Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  "What in the world do the dogs have around their necks?" Sarah giggled. "Are they Sloan Ranger dogs now?"

  Needlepoint collars adorned both dogs, the vibrant pattern an unexpected jolt of color against their sleek, burnished hair.

  "Daisy made a present for them," Devon said, his voice cool.

  "That's needlepoint." Sarah knelt down to check the handiwork. "Not quite the hunting dog look, but I see you value Daisy's talents. Even though they might fall into the 'seamstress'"—she made air quotes around the word—"category of work."

  "Daisy is a child. I hardly think she intends to make dog collars for a living." Devon glanced at his watch. "You'll have to excuse me. You know I start work at 8."

  Sarah rose to her feet and glared after him as he strode down the hall. "His damn dogs are more important than I am."

  The idea popped into Miranda's head, full-blown, like most bad ideas. But it was irresistible.

  "Sarah," she said, as they strolled into the breakfast room, "why don't you make some clothing for his dogs?"

  Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Are you crazy?"

  "You know he'll notice."

  "Yeah." Sarah shuddered dramatically. "Right before he kills me."

  Miranda laughed. "He's not that much of an ogre."

  "No one, but no one, messes with his dogs."

  "It won't hurt them." It was interesting, now that she thought about it, how attached he was to those animals. He didn't display similar attachments to any of the humans in his life.

  Sarah shook her head. "Honestly Miranda, you have no idea how Devon would respond. He does not have a sense of humor when it comes to his dogs or his horses. Why would I do such a foolish thing, anyway?"

  "Because you're right. He does pay a lot of attention to his dogs. So it would be a way of getting him to notice your work. If he saw how talented you are, maybe he'd be more supportive. I think he does respect hard work and results."

  "You're still sounding crazy to me." Sarah looped a finger beside her head.

  "If you're successful creating a buzz with your dresses at the party, you're going to need capital to actually start a business. Devon is your only potential source of capital, right?"

  "Yeah." Sarah frowned at a walnut-studded muffin. "Believe me, I'd have better luck getting money out of the dogs."

  "You can't be so defeatist! You have to try something if you want to be successful." Miranda chose one of the muffins. She was starving. "Do you think I could get a hat to stay on one of those dogs?"

  Sarah laughed. "I think one of his horses would be a better bet. You see circus horses with hats and plumes and stuff on their heads, right?"

  "The horses are too big," Miranda declared. "It has to be the dogs."

  "It doesn't have to be anything," Sarah pointed out. "I'm telling you, we'd be taking our lives in our hands."

  "Come on. He put Daisy's collars on his precious dogs."

  "I don't have time to make dog clothes." Sarah was uncharacteristically abrupt.

  "Nothing fancy. You can do it right after breakfast." Miranda couldn't say why she was so determined to play this joke on Devon. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that she badly wanted to beat him at something.

  Sarah stared out the window for a moment, her fingers tapping on the sill. "I do have some painted silk that I bought on impulse, and now can't figure out what to use it for." She turned back to face Miranda, her eyes gleaming.

  "Perfect."

  Sarah fixed herself a cup of tea, stirring slowly. "Devon is going to a polo match this afternoon. He won't bring the dogs."

  Miranda polished off her muffin. "It was meant to be."

  ~*~

  The dogs had not been as amenable to wearing clothes as Miranda had hoped.

  "We'll need to get Daisy," Sarah said after their attempts to tie the simple blanket-type shirts on the animals had produced more giggles than success. "The dogs listen to her."

  "To Daisy?" Miranda sat back on her heels. "Why?"

  "She spends a lot of time over at the office wing. That's why Devon built her that playhouse."

  "You mean the pink cottage?" Miranda couldn't have been more surprised if Sarah had announced she expected Devon to don the dogs' new clothes. The playhouse was fanciful and frivolous and girly—all qualities which Devon most definitely was not.

  "He spoils Daisy something awful," Sarah said. "Of course, he's the only father she's ever known."

