Love Is a Four-Legged Word

by Kandy Shepherd

  Her success as chef at one of San Francisco’s most fashionable restaurants had brought her to the attention of the editor in chief of bestselling young women’s magazine Annie.

  The magazine was published in San Francisco and had become a real player in the national market alongside titles published in New York City. She’d been approached to stand in as food editor while the regular food editor was on maternity leave. That was nearly a year ago. Now that editor had decided to resign and stay home with her baby, and Maddy was being considered for the permanent appointment. She was raring to go. And nothing—certainly not a man—was going to get in her way.

  Until she’d gotten where she wanted to be, she’d sworn off all but the most casual of dating. Since her split from too-handsome Russell—who had only pretended to support her ambitions—she hadn’t broken her two-date-max rule. Or been tempted to.

  Tom O’Brien politely opened the door for her and ushered her through the back door of her apartment. Her best friend, Serena, and she always rated the new men they met. For manners, she’d give this one ten out of ten. For manner—zero. Undeniably gorgeous—but way too stiff and formal for a guy his age. No temptation at all.

  She paused at the top of the back porch steps, knowing that he would want to gasp at the view. People always did.

  He gasped.

  Wow, what a view, she whispered in her head.

  “Wow! What a view,” said Tom.

  There wasn’t a trace of fog and the view from Walter’s back garden encompassed San Francisco Bay right through to the Golden Gate Bridge. Maddy never tired of admiring the scene. She was a country girl from the mountains close to the Oregon border, but now she’d tasted city life, she was hooked.

  “Talk about a million-dollar view,” said Tom O’Brien, with a whistle of admiration. “Correction. More a multimillion-dollar view.”

  Maddy was taken aback at his mercenary comment. “I guess so. I hadn’t actually thought to put a value on a view. I just enjoy it.”

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Come on, this is Pacific Heights. How could you think Walter Stoddard was poor when he lived in a house like this?”

  Maddy felt herself flush. She was disappointed and angry at Tom O’Brien’s inference. It was insulting to both herself and to Walter’s memory.

  “I actually didn’t give it much thought except to be grateful that my rent was so reasonable for such a great part of town. And if you look a little closer, you’ll see the house is very rundown and shabby.”

  She was gratified to see that he looked uncomfortable at her reply, shifting from one foot to another. “He probably bought the house years ago, anyway,” he mumbled, “before prices really boomed.”

  “He did,” she said. “When he got married, he told me. His wife loved the view, too, apparently. But that’s not getting me anywhere with Brutus, is it?”

  It was crazy to feel hurt by what Tom O’Brien had said but she did. She had to bite on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She turned her back on him so he couldn’t see what she was feeling.

  “I’ll see if I can tempt Brutus out with the cupcake,” she said, walking down the stairs.

  “Tempt him out?”

  She stopped and turned back to him. “Don’t you know? Brutus is in mourning. I’m worried sick about him.”

  “The dog is in mourning?” Tom O’Brien’s brows drew together in a frown.

  “Ever since Walter passed away. Brutus howled and howled the day his master died. He knew before anyone else did. Animal intuition, you know.”

  “Uh, right,” said Tom.

  She didn’t like the way he said that. But then lawyers were a skeptical lot, she supposed. And judgmental if this guy was an example.

  “He hasn’t come out of his kennel. And he won’t eat, no matter what I tempt him with.”

  “Have you sought help?”

  She couldn’t stop herself from a sharp reply. “Of course I have. I got the vet here the next day. Her diagnosis was that Brutus is suffering from a broken heart.”

  “A broken heart,” Tom spluttered. “A dog with a broken heart?”

  “Is that so stupid?”

  “Yes,” he said, “it sounds damn stupid to me.”

  “The vet didn’t think so. She said there’s also another problem. Brutus is missing his alpha male.”

  “His alpha male? What kind of garbage is that?”

  Maddy felt affronted at his reply.Was rudeness also part of his lawyer’s stock-in-trade? “Brutus’s vet happens to be a leading expert in animal psychology if you must know. She even has a Pets on the Couch program on the radio.”

  Tom groaned. “So Brutus is seeing a shrink. This I’ve got to see.”

