Looking for Love (Boxed set) (67 page)

"Daddy, I don't see any Butterballs."

Exactly.
He hadn't expected to find a white mop-dog here. They had only real dogs, a man's kind of animal. The thought of bathing that white fluff ball after a roll in the mud made him shudder. "I know, honey, but these doggies are here because they're homeless. They need someone to love them and take them in."

"But Butterball doggies needs a home, too. I seen 'em at the pet store."

"I know that, sweetie. But look, there's some cute small dogs here. And if they don't find homes..." He hesitated, realizing Lizzie's ears might be too sensitive for the truth.

"What, Daddy?"

"Honey, pick out a couple to play with and let's see what we think then."

Lizzie twisted her small mouth, but finally nodded. Seconds later she'd climbed inside a fenced-off area on the lawn and was rolling on the grass, playing with three different dogs: a dark brown mutt that reminded him of a bulldog, a spotted puppy with cropped ears and a limp, and a short, stout animal that resembled a cross between a beagle and a basset hound.

His cell phone jangled and he grabbed it, keeping his eye on her and the animals at the same time.

"Stone," his boss snapped, "what the hell is your picture doing in the
Inquisitor?
I thought you were getting a story on Abby Jensen, not trying to make headlines for yourself in another publication."

* * *

Abby's hands shook as she led the officers to her kitchen. Had they connected Milano to Lenny? Did they suspect Lenny was his accomplice? Worse, did they think she had had a part in the scam? "Would you like some coffee?"

"No, ma'am," the woman officer named Barringer said. "This is business, not a social call."

"Thanks, that would be great." The Latino smiled, earning a glare from the female gestapo cop.

The male detective studied her kitchen with an inquisitive eye, a smile lining his mouth at her teapots.

"My grandmother turned me on to collecting them," Abby explained, as she handed him an oversize mug.

"I was close to my grandmother, too," Suarez said. "She still lives in—"

"Can we get on with this?" Barringer asked, cutting Suarez off. "We're not here to get a signed copy of her book, Stefan, or to play, so put the boy back in his pocket."

Abby stiffened at the woman's crude suggestion, and Suarez's smile vanished, his dark eyes flashing with temper. "There's no need to be rude, Barringer. We're here to ask questions, not harass her." He winked at Abby. "Besides, I happen to know Dr. Jensen's sister, Victoria."

"You do?" Relief spilled through Abby. Maybe they weren't going to arrest her.

Barringer glared at Suarez, then spread the tabloid photo on the table. "Ma'am, where is your husband? We'd like to speak to him."

Oh.
They thought Harry was her husband. "He's... he's not here."

"When will he be back?"

"I... I really don't know." Abby sank into the wooden chair, eyeing them both warily.

"Can you tell us where he is, Dr. Jensen?" Barringer took the chair beside her. "Will he be at your next interview?"

Abby hesitated, her pulse racing. She couldn't lie to the police. "Yes. No. Actually that man in the photo..." She paused, gauging their reaction. "He's not my husband."

A dark eyebrow rose above Suarez's inky eyes. "He's not?"

"No, he's a double."

Barringer patted her side as if she were ready to handcuff Abby any second. "An actor."

"Why would you hire an actor to play your husband?" Suarez asked.

"Because Lenny's not around."

Barringer made a clucking sound with her teeth, waving her hands jerkily. "Just spit it all out, Dr. Jensen. We need the truth, and we can do it here or down at the station."

She did not want to have to go to the police station. "Why are you looking for Lenny?"

"We believe he may be involved in a scam with a man named Tony Milano." Suarez sipped his coffee, his voice steady. "You and Mr. Gulliver were married by Mr. Milano?"

Abby knotted her hands in her lap, inhaled, then nodded. "Maybe you'd better sit down. This may take a while." The officers joined her at the table and she related the entire story, praying they would believe her. Relief to have the truth finally out in the open, at least on some level, filled her.

"Don't feel so bad." Suarez patted her shoulder in an effort to console her. "This isn't the first time Gulliver has conned a woman."

"What?"

Sympathy for her was evident in the detective's handsome face. "He was married twice before and stole money from both wives." Suarez shrugged. "We never would have caught the connection if some reporter hadn't started snooping around asking questions about him."

"A reporter?"

"Yeah, some guy named Stone."

Abby balled her hands into fists. Hunter Stone, the man who had already tainted her reputation in the paper, had now turned the police on her tail.

Even worse, now he had the rope to hang her; he was on to Lenny.

