Dog Collar Couture

by Adrienne Giordano

  Because that’s what parents did. They protected their children. No matter what.

  Dad marched through the front door of Coco Barknell with Joey behind him shooing reporters and photographers away.

  With his middle finger.

  With everything that had just gone on here, the thing that would most definitely make the evening news would be Joey flipping off the media.

  Lucie lunged for her father, but Ro grabbed her arm. “Save it. Everyone in the break room. Let’s not give this crowd a photo op.”

  Joey locked the front door, and the four of them headed down the corridor. Lucie shoved open the door. Tim stood on the far side of the room, head down, hands in pockets. At the ruckus coming through the door, he snapped to.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine. Until my father threw himself into the grinder.” She whirled on him. “Dad, I love you for doing that, but that was dangerous.”

  He waved both hands. “Ah, I was having fun with them.”

  Tim swung his head between Lucie and her father. “What happened? And for the record, I told him not to go.”

  “One thing you’ll learn, the men in my family are stubborn. He occupied them for me. He was an ace.”

  Her dad shrugged. “After a while, you get used to this garbage.”

  “By the way,” Joey said, “when Willy sees that news clip he’s going to go ape-shit because you blew off his statement.”

  Ew. She hadn’t considered Willie watching the news.

  “Well, I’ll deal with that later. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to be sincere.”

  Beside her, Tim let out a breath. “Luce, seriously?”

  Now the detective sided with the defense lawyer? Nothing today had gone even slightly the way she’d have expected.

  “Everyone knock it off. The message was the same. It was just in my words. Not his.”

  Her cell phone rang. Dear God, could this be him? “Oh, don’t even tell me.” She slid the phone from her back pocket. A 312 number, but not Willie’s. “Hmmm . . .”

  “Who is it?” Tim asked.

  “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

  After all, she did just make an offer of a ten-thousand-dollar reward.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re crazy!”

  And this was news? “Who is this?”

  “It’s Lewis Dukane. There’s a slew of reporters banging on my door and calling my office. And the rabid Peacock fans. I just got a call from a Cock Head, whatever the hell that is, wanting to know about some reward you mentioned on a news report. What reward?”

  Holy cow. Someone must have broadcast her statement already. Yes!

  “Mr. Dukane—”

  “Oh, hell,” Tim said.

  “Mr. Dukane, calm down. We’re on the same side here. We both want to find the dress, right? This is the way to do it.”

  “Luce, hang up. Don’t talk to him.”

  She waved Tim off. Getting the owner of the dress on Team Lucie could only help her.

  “Ms. Rizzo, I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”

  According to her research, Mr. Dukane owned a chain of wine bars in Chicago, New York and California. She’d give him credit for building a successful business, but he didn’t need to be rude. “You know,” she said, “I’m trying to help here. This is your dress. I’d think you’d be a little more appreciative of my efforts. Considering you’re not putting up the reward money.”

  Joey huddled closer. “That’s telling him, tough guy.”

  “Help?” Mr. Dukane said. “By sending legions of people my way? That’s how you help? Who is going to field all these calls?”

  So maybe she hadn’t anticipated reporters and fans flocking to Mr. Dukane.

  My bad.

  And those Cock Heads, they could be rabid.

  “I certainly apologize for that, sir. I told everyone to go to my Web site for information. I didn’t realize we’d receive this kind of reaction. But, hey, maybe we’ll get a solid lead out of this, and the dress will be recovered. Wouldn’t that be great?”

  “You dumb twit!”

  From the first moments she’d met this man, he’d been horrendous to her. Right here, right now, it would stop. “Rudeness. That is uncalled—”

  Click. The line went dead. Lucie held the phone in front of her and shook it wildly. “Idiot!”

  Joey burst out laughing. Ro slapped him—hard—on the arm. Dad narrowed his eyes and Tim watched the whole thing with a detached amusement that tilted his mouth into a half-hidden grin.

  “What a jerk,” Lucie said. “He hung up on me.”

  “Who was that?” This from Dad, whose narrowed eyes and locked jaw told her all she needed to know about what he was thinking.

