by Maddie James
There were four email messages from M. Roberts.
“Damn.” She’d been so busy she’d forgotten to check in. She imagined M. was wondering about Pup 1 and Pup 2, and how their day had gone. She read the last one first.
From: M. Roberts
To: Alyssa Larkin
Subject: Paws and Buttercup
Ms. Larkin:
I assume you have retrieved the babies. Hope they are doing well. Please advise. Remember to tuck them into their crates with their blankies.
M. Roberts
She quickly scanned the remaining emails and realized that M. had been trying to get in touch with her since this morning. Crap! Not the way to win clients and influence people. Quickly, she replied into her cell.
To: M. Roberts
From: Alyssa Larkin
Subject: Paws and Buttercup
M. Pups are fine, cuddled on the couch, blankies at the ready. No worries. Sorry not to get back with you. Very busy day!
Lyssa
She pushed send and heaved out a sigh. Glancing at the cages, er, crates, she made a split-second decision and roused the babies. “C’mon you golden beauties. Let’s take you out for one last tinkle then grab your blankies and go to bed. You’re sleeping with Mama tonight.”
M. Roberts would never know. Besides, the babies didn’t need a cage, they needed cuddle time. They’re just babies!
Truth be told, Mama needed a little cuddle time, too.
Chapter Three
Mack Roberts stared at the contract in front of him until his eyes blurred. The notes he’d made in the margins earlier seemed barely legible. Too long a day. He’d taken a six o’clock morning flight out of Knoxville, which meant he had to be at the airport no later than five, leave Legend at four, and up by three a.m. He was now sitting in a hotel room in San Diego after a four hour meeting with a client he was trying to schmooze. He wanted their business. His Internet marketing company was doing well, but should he be able to snag this particular real estate client, his company would nicely reap the benefits.
The realtor had a nice concept going. Since property sales were down, and San Diego prices were extravagant anyway, the realtor was offering a service for house-swapping that was suddenly becoming all the rage. His web-design team had worked up a unique package for the client, including a substantial social network marketing platform that they thought the client would salivate over.
They were wrong.
Teach him to hire twenty-somethings to plan a marketing strategy for a set-in-his-ways sixty-something property mogul.
Aw, well.
Rubbing his eyes, he punched the button to extinguish the desk light and decided to turn in. Pacific Time always did him in the first day. Retiring early tonight meant he could be up and fresh in the morning, ready to tackle the day. He wanted this contract tied up within the week.
Sooner, if possible.
As he unbuttoned his shirt with one hand and pulled back the covers on the king-sized bed with the other, he registered the vibration of his cell on the bedside table.
“The pups,” he whispered. He picked up the phone, read the incoming message, and smiled. Good. Ms. Larkin finally answered. And the babies were fine.
He hated leaving them behind, having only had them for a few weeks. He wouldn’t have made the commitment at all, had he known he’d have to travel to San Diego so quickly and be gone for several days. But this was an opportunity the company couldn’t refuse…and good thing he did come himself. The team of “boys” he hired would have been on a redeye back home in a flash, had he sent them.
He thumbed off the email, sat on the edge of the bed, and removed his shoes and socks followed by his trousers. Chuckling, he smiled at the thought of Paws and Buttercup. Such a nuisance, and he was in total love with them already. And yes, they had done the one thing he’d set out to accomplish by bringing them into his life—cured his loneliness.
Somewhat.
****
No matter how she held the leashes, Paws and Buttercup zigzagged in front of her, happily leading the way, their ears flopping and their panting dog lips curled into twin smiles.
She needed one of those coupler things, and put it on her mental list.
She’d untangled their leashes six times that morning already as she strolled downtown. Part of her puppy nanny business was dog walking as well as puppy sitting, but she’d never met up with a pair like these two. First, they were always so darned happy to see her. Second, there were two of them, almost identical. And three, she was falling in love with the rascals, even after only twenty-four hours.
