Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs) (9 page)
Read Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs) Online
Authors: Zoe Dawson
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he was blindsided by the hard surge of tenderness he had only ever felt for his sister. Only the feeling was different, it was mixed with poignant need to sink into her sweetness, get lost in her touch. The loneliness he hadn’t realized was there until now was a hollow ache that filled with her and pulsed in cadence to his beating heart.
The world had been his enemy. His responsibility was his shield, the money his armor, and his fear his sword that would deflect even the most terrible foe. But Brooke was showing him he’d walled off his heart to everything. Including his sister. Even the comfort that another human being could offer.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.
He nodded. He was a fake, a fraud, and he had no right to the gentle look in her eyes. She nestled her head into his shoulder and his conscience twisted like a corkscrew, boring into his heart. After another thirty minutes passed, Poe came back into the room. She didn’t have a happy look on her face, but he suspected that had more to do with him and the way Brooke was snuggled up to him.
“He’s stable.”
“What’s wrong with him?” She rose, alarm wobbling her voice.
“He has developed diabetes. His blood sugar spiked and he went into a coma, but we gave him insulin and stabilized his blood sugar. We want to keep him here overnight, though, just to be safe.”
“He’s going to be okay?”
“Yes,” she rubbed Brooke’s arm and gave him a distrustful look out of those darkly lined eyes. She looked more like a raven than her mad poet namesake. “He’ll need his blood sugar monitored from now on. Are you up for that?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll take care of him.”
Poe looked at him then said to Brooke, “Can I talk to you privately?”
Brooke threw him an apologetic look and followed Poe out of the room. Through the open door he watched her have a whispered conversation, with Poe glancing at him several times. He really couldn’t blame Brooke’s friend. If he was her, he wouldn’t trust him either. His gut twisted. Frustration, regret, anger…one dark emotion chased another, ripping through him until they were a bitter taste in his mouth.
What the hell was he doing?
He ran his hand through his hair as the desperate thoughts scraped at too-raw nerves.
Finally Brooke came back to him, and they left the hospital while he felt Poe’s eyes boring into his back.
Brooke was silent in the cab all the way back to her place. Torn between staying and leaving, he followed her back up to her apartment. It seemed empty without Roscoe, and he could see in her anxious eyes that she felt it, too. Much more poignantly than he did.
He couldn’t forget the way her friend looked at him. The mistrust in her eyes. And, even now, he wasn’t sure he deserved to kiss and touch Brooke. He wasn’t sure of his own motivations.
“I don’t blame your friend.”
“For what?”
“Not trusting me. I’m on the other side. The enemy.” She looked despondent and distracted, and he understood that. He should leave her alone, but the look on her face pulled at his heart. She said nothing, just looked down and picked up a red ball, turning it over in her hands.
He stepped forward and her head jerked up. He grabbed her arms. “Are you listening to me? Kristen could utterly ruin you if she gets a sympathetic judge. Negotiate with me and I’ll do my best to mitigate, but if you refuse to do anything, Kristen has already won.”
She pulled away from him and walked to the bank of windows. The traffic noise was muted, the City alive with lights.
“Please don’t make me take this to court, Brooke.”
“Why? Because you’ll have to do everything you can to win? Even if it ruins me like Kristen wants?” She folded her arms across her chest and let the red ball fall. It bounced on the hardwood floor and rolled away to smack against the wall.
He threw up his hands. This situation was almost unbearable. He had tried to stay disconnected from her, but that hadn’t happened, hadn’t been possible. She was comfort and sizzle, sassy and sweet. And, he wasn’t worthy of her.
“I would have to crush you,” his voice broke, his shoulders tightening while his hands formed into fists. He tried to breathe around the thick lump in his throat. “Roger wouldn’t accept anything less. Although, to be truthful, he doesn’t want the publicity.”
“Yes, let’s be truthful. By all means. I told you before I knew your ploy. You were trying to manipulate me with your charm. I might be naïve in your cynical book, but I’m not stupid.”