  “He’s the owner of the dress.”

  “How’d he get your number?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe from the auction house. Or it’s on the Coco Barknell Web site. The upshot is, our little impromptu press conference worked. The bad news is he’s getting slammed with calls and reporters showing up at his door.”

  Ro peeled her lips back. “Ew.”

  “Yeah. Not happy.” She turned to Tim. “I kinda feel bad.”

  “Don’t. He’s an ass. Arrogant as all hell. Everybody owes him a living, that type of thing.”

  In her limited dealings with him, she could see that.

  Tim’s phone rang. The dreaded train horn. “That’s your boss. I’m so sorry I’ve kept you.”

  The phone rang again, but he reached for her, squeezed her arm. “It’s okay. But I gotta take this.”

  He made a move to drop a kiss on her but stopped. Probably the audience scaring him off. As tempted as she was to finish it, to just hop up and lay a smooch on him, she wouldn’t. Clearly, he wasn’t yet comfortable kissing her in front of her father, and she wouldn’t rush him.

  Instead, she pecked him on the cheek. Nice compromise. “Go talk to your boss. Thank you for everything. I’ll call you later.”

  “Don’t forget we have a Cock Head meeting to attend.”

  Lucie, Tim and Ro arranged to meet at a cafe around the corner from the Java Pit at six o’clock. They’d grab a quick bite, draft a plan and then hit the Cock Head meeting at seven.

  At 5:50, Lucie and Ro nabbed a parking spot near the coffee shop and hoofed it to the cafe. Darkness descended, bringing a crisp wind that prickled Lucie’s cheeks as they walked. At the corner traffic light, she tilted her head back at an array of twinkling stars splashed across the black sky. Such a perfect night for a walk.

  With a hunky detective.

  With any luck, her pain-in-the-butt brother would show up later to take Ro home and Lucie and Tim could sneak off for a few minutes. She’d barely seen him all week, and the realization brought her back to those miserable times when she and Frankie had been broken up and loneliness consumed her.

  Oddly, she never felt lonely when away from Tim. Somehow, even in such an early stage of their relationship, she felt . . . at ease.

  Not comfortable, but safe.

  At the cafe, Ro held the door open, but having been cooped up all day while lying low from the few reporters still loitering in front of the shop, Lucie needed air.

  And a few minutes alone.

  Her BFF eyed her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “I know you. You’ve got a spooked look. Spill it, Sister.”

  Such a gift—mostly—to have a friend who knew her so well. And cared enough to ask what her problem was.

  Lucie took two steps, wrapped her arms around Ro and squeezed. “Thank you. But really, I’m good. I’ve gotten too used to being outside with the dogs every day.”

  “Ah. You didn’t get that today.”

  Lucie backed away and tapped her nose. “You guessed it. I need air and a few minutes by myself. That’s all. Get us a table, and I’ll wait for Tim.”

  Ro grinned. “Okay, but no sneaking off to make out.”

  Lucie snorted.
“We’ll try to control ourselves.”

  No promises though.

  An empty bench, courtesy of the cafe, sat in front of the building. Lucie plopped onto it, fighting the urge to check her phone. A few minutes of being disconnected might give her a much-needed energy boost.

  Hunting down stolen memorabilia could wear a girl down.

  She rested her head back against the brick building. The cold from the hard surface traveled into her neck and shoulders. She inhaled, held the breath for a few seconds and let it go again. Her own Lucie version of speed meditating.

  “Hey, pretty lady.”

  Tim’s voice. She opened her eyes to the hunkmeister standing right in front of her, his lovely green eyes sparking and heating her cheeks.

  And hello? She hadn’t even heard him walk up. He could have been a mugger and here she was zoning out on a city street.

  I need sleep.

  “Hi.” She rose from the bench, tugged on his suit jacket. “You snuck up on me.”

  “You looked peaceful. Sorry if I scared you.”

  “You could never scare me. In fact, with you, it’s the reverse.”

  “And that’s a good thing, I hope.”

  “Safety is a very good thing. You look like you have something on your mind.”