  Father? Miranda was struck by the word. She thought of Devon as a bachelor, not a family man, despite the fact that he was always surrounded by family.

  When they finally located Daisy, she was able to calm the dogs down so they accepted their new duds.

  "Are they actually a male and a female," Miranda asked. Sarah had used the hand-painted silk, which happened to be pink, white and yellow, on one of the dogs. The other dog sported a black silk top, with a white bib front cut to look like a tuxedo shirt, complete with little black buttons.

  "I think they're both males." Sarah giggled. "But how boring would that have been? We wanted them to be noticed, right? One of them had to wear the pink. Devon will accuse me of trying to make his dogs gay."

  The dogs were still jittery, pacing up and down the foyer by the front door, as if waiting for Devon to appear and release them from their unaccustomed garments. "I don't think Dog-in-pink likes his color scheme," Miranda said. That dog, more than the other, paced anxiously around, giving a muffled whine every few minutes.

  Sarah glanced at her watch. "It's time for cocktails. Devon must have come in through a side door, which is just the provoking kind of thing he would do. Daisy, get the dogs to heel so they're waiting by the front door like sentries when he comes down the stairs. Then go on in the drawing room with Mumsie and Jack so you don't get blamed for anything. Miranda and I will watch from the library."

  She herded Miranda toward the library door. "It would be just like Devon to spoil all our fun by getting Lotter to remove the clothes in our absence and then putting on his poker face and pretending like nothing at all had happened."

  "Oh, no, I want to watch when Devon first sees them," Miranda said. "I do hope he won't be late."

  "For dinner?" Sarah's eyes rounded. "No way. Devon's schedule is his religion."

  Lotter exited the drawing room with his tray, stopped abruptly at the sight of the dogs, and then raised his brows at Sarah. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, miss?"

  "We won't drag you in," she promised, and she and Miranda slipped inside the library.

  Five minutes later, Jack, Charlotte and Daisy emerged from the drawing room and crossed the hall to enter the dining room.

  "Lotter," Charlotte said, "have you seen the girls?"

  "They have not gone out, your grace." His lofty tone gave nothing away.

  "Oh, dear." Charlotte halted when she saw the dogs. "I did want to enjoy a peaceful dinner."

  "Don't they look darling, Mum?" Daisy glanced around anxiously. "Devon will love it."

  Sarah and Miranda stood just inside the door to the library, peeking into the grand hallway and giggling like pre-teens on a sleepover.

  The sound of a firm tread on the stairs did make Miranda's heart beat a little faster. She watched Devon step onto the marble-floored hallway and nod at the butler. "Good evening," he said, his deep voice grazing Miranda's skin as if he'd touched her.

  "Your grace," the butler answered, at his most formal. He looked like he was preparing for an eruption.

  Devon turned to the dining room, and halted in his tracks. The two dogs were standing on either side of the double doors, staring at him, clearly waiting for an order. Devon glanced back at the butler. Lotter pretended he didn’t notice anything amiss, and Miranda had to give him credit for his stoicism. Maybe he wouldn't rat them out.

  "At whose command," Devon said, "are the dogs heeling?"

  "I was absent from the hall," Lotter said carefully, "when the order was given, your grace."

  Devon snapp
ed his fingers, and the two dogs bounded up and rushed toward him. He patted them both, his hand resting briefly on the top of each head. He looked over toward the library. "Would you girls like to come out and explain what happened to my dogs?"

  Miranda gasped. How had he known they were in the library? She exchanged a wild glance with Sarah, whose eyes were round with alarm. What should they do now? Emerge? Pretend they were invisible? Yes, that would be best.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle any more noise.

  "Fine," Devon said in a raised voice. "I trust you do not intend to cause a delay in dinner."

  Sarah whimpered.

  Miranda rolled her eyes. "His damn schedule," she hissed. "Don't let him intimidate you."

  She looked into Sarah's eyes. Was it better to give themselves up, and face his wrath, or to continue hiding, and hope he'd proceed into the dining room?

