“When we first met, it wasn’t appropriate to tell you about the bonus and then—”
“Not appropriate? How can you say that?” She could feel a hot flush burning up her neck.
“I was Walter’s lawyer. You were . . . well, you were an unknown quantity. I didn’t need to disclose to you the details of my fee structure with my client.”
She swallowed the hurt that rose in her throat. “Because you thought I was a gold digger on the make.”
“Maddy, that isn’t fair.You know I—”
“Fair? What was fair about letting me think you were looking out for Brutus and me out of . . . out of the goodness of your heart? Not for a big, fat bonus that would help you make partner.” Her voice rose higher with every word.
He winced. “Maddy, the bonus had nothing to do with it.”
“So you deny you never thought about your bonus when you told me stop feeding Brutus cupcakes?”
“Yes, of course I considered it.”
“And what about when . . . when . . . we became . . . close?”
“The bonus was the last thing on my mind. Maddy, I—”
“Huh!” she said loudly. Then, aware of a waiter hovering nearby, she said more quietly, “I wish I could believe you . . .”
Tom didn’t seem to notice the waiter slowly picking up cutlery piece by piece so he could listen in on every word. “Maddy, I honestly intended to tell you about the bonus. Especially when the press started questioning our relationship. But then Jerome became such a threat. When he contested the will, it became a race to prepare for the hearing. I didn’t give the bonus another thought.”
Maddy glared at the waiter, who by now had stopped making any attempt at clearing the table. Then she shifted her glare to Tom. “And you expect me to believe that?”
Tom’s eyes blazed. “Yes, I do. I didn’t want to see Brutus or you in danger. Protecting you two became my only motivation.”
Tears began to smart her eyes. She blinked down hard on them. “How can you say that when by lying, all you did was hurt me?”
Tom went to touch her arm but Maddy quickly stepped back from him. He glared at her. “I never lied to you, Maddy. I made a mistake. Okay?”
“Well, it was a darn big mistake.”
Now Tom was back in full grim mode. “Yes, it was. And I’ve said I’m sorry. How many times do you want me to say it?”
The waiter by this stage was making no attempt to hide the fact he was eavesdropping. Maddy glared at him again.
To her astonishment the man put down the water jug he was holding and joined in. “He sounds sorry to me. Why don’t you give him a break?”
Maddy stared incredulously at the nosy waiter. “You can stay out of this.” Behavior like this would never be tolerated in any restaurant where she was chef.
“Sure. But I think you should kiss and make up.”
Maddy felt like whacking the waiter over the head with her purse. “This is none of your business. I know the chef here. I’m going to complain about you.”
The waiter shrugged, then stacked plates one on top of the other. He grinned. “Report me. He’s my boyfriend.” He winked at Tom as, balancing a handful of plates, he sauntered off.
Then he called over his shoulder. “By the way, Brutus is a terrible name for a kid.Why didn’t you call him Bruce?”
Maddy felt her face blazing. Now she understood what it meant for someone to say her blood was boiling.
She turned back from the waiter to find Tom fighting a battle to suppress laughter, his face contorted with the effort, his shoulders shaking.
“You! You think that’s funny?”
Tom struggled to keep a still face. “Of course not. I . . . uh. Terrible guy. Impertinent. Should be fired immediately. I, uh . . .” He lost the struggle and started to laugh, his dimple out in full force.
“You’re laughing at me!”
“No. No. I’m not. Really. It’s the waiter. The Brutus-Bruce thing. Maddy, come back!”
Maddy stalked as fast as three-inch heels would let her away from the table and out of the restaurant. A salty breeze from the water cooled her face but did nothing to cool her temper.
Tom caught up with her at the end of the pier, took her arm. Furious, she shook it off. “Maddy,” he said.
“Don’t you ‘Maddy’ me,” she spat. “You lie to me, you make a fool of me in front of your colleagues—you should have seen the pity in Vanessa Kent’s eyes when she realized I didn’t know about the bonus—and then you take sides against me with a waiter, a waiter whose boyfriend, by the way, is an old rival of mine and who’ll make sure everyone in the Bay Area hears about this.”
