Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs)

by Dawson, Zoe

  With that Brooke hung up.

  “What did she say?”

  “That I could thank her later. I have no idea where we’re going and I don’t care.” She opened up a small fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “I’m going to do this for myself.”

  Snagging two glasses, she poured the wine into each and handed him one. Holding up her glass, she clinked it with his. “Bottoms up.” She downed the whole glass and smiled.

  Drew chuckled and smiled back at her. “I quit my job today.”

  She choked on the champagne. “You what? That’s even a bigger cause for celebration. I’m proud of you.”

  He reached out and snagged her hand. “You’re not out of the woods. Roger gave the case to another lawyer at the firm. He will be ruthless.”

  She nodded. “Look, I’m sorry about the disappearing act. I was working through some stuff.”

  She nodded again. “You know you can work stuff out with me.”

  It was his turn to nod. “I will when the time is right. Is that okay?”

  She cupped his face and said, “Yes, it’s okay.” She sat up straighter. “Is this the way to Coney Island? She craned her neck, frowning. “Oh, crap, it is. You know as a kid I always wanted to go.”

  “Your parents never took you to Coney Island?”

  “My mother had this aggravating trait, sporadic attempts at spontaneity. During my childhood, she would snap out of her day-to-day routine and scramble frantically to do something spur-of-the-moment, something she thought impossibly fun. It never was. There was always an air of anxiety about the outings and a set of expectations that were never achieved. I felt sorry for her because she always seemed to seize her moments with grasping, insatiable hands and try to wring from them all the things she wanted. She never did give a care for anyone else. And, no, Coney Island was not on her list.”

  “I’ll take you to Coney Island.”

  Her head came up and her eyes softened. She set down the champagne glass and looked out the window as the exit for the amusement park passed. “You will? Thank you.”

  Then her face clouded and she looked away. “What’s wrong?”

  “The elephant in the room blocked out the sun.”

  “You’re not going to prison.”

  “Oh, phew, thanks for clarifying that.”

  “Brooke.”

  “Truth of the matter is you don’t know for sure.”

  “You made a cynic into an optimist. You can do anything.”

  She laughed, the throaty sound it of settled over him like soft falling snow.

  An hour later the limo pulled to a stop. The chauffeur handed Brooke the keys to Harper’s gorgeous Hampton estate.

  “Ms. Sinclair apologizes there is no wait staff, but the house is fully stocked with food and other items you’ll need. You’re welcome to enjoy your stay. I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and returned to the car.

  “We’re stranded in the Hamptons. What’s to stop the press from checking out this house? They know who your friends are.”

  “This house is listed under her mother’s maiden name. It’ll be difficult for them to find it.”

  Entering the house, the main foyer opened into a living room with a fireplace and a large dining room with steps down to the family room, also with a fireplace and providing a spectacular view of the indoor pool and grounds. To the left was a modern and spacious chef's kitchen. When Brooke opened the gleaming stainless steel door, they found a stocked fridge. “Oooh, lobster and mussels. I’m in heaven. I know exactly what I’ll make.” Brooke started pulling out ingredients—cream, parmesan cheese, garlic, and butter.

  “My mouth is watering. I’m going exploring. Unless you need help.”

  “Shoo, I’ve got this.”

  He should tell Brooke what happened today, but he didn’t want to spoil her mood. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

  He checked out the upstairs and found the master suite with vaulted ceilings, wood-burning fireplace, and a palatial bathroom with a huge shower. The closet was full of men’s and women’s clothing, and he had no trouble finding his size. He changed out of his suit, eager to get the expensive threads off his body.

  Back downstairs, he could smell delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he found Brooke stirring a pot on the stove.

  “Why don’t you set the table? This will be ready very soon.”

  He gathered up the necessary items and took them into a small alcove that had a view of the pool and back yard. He bet during the day the view stretched all the way to the ocean.

  He found candles and lit them and went back in the kitchen to find her straining the pasta. She was a dream in the kitchen, and the memory of his mother came back to him like it was yesterday. Her laughing face and dark eyes. His father was often curled around his wife. His parents had been in love, deeply so.

  He came up behind her, watching as she expertly mixed the Alfredo. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she finished the meal. For a moment, he was in heaven, thinking that with a woman like Brooke, every day would be filled with bliss.

  She leaned back into him briefly, then said, “Let’s eat it while it’s hot.

  #

  Even though it was so easy and comfortable to be with Drew, what kind of future, if any would they have? He’d disappeared for a week without any communication, then he showed up out of the blue with that amazing kiss at her front door. If she hadn’t been caught up in The Great Hot Diggity Dogs Caper, she might have demanded an answer then.

  She debated getting him to talk now, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. Her trial was about to start, and she wanted this night with him. Besides, she promised him she would wait until he was ready.

  With the first bite of his meal, his head came up. “Damn, Brooke.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How did you and your friends meet? My guess is you don’t hang around clubs, so how did you run into someone like Harper?”

  “No, I don’t frequent clubs. You’re right, there.