  Finally, Sarah shrugged, and sauntered into the great hall. "It was just a joke, Dev—"

  He held up one hand. "After dinner." He disappeared into the dining room, followed by the butler.

  Miranda stepped into the hall after Sarah. The dogs jumped up again, and Miranda stopped to pet them. They were adorable, and she started to giggle once more. So what if Devon couldn't appreciate a joke? They'd still enjoyed it.

  Side by side, she and Sarah moved through the doorway. Sarah passed behind Charlotte's chair, and Miranda headed for her seat on the nearer side. Jack broke into loud laughter.

  Too late, she heard one of the dogs panting behind her. Oops. They definitely were not allowed in the dining room.

  "Miranda," Charlotte snapped out. "I will not tolerate animals where I eat."

  "Sorry." She made shooing motions, but Dog-in-pink just stood there, looking up at her with adoring eyes.

  "You have yet another admirer," Devon said in an emotionless voice. "Congratulations." His eyes flicked over her once, ignoring Sarah completely. Miranda felt like a chastened schoolgirl. Damn it. Why was he blaming her?

  "Blue," she said in a low voice. "Go." Blue acted like he hadn't heard a thing. Of course, he might have been Red. Miranda grabbed the collar of the fake female dog and walked her out.

  When she returned to the dining room, everyone was waiting. Charlotte nodded at Lotter, and the servants began to serve the meal, but Miranda knew she'd committed the cardinal sin of delaying dinner.

  Charlotte did not let the conversation flag, and Sharmie gamely followed her lead, but the mood at the table was tense. When dessert had been cleared, Miranda was not surprised to hear the words that emerged from Devon's voice. "Miranda and Sarah, I'd like to see you in the library."

  Daisy looked up anxiously. "Didn't the dogs look cute? They had a lot of fun getting dressed up."

  "You would do well to stay out of this, Daisy."

  His dictatorial manner helped straighten Miranda's back as she marched into the library. It wasn't their fault if Devonwood had no sense of humor. Before any of them even had a chance to sit down, she decided to go on the offensive rather than let him lecture them from his favorite position of authority behind his massive desk.

  She plopped a hand on the desk and leaned over it. "What do you think? Best of breed Crufts?" Luckily, Sarah had mentioned the hyper-competitive British dog show while they were working on the dog costumes.

  "Definitely." Devon met her gaze with a challenge in his own. "If they have a category for comic relief."

  "Yeah." She managed a giggle. "It was funny."

  "Please sit down, Miranda." There was no humor in his tone. Sarah had already seated herself in one of the uncomfortable, leather chairs.

  "Come on." She tried to inject some cool disdain into her voice. At least, she prayed her voice wouldn't tremble. "Sarah wanted to show you her talent."

  He raised his eyebrows. "By dressing my dogs in hand-painted silk?"

  "See?" Sarah burst out. "How do you know that it's hand-painted silk? Why do you have to know everything?"

  "Everything? Surely you exaggerate."

  "Sarah," Miranda muttered, "don't get off-topic."

  "He's so annoying." Sarah pouted prettily.

  "I'm still waiting for an explanation." Devon's gaze alternated between the two women.

  "I had that fabric sitting around," Sarah said, jumping into the breach. "It's not my fault it was hand-painted. Besides, you should be congratulating me for using up the fabric for something. I could have just thrown it away."

  "If that's your idea of economic analysis, you'll never be a successful businesswoman," he snapped.

  Miranda leaned forward. "This is your sister you're talking to, Devon. Why don't you show her some encouragement, instead of criticism?"

  Devon's gray eyes flashed at her. "My dogs don't wear clothes. Are we clear on that?"

  Sarah shrugged. "The tyrant mode doesn't scare me."

  "It should." His gaze shifted to Miranda. "And I'd better not see a hat on one of my horses."

  Sarah made a choking sound that she turned into a cough.

  Miranda shook her head in mock sorrow. "So paranoid."

  Devon snorted. "Relax, Sarah. It's not like I don't know who had this ridiculous idea."

  Miranda smirked, just to annoy him. There wasn't any point in denying it.

