Tom looked as bemused as she felt at her lame choice of words. “Well, that’s one way of putting it I suppose.”
She nodded emphatically.
The dimple disappeared. He was switched back into grim mode. But it looked suspiciously more like pretending-to-be-grim mode. “You’re right, of course. Doesn’t fit with my plan at all.”
“Your plan? What plan?”
“We haven’t got time to talk about my plan when Brutus is missing,” he said, turning her own words back on her. A smile hovered at the edges of his so-sexy mouth.
She blinked. Was he teasing her now? She wasn’t so sure she liked having the tables turned. “I can’t argue with that,” she said. And vowed to find out about that plan. All about it.
He turned businesslike. “Hadn’t we better go find Brutus? I’ve got a legal obligation to keep that dog alive.”
A legal obligation? Was that all Brutus was to him?
And her? Was kissing her just something to keep her sweet until the will was finalized? She felt a funny little pain at the thought of it.
But in her heart, remembering the dazed look on his face after their kiss, she couldn’t believe that was true.
She mustered up a bright tone of voice knowing it sounded strained to her own ears. “Right. I’m convinced he’s at Coco’s house or I wouldn’t be standing around here ... uh ... talking.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said, and again she wasn’t too sure how serious he was. “Or kissing. Now let’s get going on a dog hunt.”
She moved into step beside him, trying to match his rhythm, being careful to avoid brushing her shoulder against him, amazed how hard she had to fight the impulse to slip her hand into his. “To Coco’s house then.”
“To Coco’s house,” he echoed. “What’s Mrs. Porter, the owner, like? She sounds like quite a character on the phone.”
Maddy grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “A character? You wait ’til you see her. Try not to laugh. Just don’t look at me when she opens the door or I won’t be able to stop myself from laughing. Because I’m telling you, she looks just like a poodle herself.”
She was gratified to see Tom’s dimple reappear as he threw back his head and laughed. And stunned at the way her heart went into double-quick time at the sight.
Eight
Tom didn’t dare catch Maddy’s eye when confronted by Coco’s owner, Mrs. Porter. She was short and skinny, and with her black curly hair clipped back from her long face with two red plastic bow-shaped barrettes, she bore an uncanny resemblance to a poodle.Worse, she looked ready to snap.
He’d barely introduced himself when the forty-something woman glared at Maddy. “The little brute is here if that’s who you’re looking for,” she said. “I kept him inside instead of dispatching him with the hose because I wanted Mr. O’Brien to witness him trespassing on my property.”
Maddy screwed up her face in a passable attempt at penitence. “Thank you, Mrs. Porter, I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s safe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he got out, I promise you.”
Maddy looked adorable in her unaccustomed meekness—how could Mrs. Poodle—uh, Porter—resist her apology? He certainly wouldn’t be able to. In fact, he just wanted to kiss her again. If they were alone, he would. In spite of subsection 2a.
“Hmph,” muttered Mrs. Porter. She glared at Tom. “I think you’ll agree with me that there could be no doubt as to paternity when you see Brutus with the puppies.”
Maddy’s face lit up. “Oh! The puppies are here? I’m dying to see them. May I?”
Mrs. Porter led them through a small house cluttered with more dog figurines than Tom had ever seen. Even the sofa was covered in a poodle-print fabric. Gross. He liked a sparsely furnished room—stark, modern, with nothing on display. And certainly not scented with the doggy aroma that permeated this place.
They emerged to a small courtyard dominated by a large, open kennel. A black miniature poodle lay on her side suckling five plump, wriggling puppies. Curled possessively around Coco’s back was Brutus.
“Brutus, you’re a naughty boy for running away and frightening us,” chastised Maddy. “Don’t even think about doing that again.”
Think? Brutus? As if the dog understood a word of it, thought Tom. Women. His mother talked to her cat as if it were human, too. If only they realized how dumb it sounded.
Brutus lifted his head in acknowledgment of the people and thumped his plumed tail. But he didn’t get up. He nestled a little closer to Coco.
