“Great. I hope you set her straight.”
“I tried, but it was tough, what with all the yelling going on.”
“I got a TV show I want to catch,” Elsie said. “One of them cable stations is running an Errol Flynn festival.”
“Is that the guy with the sword and the cheesy mustache?” Kevin said, following Elsie into the family room.
“There isn’t anything cheesy about any part of Errol Flynn,” she told him. “He was what you call a swashbuckler. He could have grown any kind of mustache he wanted.”
“Hope you’re hungry,” Steve said to Daisy. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day making spaghetti sauce.”
Daisy looked in the pot. “I’m impressed. This smells terrific.”
“Of course. It’s my specialty.” He slid his arms around her waist and deposited a lingering kiss at the nape of her neck.
“Forget it,” she said. “I know what your secret weapon is, and it’s not going to work.”
“That’s because you haven’t tasted it yet. No woman has been able to resist my secret weapon once they’ve sat down and feasted on it.”
Daisy’s mouth dropped open. “That’s…outrageous!”
“You’re going to want to have seconds, and thirds, then when you wake up tomorrow you’re going to have an insatiable craving to eat more for breakfast.”
“What an ego!”
His voice was silky. “It’s all in the spices.”
“Wait a minute. What are you talking about?”
“My spaghetti sauce, of course. My secret weapon. Everyone always loves my spaghetti sauce.”
“Sure. I knew that.”
“What did you think we were talking about?”
Her gaze inadvertently slid below his waist.
“You thought that was my secret weapon?”
“Of course not. I knew it was the spaghetti sauce. You men are all alike. You think all it takes is a pot of hot tomatoes to turn us women into slavering idiots. I suppose you thought one look at your sauce would have me panting. Well, let me tell you something, buster, it takes more than spaghetti sauce to weaken my resolve.”
“Want to know what we’re having for dessert?”
“No!”
He dumped spaghetti into boiling water and took a bowl of freshly grated cheese from the refrigerator. “As long as we’re on the subject, I want to clear the air a little. I don’t want to push you into a marriage you don’t want.”
“No?”
“My intention is to hang around until you decide you’re going to go nuts and start screaming and foaming at the mouth if you don’t get…married.”
“And you think your cooking is good enough to do that, huh?”
“Do you want a serious answer, or do you want to flirt some more?”
“Serious answer,” she said.
“There’s always been a physical attraction between us that borders on the frightening. I’d be a fool not to use it to my advantage. But I’d be an even bigger fool if I thought that was enough to sustain a marriage.”
“We haven’t known each other for very long.”
“We haven’t been best friends and lovers for very long, but we’ve known each other for almost a year.”
It was true, Daisy thought. Knowing him wasn’t the problem. Loving him wasn’t the problem either. The love grew stronger every day. The problem was with timing. It was the wrong time.
“I don’t have the emotional strength to make a life decision right now.”
“I understand that, but I’m not going to let my soul mate slip through my fingers just because I fell in love with her at the wrong time.”
“So where does that leave us?” Daisy asked.
He nudged against her, his mouth caressing the rim of her ear when he spoke. “I suppose it brings us back to my secret weapon.”
“Spaghetti sauce?”
“Spaghetti sauce is only the beginning.” His hand snaked under her shirt as he kissed her neck and lowered his mouth to her collarbone. “Wait until you taste my brownies.”
She shivered. “Oh Lord,” she whispered, “I love brownies.” She felt him stir against her and hazily thought his ultimate secret weapon was in the process of losing its secret status. “We shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen,” she said. “Elsie and Kevin…”
He sighed and pushed her to arm’s length. “You’re right. Besides, I think the spaghetti is done.”
When the table was set, they called everyone in from the TV room. Bob was the first one to the table. He bounded in and took a seat, thumping his two front paws on either side of a place setting. His ears were perked, his eyes were bright. “Woof!” he said, smiling and panting.
Elsie took a seat across from him. “Didn’t anybody ever tell him he was a dog?”
