked for him, Nick had come to recognize the expression as the closest thing Cyrus had to a smile. He was also the closest thing Nick now had for a friend.
Sometimes he wondered if Cyrus would be as loyal without the sizeable paycheck he received every week. Nick wasn’t about to test the theory. Even if he was only staying for the money, at least he stayed. Megan couldn’t manage that much. Right now, the older man was looking at him with concern. “You look tired. Maybe you should lie down for a bit. The doctors in Europe did say you needed to take it easy.”
“The doctors in Europe don’t have a multi-billion dollar empire to run. And I was gone too long as it is. I’ll lie down before dinner.”
“I’ll have the cook make you some tea then.” Nick hated tea, but he nodded anyway. Truth was, the fatigue was setting in, along with the painful stiffness in his shoulder. Three years ago, he could work sixteen hours straight and not bat an eye. Now everything took longer and zapped his energy. He hated it. It was one of the reasons he’d gone to Europe. Hoping the doctors and their miracle cures might help built his stamina.
God, how he hated the way the whole damn world walked on eggshells around him. Constantly worrying whether he was tired, whether he was in pain. Whether they would say or do the wrong thing. Everyone except Cyrus.
And Jennifer Travolini. Turns out his dognapper was quite the study in contradictions. At first blush, she looked as steely as a wood sprite in a potato sack. In fact, that shapeless jumper she wore wasn’t much more than a potato sack. She either had lousy fashion taste or she was purposely trying to hide her attractiveness. Didn’t work. Potato sacks didn’t hide shapely legs or slim wrists. Same way her avoiding makeup didn’t hide her delicate cheekbones or the spark that found its way into her brown eyes when she started lecturing.
The man in him couldn’t help wondering if they lit up at other moments—even if such thoughts were a waste of time. Whatever bravado Jennifer Travolini displayed, she did so while he was in the shadows. Like everyone else in the world, her impression would change once she saw the real him.
Still, the challenge was nice while it lasted. And the dog was in a better home. Something he should have arranged a long time ago.
He made a note to have a check delivered to Ms. Travolini in the morning.
…
“You did what?”
Jenny held the phone away from her ear to keep Marney’s shriek from bursting her eardrum. “What were you thinking?” her friend asked.
“The man called me a con artist.”
“So you decided to prove him wrong by stealing his dog?”
“I didn’t steal anything. I simply postponed returning him until the puppies are born.”
She was arguing semantics, something that, if one of her students tried to do it, she’d shut down in a second. Truth was, it wasn’t until she was halfway home that Jenny stopped to think about her actions. Bonaparte made her so mad she just acted.
What was it she said to Charlie about facing consequences? She looked over at the terrier prancing around the kitchen, trying to roust his sleepy playmate. The chubby King Charles rubbed her nose with her paw every time he poked her. The two of them were definitely a pair. Too much so, apparently.
On to other end of the line, she could almost hear Marney shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you dognapped Charlie. It’s so not like you.”
“I know. I know.”
Actually, the behavior was more in character than Marney realized. Far as her circle of friends was concerned, she was dependable, practical, and unassuming. What she liked to call the proper, improved Jenny Travolini. They’d never met the other Jenny. The reckless girl so desperate for love she’d do anything, give herself to anyone. That Jenny came to her senses five years ago. Learned the hard way, she might add. From now on she was going it alone. Much better to have no love at all than a whole bunch of bad love.
Which was the real reason she dognapped Charlie. She could claim it was for protest reasons all she wanted, but she knew damn well the real reason she acted so impetuously was that she couldn’t stand the idea of leaving the poor little guy in that cold house. Struck too harsh a nerve.
She wasn’t going to tell Marney that, though. Far as her friends were concerned, this was all about the money.
Tucking the portable phone under her ear, Jenny left the kitchen to retrieve from her car the large bag of dog food she purchased on the way home. She had a half a mind to bill Bonap
arte for the increased food costs, too.
“Question is, what do I do now?”
“You’re asking me?” Marney chuckled.
“Of the four of us, you do have the most legal experience.”
“Being married to the sheriff doesn’t make me a legal expert. It’s not like you gain knowledge through osmosis.”
“But you could ask him a hypothetical question.”
“Which he’ll immediately figure out is code for ‘it involves one of my friends’. You forget, he’s met Charlie. Besides, I don’t have to ask him. I can make a decent guess all on my own. You took a valuable purebred dog without permission. I’m pretty sure that counts as larceny. Mr. B. could press charges.”
Groaning, Jenny dropped the bag of dog food by the back door. She leaned back against the frame with her eyes closed, cursing whatever got her in this situation. Why couldn’t Gabby have kept Charlie the entire year like she was supposed to? Why did she and the others have to fall in love?
“From the sound of that groan, you’re worried Mr. B. might,” Marney’s voice said in her ear.
Worried wasn’t a strong enough word. If Bonaparte balked at paying a tiny vet bill—tiny for him anyway—she could only imagine the stink he’d throw over someone taking his property. “I’m screwed.”
“He’s that bad?”
“Did you forget the part where he called me a con artist?”
“Too bad. We’ve spent so much time speculating about him. Shame to think we wasted our time on a jerk. Is he at least as handsome as those pictures we found?”
“Hey! Isn’t it a little early in the marriage to develop a wandering eye?”
“I’m just asking. Is he?”
“I don’t know.” She’d forgotten their Internet search. One night, after a pitcher of tequila, they’d taken their Mr. B. speculation online and searched for images. The ones they found showed an attractive man with a mop of dark curls and deep blue eyes. “I didn’t get a very good look. The room was dark.”
The Billionaire's Matchmaker: An Indulgence Anthology (Entangled Indulgence) Page 18
