Love Is a Four-Legged Word

by Kandy Shepherd

  “Nothing. You keep her secret; she’ll keep yours.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  “And the good news is she’s happy to dog-sit for us if we need her to.”

  “Dog-sit?”

  “Yes. We might have to take her up on the offer. I can test recipes and write copy here early in the week but I have to be dog-free on Wednesday for the audition.”

  “Audition?”

  She smiled a megawatt smile. “In all the Brutus drama last night I forgot to tell you. I’ve got the audition for the television show.”

  “Maddy, that’s great.” He was so pleased for her he wanted to lean across and kiss her, but he wasn’t too sure of his current status.

  Had she put a limit on kissing occasions again? Last night had been amazing—more than amazing—and he didn’t want to wreck his chances of moving on to step six—and beyond, at some later stage. Preferably some not-too-much-later stage.

  “That’s great,” he repeated.

  “And I’ve been appointed food editor of Annie magazine. It’s official.”

  “Congratulations. Everything you wanted.” He felt genuinely happy for her.

  “I’m still buzzing,” she said. Then her mouth turned downward. “But if the press keeps painting me as some kind of money-hungry skank, the editor in chief might reconsider.”

  “Another reason we have to keep your whereabouts secret.” He opened the newspaper he’d carried in with him. “Did you see this when you were out?” He showed her the headline. “Nephew to Contest Secret Millionaire’s Will.” It accompanied yet another photo of Stoddard.

  Maddy groaned. “Will it never end?”

  “Yes. When some new celebrity scandal or another erupts. But in the meantime the millionaire mutt is news. And so are you.”

  “I’ll call my editor and ask her if I can do my work from here. I’ve done my photographic shoots. I’m sure she’ll be okay about it.”

  “That would be wise.”

  She turned to face the kitchen countertop. “I hope you eat cantaloupe. And how do you like your eggs? I thought scrambled might be good, but if you want them fried or poached I can do that, too.”

  Tom groaned. Eggs and bacon. Right on the cholesterol hit list. And his favorite breakfast.

  “Maddy, I don’t eat eggs for breakfast.”

  Her face fell. “I thought men liked a hearty breakfast. My fathers and brothers do.”

  “They work on the land, they probably need it.”

  “There was hardly anything in your fridge, just low-fat milk and some bran cereal.”

  “That’s what I usually have in the mornings.”

  She pulled a face. “And for your other meals?”

  “I can eat at a different restaurant every night of the week.”

  “Not while I’m staying here you won’t,” she said. “I bought the bacon and eggs at the convenience store up the road near where I was walking Brutus. I’ll cook for you while I’m your guest.”

  Both his heart and his stomach warmed at the thought of it. “Maddy, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do.” She looked up, her eyes wide and sincere. “Tom, I really appreciate you helping Brutus and me. The least I can do is keep you well fed. What’s the point of having a chef as a guest otherwise?”

  “Maddy, that’s sweet but—”

  “No buts—”

  “But—”

  She smiled. “Okay, maybe one but.”

  He didn’t feel comfortable talking to Maddy about why he was so careful with what he ate. It might make him seem weak to her. Eggs on the occasional morning wouldn’t hurt. But he couldn’t make a habit of scarfing down brownies and the rich foods Maddy seemed to favor cooking.

  That said, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He knew from when he’d lived with his mother and sister that rejecting their food made them think he was rejecting them.

  He pushed his hand through his hair. “Maddy, I have to watch what I eat.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that.What’s the problem, high cholesterol?”

  “Yes, I mean, no.” Hell, he didn’t want her to think he was a heart-attack candidate at age thirty. “I don’t actually have high cholesterol myself, but my father did and he died of a heart attack before he was fifty.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maddy murmured. “I . . . uh . . . read about your dad in that sleazy newspaper story. And you’re worried you might inherit the problem?”

  “The doctors figure I’m fine. But the way I look at it, it doesn’t hurt to increase my odds by eating well and keeping fit.”