Maddy dropped down to look more closely at the puppies. “Oh, they’re adorable!” she cooed.
Mrs. Porter’s face softened. “Yes, they are dear little things.” Her face tightened again. “But not worth a cent to me. Coco is a champion with a pedigree a mile long and should have been put to stud with her equal. I had her booked in with another champion—Lagrange Midnight Claude the Seventh. Until Brutus beat him to it.”
“Uh, sorry about that, Mrs. Porter,” said Maddy again with unaccustomed meekness. How did she keep a straight face at the elongated name of Coco’s thwarted stud?
“Hmph,” said Mrs. Porter, not sounding at all mollified.
“But these little things are so cute. And don’t they look like a real family?” said Maddy. “How does it feel to be a daddy, Brutus?”
“Considerably poorer, Ms. Cartwright,” said Mrs. Porter. “I expect compensation to the tune of what a litter of pedigree puppies would have netted me. I heard on the radio how Brutus had come into money.”
Tom rolled his eyes heavenward. How had he gotten himself into this bizarre situation? Bonus or no bonus, representing a millionaire mutt in a paternity suit was not going to go down as the pinnacle of his legal career.Though it had introduced him to Maddy and that was certainly a bonus of sorts.
“Before we discuss your claims, Mrs. Pood—um—Porter, I need proof that Brutus, uh, sired these puppies. I’ll have to seek veterinary advice. Blood tests, perhaps.”
Mrs. Porter reached down to one of the puppies and picked it up. She thrust it up toward him—a squirming, brindle bundle with a distinctive jutting lower jaw. “Surely this is all the proof you need.This and the rest of the litter.”
Tom looked from Mrs. Porter to the other puppies. Even he could see they looked more fifty-seven varieties than pedigree poodle.
“Uh, Tom, I think she might be right. This one could be Brutus Junior,” said Maddy, her mouth quirking up in that already-familiar way of suppressing laughter.
Tom didn’t dare meet her eye for fear he would laugh himself. Especially when he noticed Coco was wearing red satin ribbons tied at the top of each ear to match the barrettes in her owner’s hair.
Maddy held out her arms to Mrs. Porter and the puppy she was holding. “Please, can I pet him?”
“It’s a her, actually,” said Mrs. Porter, handing over the puppy.
Maddy cradled the puppy in her arms, crooning endearments to her in her melodious voice. “Ooh, a little girl are you? Who’s a precious sweetie?” The puppy energetically tried to lick her face. “You’re a friendly little thing, aren’t you?”
Unconsciously Maddy rocked, swaying rhythmically as she cuddled the puppy, and her face as she looked down on her was tender and glowing with delight.
Suddenly Tom had a terrifying vision of Maddy cradling a baby in just such a way. His baby.With a little fuzz of ginger hair and its mother’s green eyes. It was terrifying because for a crazy, surreal moment he felt warm and mushy at the thought, when he should have run screaming from it.
She was mortar attacking a part of his heart that up to now had been totally bombproof.
Sirens went off in his head, screaming a warning of defenses about to be breached. Sweat broke out on his forehead. There was no provision at all for, gulp, children in the five-year plan. That was so far off the screen that it wasn’t even in draft mode.
He must be hallucinating. He was working way-too-long hours. Skipping meals. Drugged
by honey-flavored kisses.
He blinked rapidly to clear his head.
But then his horror at being catapulted into a vision of fatherhood was overtaken by a lawyerlike panic at what Maddy was saying to Mrs. Poodle.
“I agree there’s no doubt as to who fathered these puppies, Mrs. Porter. As trustee of Brutus’s fortune I consent to pay you the value of five pedigree poodle puppies plus some extra to cover the wonderful care you’re giving them.”
“Maddy.” He glared at her. “This needs to be considered.”
She ignored him. “Is that okay with you?” she asked the other woman.
“Maddy,” he said more sternly, “think about this before you commit to anything.”