“Seducing you into bed…”
She held up her hand. “We both got…caught up. I’m well aware that it wasn’t your plan, but I participated willingly. You were trying much too hard not to get involved that way for me to believe you seduced me to get me to settle. But we did it, and now we have that connection. I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character. I would never use emotional blackmail to get you to change your mind about the lawsuit. It’s not really up to you. But, my hands are tied. I cannot settle out of court, Drew and now you know why. A woman’s livelihood is worth the effort and my time. I simply cannot and will not turn my back on her for something so frivolous. I know too well what that feels like.”
Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was going to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. Him! She was the one who needed the comfort.
“We’re back to Kristen again.”
Her face softened again, her brown eyes compassionate. “We are. But you’ve opened my eyes. I see that I was procrastinating. I have to talk to her, but I hate confrontation so much I usually remain passive rather than do anything. But in this case I will have to move out of my comfort zone and go speak to her. Get her to see reason or strike some kind of bargain with her. I might not have been willing to emotionally blackmail you, but I have no qualms about her.”
The daggers in her eyes made him wonder if this little lamb wasn’t a match for Kristen’s she-cat snark after all. A purely unintentional rough laugh escaped his lips.
“What’s so funny? You don’t think I have it in me?”
“No, I think you are one of the most stubborn women I have ever met. Like a mamma bear protecting her cub. But I have to remind you yet again. Kristen can’t be swayed by emotion. The Botox certainly won’t let her show it. I think they removed her heart the last time she had a tummy tuck.”
“I’ll get through to her.”
Jeez-us, her optimism was just as irresistible as her dark eyes and wealth of silken hair. His body vibrated from his urge to join with her again.
Cool your engines, man.
She was the better person. He didn’t want this responsibility. The weight of responsibility for one human being on his shoulders was enough. Nausea tumbled in his gut. He would have to face her in court.
“We’re at an impasse.”
“I have to ask you. What’s your stake in this? Most lawyers I know would rub their hands together with glee at a big settlement for their client.”
She deserved an answer from him, but he was reluctant to give it. This would change how she thought of him. A heaviness settled on his shoulders, pressing down on his chest.
He must have revealed what he was feeling on his face.
She closed her eyes and turned back to the windows, bringing a trembling hand to her temple and brushing at the heavy hair there.
“I’m not going to like what you have to say. I guess I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke. I didn’t know…”
She kept her back to him and remained silent. He had no idea if she was truly seeing the vista before her, or if her thoughts were entirely inward at the moment. She had to process a lot tonight, and despite her few lapses, she’d maintained extremely well. He didn’t know her well enough to know her breaking point. Maybe she didn’t know either. But from the steady set of her shoulders, it was clear she was a rock during a crisis.
“You have a hidden agenda.” Her tone was flat, unemotional, stating facts rather than asking questions.
“I do have a hidden agenda. Roger likes to pit us against each other at the firm. He says it builds our competitive edge. He made me play a game of squash to win this case.”
She turned around then and marched closer to him as her hand gripped the lapel of his tux.
“A game?” The heat of anger glittered in her eyes.
There it was. The breaking point. And he’d pushed her to it.
“You think this is a game?”
“I did, Brooke, but now—”
“Don’t gloss it over. Don’t try to snow me, not now.”
He should have respected her more.
“I was offered a partnership if I could get you to settle out of court.”
Her eyes went wide and she froze to the spot. “I see. My livelihood stands in the balance, and all you thought about was a partnership.”
“I’ve worked hard…”
“Yes, you have. So it makes perfect sense you would choose your job over m-m-helping me.”
Any chance he had with her was gone. It was in the tight line of her jaw and in the deep, dark depths of her eyes. Even as she tried to conceal her hurt, he saw it.
He’d taken something special and crapped all over it. The circumstances were impossible. His decision had to be to turn his back and walk away, because the step he would need to take to earn the right to stay, he couldn’t take. He was almost to his goal, and he barely knew her.