  His father had smoked like a chimney, ate what he felt like, and had tried to keep up with his gold-digging young second wife. No way would Tom make the same mistakes. No way would he ever be so thoughtless of the people who counted on him.

  Maddy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Hmm. This is quite a challenge. Low fat but still satisfying . . . Not what I’m known for, but I’ll do my best.” She grinned. “Mind if I experiment on you?”

  “Experiment all you like,” he said, trying not to think of other ways he’d like her to experiment on him—and he on her. But he wasn’t going to try to get her back into his bed—that is, back into his bed with him also in it—until she gave the word.

  Maddy went to put the eggs back in the refrigerator. Hang on, what was Serena’s favorite low-cal breakfast? She shuddered at the thought of it. “Right, Tom, first up is an egg-white omelet. Maybe with some of that celery chopped through it. I’ll give the bacon to Brutus.”

  She almost laughed out loud at the look on Tom’s face. “No need to do that. Today the bacon will be just fine. And you could poach a couple eggs for me.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Do I have time for a shower first?”

  He indicated the running gear he was wearing. She had to force herself not to ogle him. Hot, sweaty, and 200 percent male, in shorts and an athletic singlet that clung to every muscle, Tom O’Brien had a body to die for. In a business suit he was a ten out of ten. Out of a suit his rating rocketed off the scale.

  The entire time they’d been discussing Brutus, Nora next door, and high cholesterol, she’d been sneaking surreptitious glances at his magnificent physique. This morning was her first sight of his bare legs—they were long and leanly muscled and just as gorgeous as his top half.

  Turn around,Tom, turn around so I can check out your great butt again, she thought. What would he do if she actually said that?

  It was a crime to tie this man up in a business suit. No, it was good to cover him up in a suit so other women couldn’t see him and lust after him. Maddy felt seared by jealousy at the thought.

  Tom and another woman. She couldn’t bear it. Especially after last night and the bliss of his kisses.

  Afterward, alone in Tom’s enormous bed, she hadn’t known whether to be grateful or not to Brutus for his ill-timed barfing. How many heat-fuelled steps might she have climbed with Tom otherwise? And what about his last words? He was planning on other kissing occasions, a step-by-step seduction.

  And she? She still wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the inevitable pain of getting involved with a man whose life was so rigidly organized.

  He was an ambitious lawyer, yes. She respected that.Yet living his life to a preset plan seemed at odds with a man who admitted to liking animated movies. Who appeared to be so pleasingly protective and yet so feared commitment.

  But that dichotomy of character was one of the reasons she was so attracted to Tom. So attracted that her heart was singing at the thought of spending the next eight days living with him in his apartment.

  “I think you look good in your running shorts. But if you’d feel more comfortable taking a shower, go for it. Just move my undies out of the way from where they’re drying over the bathtub.”

  “Women’s panties in my bathroom,” Tom grumbled. But she actually thought he looked pleased.

  “And don’t use my lavender body was
h,” she called after him. “It’s French and it’s only for girls.”

  When Tom returned, hair damp from the shower and brushed back from his face, he was dressed once more in his corporate uniform of dark suit and tie.

  “I have to go straight into the office,” he said as he sat down at the table for breakfast.

  Maddy couldn’t help a stab of disappointment. “That’s a shame,” she said, keeping her voice light as she took whole-wheat toast from the toaster. No butter for Tom.

  He went to shrug and then did that curious no-shrug thing again.

  “I notice you seem to have some trouble with your shoulder,” she said. She slid his plate of melon in front of him, then set down her own.

  “I . . . uh . . . I’m trying not to shrug as you hate it so much.”

  She hated it so much? “Oh. You mean Jerome.” He wasn’t shrugging because she didn’t like it? What a sweetie. She liked him more every minute she spent in his company.

  “Tom, don’t stop shrugging on my account. I just don’t like Jerome’s totally insincere way of doing it.”

