Love Is a Four-Legged Word
Page 19
“So you’re hungry, too, Brutus? We’ll have to fend for ourselves, I’m afraid, old buddy. I saw some cans of—”
Tom stopped himself, horrified at the sound of his own voice. He was actually talking to the dog. Talking to the dog in the same eccentric way Maddy did.
He shook his head in disbelief. Thank God she hadn’t heard him. He’d never live it down. The final bastion had been breached.Time to pack up the defenses and fly the white flag.
He picked up the phone and dialed an order to his favorite noodle restaurant just a block away. It would be ready by the time he got there to pick it up.
He went back into the living room and stood looking down at Maddy for a long time. He could easily carry her into the bedroom where she could sleep more comfortably. But what if she woke up? Woke up and accused him again of caveman tactics?
After last night, he didn’t want to scare her off by coming on too strong. He wanted . . . he wanted something more than no-strings sex with Maddy. She was worth way more than that to him.
He needed to know if she was totally serious about the two-date thing. Was she still hurting from a past relationship? The fiancé maybe? Or did she only see him as Brutus’s attorney? If so, he would have to convince her otherwise.
He shook out a soft gray throw that usually lay immaculately folded on the sofa and laid it lightly over her. Then he looked at her some more. Just soaking up the sight of her and musing on the changes she’d brought to his well-ordered life. Changes he wondered just how to incorporate into his plan.
While he ate his solitary noodles he’d plot how he was going to keep this wonderful woman in his life after the twenty-one days expired next Thursday.
Nineteen
Maddy woke up feeling totally disorientated. Morning sun filtered on unfamiliar pale gray walls. The slide of a leather sofa beneath her. Her shirt twisted around her. The rich smell of coffee. She sat up. Ah, Tom’s living room. And Tom in the kitchen brewing coffee.
Blinking, still a little dopey with sleep, she watched him head toward her bearing a large mug.
“Thought you might like to start the day with coffee.” He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and his hair was slicked back from his face as if he had just showered.
She stifled a yawn. “Great. Thanks.” She took the cup from him. “It’s not some healthy type of coffee, is it?” she asked, unable to hide the suspicion from her voice.
“The full caffeine hit,” he assured her.
She took a few sips. It was not as strong as she liked her coffee, but she appreciated his gesture and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“I had to guess,” he said. “I actually prefer it stronger but—”
She laughed. “I can live with it stronger. Next time make mine the same as yours.”
Next time? Did she just say next time? Next time Tom brought her coffee in bed? This being in love thing was making her careless with her words.
To cover her confusion she started to apologize. “I’m so sorry. Last night.The dinner. I was going to cook for you. I had fish—”
“Don’t worry about it. I ordered takeout.”
She swung her legs off the sofa. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”
“My personal chef was asleep. Snoring her head off.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I wasn’t.”
He laughed. “No, you weren’t. But Brutus was. That dog needs to go back to puppy school.”
“I don’t think they teach dogs not to snore at puppy school. I certainly didn’t notice it on the brochure.”
“What about his other seriously bad personal habits?”
“Not them, either. Besides, they won’t have him back. His report card reads ‘delinquent dog.’ He flunked all his classes.”
“I told you he needs some homeschooling. Of the tough-love kind. What was that Mrs. Green said about a muzzle?” There was a hint of dimple so he probably wasn’t serious but she couldn’t be sure. Not after the BMW upholstery incident.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, getting up. She took her mug over to the dining table. It was time to change the subject. “I guess you were glad to have your bed back last night.”
His bed. Her hands clenched around her coffee mug yet she scarcely felt the heat. So why did she have to mention the bed?
“Uh, wh . . . where is Brutus?” she asked, changing the conversation again before Tom had a chance to reply to her inane question about the bed. Before she had time to conjure up images of him in it, his tall, muscular body sprawled across the same place where she’d lain the night before, his body imprinted on hers. The same place where he’d kissed and caressed her all the way to step five.
“Still asleep in the bedroom,” said Tom. “He had an active night—snoring, scratching, clanging his tags together, you know, that kind of noisy stuff. He obviously passed Insomnia for Owners 101.With honors.”
Maddy shook her head in sympathy. “Poor you. He was too zonked to disturb me the night before. That was after you . . . after we . . .”
“After he barfed in the bathroom you mean. After—”
This conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory. She didn’t want to analyze or discuss what had happened so spontaneously between them. Not now when she was still getting used to the idea of being head over heels in love with him.
Luckily Brutus chose that moment to trot into the room, heading straight for his food bowl.
“Here he is now,” she said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. Saved by the dog. “Good morning, little guy.” She gave Brutus a vigorous pat down. “Were you a naughty boy again last night? Keeping your alpha male awake.”
She cast a sideways glance at Tom. Strangely, he didn’t react to her calling him Brutus’s alpha male. Even stranger, he didn’t tease her for talking to the dog as if he were a person. In fact, she could probably describe the look on his face as indulgent. Maybe he was mellowing.
