Lions and Tigers and Murder, Oh My

by Denise Swanson

  “That’s a shame,” Noah murmured. He hated the townspeople’s us-versus-them mentality. “But at least you’ve made friends with some of the other new folks.”

  “Yeah.” Muffy brightened, then her lips drooped. “But Gabriella lives over in Country Club Estates. She and her husband have this awesome modern house. I wish Vaughn would build there.”

  “Is he considering moving?” Noah asked, watching Lucky take care of business near a tree and reminding himself to pick it up before he left.

  Noah hadn’t heard that Yager was in the market for a new place. He doubted that the prosperous factory owner would give up the cachet of living in this subdivision, especially after he’d completely renovated the sixty-year-old residence.

  “No.” Muffy blew out an exasperated breath. “Just wishful thinking on my part.” She shrugged. “It would be wonderful to be closer to Gabriella, but off the record, I don’t think she’ll be living there too long anyway.”

  “Oh.” Noah didn’t know Gabriella so didn’t really care, but to be polite he asked, “Are your friend and her husband planning to move?”

  “I think the only part of her husband Gabriella will take with her will be his money.” Muffy giggled, then wrinkled her nose and said, “Although, a while back she had been gaining a little weight, and I sort of wondered if she might be pregnant. But she was a little old for that, so I didn’t ask her.”

  “Of course not.” Noah had learned that unless he could actually see the baby emerging right that minute, suggesting a woman looked pregnant was a good way to have his face slapped.

  “And it was a good thing I never said anything, because Gabriella took up golf and lost the pudge.”

  “I see.” Noah covertly glanced at his watch.

  “Anyway”—Muffy shook her head—“Vaughn and I are having a party this Saturday, and I wanted to invite you.”

  “Thanks,” Noah said. “I’ll have to check my schedule.” He quickly cleaned up after Lucky, then edged down the sidewalk until he was standing by his driveway. When Muffy followed him, he said, “Sorry, I’ve got to get going. I’m picking up my girlfriend at six.”

  “Devereaux Sinclair, right?” Muffy swept her long brown hair over her shoulder and petted it as if it were alive. “You should bring her Saturday.” Muffy smiled toothily. “It might get the message across to the neighborhood ladies that you’re off the market.” She winked and walked away, then turned and said, “Of course, that plan could backfire and just bring out their competitive spirit.”

  Noah’s conversation with Muffy had cost him precious minutes, and he swiftly filled Lucky’s food and water bowls, washed his hands, and ran a comb through his hair. After checking that he had his keys and wallet, he rushed to his car. Backing onto the street, he threw the ignition into drive and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. If he wanted to be on time, he’d have to risk a speeding ticket.

  When he pulled into a parking spot in front of the dime store, Dev was waiting on the step. She wore a pretty dark blue-green sweater that matched her eyes and slim-fitting black slacks that showed off her curves. Suddenly hot, he powered down the window and listened to her sexy ankle-high heeled boots click on the pavement as she hurried toward him.

  Before he could tear his gaze from Dev and get out of the Jag to open the door for her, she slid into the passenger seat.

  “You look beautiful,” Noah said, leaning over and pressing his lips to her soft cheek. “I hope you’re hungry. We have reservations at the Manor.”

  “Starving.” Dev’s smile warmed his heart. “You look great, too. I love a guy in a crisply pressed Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up.”

  “It would have been crisper if I’d had time to change.” Noah’s smile was rueful. “It took me longer to take care of Lucky than I planned.”

  “I also like a guy who’s a bit rumpled,” Dev teased. “So, win-win.”

  “How are your dad and grandmother?” Noah asked as he put the car in reverse.

  “They’re both doing well.” Dev buckled her seat belt. “Dad had a date last night with the owner of the new art gallery. She seems nice.”

  “That’s great.”

  Noah liked Kern Sinclair, and he hoped the feeling was mutual. It was too bad that Dev’s grandmother despised him. He’d been working hard to win her over, but hadn’t made much noticeable progress. Would she soften toward him if he sent her flowers? Probably not. Birdie Sinclair wasn’t someone he could impress with trite gifts.