  He made a grunting noise, ran one finger under her chin and kissed her. Soft and long and . . . oh, my, my, my.

  He’d kissed her before, plenty of times, but this one? Total panty dropper. A slow brush of lips that left her more than a little gooey. She snuggled closer, and the heat of his body curved around her.

  Safety.

  Finally, he pulled back from the kiss. “It occurs to me,” he said, “that you haven’t seen where I live.”

  This is it. For weeks she’d been thinking about when he’d finally make his move. When she’d be ready for him to do so.

  He’d been upfront about making sure she was over Frankie. When Tim O’Brien took a woman to bed, he didn’t want the Ghost of Boyfriends Past in there with them.

  Well, she was ready. “In fact, I haven’t.”

  “It’s only three miles from here, would you like to?”

  “Now?”

  He laughed. “After the meeting.” He leaned in, nuzzled her ear. “I have to warn you, I might get handsy.”

  “Wouldn’t that be conduct unbecoming an officer?”

  “Only if I’m lucky.”

  She swatted him on the chest. “That’s . . .”

  “What?”

  A great idea. As much as she wanted to scold him, why bother? They’d been playing this game, teasing each other with sexual innuendos, for the past two weeks, getting closer and closer to this moment.

  She could either think it to death—as she usually did—or let it happen.

  “I’d like that,” she said. “I’ll text Joey. Tell him to come and get Ro.”

  “We could drive her home.”

  “Holy crap, Detective, you must really need to get some if you’re willing to drive to Franklin and back.”

  Tim cracked up, threw his arm over her shoulder and steered her toward the door. “Or maybe it’s just the woman. Ever think of that, smartass?”

  Again, she smiled up at him. “Coming from you, that’s a great compliment.” She dug her phone from her jacket pocket and went to work on texting Joey. “Now, let’s get the big man down here so you and I can get busy tonight.”

  After dinner, Lucie checked her texts to see if Joey had responded. He typically responded within minutes, but in the hour they’d been at the cafe, he’d gone radio silent.

  Which meant her bookie of a brother must have been glued to a barstool sweating out a close game. And she hated that. As smart as he was—way smarter than her, if she were being honest—he could do so much more with his life. Heck, if he’d leave bookie-ing behind, she’d give him full time at Coco Barknell. He’d supervise the dog walking while she oversaw the accessory line. Crazy as he made her, he was reliable and knew how to take charge of an operation. With him and Ro helping, maybe Coco Barknell could actually grow into that Fortune 500 company she dreamed of.

  Tim stood, scooped up the check and walked to the counter to pay while Lucie and Ro made their way outside.

  “I like him,” Ro said. “I miss mouthing off to Frankie, but O’Hottie? I think he’s good for you.”

  Lucie linked her arm through Ro’s. “I think so, too. He makes me feel happy and relaxed.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s all good, but I wish you’d have sex with him and give me the details. I just know there’s a great body under those suits.”

  “Maybe tomorrow I’ll give you a little something.”

  Ro halted, narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tease me.”

  Lucie clucked her tongue. “If my brother would text me back and tell me he’ll pick you up tonight, you might just get your wish.”

  “Stop. It.”

  Lucie laughed. Ro. So easy. “He wants me to go home with him after the Cock Head meeting. I texted Joey. He hasn’t answered.”

  Ro ripped her arm free and dug into her giant purse. “You’re going. Believe it.”

  On the street, a car cruised by, slowing as it neared, the driver obviously anticipating the score of a parking spot via Lucie and Ro. Lucie waved the driver on. Sorry, pal.

  “The Hawks are on,” Ro said. “But I’ll get his attention.” She shot off a text with an evil grin quirking one side of her mouth. “I love doing this to him.”

  “Seriously, you two are sick.”

  “I know. But it’s fun.”

  Tim stepped out of the restaurant, his suit coat blowing open as a gust of wind took hold of it. Lucie’s gaze landed on the center of his chest, wandered up to where the top button hung open after he’d ditched his tie.