And because he couldn’t take the risk, whatever chance he would have had with Brooke died before it was really born.
He barely knew her. So why did it hurt almost as much as the night he’d lost his parents?
Okay, she hadn’t seen that coming. She really hadn’t. For some reason, she had believed he was a knight in shining armor who had wanted to protect her from the big, bad Viking bitch. But that wasn’t the case. Nothing like being a fool.
He was going to turn his back on her, just like her parents had, which left her with nothing but self-recrimination and a familiar sense of betrayal.
Which left her standing there with no idea what to say. Or do. So, she did what she normally did. She took the coward’s way out.
She brushed by him and walked to her front door and opened it. Running her hand down her jeans-clad thigh, she forced herself to look at him. “I think it’s time you headed back to the opera.”
“Opera?” he repeated, his voice toneless.
She shouldn’t give him the slightest of edges. She inhaled, holding the breath for a second and then releasing it to feel calm settling over her.
He looked at the open door like it was the portal to Hades and didn’t move. Her heart faltered, but then hardened, screaming at her to raise her guard and give him not so much as a toehold to latch on to. “That’s code for anywhere…” She trailed off only for a second, looking away and then quickly continuing, proud of the steel in her voice, “…but here. And I’d like you to keep your professional distance. There isn’t any point in pursuing anything beyond a strict adversarial relationship. It’s best we stay focused on the business we have between us. And nothing else.”
Her control was amazing. She didn’t even feel the sharp needles of pain stabbing in her heart. She was a rock in a crisis, always had been. And maybe she was just kidding herself and actually stalling to give him time to respond.
“Too much has happened for us to be enemies, Brooke.”
Oh, God, she was not going to be a pushover. But she already felt her heart break, and she had to steel herself against the pain it caused with what was evident in her head. This was not going to work. She had to admit. They weren’t exactly enemies. He was right. Too much had happened. She looked up at him straight in the eyes.
“Okay, so we-we’re…frenemies,” she said with more fluster than bluster.
Rather than look hurt or dismayed, he smiled. It was slow to start, but grew steadily, reaching fully to his eyes, which twinkled. Damn him and his charm.
“I understand,” he said, his tone quiet, even sincere.
“Do you?”
He merely nodded. “I just want you to do one thing.”
Danger, danger!
Please don’t let him want a goodbye kiss. He would quickly realize what kind of hypocrite she was. She was such a damn pushover. “What?”
“Get yourself a fucking good lawyer. Someone who’s as cutthroat a bastard as I am.”
And then, instead of kissing her like she expected, he slid his hand down her arm until his hand covered hers. He lifted it, turning it palm up, and pressed a kiss onto the sensitive skin of her wrist. Much more intimate than a kiss on the lips.
With that he walked away and softly closed the door behind him.
She stood there, completely bewildered, before thankfully, mercifully, her anger kicked in. He was toying with her, and she most definitely did not appreciate it.
Forty-five minutes later, lying stiffly on her back in the bed that still smelled like him, Brooke’s mind tumbled over itself like stones in a polisher. Too bottled up to rest. Bottled up anger, bottled up desire, bottled up…about a lot of things. She sighed a heavy breath, quite disgusted with her bottled-up self, and tucked her arm behind her head. And beneath all her superficial distractions, her worry over Roscoe battered at her heart and mind. She couldn’t lose him. She would be devastated, bereft. He was her one and only sweet boy.
She pushed back the tears and took a deep breath—and got another delicious lungful of Drew. With a cry of frustration, she got up, ripped off the blankets and sheets, and remade the bed with linens that smelled of laundry detergent instead of gorgeous man.
She was pathetic.
She lay back down and resumed staring at the ceiling while seeing something else entirely. Someone. Drew. Of the forever-rumpled blond hair, green eyes that should be outlawed for their pervasive abilities alone, and ridiculously sexy grin that never failed to set her pulse to pounding. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him, but there was a gigantic obstacle in the way.