  “How’s Nadine’s treatment going?” Dev asked. She scrunched up her cute nose and added, “I imagine rehab is a struggle for someone like her.”

  “Mother wasn’t happy when I gave her the ultimatum.” Noah winced at the memory of his mom’s tantrum when he’d performed the intervention. “But I found a facility that’s upscale enough to make her comfortable with the surroundings, and the doctors say she’s making progress with her alcohol addiction and her anorexia. Her psychiatrist believes depression is at the root of both problems.”

  “It’s wonderful that you got her help when you did.” Dev patted his thigh. “You’re a good son.”

  Noah snuck a peek at Dev. Her words had been positive, but something in her tone didn’t feel right. What was he missing?

  Shoving the nibble of worry from his mind, Noah said, “It seems that Shadow Bend has had its share of people needing mental health assistance.” He stared at the road as the Jaguar ate up the miles between town and the restaurant. This was his opening. He slid a quick glance at Dev, then said, “Speaking of that, you’ll never guess who Elexus hired to replace Madison.”

  “Meg.” Dev’s mouth was pressed in a straight line.

  Noah grimaced. He should have known someone would have told Dev about Meg. Del Vecchio’s ex working for the Underwood Clinic was probably the hottest gossip in town.

  “Yeah.” He hurriedly explained, “I had no idea until I walked in yesterday and found her at the reception desk arguing with Eunice.”

  “Is it a permanent job or is she just filling in?” Dev asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Noah glanced at Dev’s unhappy expression. “I forgot to ask Elexus about that.”

  “Oh.” Dev was silent for several seconds. When she next spoke, her casual tone didn’t fool Noah for one second. “What’s Meg’s last name nowadays?” When Noah raised his brows, her cheeks reddened and she said hastily, “I never heard what she was going by, and I’m curious.”

  “Del Vecchio.” Noah hid his smile. That should put Deputy Dawg behind the eight ball. He added, “When I asked, Meg said that since Jake had been so insistent she take his name, she was keeping it.”

  When Dev didn’t comment, Noah reached over and took her hand. He’d let her stew on that little tidbit until they got to the restaurant. But this was his night with her, and he wouldn’t allow Del Vecchio to get in the way.

  Dusk made the passing scenery seem almost unreal. As he drove across a creek trickling lazily over dark gray rocks, it reminded him of what his life had been like without Dev. A slow movement forward, but lacking any zest or sparkle. Whatever happened between them, he couldn’t allow himself to go back to that apathetic state.

  A stubble-studded field indicated that the fall harvest was nearly complete. And the trio of deer munching the stray corncobs that the combine had missed made him think of his last patient of the day. An unfortunate fellow who had shot off the big toe of his right foot while trying to bag a wild turkey. The first bloody wound made it official. Hunting season had begun.

  As Noah turned into the Manor’s long driveway and pulled up in front of the imposing brick building, he noticed a large bus with animals painted on the side in the parking lot. “Looks like there’s a party going on.”

  Dev’s brow puckered. “I just hope it doesn’t turn into a rowdy group of drunks.”

  “Me, too.” Noah gave his ca
r keys to a valet, took Dev’s hand, and guided her up one of the twin marble staircases that led to the Manor’s grand entrance. As he opened the door for her, he said, “Shoot! I asked for one of the private alcoves, but unfortunately they’re near the banquet wing.”

  “Oh, well. Can’t win ’em all.” Dev shrugged, then as she and Noah stepped into the stunning lobby, she stopped him and said, “Just a minute. Last time I was here, I didn’t get a chance to take a good look at these Thomas Moser chairs. The craftsmanship is amazing.”

  “It certainly is.” Noah smiled indulgently. Dev’s appreciation for the finer things in life was definitely a plus on his side of the ledger. He’d bet Del Vecchio didn’t know a Moser from a discount special. And didn’t care. “Take your time.”