  With any luck, in a couple of hours, she’d know what hid under that shirt.

  Ro leaned closer, got right up to Lucie’s ear. “Now whose the sick one?”

  “Oh, just shut it.”

  Tim stepped between them, held both arms out. “Ladies, shall we?”

  The two of them linked arms with him, and they headed west toward the Java Pit. As they walked, Ro’s phone went off, and she pulled her arm free.

  Please, let that be Joey.

  “Well, well,” she said, “looks like you two lovebirds are in business. Joey will be here in an hour.” She shoved the phone back into her purse and grabbed hold of Tim’s arm again. “O’Hottie, you owe me.”

  Dear God.

  “Fair enough,” Tim said.

  Inside the Java Pit, they greeted the cute barista from their previous visit. Knowing the guy probably counted on his tips, Lucie ordered a round of coffees, and they headed upstairs.

  “Brace yourself,” she said to Tim, “The lady that ran the meeting the other night wore a replica dress, and it was a sight.”

  “I’ll say,” Ro added. “Darn it! I forgot my headband.”

  “You’ll survive. We’ll introduce Tim as my boyfriend. If Wendel is here, Ro, you do your thing and get some conversation going. I’ll break off and ask him about Bill. See if he knows him.”

  Tim stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Are we sure Wendel and Bill aren’t partners?”

  Ro’s eyebrows shot up.

  Could that be? No wonder he was the detective.

  Lucie cocked her head. “He did tell me he’d load our contact information into the database.”

  Someone entered the staircase, their heavy shoes clunking against the creaky wooden steps as they climbed.

  Not wanting to be overheard, Lucie jerked her chin to the top of the stairs. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  As with the other night, Annabelle, once again in the replica Maxmillian dress, greeted them.

  She waved at them from her spot near the spiritwear table, once again strewn with postcards, headbands and various other items. She smiled at Tim, then shifted her gaze to Lucie and Ro, narrowing her eyes enough that Lucie figured Annabelle had seen the news.
“I have to say, after seeing that news clip of you, I’m surprised to see you two back.”

  “Hi, Annabelle,” Lucie said. “I’m sure it was a shock, but I had nothing to do with the theft. Which is why I offered that reward. I’m searching for the real thief. And we’re here to see if anyone might have heard anything.”

  Beside her, Tim cleared his throat, and she set her hand on his arm. “This is my boyfriend, Tim.”

  And, wow, as exciting as it was, the word “boyfriend” coming from her mouth and not followed by the name “Frankie” would take a minute to get used to.

  Change. Always hard.

  “Hello, Tim,” Annabelle said. “Welcome to the Cock Heads. Please feel free to look over the items on the table. Plenty of information there. And that reminds me.” She picked up a stack of flyers and turned back to the group. “Everyone, make sure you take one of these. It’s the schedule of events for the Cock Head Convention. Great lineup this year!”

  Tim glanced down at Lucie, raised an eyebrow. Yep, they had a convention.

  “Oh, I’ll take one.” Ro snatched one from the stack. “I swear, people, if someone doesn’t find that dress soon, I may have to get violent.”

  “Yow,” Tim said.

  “Buckle up, big boy. You haven’t seen her in action. Her method acting should win her an Oscar.”

  Ro flopped her ginormous purse onto the table and dropped into a chair with a huff. “Please, someone give me good news.”

  The bored housewife from the other night sat forward. “Well, I don’t know if it’s good news or not, but Annabelle is right. The lineup for the convention looks amazing. I heard they’re going to have a peacock parade. Right through the hotel ballroom!”

  “That’s gotta be a health-code violation,” Tim muttered.

  Lucie elbowed him, then scanned the two dozen folks in attendance, hoping to find Bill among them. Not that she’d be that lucky, but a girl could dream. She recognized some people from the other night—hello, Wendel—but no Bill.

  Hey, that was a stretch anyway. She wasn’t even sure he’d been here the other night. She certainly didn’t remember seeing him.

  Besides, the guy would be nuts to show up after their deal had gone bad. Then again, how sane could the man be when making shady deals with Cock Heads?