Now she just had to introduce Luca to Shane and somehow convince the man she loved to give her—and himself—a second chance.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Jenna Murphy Creative Writing Scholarship will be awarded each semester to the student whose handwritten application displays creativity, scholastic aptitude and strong, individualistic vision.
HE’D CHANGEDwritten to handwritten knowing Jenna would smile when she read the mission statement of the endowment he was in the process of setting up at their alma mater. He planned to fund the scholarship with the money coming to him from his brother’s estate.
Working on this project had saved his sanity this week. For five days straight, he had returned home from twelve hours in the madhouse called the CBS Television Network and gone straight to his computer, turning his attention to something real and positive.
He was so excited about the final results, he decided to invite Jenna, Bess, Libby and Coop to the house for a Saturday afternoon swim party, where he planned to unveil his masterpiece. A fully funded, self-perpetuating scholarship for a deserving student intent on becoming a writer.
The money wasn’t in the bank yet, but Shane had talked to the administrator of Adam’s will and apparently the estate was substantial enough that Christina, their stepmother, hadn’t challenged a default award that had been a gift left equally to both sons by their mother. Shane had never heard about the bequeathal when Adam was alive, naturally, and he didn’t want a single dollar for himself. But he hoped this gesture would please Jenna.
He’d been tempted to call her a dozen times this week, but he hadn’t. There truly hadn’t been time during the day, and at night he’d channeled his love for her into something that would outlast them both. He hoped.
Before turning off the computer, he scrolled the SDSU Web site, smiling at the images of familiar landmarks he remembered from his three-plus years in school. New buildings had gone up since he left, he noted.
The other day when he’d been on the phone with the head of the alumni association, he’d halfway toyed with the idea of checking into what it would take to finish up his degree. But the reality was he didn’t have time. Not now. He couldn’t make any major changes in his life until after Sentinel Passtime’s run was over.
And at the moment, the show’s future looked promising. They’d shot the first pilot on Wednesday after two days of rehearsals. The studio audience had laughed when they were supposed to and had warmly embraced Cooper’s and Libby’s characters. Another character to get a big ovation was Aggie the dog lady, played by Jenna’s mother. That had pleased Shane.
This weekend the pilot would be shown to test audiences around the country. This part of the game was a real crapshoot, but he was confident the show—and Coop’s high-profile mug—would help them score high enough marks to interest sponsors.
Yesterday, based on the feedback he’d gotten from the studio brass, he’d hired four additional writers to help him produce the rest of the scripts they’d need if the show got the green light. None of the four were as fresh, funny and original has Jenna had been, of course.
There was still a small question of whether or not Morgan, Coop’s second ex-wife, would be signed to play Libby’s role permanently. The banter between Coop and Morgan had felt real, but a bit too biting at times. Plus, Coop was worried about Libby’s feelings. Shane hoped they’d be able to settle the issue today.
He glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. His guests would be here soon. He rose to stroll barefoot toward the lanai.
He planned to serve drinks and tapas by the pool. It was a hot summer day and the sparkling water beckoned invitingly. He couldn’t wait to see Jenna in a swimsuit—even though he knew the idea was masochistic and would ruin his sleep for weeks to come. But, apparently, he had an addictive personality that couldn’t resist temptation when it was in the same town.
He let out a long, heavy sigh. He did think he was getting better. The hectic pace of life in L.A. helped. He actually could go for several hours without thinking about Jenna, if he set his mind to it.
But his two hours were up and without the scholarship project to distract him he was left with nothing to keep him from getting lost in his memories. If he closed his eyes he could almost conjure up her smell, her laugh. What he couldn’t account for was the sound of a dog barking. His nearest neighbor had a Yorkie, but this was a deep, bass timbre that seemed both happy and concerned.
“What the heck?” Did Coop get a dog, he wondered, heading toward the door.
The person standing in his entry wasn’t Coop. She was a red-haired beauty wearing a stylish black-and-white sundress with a hot-pink belt. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her attention was fixed on the young dog at her side.
“Sit, Luca,” she commanded, pushing on the dog’s hindquarters while the animal, which had to weigh eighty pounds, tried to lick her face. “Stop that, sweetie. We need to make a good impression.”
He tightened his grip on the doorjamb to keep from launching himself forward to sweep her into his arms. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and apologize for being…well, who he was. Instead, he simply watched her, sensing the second she became aware of his presence.
She glanced up through a part in her shaggy new hairdo. He liked it. When she straightened, he saw that the style made the most of her bright, thick hair. The cut was unapologetically fun and gave the impression of a woman who was secure in her own skin.
“Hi,” she said, blowing aside her bangs to smile at him. “We’re, um, working on some gaps in his training.”
“I see that.” The large dog’s fluffy black tail swished from side to side with enough force to make the ferns in his ever-perfect landscaping wave.
“Shane Reynard meet Luca.” She reached down for one of the dog’s giant paws for Shane to shake but the dog wasn’t having any of that. He nuzzled her with his broad head then licked her cheek again.
“That’s his way of hugging,” she explained.
“He’s big.”