Completely out of breath, she paused. Her heart was pounding so loudly she felt it would burst from her chest.
Tom didn’t look at all like he was laughing now. “Maddy, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. Let’s go home and—”
“Home? Did you say home? Back to your apartment where you’ve kept me—and Brutus—prisoner to ensure that you get to cash in on the millionaire mutt? Is that what Clive Gentry meant by the ‘superb job’ you’ve done? Is that what . . . ?”
Her words petered out at the look on Tom’s face. Shock? Hurt? Disillusionment? Whatever it was she didn’t like it. And she knew she’d caused it.
“If that’s what you think, Maddy, there doesn’t appear to be much I can do to change your mind.” Tom was as grim-faced as at their first meeting, his eyes impenetrable, his mouth a rigid line.
He strode ahead of her toward the taxi rank. In her high heels Maddy had a struggle to keep up with him.
“Tom, wait up,” she called.
He stopped just long enough for her to draw up alongside him, then he continued to walk, more slowly this time. And in silence. Huh! So he wasn’t talking to her now? Proof of his guilt.
Her footsteps dragged as they neared the line of taxis. Maddy knew without Tom having to say a word that he’d be back on the sofa tonight.
She took in a great gulp of fresh, midnight air. Maybe that was for the best.
For all his apologies for neglecting to tell her about the bonus, Tom hadn’t broached the subject of what lay beyond the twenty-one days other than a nebulous reference to “us.”
After all, she wasn’t written into his famous five-year plan. Even though she and Brutus had—inadvertently—helped him get to his goal of partnership. She’d been forced into Tom’s life for the time specified by Walter’s will. And now that time had expired.
In silence she waited beside Tom behind another couple waiting for a taxi. There was no one behind them. When the next available taxi drew up in front of them, she stepped away from Tom.
“Tom, I’m going to take this taxi home to my apartment. By myself.”
A tightening of his mouth was Tom’s only reaction. “That surprises me. But if you think it’s a good idea.”
“I do,” she said, wishing he’d tell her it wasn’t. But he didn’t.
“Jerome is locked up so you don’t have to worry about him,” he said. “But take care, won’t you?”
She nodded. “I will. I’ll . . . uh . . . drop around tomorrow to pick up Brutus and my things.”
“It might be easier if I brought him to you.” He didn’t look anywhere near her eyes as he spoke.
“Whatever.”
“Fine,” he said.
She slid into the taxi. Wasn’t he even going to try to stop her? She gave the taxi driver her address.
Tom raked his fingers through his hair until it stood up on end. He leaned down toward the car door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow sometime,” he said.
“Great,” she said.
“Great,” he said.
She banged the door shut, wounded beyond belief that he hadn’t even kissed her good-bye.
As if she would have let him.
Twenty-five
Very early the next morning, Maddy indulged her misery in the best way she knew—by baking. The tray of peanut butter and ch
ocolate chip cookies, salted with her tears, was in the oven. She was beating her hurt and anger into the batter for a coconut and lime syrup cake when she heard a knock on her door.
Tom!
Surely not this early? But who else knew she was back home? At the thought of facing him after the dreadful scene last night, her heart started a furious pounding.
Her hands went automatically to smooth her hair. She must look awful after a night spent alternating between sobbing into her pillow and pounding it in pain and frustration.
Was Tom a calculating, self-serving phony or a warmhearted, genuine guy who had tried to stay on top of an impossible situation? Had he lied about the bonus or had he genuinely overlooked it? Oh, why hadn’t she listened to him last night instead of going overboard on wounded pride? She felt like running home to her grandma. But her home was in San Francisco now, no matter what. And, besides, she wasn’t too sure her grandma would be on her side.
At dawn she’d given her pillow a particularly hard whack at the thought of the interfering—but quite possibly well-meaning—waiter and then gotten out of bed and started to bake.
How would she handle this? Cool and composed? Yes. She liked cool and composed.
“Good morning, Tom,” she would say, not even giving him a hint of how upset she was. “How nice of you to bring Brutus home.”