  Noah watched as Dev moved over to a sideboard displaying a collection of Murano glass and raptly studied the contents. After several minutes, she sighed happily and returned to his side.

  Twining her fingers with his, she said, “Thanks for waiting. The colors are exquisite, and they seem to change as you look at them.”

  “No problem.” Noah kissed her forehead. “Ready to go to our table?”

  Dev nodded, and Noah made eye contact with the hostess who had been waiting for them.

  The striking woman dressed in an expensive black wrap dress and red high heels immediately approached him and said, “Dr. Underwood, follow me.”

  She led them to an area separated from the other patrons by a heavy curtain. The table for two was set with sparkling crystal and silver and faced a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the lake.

  The hostess put her hand on Noah’s shoulder and purred, “I hope this is satisfactory, Dr. Underwood.”

  He subtly removed her fingers and slid his arm around Dev. “Perfect. Thank you, Anne.”

  The hostess lingered as Noah pulled out a chair for Dev. Before he could figure out how to get rid of the woman without being a jerk, a raucous burst of laughter shattered the restaurant’s quiet atmosphere and two middle-aged men stumbled through the curtain. The hostess immediately pushed them back out.

  When she returned a few seconds later with menus, she said, “I apologize, Dr. Underwood. The party in our banquet room seems to be getting out of hand. I’ll make certain you won’t be disturbed again.”

  “Thank you, Anne.” Noah frowned. “I hope none of those guests will be driving.”

  “No need to worry about that.” The woman shook her head. “When he booked the event, Mr. Winston assured us that he would arrange transportation to and from the Manor for all his guests. No exceptions.”

  “That’s a relief.” Noah smiled. When the hostess didn’t leave, he added, “Is there something else?”

  “No, Doctor.” The woman’s face reddened and she sighed. “I’ll send your server in with the champagne and hors d’oeuvres you requested.”

  Noah nodded, then turned to Dev to make a comment about drunk drivers, but stopped when he noticed her expression. Her gorgeous blue-green eyes were focused inward. What the hell had put that frown on her pretty face?

  CHAPTER 13

  I watched the poor besotted hostess leave the alcove. If she’d been a puppy, her tail would have been dragging on the ground. Typically, I was amused at the adoration Noah inspired in other women. Tonight, it felt a little as if the lead eagle statue I’d just used in one of my gift baskets was sitting on my chest and clawing at my self-confidence.

  If Noah and I ended up married, how often would I have to watch females throw themselves at his feet? And what if there came a time that he couldn’t resist? Jake might be panty-melting hot, but he wasn’t also the town doctor and Shadow Bend’s golden boy. It was interesting that so many of the positives in Noah’s column—attractive, rich, popular—were also the biggest negatives.

  Forcing myself to relax, I teased, “So much for my pledge not to drink this evening. You know I can never resist champagne.”

  “Why were you abstaining?” Noah sat in the chair next to me and took my hand. “Are you worried that you’re drinking too much?”

  “Not really.” I blew out a breath. “When I was working as an investment consultant, alcohol was a huge part of the job. There were always dinners and parties and meeting for cocktails. Once I quit that, I recognized how much I liked not living that way.”

  “I can see that.” Noah’s thumb stroked my knuckles. “During my internship and residency, when we were off duty, my friends and I hit the booze pretty hard. While you’re overindulging, it’s difficult to grasp how much it influences your life.”

  “Exactly.” I eased my fingers from Noah’s and reached for a glass of water. “And last night with Poppy and Noah, I realized that those old habits were coming back, so I promised myself to be more aware.”

  “I understand,” Noah said. “Would you like me to cancel the champagne?”

  “It’s okay.” I smiled. “I’ll just stick to Diet Coke after that.”

  “Deal.” Noah leaned toward me, his stunning gray eyes softening as he brushed his mouth against mine.

  I closed my eyes. His lips were soft and warm and oh so familiar.

  Before Noah or I could deepen the kiss, a thirtysomething man strode through the curtain. He carried a silver bucket containing a bottle and seemed to miss Noah’s frustrated expression.