“Get down,” Steve said to Bob. “Dogs don’t eat at the table.”
Bob didn’t budge.
Steve reached out to snag Bob’s collar and Bob growled low in his throat.
“Maybe he thinks eating on the floor is unsanitary,” Elsie said. “I wouldn’t want to eat on the floor.”
Kevin pulled an extra chair up next to Bob and got himself another place setting. “I think Bob’s a real cool dude. I bet he’s not actually a dog at all. He was probably some yuppie out jogging and aliens got hold of him and turned him into a dog.” He piled spaghetti and sauce on Bob’s plate. “You want cheese?”
“Woof!”
“Kinda cute,” Elsie said. “In a bizarre sort of way.”
Daisy giggled. “All he needs is a tie.”
That clinched it for Steve. Anything that could elicit a giggle from Daisy was okay by him. He gave Bob a piece of garlic bread and passed the bread basket to Daisy. “I got a chance to listen to a few of your traffic reports today. They sounded very professional.”
She beamed at the compliment. “It’s getting easier.”
“Did Schmidt stick with you?”
“Like glue.”
“Any more attempts on your life? Any more messages from the maniac? You accidentally thwart any crimes?”
“No,” she said. “It was a perfectly boring day. Thwarting was at an all-time low.”
One of the workmen laying carpet came into the dining room. “There been a death in the family?” he asked. “You expecting a visit from the president?”
“No,” Steve said. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“There’s a black limo parking in front of your house. It’s about a half mile long, and I think it’s being driven by Antonio Banderas.”
Steve grinned. “It’s only a wild guess, but I’d say my mother’s been talking to Aunt Zena.”
Before Steve had a chance to leave the table, Schmidt appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I need to clear some visitors. They say they’re your parents?”
“Is the man tall and inscrutable? Did he try to bribe you?” Steve asked.
“He’s tall and inscrutable,” Schmidt said. “He hasn’t tried to bribe me yet.”
“Well, if he does, take the money. He’s my father.”
There was a short commotion in the hall, and Daisy felt a flutter of nerves when Steve rose to greet his parents. The woman was slim and elegant, from the tips of her freshly manicured nails to the shining mane of thick, black hair. She was small-boned, with a classically beautiful face. Her eyes were large and dark, and it was easy to imagine them smoldering with passion. Steve had his mother’s eyes, Daisy thought. The rest of him was Crow. With the exception of the deep lines etched into his father’s face and a few extra pounds, they were almost mirror images.
“There’s a dog sitting at your table,” Steve’s mother said. “And he’s eating spaghetti.”
“That’s Bob,” Steve told her. “And this is Kevin Adams, Daisy Adams, and Elsie Hawkins. Can you stay for supper? I have plenty of spaghetti.”
“Of course I’ll stay for supper,” his mother said. “It isn’t every day I get to e
at with a dog.” She pulled a chair up next to Elsie. “Maria Crow,” she said, extending her hand. “Are you related to Daisy?”
“Nope. I work for the radio station. I’m her bodyguard.”
“And what about the two policemen sitting in that drab little car outside?”
“They’re guarding her body, too,” Elsie said. “They were assigned after the firebombing.”
“Firebombing?” Maria Crow arched her delicate black eyebrows.
Steve and Daisy were scrambling to add place settings and get Steve’s father seated. They paused and exchanged horrified glances. “It was only one bomb, and it was very small,” Steve said. “Hardly worth mentioning.” He handed his mother a glass of red wine. “What do you think of my house?”
She sipped her wine and thoughtfully studied the room. “It’s nice. Not too big, not too small. I’ve never been especially fond of suburbia and tract houses, but this house has a friendly feeling to it. It even has a dog.” She looked over at Bob. He’d finished his spaghetti and was eating a bowl of salad. “He is a dog, isn’t he? He’s not some small person dressed up in a dog suit?”
“We were just discussing that,” Steve said. “We aren’t actually sure.”
Maria smiled at Daisy and Elsie. “Steve always wanted a dog, but our lifestyle never lent itself to house pets. Looking at it in retrospect, I probably should have rearranged our lifestyle for a while.”