“Yes.” She sounded proud. “And only eleven months. Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Shane made himself pull his focus from her to the dog. Tricolor. The animal’s thick, soft-looking coat was predominantly black with a white chest and snowy streak that ran from his nose to crown. Cinnamon-brown hatch marks above his eyes matched the same color on his legs and paws. The dog seemed to be sizing up Shane as intently.
“He’s a Bernese mountain dog, of course.”
Of course? “Oh…right. Aggie the dog lady said I looked—”
“No.” She stood straight, shoulders back as if delivering a practiced lecture. “Mom made this call long before there was an Aggie. Mom said she could see that you shared certain attributes with the breed, and after doing some research, I agree. Can we come in?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Cooper and Libby and Mom dropped us off so you and Luca could get acquainted without a crowd. Coop said to tell you they’d return in an hour or so with pizzas.”
“He did, did he?” Coop knew Shane hated to be manipulated.
His annoyance must have come through in his tone because she held up a small phone. “I can call him to come back if you’d rather not.”
“You broke down and bought one?”
“Two, actually. Mom said they’re a must in L.A.”
She gave him a questioning look that seemed to say, “Are we welcome here or not?” He’d planned to see her, even if he hadn’t expected a dog to accompany her. He shouldn’t feel this off-kilter. But he did. He felt like a kid meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time.
“Come in. Is he housebroken?” he joked. What he really wanted to ask was the dog a gift? He hoped to God not.
“Of course. He’s very smart. He knows how to sit and shake, but he’s so curious and energetic he sometimes has trouble remembering his manners.” When she stepped forward, the dog stayed at her heels. He seemed attuned to her, but at the same time appeared interested in all the new sights and sm
ells as they walked through the house.
Shane had bought the place because of the open floor plan. The bedrooms were on the second floor, which could be seen through the Moorish-style arches that added light and texture to the great room. He pointed toward the open doors of the patio. “I think it’s nice enough to be outside. The yard is fenced, if you want to let him off his leash.”
“Great.” She looked around. “Beautiful place. Coop said you decorated it yourself. I can see you in it.”
Her tone said that was a compliment, and her smile was so warm and conciliatory he simply had to ask, “Jenna, why are you being so nice? We had an ugly breakup. I left you holding a highly charged emotional bag, and even though I’ve picked up the phone a dozen times since to call and apologize, I obviously haven’t. You should hate me.”
She let out a loud sigh that made the dog turn sharply and nuzzle her hand for reassurance—or to give comfort, Shane wasn’t sure which. She petted the animal’s broad head, then looked at Shane and said, “I did. Hate you. For about twelve minutes. I twisted the back off my favorite turquoise hair clip and threw a couple of shoes. One of them knocked a book off the end table. My book. The one my mother had published. It struck me that there might be a parallel between what your brother did to me and the way you left. So I picked it up and started to read.”
He could tell this was important so he led her to a pair of padded teak deck chairs set in the shade of a massive palm tree. She sat across from him. “It was interesting reading. A part of me remembered feeling what the words in those poems expressed, but another part felt like a voyeur. That girl wasn’t me. Not anymore. Sure, I felt sorry for her, but I also found myself growing impatient. I wanted to take her by the shoulders and say, ‘Bad things happen. Bad people exist in this world. You can’t let that define you.’”
“You told me that once. You said it was why you hadn’t spoken of the rape to your book-club friends.”
She nodded. “They know now. They know everything. They’re the reason I’m here. Libby called an emergency meeting of Wine, Women and Words and we hashed out my problems, your problems and most importantly our problems.”
Shane sat back to put a little more physical distance between them. “Jenna, nothing’s changed. There is no us. I’m still me. Bad genes and all.”
She bit down on her lip and welcomed the dog between her legs. She hugged him lightly. Shane felt a twinge of jealousy. Lucky dog.
“I figured you felt that way or you would have called, but then I met Luca. I want to tell you his story, and I want you to promise to keep an open mind. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Her blazing smile made his heart stop momentarily, and he almost missed what she was saying. “Luca’s mother gave birth to five puppies. Three females and two males. Luca and his brother, Chaz.”
Luca looked up at the sound of his name and she kissed his shiny black nose. “They’re purebreds with a long, illustrious pedigree going back to Switzerland. The breeders are very serious about maintaining a healthy population within the breed and they’re meticulous about matching the right stud and bitch.”
Her cheeks colored slightly at the use of the word. “Anyway, backstory aside, at eight weeks, Luca and Chaz and their sisters were put up for adoption. The females went right away, and the breeders liked Luca’s temperament so well they decided to keep him for breeding. Then the family that bought Chaz brought him back. They said he was too rambunctious for their lifestyle.”
“Luca’s a big dog. I can see how that could be a problem.”
She nodded agreeably. “True, but by nature they’re so easygoing and quick to train that their owners usually adore them. The breeder offered to give the people Luca in place of Chaz, but the buyers were spooked. They wanted their money back.”
Shane had a feeling they were talking serious bucks, but he didn’t ask.
“Within a few days, the breeders understood what the buyers meant. Chaz had gone from normal to aggressive. Chaz wouldn’t let Luca eat. He tormented his brother constantly, until poor Luca had to fight back. The veterinarian was called in more than once.”