  She sat down opposite him, looking into the brown eyes that had grown so familiar. Brown eyes that were warm with passion when he kissed her and that could also be bright with humor. “Shrug away as much as you please.”

  “Okay,” he said and shrugged those broad shoulders in a big, exaggerated way. Maddy laughed and so did he.

  “It’s a shame I have to leave you here by yourself,” he said as, after they’d eaten their melon, she got up to change their plates.

  “Well, not quite by myself. I do have Brutus to talk to.”

  “Of course. Do tell me the day he talks back, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” she echoed.

  Brutus had given up snuffling around the kitchen for snacks and was sitting at the window looking plaintively out at the marina. There wasn’t even half a wag in his tail. He was a dog used to a certain amount of freedom.

  She slid Tom’s poached eggs onto a plate with his bacon. He gave a what-the-hell shrug and ate with gusto.

  “I’ve got a busy day ahead,” he said. “Stoddard’s decision to contest the will makes a lot of extra work. I want to make sure I cover all bases for the probate court. Knowing Stoddard, he’ll fight dirty.”

  Maddy stared at her piece of toast, suddenly completely without appetite. “Like he already has with that stuff about me in the newspaper.”

  “And me. I’ve got over most of the hurdles to make partner. But the senior partners didn’t care to see a photo of me kissing a beneficiary of a controversial will splashed all over the front page.”

  Maddy flushed. “The photographer must have been in the car that drove by and yelled at us.”

  “These days anyone with a cell phone can be a paparazzo.”

  “Tom . . . I’m sorry.”

  He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “About kissing me?” He held her gaze. “I’m not.”

  “You don’t wish you’d never heard of Walter or Brutus or me?”

  He put down his fork. The look he returned her was heart stoppingly serious. “No. It’s my job, Maddy.”

  His job. It always came back to that. Was she crazy to think it might become something more personal for him?

  “I guess . . .” she said, her voice trailing away.

  “Though I never thought I’d see the day I’d stand up in court to defend a canine client.”

  “You’re kidding me? Will Brutus have to go to court?”

  “Of course. And so will you. The probate court hears any challenges to a will.”

  She could feel the color draining from her face. “I was afraid you’d say that. Tom, I’ve never been near a courthouse.”

  Tom leaned over the table. She thought he was going to take her hand but his rested on the table halfway between them. “Don’t worry. You won’t be on trial.”

  “Oh yes, I will. I’m already on trial by the press.” She couldn’t help the note of bitterness from entering her voice.

  “The court hearing won’t be about whether you had sex with Walter. It will be about whether you used sex to coerce an old man into making you a beneficiary of his will.”

  She winced. “That sounds so ugly.”

  “It’s best that you’re prepared for what they’ll throw at us. Stoddard’s attorney will also try to prove Walter was mentally incapable at the time he signed his will.”

  “But that’s a lie.”

  “And I’ll prove it to be a lie. Maddy, I don’t want you to worry about the hearing. Walter’s will was always going to be controversial.Trust me, I anticipated a challenge and I worked to bulletproof that will from the word go.”

  “You mean you’re sure we’ll win?”

  “We can’t be sure of anything until we hear the judge’s decision.” His eyes narrowed. “But that jerk Jerome will be in for a shock.”

  She smiled. “This is a battle for you, isn’t it?”

  “You bet it is. And I intend that the best man—or in this case, dog—will win.”

  “So Brutus has to testify?”

  “He just has to sit there and look cute. Uh, as cute as Brutus can look, that is. Walter’s love for his dog is what this defense is all about.”

  Maddy looked across at the forlorn little figure by the window. “Then I’d better get him groomed so he makes a good impression on the judge.”

  “Correction.You groom him yourself. You and Brutus are in hiding, remember.”

  “As if I could forget.” She pulled a face. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” Hmm. Shampooing Brutus in Tom’s immaculate bathroom would be fun. Not. “I guess his red bandanna could be cute to wear in court. I—”

  “No red bandanna.”