  “Dr. Underwood.” The man walked toward us and placed the wine stand next to the table. “Anne told me that you and your guest experienced a rude interruption to your evening, so I wanted to apologize in person.”

  He held out his hand, and Noah stood. “Don’t worry about it.” The men shook hands, then Noah introduced me, “Adrian, this is my girlfriend, Devereaux Sinclair. Dev, this is Adrian Ryker. He owns the Manor.”

  I tensed. Noah hadn’t introduced me as his girlfriend since high school. What was up with that?

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sinclair.” Adrian gave a slight bow.

  He was only about five foot six, my own height, but his commanding presence made him seem much taller. His white-blond hair was short and spiked. He wore a close-fitting suit made out of shimmery gray fabric and a black shirt with a polka-dot collar.

  “You, too.” I smiled. “I’ve only eaten here once before, but the food was fabulous. And I really admire your decor. Your lobby is beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did you decide to open a restaurant out here in the boondocks?” I was curious how a man as sophisticated as Adrian ended up in the country.

  Something in Adrian’s blue eyes flickered before he said, “I owned a restaurant in Manhattan, but New York can be so . . . convoluted. I decided I preferred the peace and quiet to the complications.”

  I smiled. “Shadow Bend certainly has its own share of tricky situations.”

  “I’m sure it does.” Adrian’s lips twitched in amusement. “Dr. Underwood has been a frequent guest, but this must be a special occasion.”

  “Why is that?” I raised a brow. Were we still talking about complications?

  “Because of the champagne, of course.” Adrian took the frosted golden bottle from the wine stand and tore off the foil. “No one orders the 2005 Louis Roederer Cristal Brut for a regular Tuesday night dinner.”

  Since I didn’t know what to say, I kept quiet and nodded pleasantly.

  Noah returned to his chair, moved it a fraction of an inch closer to me, and laced our fingers together. “Any evening with Dev is a special one.”

  He shot a look at Adrian, and the restaurant owner nodded slightly, then popped the cork. After pouring the sparkling wine into crystal flutes, he returned the bottle to the stand and backed away.

  Adrian paused at the curtains and said, “Dr. Underwood. Ms. Sinclair. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your experience at the Manor more enjoyable.”

  “Thank you, Adr
ian. We will.” Noah’s tone was businesslike and his expression was impassive. Once the restaurant owner left, Noah muttered, “I suppose a little privacy would be too much to hope for.”

  I hid my smile and took a sip of the champagne. I could taste a hint of apples, peaches, and a tiny bit of mandarin orange. The sweet, delicate flavor was delicious, and I murmured my approval.

  Noah clinked glasses with me and said, “To us. Present and future.”

  My heart thudded. What did he mean? Before I could come up with a response, a server appeared and placed a plate of appetizers between us.

  She gestured to the rectangular dish and said, “Dr. Underwood, you indicated to chef that you were in the mood for something new.”

  “I did.” Noah’s tiny sigh was lost on the server. “What do we have here?”

  “Well,” the young woman huffed, “although I told Chef that a man like you would probably prefer a meatless offering, he insisted on doing miniature sirloin ruffle en brioche coin with caramelized red onions and horseradish cream.”

  “That sounds great. I love a good steak.” Noah winked at me and said, “Vegetarian is an old Cherokee word for bad hunter.”

  The server seemed disappointed at Noah’s response, and she was far less enthusiastic as she pointed to the far end of the plate and said, “Here we have shrimp wrapped in bacon and roasted with a Cajun spice.” Indicating the center, she added, “And wild mushroom and camembert tarts.”

  “It looks delicious, Mitzi.” Noah dismissed the young woman. “Thanks.”

  “Super.” Mitzi’s bubbly personality returned, and, ignoring me, she leaned against Noah’s arm, presumably to adjust the dish, and said, “We aim to please.”

  I was tempted to pull her away from Noah, but instead took a deep breath and told myself to chill. I really didn’t like this side of me. It made no sense at all. I was asking Noah and Jake not to be possessive of me, which meant I had no right to be jealous of them.