  Maddy gritted her teeth. “It’s true.The alpha-male thing, that is. I checked it on the Internet. A dog is a pack animal. All the dogs in the pack are subservient to the alpha male. In the human world, Walter was a kind old man. But to Brutus he was leader of the pack.”

  “Leader of the pack? Well, now I’ve heard everything.”

  “Not quite. The vet said Brutus could pine away and die of grief if he didn’t soon attach to another alpha male.”

  Tom made a sound that could have been disgust or could have been a smothered laugh.

  “Well, that’s what the vet told me,” she said. “I’m no expert on dogs.”

  “Die of grief? If this is true, it could be serious—especially in light of Walter’s will.”

  “Tell me about it. But right now all I care about is this poor, sad animal and how I can get him to eat something.”

  Maddy followed the length of the porch and turned the corner of the house to where Brutus’s kennel was located under the shade of a magnificent jacaranda tree. A sprinkling of purple jacaranda flowers had fallen onto the roof of the kennel. It was very quiet.

  Her heart sank. No Brutus rushing up to meet her, sniffing around for snacks. This dog was normally a trash can on legs. With an overdeveloped sweet tooth. He must really be sick not to have sniffed out the treat she held in her hand. The hunger strike thing was a worry.

  “C’mon, Brutus, C’mon, boy, I’ve got a nice snack for you,” she coaxed. But there was no response.

  She was conscious of Tom O’Brien behind her, imagined she could almost feel his warm breath on the back of her neck.

  “Is he in his kennel?”

  Maddy nodded. “But he won’t come out for me. Not even for a frosted cupcake.Why don’t you call him? If the vet is right, he might respond to a man’s voice.”

  Tom O’Brien approached, giving the large kennel a wide berth. “Is it vicious?” he asked.

  “Vicious? He’s a good watchdog. Barks a lot.”

  “I’d better approach with caution then.”

  Approach with caution. From the little she knew of Tom O’Brien, Maddy suspected those words just might sum up his entire attitude to life. But did he really need to tippy-toe around the kennel like that?

  As she watched him, a suspicion began to form.

  “What kind of dog do you think Brutus is?”

  “With a name like that I thought maybe a German shepherd.”

  “Right. Or a Doberman, perhaps?”

  “Yes. Or Rottweiler. Uh, he’s not trained to kill, is he? Like, he won’t go for the throat if I call him?”

  “You can only try it and see,” said Maddy, her stifled laugh making Tom O’Brien cast a sharp glance at her.

  Self-consciously, he cleared his throat. “Uh, here, Brutus. Come on.” His voice was sufficiently deep and commanding.

  Maddy could hear a shuffling and a clinking of dog tags from the kennel.

  “Here he comes!” she said, her voice rising in excitement. “It worked, the male voice worked.”

  Tom O’Brien stepped cautiously back.

  Brutus slunk slowly on his belly out of the kennel, making little whimpering noises as he fixed his black button eyes on the tall, well-built man who stood in front of his kennel.

&n
bsp; Maddy had to put her hand to her mouth to kill her laughter at Tom’s disbelieving expression.

  “That is Brutus?” he said.

  “Meet your new client.”

  Tom paused for a long moment before he spoke. “Walter must have had a real sense of humor to christen this animal Brutus.”

  “You could say that.”

  Maddy could only guess at what was going through the lawyer’s mind as he stared at the little dog’s long, low-slung body, pugnacious face, and scruffy black-and-ginger-brindled fur.

  His face wasn’t giving much away. “I guess I’ll have to rethink Rottweiler,” he said.

  “Walter used to call Brutus a Heinz type of dog—you know, fifty-seven varieties.”

  “At least fifty-seven by the look of him.”

  “He’s slung so low to the ground he must be part dachshund.”

  “The coloring looks bulldog.”

  “But I think there’s a lot of shih tzu in him, too.”

  “What? You’re saying the dog’s full of sh—?”

  “I said shih tzu. A Tibetan lion dog. See the way his bottom teeth jut out from beneath his top teeth? The vet says that’s a fault of the shih tzu breed.”