It was pure bliss sleeping with the fur balls last night.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. One thing she prided herself on by being a puppy nanny was that she could easily separate herself from her client’s pets. It was essential. When she’d taken that dog-care class online, it was the top objective of the online professor, and one that she’d drilled into their heads often.
Puppy nannies do not fall in love with their client’s dogs. Number one rule.
She was breaking the number one rule.
She also broke another rule last night, too. The one about always following her clients’ wishes, no matter her beliefs.
But she just couldn’t put those babies in the crates last night. Just couldn’t.
You’re a softy, Larkin.
Her cell buzzed at her hip and they halted in front of the library. The pups jerked and twisted, eager to resume their walk. She struggled to hold the leashes in her left hand, while fishing out her cell with her right.
When she hit the button to light up the screen, she noticed she had a text message. Strange, she rarely got text messages and she didn’t recognize the number. She punched the button to open it anyway.
How are Paws and Buttercup doing today?
M?
Then another buzz. She scrolled.
Have they had a walk yet?
How did M. get her phone number? Then she remembered. She had a signature line on her emails with her cell number. Okay, she supposed that was all right.
Plopping on the street side bench, she pulled at the leashes to get the pups to come closer.
“Lay down, kids,” she crooned and patted their heads, “let Mama do a little business here. Your…” Hm, what was M? Mama or daddy? “…your master is on the phone.”
She felt compelled to respond right away, since she’d been remiss the day before. We’re walking right now, she typed. All is fine. And then, not really knowing why, she added. How is your week?
Male. M. was male, she decided right then and there, although she couldn’t really know that. Still, she felt it was true. She waited for a moment. No response. After another couple of minutes, she shrugged and gathered her fluffy friends, and stuffed her cell back into her pocket.
She’d not taken three steps when it happened again. Her hipbone vibrated with the buzz.
They stopped. Paws peed on a lamp-post. Buttercup sniffed at her sandals.
She opened the message. The sun is shining. The meeting is long. I’m tired. And I wish I was home walking the babies instead of you.
Frowning, she stared at the words. Certainly, he didn’t mean anything against her walking the dogs, just that he wished he was here…walking his dogs. Not that he was saying he wanted to be there, with her. No, of course not, silly. He didn’t even know her. He wanted to be home, with his pups. It just sounded like he wasn’t having a good day and wanted to be home.
She thumbed the words back. I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, M. Just know that the babies are safe with me.
Pause.
I know.
Within another three seconds flat, he added. Mack.
What? Oh. Your name is Mack?
Yes. Of course. He is male! She knew it.
Yes. And you’re Alyssa.
My friends call me Lyssa.
May I? Call you that?
She hesitated. What was happening here? Her tummy just
got all jittery.
Sure.
Pause.
Okay. I have to get back to my meeting.
Feeling rather unsettled and not sure why, she returned, Have a good day. Then she chastised herself every way to Sunday. Have a good day? That was something you said to people to just end an informal conversation. Just to be polite. But she didn’t even know M., er, this Mack. Have a good day?
Yes, it was an appropriate response. Definitely. This was an informal conversation.
Wasn’t it?
The pups jerked her forward. “Oh, all right, kids! Let’s get this walk done.” Struggling to look at her watch, she realized she had only a little over an hour before she had to be at Suzie’s for Speed Lunch Date number one.
****
Mack snapped his cell phone shut and took his time heading back into the meeting. The small resort he was staying at in Mission Bay was quaint and relaxing. He wished he felt relaxed.
Far from it. Looking out over the bay, he dreaded heading back into the meeting room. He wanted to tie this up and soon, but this morning he’d been forced to call in his “boys” and get them on the next plane out to the west coast. His client wanted to work through the entire plan with them—step by step. Suddenly, he was into learning more about social networking, since his grandson told him about Facebook and Twitter the evening before.
It was going to be a long week. He wished he was home.
Walking the pups.