“I was one of those overprivileged deprived children,” Steve said to Daisy. “I was forced to spend all of my time skiing and sailing.”
Maria smiled at her son. “I know you enjoyed the skiing and sailing, but I think deep down inside you would rather have had a dog.”
“As you can see I’m making up for lost time. I’ve got Bob now.”
Bob looked up when his name was mentioned and a piece of lettuce fell out of his mouth.
“We have to work on his table manners,” Steve said.
“All things considered they’re not so bad,” his mother said. “He’s neater than your Uncle Lou.”
That brought a smile to Joseph Crow’s lips. “I’m going to tell Lou you said that,” he chided his wife.
Maria looked at her husband and laughed, and Daisy realized that theirs was a rock-solid relationship. There was genuine affection here, Daisy decided. Uncle Lou was undoubtedly one of a myriad of family jokes and shared experiences that helped compose the strata of a long and successful marriage.
By outward appearances the Crows were sleek and casually aloof, as only the superrich could be. On closer examination there was a warm intimacy between them, a pulsing vitality, and strength, all the qualities that she found so compelling and so intimidating in Steve.
Steve smiled with his parents. Uncle Lou, being the shortest, loudest, and most flamboyant member of the Crow clan, had provided ample fodder for years’ worth of jokes and table conversation.
When Daisy finished her dissertation he wanted to take her west to meet the rest of his family. He wanted her to meet Lou and his grandfather Crow, his great-aunt Lucy and her twelve cats, and his cousin Danny, who was the same age as Steve but already had five kids. There were Crows spread all over the Southwest, and then there was his mother’s family in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley. His mother’s birth certificate had read Maria Louise Helena de Ortega. The wealth and prestige of the Californio had long since disappeared, but the pride and beautiful dark eyes had survived.
“So what are you folks doing here?” Elsie asked. “Do you live nearby?”
Maria shook her head. “No. We were in Monterey when Joseph’s sister, Zena, called and said Steve was living with a beautiful young woman who was single-handedly ridding Washington of crime. I knew you wouldn’t be living together if you didn’t intend to get married soon, so we flew back to congratulate you both on your engagement. We wanted to welcome you to the family,” Maria said, turning to Daisy. “We were delighted to learn Steve had finally fallen in love.”
Steve sat back in his chair. He was being manipulated. His mother had flown east to size things up and see if she could push him into marriage. She wasn’t usually a meddling mother, but when he had hit thirty she started making frustrated-grandmother noises.
Daisy felt the sudden flush of heat on her cheeks. Steve’s parents had flown two thousand miles to meet a fraud. She and Steve weren’t getting engaged, and she wasn’t Wonder Woman.
Maria’s eyes strayed to Daisy’s ringless hand. “I see you haven’t gotten a ring yet.”
Steve sighed. “Mom, I hate to disappoint you, but—”
“But it was so sudden,” Daisy said, interrupting. “And Steve had just bought this house and a new car, and I thought it seemed extravagant to spend money on a ring, too. You know how easy it is to have cash-flow problems.”
Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe her ears. She’d gotten herself engaged! She was totally horrified. She could almost hear Steve’s eyebrows raise and was afraid to look around at him. It was the sigh, she told herself. No woman could fail to respond to a Steve Crow sigh. It happened so seldom and held such endearing vulnerability. And then there were his parents…they were so nice. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, she chanted to herself, you are truly screwed up.
His mother withdrew a small velvet box from her black lizardskin purse. “I’m so glad I brought this. I wasn’t sure if it would be appreciated, but since you don’t already have a ring, perhaps you would consider an heirloom.” She passed the box to Steve. “This belonged to your great-grandmother de Ortega. It’s a very fine stone. You could have it put into a new setting.”
Steve opened the box and studied the ring. “I remember seeing this in your jewelry box. I always thought it was very beautiful. When I was a kid I imagined it had once belonged to Scrooge McDuck.”