  Miracle of miracles, a smile was beginning to tug at the corners of Mr. Way-Too-Serious Tom O’Brien’s mouth. It lit up his eyes with humor and changed his face completely from grim to gorgeous.

  And for a moment Maddy was so entranced by the dimple that formed in Tom O’Brien’s cheek as he smiled that she didn’t think about Brutus at all.

  Until Tom spoke again. “Brutus is the ugliest dog I have ever seen,” he said.

  Maddy glared at him. “Hey! You didn’t hear that, Brutus. Avert your ears,” she said, bending down to stroke Brutus’s head.

  Then she glared again at Tom. “That doesn’t help matters, does it? We’re trying to build up trust here.”

  Again the grin pulled at his mouth. “As if the dog could understand me.”

  “You never know. He might have.”

  “Huh,” said Tom. “But you’ve got to admit I’m right. About how ugly he is, I mean.”

  “Weeell,” Maddy said. “He’s quite a mix. But I wouldn’t call him ugly. Exactly. More . . . unusual, perhaps?”

  “Ugly.”Tom snorted.

  Brutus slunk on his belly right up to Tom and sniffed his feet in their well-polished business shoes. Then he wagged his long, plumed tail so vigorously his whole body moved.

  Maddy couldn’t keep the amazement from her voice. “Hey, in spite of you insulting him, I think he really likes you.”

  “Well, I don’t like him,”Tom said. “I like big dogs. Man-sized dogs.”

  “How can you say that?” Maddy’s voice rose in accusation. “This is so great. It’s the first spark of interest the little guy has shown in anyone since Walter died.”

  She had to stop herself from dancing around the dog—and Tom O’Brien—in excitement.

  “C’mon. Speak to him like an alpha male.That’s what the vet said to do. How are you at growling?”

  “Growling?” he said.

  “Like the top dog in the pack.You know, like this.” She tried to growl deep in her throat. “Grrr. It won’t work for me. I’m a girl.You need to talk to him like dogs talk to each other. Establish you’re the boss.”

  Tom looked at her as if she should be certified. But his smile hadn’t quite disappeared. Neither had the dimple.

  “C’mon,” she said. “You try it. Growl.”

  “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to growl like a dog to a dog. No way.”

  He bent down and put his hand out for Brutus to sniff. “Hi there, fella.”

  At his deep tones, Brutus promptly rolled over on his back, panting, tail wagging madly.

  “That’s a pose of submission!” Maddy practically shouted. “Oh, this is so good. That means he’s acknowledging that you’re an alpha male.You didn’t even have to growl.”

  The unbidden thought flashed across her mind of what she’d do if Tom O’Brien growled at her in a deep, sexy voice. And what he would do if she rolled over on her back in response.

  To hide her sudden blush, she knelt down and rubbed the little dog’s tummy. “Oh, good boy,” she crooned.

  Brutus squirmed excitedly and licked her hand.

  Tom O’Brien didn’t look the slightest bit impressed.

  “What do you mean, ‘good boy’? I’m not his alpha male.”

  “I was saying ‘good boy’ to Brutus, not you. But I can say it to you, too, if you like,” she said, risking a flirtatious tone to her voice.

  Since he’d encountered Brutus, Tom O’Brien had switched right out of grim lawyer mode. Now he was acting like a regular too-handsome-to-be-true thirty-year-old guy. And she liked it. A lot.

  It was a major flaw in her character to only be attracted to handsome men. She knew that. But she just couldn’t do ugly. Or even ordinary. And Tom O’Brien had never been anywhere near the ugly stick.

  “You’d call me a good boy even though I didn’t growl?”

  “You didn’t need to. He probably responded to your scent.”

  She liked the scent of him, too, she realized, a citrus after-shave mingled with something uniquely warm and male.

  “My scent? Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” he said.

  “No. It’s all about instinct. Animal instinct. Do you realize that now Brutus has found a new leader of his pack he’ll snap out of his mourning? That’s what the vet said would happen, anyway.”

  Tom O’Brien was looking charmingly disconcerted, obviously not at all certain of how to react. It suited him so much better than his too-straight lawyer look. “Look here, I am not this dog’s pack leader. I’m his lawyer . . . uh . . . that’s not right, either.