  His calm gaze remained fixed on Miranda. "How did Daisy get involved?"

  "D—Daisy?" She had to fight the urge to exchange a glance with Sarah.

  "Daisy," he repeated. "She's the only one who could get the dogs to remain sitting in the hallway while I was absent."

  "You can't blame Daisy."

  "Obviously," he said, in a maddening tone of condescension. "She's eight years old. So, I repeat, who dragged her into this scheme?"

  Miranda wet her lips. She knew what she had to do. Someone had to take the blame, and that someone would have to be her. She'd be gone soon, and Sarah had to have a relationship with her brother for the rest of her life.

  "I asked her to deal with the dogs," Miranda admitted.

  Devon stared at her for a long moment. "How did you know she could do it?"

  "Is there some point to this inquisition?" The best defense was a good offense.

  Sarah stirred. "He's just proving that he knows everything. It's one of his most annoying habits."

  "We're not here to discuss my character."

  Devon placed his hands on the desk, and folded them together. That was definitely one of his habits and Miranda knew already what it meant. She sighed.

  "Yes," the duke said sardonically, "accept it. I'm going to read you both a lecture."

  He rolled his shoulders once, and then remained still as he began speaking. "Miranda, you don’t have to like me, but I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from causing disturbances in the household merely to annoy me."

  "How difficult is it to hold up that swollen head of yours?"

  His cool gaze held hers. "Not hard at all. Do you have a point?"

  "We don't spend our time trying to annoy you." Of course, that is exactly what they'd done, but she didn't need to admit it. The reality was, the shoulder rolling really bothered her. She couldn't help thinking it symbolized his desire to be rid of the weight of all his responsibilities. She wanted to get up, walk behind his chair, and massage those same shoulders. Press her hands into his strong muscles, and pummel them into relaxation. Mentally, she rolled her eyes at herself. The duke could get a professional massage whenever he wanted one. Or even a personal one from the hordes of women who undoubtedly chased him. He didn't need her.

  "You don't?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief before turning to look at Sarah. "You," he said, "don't have to like me either, but you do need to respect my authority in my own home. You aren't advancing your cause by behaving in a silly and irresponsible manner. You'd be much smarter to show me that you understand cost of goods sold for a business in which you want me to invest. A boring detail, yes, but often the difference between success and failure."

  Sarah rolled her eyes w
ildly at Miranda. Miranda's heart sank. Devon was right. Sarah didn't understand anything at all about running a business.

  But then Sarah took a deep breath, leaned forward and planted her elbows on Devon's desk, with the manner of one staking a claim. "You know, Devon, you could help me. Instead of being so smug and all-knowing and critical, why don't you offer to explain how a profit and loss statement works?"

  Miranda's mouth dropped to hear such a sensible sentence come out of Sarah. Even Devon stiffened in his chair, remaining motionless for a moment before he dropped his hand on his desk.

  "An excellent idea, Sarah. Instead of spending your time performing silly stunts, why don't you and Miranda put together a budget for this dressmaking business you say you want to start?"

  His lips turned up in a small smile, although his eyes didn't soften. "Miranda showed me she has some budgeting skills yesterday. I'm sure she could guide you."

  "So you'd give me some money to start a business?"

  He showed his teeth in some semblance of a smile. "Convince me I should."

  Chapter 18

  The next day, Sarah and Miranda began work again at dawn. Miranda had finished the hats that she, Sharmie and Sarah would wear for the garden party. But she continued to create. If she really were going to start her own business, she could always use more hats.

  By dinnertime, they were more than ready for a break. Sharmie's cocktail dress had been fitted to her, and Miranda's fingers were sore from pinning and sewing. After cleaning up and changing their clothes, they ventured together down to the dining room, Sharmie exclaiming that she was glad she finally felt like eating a real meal.

  "Where's Godfrey?" Devonwood sat down, flipped open his napkin, and looked around at the assembled group in the dining room.

  Miranda shared a quick glance with Sharmie. It wasn't going to be a pleasant dinner.