Kristen Wright-Davis and her ruinous, completely spoiled, yappy, cantankerous poodle, Mimi.
She sat up in bed with a squeal of frustration, pounding the mattress.
She’d had enough of this. She’d apologized, sent that unreasonable woman a wonderful basket. Everyone loved her homemade dog treats, from her clients to her best friends. She’d even been offered money by the couple who owned the Hot Diggity Dogs shop to sell them in their store. That woman was going to see reason if Brooke had to twist all of that bleached blond hair out by the roots.
In fact, Brooke was going over there, first thing in the morning after she checked on her boy. She had something personal at stake, and she wasn’t going to cave and lose it,
or
leave her staff unemployed. It was Pawlish that was at stake. Right.
Her
business, she affirmed to herself. As she lay down, she could swear she caught a whiff of his intoxicating scent.
#
First she went to St. Mark’s to visit Roscoe, who was much better. He vigorously wagged his stumpy tail, and moisture gathered in her eyes as she hugged him. She was told he had to stay for one more day to make sure all was well. She could pick him up tomorrow. He gave her such a dejected look when she left, she decided to come back after visiting Kristen.
Brooke drove out of the city onto Long Island and to the small seaside resort of Easthampton. Pulling up the long drive to the Wright-Davis’s “cottage” on the shore, Brooke rolled her eyes. This wasn’t a cottage. The woman was so pretentious.
She had an uneasy sensation in her stomach, as if she was on the deck of a ship and the pitch and roll had somehow gotten embedded there. Squaring her shoulders and remembering what was at stake, she marched up to the door and knocked.
After a few minutes a maid answered the door. “May I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to Kristen.”
“Who is it, Marta?” Her voice came from the top of a sweeping staircase. A magnificent glass and gold chandelier tinkled in the breeze from the open door.
Brooke didn’t wait for the maid to ask her the question. She brushed by her. “It’s Brooke Palmer.”
“Brooke? What are you doing here? You can simply go through my lawyer if you have anything to say to me.”
Polished mahogany floors with matching stairs and banister led to the top. Brooke’s shiny black boots clicked as she walked across and mounted the stairs. Kristen stood at the top, a digital camera in her hands. This time her nails were a bold, hot pink. Her blue eyes narrowed and she held up her palm.
“Don’t come up here.” Her hard gaze focused on her maid at the bottom of the stairs. “Marta! Why did you let her in?”
The maid gave an apologetic curtsy and said, “I’m sorry, mistress. She came in without asking.”
Kristen’s maid
curtsied,
and her employees thought Brooke was tough on them? Kristen looked down at her, her eyebrows arching elegantly. She pursed her lips. “As rude here as you are at your place of business. How surprising.”
Brooke climbed the rest of the way. She spied the offensive, nasty Mimi curled up at the top of the stairs at Kristen’s feet. “There’s your little…” The dog growled at her, showing the whites of her eyes and her upper lip pulled away from her pointy muzzle. Little monster is what came to mind, but instead she finished her comment by substituting “baby.” Brooke came up the final few steps to the landing and saw Marta slink out of the foyer from the corner of her eye. She heard a door close off in the distance.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m very busy. I have to get this film to
Design TV’s
Town and Country Show
. I have every expectation that my cottage will be featured on TV. I’ve always dreamed of it.”
“You think
DTV
featuring your chandelier is more important than my employee or my business?”
Kristen didn’t even look at her. She just kept filming her chandelier. “My stupid photographer quit. I hate doing manual labor.”
“Manual labor! Kristen, that isn’t manual labor. Manual labor is farm work or digging ditches. I’ll tell you about hard work. It’s getting up at five a.m. every morning, getting your two kids breakfast, getting them to school, slogging across a crowded and congested city to your place of business and putting in an eight hour day.”
“Well, aren’t you snarky. I didn’t think you had it in your meek little body. You’re wasting your breath. You can talk until you’re blue in the face. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“That’s what Drew said.”