“You weren’t far off,” his mother said, laughing. “At one time the Ortegas were outrageously wealthy.”
Steve took Daisy’s hand. Their eyes caught and held. His fingers were warm and firm as they wrapped around hers. His voice was soft with a hint of the devil in it as he asked, “Will you accept this ring as a symbol of our engagement?”
Daisy swallowed loud enough for it to be heard all the way to the kitchen. It was the largest diamond she’d ever seen, set into an exquisite gold filigree setting. She stared awestruck at the ring and ruefully admitted that her psych professors would have a field day interpreting her reasons for placing herself in this predicament.
Steve gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she realized everyone was waiting for her answer. She nodded yes because she didn’t trust her voice. He slid the ring onto her finger, and her eyes misted over. It was a perfect fit.
She looked up and gave Maria Crow a shaky smile. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Later when they were alone in the kitchen assembling the brownies, Steve caught Daisy’s hand and studied the ring. “Ordinarily when a woman becomes engaged it’s with the intention of getting married.”
“Ordinarily.”
“Maybe I should set the date when we go back to the table. Or better yet, maybe we should just go out and get married while my parents are in town.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing. That would be so rotten!”
He took a brownie from the fancy glass dish and nibbled on it. “I’d suggest it in a heartbeat. I’m not necessarily averse to being rotten and sneaky if the cause is just.”
“I’m going to keep that in mind.”
He trapped her against a counter and kissed her. “Live in fear. I’m a desperate man.”
“You’d better be careful. I have a bodyguard.”
“You forget, I pay her salary.” He lowered his mouth to hers and his thumb inched across her rib cage until it was firmly pressed into the soft flesh of her breast.
“Is this an example of your sneakiness?” she whispered against his lips.
He feigned indignant ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo
ut.”
“You know very well. I’m talking about your thumb.”
“Oh, that.” The thumb lazily drew erotic circles. “Mmmm, I suppose my thumb is a little sneaky.” He kissed her slowly and deeply while his fingers continued to massage. He watched her eyes drop closed, felt her body go pliant in his arms. “Do you remember the kitchen table?” he asked, his words raspy against the shell of her ear.
She gave an involuntary shudder. Yes, she definitely remembered the kitchen table. She would remember it in excruciatingly delicious detail for the rest of her life.
“The kitchen table was just a warm-up. Someday when you’re least expecting it I’m going to make love to you…on the ironing board.”
Her eyes flew open.
“We’ll experiment with fruit and cooking oil and household appliances…the electric shoe buffer, the electric toothbrush, the waffle iron.”
“Oh, my Lord.”
“And that’s only the beginning, baby. I’m going to make love to you in the broom closet. I’m going to ravage you on the washing machine. I’m going to do naughty things to you with my barbecue equipment.”
They were both red-faced and convulsed with laughter when Elsie swung through the kitchen door. “What are you doing in here?” she asked. “We’ve been waiting forever for them brownies.”
Daisy straightened and gasped for breath, trying to sober herself. “Here you go,” she said, handing the plate over to Elsie. “I’m right behind you with the coffee.” She grabbed the pot and shook her head at Steve. “You’re a pervert, and if I catch you buying a waffle iron, I’m calling the police.”
Chapter 10
Steve watched Daisy drag her belongings down the stairs and pile them up in the foyer. “So you’re still determined to move back into your town house.”
“Yup.”
“I was only kidding about the waffle iron.”
“This has nothing to do with the waffle iron. This has to do with breathing space, making intelligent decisions, being self-reliant.”
Tonight’s dinner was proof absolute that she had to get away from Steve. She wasn’t a rational person when she was around him. She had only to look at her ring finger to be reminded of that fact. Steve’s parents had left an hour ago, and the ring was growing heavier and heavier. The confused joy she’d first felt was fast turning to gloomy disbelief. How could she possibly have managed to get herself engaged? She’d been so determined not to let this happen, and now she was dragging a diamond the size of Mount McKinley around on her finger.
The Rocky Road to Romance Page 12