Tom leaned down to scratch Brutus behind the ears. Their hands brushed.Tom took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back. The simple, affectionate gesture made her feel ridiculously happy.
Brutus looked adoringly up at Tom with his black button eyes. When the twenty-one days were over and she was back home, she supposed she’d have to organize some sort of visitation rights. But what about visitation rights for her? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Tom on a regular basis when their imposed time together came to an end.
“So,” she said, “is it back to the office for you today or do they allow you Saturdays off ?”
“I have to bill a lot of hours but I won’t work all weekend. I thought . . . I thought we could spend the day together today. If that suits you, of course.”
“I have no plans. Just lonely incarceration in your apartment.” The mournful tone of her voice was only half a joke.
Tom finished his own coffee. He put the mug down on the table. “Maddy, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
He looked so serious, his brows drawn together. What could be so important? Her stomach knotted with apprehension.Then Tom coughed, a little dry clearing of the throat that let her know he was nervous.Tom nervous? Of her?
“Fire away,” she said.
“I’d like to . . . to ask you on a date.”
She spluttered into her coffee.
“A date?” was all she managed to get out as she got her breath back.
“Yes,” he said, still looking very serious and lawyerlike and—curiously for a soccer hunk—vulnerable, his brown eyes wary. “We’ve had kissing occasions and we’ve had French kissing occasions. But we haven’t had a date. A proper I-ask-you-out type of date.”
“No, we haven’t,” she said, smiling at his overly formal tone. When she first met him she’d have thought it unbearably stuffy. Now she knew he was just being Tom. And along with the stuffiness went the sincerity and honesty she found so appealing. “And . . . and I would like to go on a proper you-ask-me-out type of date.”
“Today?” She looked out the window. The sun shone from a pale blue sky. Lunch at a bayside restaurant? A ferryboat to Sau salito and a leisurely browse through the galleries there? “But I’m not allowed outside.”
“If the coast is clear of reporters and if you lie down on the backseat so you can’t be seen, we could get right out of San Francisco. To a place where they know me and our privacy would be respected.”
“And what would we do?”
“Horseback riding,” he said.
She stared at him. “Horseback riding? I didn’t know you liked horseback riding.”
“I used to ride as a boy. I started again last fall at a ranch in Marin County.”
She jumped up from the chair. “I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do. I miss my horse so much—thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Hmm. Maybe she’d overdone the enthusiasm some. Tom looked bemused at her reaction. She backpedaled. “What I’m trying to say is that’s a great idea for a date.You know, no clichés like lunch or romantic picnic or—”
“The picnic idea is good,” he said. She noticed he didn’t pick up on the word “romantic” but she wouldn’t really expect that from Tom. In her experience, men ran from the word. Ran screaming.
She gave her enthusiasm full rein. “I ordered tons of stuff from the supermarket yesterday. I can fix the picnic.”
“Excellent. We can pick up extra things on the way if we need to.”
“But what about Brutus?”
“We’ll take him with us. He could probably do with some exercise.”
“In . . . uh . . . your car?” She quailed at the memory of the chewed upholstery.
“I’ll cover the seats with some rugs.”
“That might be wise. But what about when we get there? I mean when we ride the horses?”
“The woman who manages the ranch likes dogs. I’m sure she’d be happy to look after him and keep him out of mischief. Though we’ll have to remember to call him Bruce, not Brutus. Just in case someone has been following the millionaire mutt story and puts it together.”
“Oh, Tom, this is a great idea. I can’t thank you enough.” She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him but stopped herself from giving in to the impulse.
She could have easily done it before she realized she was in love with him. But somehow that secret new knowledge made her self-conscious about touching him.
He looked pleased at her words. “There are some good horses out at the stable. I’ll call and book.”
“But what about clothes? My breeches and boots. My helmet. They’re at my apartment.”
Tom frowned. “That poses a problem. I could drive over and get them. But if there are press camped outside I can’t risk them following me here.”
Maddy’s spirits plummeted to the level of her toes. She felt overwhelmed by sheer hatred of Jerome for putting her in this position.
“Tell you what,” said Tom. “You get the picnic ready. If I can’t get into your apartment, we’ll eat right here.”
“A picnic on the living room floor?” It wasn’t the same as horseback riding. But it could be a romantic option. “Okay,” she said. She started to plan the picnic menu. Did she have time to whip up some muffins?
Tom shifted from foot to foot. “Before I go, I’d like to ask you something else.”
“Yes?” she said, her mind still with the muffins.
“Keeping in mind your two-date rule, I’d like to ask you on another date.”
“Another date?” Caught off guard, it was all she could think to say.
“Yes. Late notice again.Thursday night?”
“A nighttime date?” A date after eight was serious stuff. In her book, a date after the sun set equaled two daytime dates.
He cleared his throat. “Dinner with the senior partners of Jackson, Jones, and Gentry.”
“Wow,” she said, again caught off guard. “Sounds, uh, impressive.”