“Drew, is it? Don’t tell me you’ve wooed him with your big brown eyes and little curvy body. My husband gave him this task because he’s a pit bull. He won’t waver.”
“Rest assured, he hasn’t.”
“Good. That stupid cow will be fired, or I will make sure you lose everything you own.”
Brooke took a step up to the top of the stairs to face Kristen head on. “That’s an empty threat, Kristen. You don’t own the courts.”
She framed up a shot and filmed with a steady hand. Looking over her shoulder with a smug, predatory smile, she cooed. “Actually, I do. I have a very good friend who’s a judge. He simply dotes on me. Guess who will be hearing our case?”
Then Kristen went back to what she considered important. “Does the chandelier look good in this picture?” she asked.
Brooke huffed out a breath and, patsy that she was, looked down at the video camera and said, “It’s too close. You should back up a bit.”
“Oh, boo, you’re right.”
Wrestling the conversation back to her reason for coming, she said, “That’s not justice, nor is it fair. I’ll appeal.”
Kristen laughed. “With what? You won’t have anything left. When I take over Pawlish, the first thing I’ll do is fire that stupid cow myself.” She turned back to her filming.
“I know Harper Sinclair. In fact, she is a close personal friend. She’s offered me the full weight of her reputation…and her lawyer.” Brooke hadn’t wanted to stoop so low as to name drop, but she was getting desperate. Drew had been right. The woman was self-absorbed beyond belief.
Kristen paled at that and bit her lip. Knowing it was petty, Brooke still had to suppress a smile when the camera wobbled in her hands and the shot was ruined.
Kristen’s head whipped around. “You’re lying.”
“You think so? Do you have a copy of the
New York Scoop
?”
Kristen narrowed her eyes at Brooke, turned and stomped down the hall and into the master bedroom. Her boots made angry, clomping noises. She returned with the magazine in her hand. Brooke took it and flipped to the middle. There was bound to be a picture of Harper with Poe, Callie and her. They had just gone out last week.
It was her time to deliver a smug smile. “There we are. Harper Sinclair, Poe Madigan and Callie Lassiter. I’d say that’s a pretty good picture of me.”
“You know Callie Lassiter, too?” Kristen snatched the magazine out of Brooke’s hands, giving her an incredulous look. “Owen McKay’s fiancée? We didn’t get an invitation to the wedding.”
“They haven’t gone out yet.”
She tried not to show it, but Kristen’s estimation of Brooke just went up a notch. The calculation clear in her eyes. “How would you know?”
“I’m her maid of honor.”
Kristen scowled and smoothed her hand over her braid. “Everybody who’s anybody is going to be at that wedding. Is Harper going?”
“Yes, she is. Kristen, why can’t you be reasonable? Have some compassion. You’re wealthy, have all you want. Why make me fire Rachel, who, by the way, was the only groomer I had who was willing to clip Mimi. Everyone else refused.”
Lost in thought, Kristen took a moment to register what Brooke had said. “What? Are you saying no one at your establishment wanted to handle my sweet baby?”
Kristen bent down and petted Mimi who licked her hand, then snarled at Brooke again.
“All the more reason to sue you,” she grumbled, looking down at the poodle again, then at the magazine. “You really know Harper Sinclair and Callie Lassiter?”
Brooke nodded.
“You’re not going to fire that stupid cow, are you? You’re willing to fight for her even if it means losing your business,” Kristen said grudgingly.
“No, I’m not going to fire her, and yes, I’m going to fight for her.”
“Dammit, now if I go through with this suit, I’ll be blacklisted from the Social Register. I’ve heard Harper takes care of her friends.”
Hope bloomed like a giant sunflower in Brooke’s chest. “You can save face by just letting it slip that you have accepted my offer of free grooming. Reference the fabulous doggie basket I sent you and the apology.”
Kristen looked down then cut her a sideways glance. “Mimi did so love the dog treats, especially the crowns. She is such a princess. Where did you get them?”