“Am I supposed to see a parallel between Chaz and Luca and my brother and me?”
“I do.” She reached out and touched him, but he pulled his hands back and stuck them under his armpits.
“Jenna, this doggie fairy tale isn’t going to make me change my mind.”
“Fine,” she said testily, “but at least have the courtesy to hear the rest of the story. The breeders are compassionate, responsible dog people. They tried showering Chaz with affection. They took him to a dog whisperer. Even medication didn’t help. ‘Chaz’s hardwiring wasn’t connected properly,’ the husband told me.”
Shane shrugged. “So, they put him down.”
“I think they wish they had. Instead, while they were away one day, Chaz dug his way out of the kennel and attacked a neighbor’s dog. A full-grown chow. The family called 9-1-1. The chow’s thick fur probably saved his life, but when the authorities got there, Chaz turned on one of the officers. He left them no choice. They shot him. Eerie parallel, don’t you think?”
“Between Adam and some dog? That’s a bit of a stretch,” he said, but he rubbed his arms to hide the gooseflesh her story had produced.
Her smile was rueful and she shook her head. “Well, maybe…if you’re looking for excuses to avoid commitment.”
He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He could smell dog—which wasn’t a bad smell, he decided—and her perfume. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Or is it possible the writer in you wants to tie up all the loose ends of this story so badly you’re seeing a correlation where there isn’t one?”
Her back stiffened. “Oh, you big dope. Don’t you get it? They did an autopsy of Chaz’s body and didn’t find anything wrong. Outwardly he was a perfect dog. Nurture-wise, he had the same mother, food, attention and living conditions as his littermates, but he went psycho—just like Adam.”
He heaved a sigh. “So you bought this dog to prove to me that I’m okay? What if he suddenly snaps one day and you lose a hand? Or a kid?”
She made a face. “That was the breeders’ fear, too. The liability issues were huge, but they were also concerned about passing along defective genes—if such genes exist—to future generations. Better, they figured, to have Luca put down and suggest to the owners of the females that they don’t breed their pets.”
Shane’s stomach turned over. “They obviously didn’t kill Luca.”
“No. Because I showed up and begged them to sell him to me. I’m not ashamed to admit there were tears. I signed papers agreeing not to sue them and to have Luca fixed. That wasn’t a big deal to me. I think most people should have their dogs and cats neutered.”
“You saved his life.”
She nodded. “Just like you saved mine.”
The look he gave her was classic Shane—left eyebrow cocked, lips pulled to the right, the furrows she loved in his brow. Her heart was so filled with love she wanted to jump him right there without warning, but she still had to make him see what she knew without reservation.
“Shane, I didn’t buy just any old dog. I bought a Bernese mountain dog. A dog that, by some fluke of nature, has the same history as you.” A nervous giggle bubbled up. “Well, not the successful Hollywood producer part, but the bad twin thing…. Come on, Shane. Admit it. You have to see the correlation. I couldn’t have made this up.”
His severe look softened. “It’s a good story, Jenna. But it doesn’t change anything.”
She made an impatient sound that spooked Luca. He barked one low, cautionary woof, then looked around, ears upright and eyes wide. He was the most beautiful dog she’d ever seen and she’d fallen in love with him the moment she saw him. He was Shane in dog form. She knew it, even if Shane was blind to the fact.
“I can understand why you might choose to be obtuse, Shane, but I’ve thought about this all week, and here’s what I know.
The fact Chaz was a bad dog doesn’t make Luca any less of a Bernese mountain dog. He’s smart and brave and gentle and very sweet. I love him.”
She put her arms around the dog’s neck and squeezed. Luca responded with unequivocal, tail-whacking affection. Then she looked at Shane. “And I also know that Adam’s problems—whether a fluke of nature or product of nurture—do not make you any less of a man. You’re smart and brave and loyal, and I love you.”
His eyes were filled with emotion but she could tell he meant to push her away again—for her own good. So she launched herself at him, pinning him to the chaise. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m going to beg. I’m warning you, there might be tears. It worked for Luca, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you throw away our chance at happiness because you think you’re going to save me from having to suffer the misfortune of growing old with you. Good grief, Shane. Why is that supposed to scare me? I love you. I want you to marry me.”
“And have children.”
“Possibly.”
“Probably. And you should, Jenna. You’d make a great mom.”
She kissed him. “I don’t know why you’d say that, given my parents, but thanks for the compliment. And I understand completely that you think you’re a genetic risk. I don’t agree, but I’m prepared to go back to college and study genetics until I prove you wrong.”
She saw that that got his attention. “You’re going back to school?”
“Yes, I am. My father was a Ph.D. I think I should be able to get a degree or two before I’m too old to reproduce.”
“You could apply for the Jenna Murphy scholarship.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. She kissed him again then said, sternly, “Quit trying to change the subject. If you don’t like my version of this story, we could fly Char out to give you the Lakota medicine man’s take on the subject. I’m not sure you’d like the part of you stringing up Adam from a tree…oh, never mind. I need you to answer one question for me.”
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