And learning more about Lyssa Larkin, Puppy Nanny, extraordinaire.
He was borrowing trouble. Why he was enamored with her, he didn’t know. Hell, he’d not even met her face to face. And he’d not been enamored with anyone since Caroline passed on. But for some reason, he wanted to know more about Lyssa. In fact, he’d even resorted to Googling her name a few nights ago. Wasn’t much there, as he had suspected, but he did find an archived news photo from back in 1997, when she was Legend’s Homecoming Queen.
For some reason that brought a smile to his face.
Her crudely designed Web site for her business left a lot to be desired; he was sure she’d created it herself with one of those free templates. Her picture there, more recent than 1992 he was certain, was blurry and a little pixilated.
Perhaps he could help her out in that department, with the building of her site, helping with marketing, etc…
No. Never mind. Borrowing trouble again.
Still, he was intrigued. And he wasn’t quite sure why.
Chapter Four
“Oh. Yum.”
Lyssa smacked her lips and looked over the lunch preparations spread out on the island counter in Suzie’s kitchen.
“I thought we’d start off with a nice salad of mixed organic greens, grown locally I might add, with red onions, pecans, mandarin oranges, and a light poppy seed dressing. My own, of course.” Suzie looked up and smiled at Lyssa as she did a rough chop on the greens. “Then for the entrée, there is Chicken Piccatettes, lightly breaded with Japanese panko, and drizzled with a sweet and savory Dijon mustard sauce. Grilled asparagus will round out that dish. Of course, we’ll have sweet tea for the beverage. I still have some Key Lime tarts, so thought we should use them for dessert. What do you think? Oh, and then coffee, too.”
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I hope the poppy seeds don’t stick in my teeth.”
Suzie grinned. “Oh, I didn’t think of that. I’ll switch to a sweet orange vinaigrette. How about that?”
“Perfect. What is a Chicken Piccatette? Never heard of that.”
“Well, no, of course you haven’t! I just made it up. It’s going in the next cookbook. They are small chicken pieces, pounded and breaded. Like fancy little chicken piccata nuggets!”
Grinning, Lyssa snatched one of the mandarin oranges and popped it into her mouth.
“Only you, Suzie. I love it.”
“Hey, it’s my thing. I love to cook and cater to my friends.” She tossed the greens into a large glass bowl and tossed with the red onions and pecans. “Do you want to know who is coming?”
“No. I want to be surprised.”
“Okay. Perhaps that is best.”
The doorbell chimed.
“Oh!”
Both women glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s eleven-fifty-five. Nice,” Suzie said. “Not too early and definitely not late. A good sign. Now, this is the routine we’ll follow. You will be in the dining room waiting. I’ll bring him in and introduce you. Your places are set. You can chit chat for a moment, and I’ll bring the salad and in a few minutes, the entrée, then later, if you get to it, desert.”
Lyssa nodded. “Oh! And what about the high sign?”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that. If he is a definite no, excuse yourself to the powder room. Go to the one upstairs off the guest bedrooms, and don’t come back down. I’ll explain to the guest that you have suddenly come down with an excruciatingly painful migraine and that you have to go to sleep. I’ll put his lunch in a go box and send him on his way.”
Lyssa took a deep breath. “Got it. Simple and good. I’m ready.”
“Go to the dining room. I’ll go fetch Suitor Number One.”
The doorbell chimed again.
Both women headed to their respective posts.
****
Lyssa stood in the dining room and glanced about. The table was set. Not too fancy, nice and homey. Suzie had moved in a small table, creating an intimate and cozy nook, by the window facing the lake. A couple of pansies floated in a crystal bowl of water on the table. Good ol’ Suzie, providing a low centerpiece so they didn’t have to strain looking over it.
Her palms were suddenly sticky, so she swiped them down the front of her jade green shift. She wore a soft yellow cashmere sweater over it and a simple strand of pearls at her neck.