  “I met Callie first. She frequents the dog park where I take Roscoe. We usually meet on Saturday mornings, but have had to nix that because of the press. It was her Great Dane Jack who caught my attention. He’s this huge, black and white gentle giant. He was meticulously behaved. I commented on it. Callie is a dog trainer and, of course, I run the grooming business so we had a lot to talk about. Poe showed up one day with The Terrible Two.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “It is. Jack Russell terriers. They, on the other hand, weren’t well-behaved. Far from it. They were running rings around Jack and causing mayhem. Callie offered to train them. She made some good progress with them, but even great training can’t school the mischief out of them. I guess we really wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Finishing up their meal. Drew said, “And Harper?” They picked up their wine glasses and Brooke settled onto the comfortable couch while Drew started a fire.

  “She was last, but certainly not least. Our jaws dropped when she walked into the park. Blue, her standard poodle was decked out in her show cut and I recognized her from TV. She’d just competed the previous weekend and took best in show at Westminster. The dog has won over 101 Best in Shows and was the top winning Standard three years in a row at Westminster. Blue’s been featured in Poodle Variety and other national reviews. Harper belongs to a number of clubs and judges when she can. Oh, my God, that dog is magnificent. I had to go over that day and tell her. I thought she’d give me this snooty look and prance off with her poodle. But she wasn’t snooty and she didn’t prance off. When she let Blue off her leash, I knew then she was just like the rest of us.”

  The fire was warm, and snuggling into Drew’s arms felt so good.

  After a moment, she said, “I should get this mess cleaned up.”

  “Nope. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

  “Well, I would
love a shower.”

  “Have at it.”

  She climbed the stairs and marveled at the opulent bedroom and all the amenities in the bathroom. Once in the shower she sighed at the hot water and all those lovely jets massaging at her tired body every which way. Fifteen minutes later, her hair was dry and her body pampered from the hot water and fragrant cream.

  When she walked out of the bathroom, Drew was just closing the door to a roaring fire.

  He came to her and shifted her towards the bed and quietly loosened the towel from around her body. “Refreshed or tired?”

  “Refreshed,” she said breathlessly. She stepped out of the pool of the towel. It seemed like three lifetimes ago that he’d been at the door when she’d opened it.

  Her thoughts drifted there and clung to those moments like a lifeline, helping her block out reality and spend some time in another place. A place where people weren’t violating her privacy with questions and cameras, where she wasn’t facing a trial that could put her behind bars for a long, long time. Or a woman who, had been vibrantly alive, was now stone cold dead.

  She tugged his shirt loose and lifted it over his head. He raised his arms, accommodating her, and soon she had his bare chest at her disposal. To do with what she wanted.

  And, beyond the bone-deep fatigue, beyond the sheer terror and almost debilitating fear…there was a wealth of desire.

  In some recess of her mind, she wondered if this was what they meant by life-threatening situations acting like some kind of sudden aphrodisiac. Her rapid, voracious hunger for him was limited only by her lack of available energy. So she took it slow. Sweetly, deliciously slow.

  He’d tasted her, taunted her, teased her, on several occasions. Now it was her turn.

  Her entire world narrowed down to the smooth expanse of honeyed skin wrapped oh-so-tautly across his chest. She dipped her head and drew her tongue slowly from his collarbone down the valley between his pecs, and then teased her way over to his nipple.

  He drew in a sharp breath when she flicked her tongue across the sensitive tip. His hands came up to her hair, which he slowly sent his fingers through.

  “Brooke,” he said, his voice barely more than a rough whisper.

  “Drew,” she said, running her thumb over his mouth.

  He cupped her head and slowly drew her mouth up to his, his eyes on hers as their lips met.

  She accepted his kiss, letting her eyes drift shut as sensation after sensation poured through her. He slowly lowered them both to the bed, where he rolled her beneath him, and continued his sweet seduction. Pure and honest.

  They took turns slowly exploring each other, delighting in discovering what made them gasp, what made them moan. It was a slow but complete capitulation, where nothing was held back, nothing was hidden.

  When she finally rolled to her back, taking his weight fully on top of her, it was as if she’d reached a golden point, a place she’d been trying to get to for a long, long time but could never quite find. That place where life suddenly became more complete and took on even greater meaning.

  Without a word, they locked gazes and he slowly pushed into her, not stopping until she’d taken him fully inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him there, taking a moment to wallow, to revel a bit, in the supreme pleasure and contentment of being joined to that person who was meant to be hers.

  And, in that moment, despite all the fears, all the work yet to be done, and the very precarious future that lay ahead, one thing she was certain. Drew was going to mean a lot to her for the rest of her life.

  She moved first, pressing her hips up into his, then wrapping her legs around him. He began to move inside of her, so deep, filling her perfectly. It wasn’t wild, it wasn’t frenzied, it was simply powerful and necessary. He slid one arm beneath the small of her back and lifted her hips even higher so he could sink into her even more deeply. Their gazes caught, held, and their thrusts came faster, deeper. She watched him climb, watched as his need for her strengthened, felt his muscles gather and bunch as he drew ever closer. She tightened around him, needing to know she could take him to that place, give him that sweet bliss that he so effortlessly gave her, and found herself shuddering, too, in intense satisfaction as he growled through a pulsing release.