  “Dammit, I’m the executor of Walter Stoddard’s will, and my responsibilities toward this animal only extend as far as making sure it stays alive and well for the next seventeen days.That’s all.”

  “And that I’m a fit dog guardian. Don’t forget that,” Maddy prompted. She was discovering this big, so-serious guy responded beautifully to a bit of teasing.

  He groaned. A loud how-the-hell-did-I-get-into-this-situation type groan that, surprisingly, endeared him to Maddy.

  “That’s right. That you’re a fit guardian. But I am not—repeat—not this dog’s alpha male or the leader of its pack.”

  She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “I’m afraid you are,” she said. “Brutus has chosen you and that’s that.You don’t have a say in the matter.”

  She tried very hard not to laugh at the expression on Tom O’Brien’s face.

  Tom looked down at Maddy as she knelt by the dog. Her hair was burnished copper by the spring sunshine and he noted that she didn’t wear any makeup. She didn’t need to.

  As she leaned over Brutus, her T-shirt pulled right up from her jeans and Tom couldn’t keep his eyes from the enticing stretch of gently curved tummy it revealed. She had a great body—slim, but rounded in all the right places. He wondered what her legs were like.

  Brutus was rolling his eyes in ecstasy as she energetically patted and stroked him, crooning endearments as she did so. Lucky dog. He wondered how it would feel if she—

  Tom refused to let his thoughts go any further. He wrenched his gaze away from the sight of her hands caressing the dog’s fur. Her fingers were long and slender, topped by practical, short-filed nails. Brutus obviously thought they felt great as he whimpered his appreciation.

  Was she serious about this alpha-male thing? Tom couldn’t be quite sure. She seemed earnest enough but her green eyes were dancing with mischief.

  Or was it challenge?

  Right. He was taking control of the wheel here.

  He cleared his throat. Maddy’s eyes widened with quick interest. “That was not a growl,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, “I thought you were going to try it.”

  “No!” He assumed his best lawyer voice. “You will never—I repeat—neve
r hear me growling at a dog.”

  She pulled a disappointed face and again he couldn’t be sure how serious she was.

  “And furthermore, if we’re to keep that dog alive, you can start by feeding it proper dog food—not cake.”

  “What? You’re not serious? Brutus has such a sweet tooth.”

  “No cupcake,” he said.

  She glared at him. “That’s ridiculous. He’s been snacking on my baking ever since I moved in here.”

  As she argued, she held the cupcake up out of the little dog’s reach. But it wasn’t high enough. With surprising speed for an animal with stumpy, cabriole legs, Brutus suddenly leapt up, twisted in midair, and expertly snatched the treat from her hand. Maddy gasped and stepped back.

  Brutus gobbled the snack down in one gulp and then looked up expectantly for more, begging with his black button eyes. He whimpered. He held up his paw to shake.

  Maddy laughed triumphantly.

  “Bad dog,” said Tom.

  “Sorry, Brutus,” Maddy said to the animal, “No more.You’ve got a new leader of your pack now and he says no. How’s about some yummy kibble instead?”

  A dog whose favorite food was frosted cake? Spoiled and yappy, too, he’d bet. And that was on top of being the ugliest-looking animal Tom had ever seen. Had he done something terrible in a former life to be saddled with responsibility for its welfare?

  Tom led his life according to plan—a carefully constructed five-year plan, in fact. He figured out goals and targets and went for them with unrelenting purpose. He’d started the first plan the year he turned eighteen. The year his father had left the family. Those carefully scripted plans had helped him restore order to the sudden chaos his life had become.

  He didn’t like to be diverted from the objectives he’d set himself. Not by an ugly, greedy, pint-sized dog. And certainly not by the maddeningly cute Maddy Cartwright, who might or might not be a coldhearted seductress of wealthy old men.

  “Let’s get this straight, I am not this dog’s boss. I’m just—”

  “His lawyer. I know. But I . . . uh . . . think he sees you as more than that, though right now he seems a little confused.” Maddy’s green eyes danced as she looked meaningfully toward Brutus.