Her sandals were died the color of her sweater and showed off nicely the pedicure she’d given herself the night before. Glancing to her right in the china cabinet door, she saw that her long, straight hair shone the sun’s reflection though the window. She’d chosen to wear it down and hadn’t realized how far down her back it had grown.
She wished she’d not gained that ten pounds recently.
“…we’re so glad you could come, Gerald, and here is Ms. Larkin.” Suzie’s voice interrupted her musing.
She stepped forward and took…Gerald’s?…hand and shook it. He smiled and peered into her eyes with his bronze-brown ones. “Hello, Mr…”
“Stubbs,” he told her. “Gerald Stubbs.” His grin didn’t falter and he pumped her hand like he was priming the water pump.
“Gerald is from Dalton Springs, Lyssa. He and Chelly knew each other when she lived there.”
Her stomach turned a flip-flop. She could tell by looking that Gerald Stubbs was not the man of her dreams. Too tall and thin, balding, and semi-professorish-looking. But wait, that wasn’t why she was doing this, was it? She wasn’t looking for the man of her dreams, just a man who would be enamored enough to marry her.
She prayed he was not a man of her nightmares.
“Oh?” she crooned. “Tell me how you know Chelly. We were in the same class all through school. Let’s sit.” She motioned politely to the chair and they faced each other at the small table.
She smiled.
He glanced over his shoulder at Suzie, leaving the room.
She asked a question.
He gave a one-word reply.
The chit chat was tedious.
He’d smile and answer, never asking another one back. He kept looking over his shoulder with a nervous tic. It became obvious very quickly that Stubby didn’t know a thing about holding a conversation. Still, she wondered if he had possibilities for her purpose…
“I’ve brought you a nice salad for starters.” Suzie sat the plates in front of them.
Lyssa rubbed her forehead.
“Very lovely,” Gerald Stubbs said.
“It’s her own recipe, the dressing and all.”
Gerald peered
up at Suzie. “Yes, I know. I’m quite charmed with Ms. Matthews and her cooking. I’ve been a fan of hers for years. Followed her progress. Even took a cooking class once years ago.” He grasped Suzie’s hand and peered up at her. “I’m sure you don’t remember. I attended with my aging mother.”
Lyssa noted Suzie’s face paling as Gerald petted the back of her hand.
He went on, “Why, I have a copy of her cookbook. I was so hoping to get your autograph, Ms. Suzie…”
He tilted to his left and Suzie jerked her hand out of his grasp. He produced the cookbook from somewhere under the table. Where had he hidden that thing?
Suzie gasped.
Lyssa rubbed her forehead a mite more furiously.
“Your head hurting, Lyssa?”
“Like a mother…”
Suzie grasped her arm. “Oh, you poor dear. Excuse us for a moment, Gerald.”
Gerald grinned and rose as the ladies exited.
Suzie swung around inside the kitchen door. “He’s a psycho. Oh my God! It’s my stalker!”
Lyssa’s eyebrows knit. “Excuse me? Stalker? You have a…”
“Some guy with the initials G.S. keeps emailing me. Saying naughty things he’d like to do to me…like, with rubber spatulas and whisks and pancake turners and strawberry pie gel.”
“Oh, gross, Suzie. Does your husband know this?”
“Yes, and my brother-in-law, Matt, too. You know, he’s on the force. The police are looking. I can’t believe…Oh, God!”
A male voice interrupted them and the women both shrieked and turned. “Ms. Matthews, I’m afraid I drank all of my tea. Could I have a refill?”
The women met gazes with saucer-round eyes.
“Of course!”
Suzie, hostess with the mostest even under extreme duress, went straight to her cabinet, pulled out a Styrofoam cup, filled it with sweet tea, then led Gerald Stubbs to the door, all the while explaining how Lyssa had just come down with a horrible migraine, etc….
Slamming the door on her perp, she raced back to the kitchen and picked up the phone.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Lyssa remarked.