Then she would suggest they sit down and discuss like civilized adults what had happened between them last night.
Forget reckless, remember cool and composed, she told herself before she opened the door. To find a basket-load of puppies thrust at her by an agitated woman dressed all in black.
She didn’t recognize Mrs. Porter until she spoke. “Here, take them, they’re yours.”
The dog breeder looked so different. Her curly hair was cut short and straightened in a spiky, butch style. Dirty yellow streaks swept back from her ears. She wore tight leather pants and a leather top, with a heavy, spiked black collar around her neck. Matching leather bands encircled her wrists. It even seemed like her slim frame had bulked up.
“Thank heaven you’re home at last,” she said. “This is the third time I’ve stopped by.”
Bewildered, Maddy clutched the basket of wriggling, heaving puppies to her. Little paws reached up to scrabble at her chest and pink tongues to lick at her arms. “Mrs. Porter, I don’t—”
Mrs. Porter shot an anxious look up at the road. A red station wagon was parked outside. Maddy could see Coco in the backseat scrabbling against the window, hear the little black poodle’s frantic whimpering.
“I’m moving to Vegas. I can’t take the puppies.”
“Mrs. Porter, slow down. I—”
The poodle lady smiled a smile that transformed her anxious face. “I’m getting back with my ex. But he’s got dogs, too. Rottweilers. I can’t take these puppies there.”
So that was it. Mrs. Poodle had morphed into Mrs. Rottweiler.
Coco was starting to howl, a piteous, heartrending sound that set Maddy on edge. “But what about Coco?”
“I’m into Rottweilers now. Coco’s got a pedigree as long as my arm. I have a buyer for her.”
“But what about her babies? Aren’t they still very little?”
“They’re nearly weaned. I’ve tucked some care instructions into the basket for you.”
Coco’s frantic howling became louder. Two of the puppies started whimpering hysterically in return. Desperately Maddy tried to jig the basket in a soothing, rocking rhythm, but the puppies would not be consoled.
Maddy thought back to the last time she’d seen Coco, her puppies snuggling contentedly next to her. The poodle was a wonderful mother. And Brutus a proud father. Okay, so maybe she was guilty of humanizing the animals. But the distress she heard in Coco’s howl seemed very real.
“Poor puppies. Poor Coco. She sounds heartbroken.”
“She’s just a dog, Ms. Cartwright. She’ll get over it.”
“Mrs. Porter, can I buy Coco from you?”
What had Tom said about the dollar signs in Mrs. Porter’s eyes? “As I said, I already have a buyer but—” She named what seemed a very high price.
Maddy’s initial reaction was to try to bargain her down. But it was Brutus’s money. Would he haggle over the purchase price of the dog he loved? “I’ll pay it,” she said.
“Okay. She’s no use to me now. I want to make a fresh start with my ex. He reckons my obsession with poodles is what made him move out in the first place. I can’t understand that, but there it is.”
“So it’s a deal?” Maddy tried to shake hands but found it impossible over the bundle of puppies. Mrs. Porter ended up shaking a little black paw instead.
“It’s a deal,” said Coco’s old owner. “I’ll send my new address to Mr. O’Brien’s office, you can send the check to me there.”
The new incarnation of Mrs. Poodle turned and walked back up the path to her car. She snapped on Coco’s leash and headed back down to the apartment with the black miniature poodle.
Coco headed straight for Maddy, sniffing and whimpering and anxiously jumping up on her legs. “It’s okay, little mom, your babies are safe,” Maddy said, putting the basket of puppies down on the floor.
Immediately Coco nudged each one as if counting them and then settled down to a thorough licking. The puppies clambered joyfully all over their mother.
Mrs. Porter handed Maddy a snazzy red cosmetics bag. “Inside are Coco’s hair ribbons, her diamanté collars, and her custom-dyed leashes. I won’t be needing them for the Rottweilers.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Porter. I appreciate this. Coco will be in good hands.”
“I know that or I wouldn’t be leaving her with you.”