“I can handle this myself, thank you, Tom,” she hissed in an exaggeratedly polite tone.
Then, with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the puppy to her breast, Maddy shook Mrs. Porter’s hand. “I have to wait until funds become available, but I assure you that you will be paid as soon as possible.”
Beaming now, Coco’s owner nodded her agreement. Tom could see the dollar signs flashing in her eyes. He gritted his teeth. Did Maddy not have any idea of the possible legal consequences of her rash action?
He was determined to have his say. “You understand you will be required to sign an indemnity that assures us you will make no further claim against the estate,” he told Mrs. Porter, glaring at Maddy as he did so.
Mrs. Porter nodded again. “I’ll be happy with compensation for the litter Coco should have had.”
Maddy flashed Tom a glance that made him suddenly remember that redheads had a reputation for having bad tempers. And become aware that he might very soon see a demonstration of it.
“It’s a deal,” she said to Mrs. Porter. “Now before we go, can I pet the other puppies, please? I’m aching to cuddle them.”
Maddy had scarcely put the poodle house behind her when she whirled on Tom, nearly tripping on the borrowed hot pink leash that attached her to Brutus.
“How dare you boss me around back there? You were making a fool of me in front of that woman. Contradicting every word I said.”
“Making a fool of you? I thought I was trying to give you informed legal advice. Stop you from exposing yourself to years of demands from that greedy woman.”
“Greedy? I think she had a perfectly reasonable claim.”
“Huh,” he said in a tone that made her blood boil. “Make sure she signs that release or you’ll have her on your back for years.”
“I doubt it. But then you’re very good at thinking the worst about people, aren’t you,Tom?”
She scowled at him, remembering how he’d assumed she was Walter’s mistress. Then didn’t know whether to feel triumphant or sorry at the obvious discomfort her words caused him.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, tight-lipped.
Her flare of anger fizzled as fast as it had flamed. How could she stay angry with the man who’d sent her senses soaring to heaven less than an hour ago? A man who was quite possibly the best kisser in the country.The world.The universe.
She yanked Brutus back from his investigation of interesting smells against a lamppost.
“Well, I guess you were only trying to do the right thing,” she conceded. “But I need to handle this Brutus-and-his-money thing my own way.”
“Granted,” he said. “But I wouldn’t trust Mrs. Poodle as far as I could kick her. Didn’t you see the dollar signs in her eyes?”
Was she imagining things? She looked at him in amazed delight. “Mrs. Poodle? Her name is Mrs. Porter.You just called her Mrs. Poodle.”
“I did not. I called her Mrs. Porter,” he said, affronted.
She loved it when he lost his lawyer cool and looked so disconcerted. Instead of weakening him it somehow made him seem even more masculine. She had to fight the urge to reach up and kiss the spot where his dimple appeared when he smiled.
“You didn’t. I distinctly heard you call her Mrs. Poodle just then. And you nearly called it to her face inside her house, by the way.”
“I did not.”
“Did so.” She laughed. “I particularly noticed because I can’t help thinking of her as Mrs. Poodle myself.”
The dimple was back. “Oh, really?”
She nodded.“I warned you about how she looked, remember.”
“What a weirdo,” said Tom. “Thank God we’re out of there. I would have killed you if you’d accepted the coffee. I couldn’t have spent a second longer in that awful room.”
“Yeah, well, the poodle-print sofa was a bit over the top. But I kind of liked all her doggy decorations. She’s obviously crazy about dogs. I think her decor shows character.”
“Character? You’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “More an excess of bad taste, I would have thought.”
Maddy tilted her head on one side. “Let me guess.Your place doesn’t have a tchotchke or knickknack anywhere. Sleek, slick, and everything in its place.”
“How did you know that?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Just a lucky guess,” she said, thinking back to how uncomfortable he’d looked in her pretty apartment full of her favorite things.
“Yeah, I like things plain. No clutter.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the way I am.”
“No need to apologize. I wish I was neater—and less sentimental about the stuff I have all over the place.”