What she really wanted to say was, “Sounds boring—really, really boring.” Not boring being in Tom’s company, never that. But dinner out with a bunch of stuffy lawyers was not exactly her idea of a hot date. But if Tom wanted her company, did the occasion matter?
“It’s kind of the last round of my bid for partnership,” said Tom. “Dinner with them and their wives. I’d like you to come with me as my date.”
This really was progress. She’d be his official date, not just a nuisance client he was keeping out of trouble. “Fine,” she said. “I’m, uh, fine with that.Thank you.”
But what on earth would she talk to these men about? And would their wives be as stuffy as the guys were sure to be?
Still, she knew how important Tom’s goal of partnership was to him. She’d do anything she could to help him. “I’d better be on my best behavior then.”
“Just be yourself.That’s your best behavior,” he said, warming her with his words.
Panic set in. “But what will I wear? I—”
“You want me to pick up a dress for you at the apartment as well as your riding gear?”
“Let me think.” Mentally she reviewed the contents of her purple suitcase. “No. I think I have something with me that will suit.” What sixth sense had made her pack her favorite black party dress and the shoes that went with it?
After he left Maddy found herself singing as she prepared her muffins. Two dates with Tom. A daytime date—and a nighttime date.
Was she seeing a variation to his plan? She hoped his master plan was like her basic muffin recipe—able to stretch to accommodate new developments.
She could add blueberries, pistachios, grated lime peel, or chocolate chips and the recipe would still work. It was just a matter of adjustment. Maybe she should see herself as the chocolate chip in his muffin mix of life.
She sang a little louder as she stirred the muffin mixture—adding oat bran for Tom’s cholesterol—but quickly switched to another tune when she realized she was warbling the words to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” with way too much feeling.
Twenty
Tom thought Maddy looked sexy in jeans. Sensational in a skirt. Words failed him as to how she looked in her riding gear as she strolled toward the stables. It was a good thing the reporters had given up on her apartment and he’d been able to get her stuff.
Her tight cream breeches clung to her curvy bottom and her slender legs, but it was her T-shirt that was like a magnet to his gaze.
Long-sleeved and dark green, it was embroidered with plump “hungry ponies” galloping toward a bunch of carrots stitched on the pocket. The pocket that just happened to be placed over her left breast. He’d like to dive into that pocket and feast, too.
“Cute T-shirt,” he said, trying to be as casual as he could, forcing himself not to focus on the pocket and how provocatively it curved.
“It is, isn’t it? I’ve got another one that’s just as cute with frisky ponies kicking up their heels.”
Tom groaned inwardly. He felt more than frisky himself. Being in such proximity to her and holding back was beginning to tell on him.
“After years of formal dressage stuff, I like wearing something fun,” she explained unself-consciously stroking the pony nearest to her breast.
Fun. Tom gritted his teeth. Fun like the sexy underwear she chose to wear under her chef ’s uniform. He wondered what underwear she had on now—and it wasn’t the first time he’d thought it today.
This fascination with her undergarments was bordering on obsessive. Though to be honest it wasn’t just her underwear that was constantly in his thoughts. Her smile. The warmth in her eyes when she laughed. That cute way she wrinkled her nose. They intruded as often.
Maddy Cartwright had come so unexpectedly into his life and turned it upside down. So upside down he found himself struggling to keep h
is balance. But when he thought about her smile, he felt like dancing way up there on that ceiling.
“Where’s the horse you ride?” she asked. “I’m dying to meet him.”
The big bay nickered as they approached his stall and poked his head over the gate.
“He’s magnificent,” said Maddy when they reached him.
“Over seventeen hands,” Tom said. “He’s an ex-racehorse.”
“I had no idea you were into horses,” Maddy said, her nose crinkling in that delightful, now-so-familiar way.
He shrugged. “My dad was a real outdoorsman. He taught me to ride when we lived in Denver.”
Her eyes were thoughtful. “I don’t know why, but I think of you as such a city slicker.”
“Because I wear a suit and work in a legal firm?”
She tilted her head on its side. “Maybe.”
“In that case, I might have some more surprises in store for you.” The kind of surprises he’d have to show, not tell.
“I like surprises,” she said, surprising him by leaning up and kissing him lightly on the lips.
As she was carrying her helmet in one hand and a bag of carrots in the other, it was difficult for him to do more than pull her to him in an awkward hug. “More on the surprises later,” he murmured.
He was acutely aware of the interest he and Maddy were getting from the teenage girl stable hands. He could see a gaggle of them nudging each other and giggling as they watched him from the other end of the stable.
This was the first time he’d brought a girlfriend here with him. The first time he’d thought anyone special enough to share this newly resurrected aspect of his life.This weekend world was important to him. His escape. A link to his father. Up until now he hadn’t wanted to share.
The horse he always rode nickered again for attention. Maddy turned to face the big bay gelding.
“What’s his name?” she said. “Oh, hang on, I see it on the stable nameplate. Squiggles. You’re kidding me, right? Don’t tell me this big boy’s name is Squiggles.”
“Yeah, I suppose it’s kind of inappropriate. But I think it suits him.”