  He kissed her, pressed another kiss to her temple, then dropped another one just below her ear, before rolling to his back, pulling her with him, and settling her alongside him.

  Her body fell into place as effortlessly as she’d fallen for him. She didn’t question it. Her eyes were already drifting shut as she shifted enough to press a soft kiss over his heart before tucking her arm across his body. Then she draped her leg across his, wanting him to feel as taken care of as he made her feel.

  One thing she learned from all this was that it was okay to take. It made giving all that much sweeter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The last day of her trial dawned with bright sunshine and she took that as a good sign. She dressed in a conservative navy blue dress with big polka dots, a stylish pair of navy spectator heels. She needed the boost. She ripped the plastic off of a deep blue vintage coat that she only wore on special occasions. It was embroidered with gorgeous fleur-de-lis in white.

  She wasn’t sure after this week whether or not she’d get to wear the coat in the near future. Running her hand over the fabric, a heavy satin, she vowed to wear the coat in the future with everything and anything, even jeans.

  Her phone chimed and Harper let her know they were outside. All her friends would be there today to lend her moral support. She was grateful for that. She took that moment to call Pawlish. Julia answered.

  “This is it, then?”

  “Yes. I wanted you to know how much you all mean to me. I’m so thankful that we had the chance to work together.”

  “You’re going to beat this.”

  “Doesn’t matter if I don’t. I wanted you to know. Tell the others, would you, if…”

  “You can tell them yourself. When you beat this.”

  Brooke chuckled. “Take care, Julia.”

  It was clear from the numbers she’d received from her accountant that her business was in trouble. The publicity with Kristen and her psychic, the murder indictment, and the trial had almost destroyed what she had built. The expansion was at a standstill, and her business as well as her future were uncertain.

  Kristen had achieved what she’d set out to do. She had ruined her. It would take years to rebuild the trust and clientele she had lost. But her heart was heavy. Kristen was dead and Brooke couldn’t be happy about that.

  The past and present wove together in her mind like vines, twisting, clinging vines. She had started Pawlish mostly to spite her parents. They hadn’t been supportive. They had expected her to fail. When she hadn’t, they said it was beginner’s luck. Now she was failing, but in the end she couldn’t regret any of her actions. She’d do everything possible to find a way to salvage Pawlish, and if she couldn’t, she would help her loyal employees find new positions.

  For a moment the pressure, the fear, the looming dread, all pressed in on her. She fought the urge to sink down the wall and sob. The tears choked her.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed softly as despair cracked through her armor and the tears squeezed past the tightly closed barriers of her eyelids.

  Her hands balled into fists as she straightened her spine, a soft sob escaping for only a moment, releasing a small measure of the inner tension. She swallowed back the tears that lingered. She pushed away from the wall and put on her coat, buttoning the buttons. Wrapping a soft white scarf around her neck, she turned towards the door, swiping away the telltale tears with a flick of her wrist.

  In the wake of the tiny breakdown flowed calm. Her tight muscles relaxed as it shimmered through her. Her heartbeat slowed to a steady, even beat.

  Squatting down, she ran her hands over Roscoe’s face. His velvet muzzle. He leaned into her hands and offered her a comforting sound deep in his che
st. She buried her face in his fur. “I love you, boy. I’ll be back later and I’ll give you one of my new experiments: doggie treat pizza.”

  He licked her face and she rubbed his ears. Finally, she grabbed up her navy leather gloves and exited her apartment.

  Wading through the reporters was as unpleasant as usual. She gave them her now trademark “no comment.”

  When Harper’s chauffeur exited the car, the reporters scattered like brightly colored leaves.

  Brooke laughed, the sound bubbling out of her.

  At the courthouse, she had to run the gauntlet of reporters on the steps. But as she neared the top, her friends buffering her against the many questions and noise, she saw Drew.

  Dressed as impeccably as ever, he was like a beacon. She flowed towards him through a sea of people. All the noise ceased, the fear that had been fluttering in her stomach like butterflies subsided, and the cold air couldn’t penetrate the warmth of her skin.

  He smiled at her, and when she reached him, he tucked her arm through his.

  There was considerable activity in the hall. Court was in session, but in addition to the usual group of attorneys and clerks and stenographers, there were more reporters searching like rats for any tasty morsel on the latest Hampton murder. Her stomach tightened, and the hair on the back of her neck rose as eyes turned her way—eyes that brightened with savage anticipation at the sight of her walking arm in arm with one of the attorneys previously employed by the husband of the murder victim. Just as before, they honed in, scrambling to switch on tape recorders, jostling each other for the best vantage point. They came forward in a rush, sound bursting out of them like a too-loud radio caught between stations.

  “Ms. Palmer!”

  “Mr. Hudson!”

  “—is there any connection—?”

  “—think the trial will go now—?”

  Drew protected her from the force of the media storm, and she leaned into him.

  Adam strode down the hall and grabbed her free arm. “The DA wants to talk to you.”