“But you’re creative; you’re allowed to be like that.”
“And you’re logical and orderly; I admire that.”
She laughed and so did he—his laugh warm and rich with good humor. He was nice—really nice. And that was on top of being the handsomest hunk she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,Tom,” she said on impulse.
“Apology accepted, and no offense taken,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said. “But seriously, I have a thing about being ordered around by men.”
“A thing?” he said, his brows drawn together.
“If you met my family you’d know why. I love them madly but my father is just plain domineering, and my brothers—two of them, both older than me—have ideas about women that passed their use-by date about a hundred years ago.”
“What about your mother?”
“She ... she died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thanks. I ... I still miss her.” She paused before she continued. “We have a cattle ranch upstate in Fall River Valley—that’s eastern Shasta County. I kind of had to step into her shoes. Look after my father and brothers. Luckily I liked cooking. But—I still get mad when I think about it—they seriously thought I should leave high school.”
“But you didn’t?”
“My grandmother stepped in and made them get some paid help. And then, thank heaven, when I was eighteen, my brother Mike met a girl whose only ambition in life was to be a farmer’s wife.”
“Some ambition.”
“Don’t knock it. It works for some, including my beautiful sister-in-law. She convinced the menfolk to let me move into town and live with Grandma.That way I got to go to college.”
Behind a fence a dog started barking. Brutus pulled frantically on the leash. Maddy’s arms felt like they were being wrenched from their sockets as she tried to hold him in check. “Here, will you take him? He needs the alpha-male touch.”
Tom took the leash. “Brutus. Heel,” he said in a commanding voice. Brutus immediately did as he was told.
Maddy looked from the dog to Tom. “It’s the alpha-male thing, all right,” she said. “Brutus recognizes it.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Tom, “he’s just spoiled rotten and knows he can get away with murder around you.”
“Hmm,” she said, not willing to concede her theory.
Wouldn’t anyone think Tom was an alpha-male type? Physically, he stood head and shoulders above other men and he had an undeniable air of authority. His voice was deep and stron
g. And when it came to kissing he was without a doubt 200 percent, hot-blooded, testosterone-powered male. Her cheeks flushed warm at the thought of it.
They reached home and Maddy was grateful for the chilly breeze from the water, both to cool her face and to blame for the way her nipples had tightened thinking about Tom’s testosterone.
“Thank heaven we found this naughty dog,” she said in a forcedly light voice as they walked down through the yard. She hoped Tom wouldn’t notice her breasts and folded her arms in front of her.Which actually only drew Tom’s gaze to her chest.
He looked, she flushed deeper, but then Tom turned away and unclipped the dog leash. Brutus scampered toward his kennel.
Deep breath, deep breath, try to act normal, she urged herself. “He can have a drink of water. Then I think I’ll take him into my apartment with me where I can keep an eye on him,” she said. “I’ve got to finish my recipe testing—I’m due in the office by three for a meeting.”
“I’ve got back-to-back meetings for the rest of the day,” said Tom, sounding anything but enthusiastic at the prospect.
“Poor you,” she said. “Before you go, why not come in and taste the pie I’m working on? I’d like some feedback on it.”
“Pie?” said Tom, a look of yearning on his face. “I thought I smelled pie.”
“I’m experimenting with a new recipe, pear and pecan with a honey glaze.”
It was Tom’s eyes that looked glazed. “You tasted like honey when—”
He fell silent. So did she and the silence hung between them.
“When I kissed you,” he slowly finished.
He was only kissing distance away and Maddy found herself gazing in fascination at his mouth. His lips were full and firm, the top one with an uneven curl she found most intriguing. She remembered how he tasted. How he felt.The heat of his body.
“I ... I thought we weren’t going to talk about kissing ...” she managed to get out in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Or about why we shouldn’t be kissing,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
She was melting like chocolate again. Her lips parted, she found herself swaying toward him—when she saw movement from Brutus’s kennel.
Love Is a Four-Legged Word Page 8