  “But he looks adorable in it.”

  Tom groaned. “Maddy, we’re talking a court of law here. A witness doesn’t look”—he made quote marks with his fingers—“ ‘adorable.’ He looks sober, reliable, trustworthy.”

  “Even if he’s a dog.”

  “Especially if he’s a dog involved in any kind of litigation.”

  She could not help her mouth from twitching upward in the corners. “So no bandanna.”

  Was that a twinkle in those chocolate brown eyes? “When a young hoodlum stands in front of the judge, he’s not wearing his baggy jeans with half his underpants showing, is he? His counsel puts the defendant into a respectable suit and tie.”

  “So we’re talking the criminal canine equivalent of a gray suit?”

  Tom nodded. She thought she caught a glimpse of dimple but could not be sure.

  “So . . .” she said. “I’m thinking plain black collar. No studs. No bling.”

  “Think corporate.”

  “Discreet, good-quality leather. Simple silver buckle.”

  “Now you’re talking,” he said. And this time the dimple was well in evidence.

  “And how—as Brutus’s attorney—are you planning on getting him to behave in a courtroom?”

  “I’ve decided to give him some personal training.”

  She laughed. “You seriously think you’ll succeed where puppy school professors failed?”

  “If there’s anything to this alpha-male thing . . .”

  “Maybe you’ll surprise me. But right now you’d better finish those eggs before they get cold.” She got up from the table. “Let me top off your coffee.”

  Tom finished the last of his breakfast and pushed away his plate. “Today I want to organize some security at Walter’s house.”

  All humor at the thought of dressing Brutus for court fled. Maddy felt chilled at the thought of guards patrolling her home. She swallowed hard. “Security. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I have a bad feeling about Stoddard. There’s something not right about that guy. He’s dug for dirt on us, so I’m digging for dirt on him.”

  Maddy swallowed hard. “What kind of dirt?”

  “Maybe a criminal record in England. Outstanding warrants. That kind of thing.”
/>   “A criminal record?” She felt a cold shiver down her spine.

  “Just a hunch.”

  Tom’s eyes were drawn and she noticed how tired he looked. As if his job wasn’t pressure enough, now he had to worry about her and Brutus. And that was besides the poodle paternity suit.

  She vowed to look after him as best she could while she was hiding out in his home. “Tom, I feel bad that I took your bed last night when you have to go to work.Tonight I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “No, Maddy, it’s fine. Honestly. I’m used to the sofa. My sister stays in my room when she comes to visit.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Anna. She lives in Big Sur with her husband and my two nieces.”

  “The ones who like The Lion King?”

  “Those are the ones.” Tom suddenly looked serious. “You know, Maddy, I was thinking about my sister when I told you that for some women a career isn’t as important as it is to men. Remember, you seemed to get upset about it.”

  Upset about it? She’d chalked up a big black mark against him because of it. “I thought—”

  His dark eyes were intent. “You took it the wrong way. Anna and her husband both had high-flying careers working all hours. Some days she only saw the girls for fifteen minutes. Ultimately, she decided that spending time with the girls was more important than her career.”

  “I can understand that but—”

  “I’m not saying that’s for everyone. But it works for her.”

  Maybe he wasn’t the chauvinist ogre she had thought him. And he had been prepared to stop shrugging his shoulders just to please her.

  “I . . . I think I get your point,” she said. “I’ve only got this new job because the former food editor wants to spend more time with her baby.”

  “Yeah. Your job is everything to you now, and I understand that because it’s the same for me.”

  “But maybe I might feel differently in the future.”

  “You might, you might not.”

  “Having kids might change things.” She dashed from her mind the sudden vision of a little boy with chocolate brown eyes and unruly dark hair.

  Tom looked thoughtful. “If we beat Jerome and Brutus inherits, you won’t need to work at all.”