Maddy shook Mrs. Porter’s hand, properly this time. “Good luck with your ex.”
“Thanks. And good luck with Tom O’Brien. He seems a good man.”
“Oh. No.We’re just . . . just friends.”
Mrs. Porter gave her a sly wink. “Don’t give me that. I’m a dog breeder. If there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s animal attraction. You two are crazy about each other. I could tell that when you came around to my house.”
“Well . . .” Maddy shrugged halfheartedly. She might be crazy about Tom but there hadn’t been too many indications he felt the same way about her.
Mrs. Poodle-now-Rottweiler seemed so callous. But she leaned down to give Coco a long farewell hug.Then she was gone.
Maddy sat down on her pretty blue print sofa and tried to think how on earth she would manage with six dogs. Seven, counting Brutus when he came home. And no Tom to help her with them.
Right up until the minute he knocked on Maddy’s door Tom wasn’t sure whether he was going to be tough and uncompromising with her or grovel abjectly at her feet.
She didn’t give him a chance to do either. “Oh, Tom, thank heaven you’re here,” she said, grabbing his arm and hauling him into her apartment. “If I ever needed an alpha male, it’s right now.”
It was hardly the welcome he had imagined. After last night he’d feared she might want nothing to do with him ever again. Before he had a chance to recover, Brutus set up a frantic barking and pulled so hard on his leash that Tom let it go.
Brutus ran round in circles for a moment, then headed for another little dog that scampered forward to meet him.Yapping deliriously, both dogs stood up on their back legs, jumping excitedly around each other as if they were dancing. They did the doggy sniff-each-other’s-bottom thing.
“Isn’t that Coco?” Tom asked. He couldn’t help feeling envious at the ecstatic reception Brutus was getting from the little poodle. “Coco of the litigious owner Mrs. Pood . . . uh, Porter?”
“Yes. I’ve bought her. Or actually Brutus has bought her. But he didn’t have to pay for the puppies. Not any extra, anyway.”
“Puppies?” Tom felt like he’d been transported into some parallel reality. Not an uncommon feeling when he found himself around Maddy.
“Coco’s puppies. His puppies.
Oh, Tom, they’re adorable but they’re running around everywhere and they won’t do a thing I tell them and—”
Tom threw up his hands. “Whoa! Maddy, can you please start at the beginning?”
Maddy was flushed pink, her hair all mussed, and there was a streak of flour across her cheek just like the day he’d first met her.
How could he ever have thought he could be tough with her? Last night after they’d parted he’d spent the most miserable hours of his life. He didn’t care to experience any more like them.
Words spilled from her as Maddy regaled him with the story of Mrs. Porter’s visit. And her remarkable transformation. “So what could I do? I couldn’t break up the happy little family, could I?”
He could barely bring himself to think of the inherent im practicalities of the situation. “Of course not, but I wonder if—”
“Oh,Tom, look.”
Tom followed her gaze. Brutus and Coco were lying together on the floor near the puppy’s basket. It didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to think that the two little dogs were cuddling. Three of the puppies were clambering onto their parents, tumbling all over them in unmitigated joy.
“How sweet,” Maddy breathed. “Like Romeo and Juliet reunited.”
“Romeo and Juliet with triplets,” said Tom.
“Triplets? But there are—Ohmigod, where are the other two?” Maddy wailed. She turned and dashed for the kitchen.
The delicious smell of baking intensified as Tom followed her. Peanuts? Chocolate? His mouth started watering. Both?
How he missed Maddy’s sinful, cholesterol-laden concoctions. She was doing such a wonderful job feeding him the low-fat, nourishing stuff, but it just wasn’t the same. And now, if he didn’t say the right thing, the future of his access to Maddy’s cooking—low fat or otherwise—and Maddy herself was in jeopardy.
One little black-and-tan creature sat proudly near a puddle on the floor, obviously of its own making. Its black sibling had gotten hold of a set of plastic measuring spoons and was mauling them to pieces.
“Oh no! I’ve had those spoons since college,” Maddy cried. “You naughty little—”
Love Is a Four-Legged Word Page 25