* * *

Hunter settled the black mutt with the pudgy face and crooked tail into Lizzie's lap. They had finally decided on the cross between the beagle and the basset hound, but Lizzie still didn't seem convinced they'd made a good choice. "He's not a Butterballs." The mutt stuck its butt in her face, and aimed its head at the window.

"But he's friendly, and he needs us."

"He don't got much hair."

"Then he won't shed all over the furniture."

Lizzie patted his stout back. "He gots a smashed-in face."

"That just makes him more lovable."

"Can we takes him by to see Butterball?"

Hunter cranked the engine and veered from the parking lot. "I guess so. Let's see if Abby's home."

The dog dropped down on his belly, spread out all fours, and began to snore. Lizzie folded her arms cross her chest, gave him another skeptical look, and sighed. Hunter just hadn't been able to bring himself to buy a sissy dog. After all, a man's dog should reflect something about his personality.

Another sound rippled through the air, and Lizzie squealed. "Eww, Daddy, he farted."

Well, maybe not
everything
about a man's character. Hunter rolled down his window. "He's a guy dog," he said, as if that explained everything.

Lizzie pinched her nose and scooted the dog off her lap, her fingers extended as if she'd just touched a sack of garbage. The puppy crawled between Hunter and Lizzie and stuck his nose into Hunter's crotch. Hunter squirmed and pushed the dog from his sniffing venture. The puppy collapsed between them with a sigh and let another one rip.

Lizzie giggled. "Gross!"

The dog responded with a loud snore.

A car horn blared and Hunter jerked his mind back to the road. Bright sunshine nearly blinded him as he wove along the azalea-lined drive to Abby's house. Flowers decorated the suburban neighborhood like brightly colored balloons, dotting the lawns with a hominess missing from his apartment complex.

He needed to buy a house, even if it was a small one, so when Lizzie came to visit, she felt more at home. Where the dog could have a place to run and roam. But how he could finance it?

"Daddy, why's the police at Dr. Abby's?"

He spotted the squad car and grimaced.
Good question.

Had something happened to Abby, or were they here about her husband?

* * *

"Will you let us know if you hear from him?" Barringer asked as Abby escorted the officer to the door.

"Yes." Humiliation stung her face at the woman's suspicious glare. It was bad enough that she'd had to admit that her husband had left her and charged up her credit cards, but to admit she'd paid someone else to pretend to be him had stolen the last vestiges of her dignity.

The policewoman had grilled her like an FBI interrogator, certain Abby had been involved in the resort scam. Apparently Lenny's name had been tied to a joint account with Tony Milano, so they'd figured out the connection.

"Take care, Dr. Jensen," Suarez said in a sympathetic tone. "Oh—" he leaned forward—"and tell Victoria hi for me."

"I will, and thanks." As the police walked down the driveway she sighed in relief, but her stomach hit the floor when Harry's Explorer coasted by her house. Obviously having spotted the police, he rolled down the street as if he didn't know whether to stop or flee. He probably didn't want anything to do with her troubles.

The sun baked her as she watched the police pull away. Harry returned within seconds, climbed out, and strode toward her, his daughter holding Angelica and dragging some ugly mutt behind her, her big floppy T-shirt and pink sandals flapping.

"Come on, Snarts," Lizzie cajoled. "We gots to go see Butterballs."

Harry's dark gaze met hers. "I hope you don't mind that we stopped by."

The mangy mutt stopped to sniff and trample the flower bed Abby had diligently planted by the mailbox. Harry reached out and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "Is everything all right, Abby?"

No,
she wanted to scream.
Nothing is right. First the tabloid, then the police.

But his concern touched her, and Lizzie and her dog bounded toward them, so she bit back a harsh retort. "Everything's fine."

His expression made his disbelief evident, but she ignored it. Instead, she dropped down to a squatting position to speak to Lizzie. "Hey, sweetie." She slowly reached out so the animal could sniff her hand. "Who's your new friend?"

"He's my dog," Lizzie said with a huff, as if Abby wouldn't recognize him as such. "They didn't got no Butterballs. And Daddy said we should give this guy a home 'cause he's homely."

"Homeless," Harry corrected gently.

"He says he's a real man's dog."

Abby lifted a brow and stared at Harry, watching him squirm.

"He says dogs 'sposed to detect what a man's like." As if on cue, the dog flopped down on his fat stomach and whined.

"I said a dog is supposed to
reflect
what a man's like," Harry said tightly.

"So are you going to flop down on your belly and whine?" Abby asked.

Lizzie giggled. "Yeah, Daddy, do it."

Harry's direct gaze promised retribution to Abby later. "I don't think so."

Abby stroked the dog's nearly hairless back. "What's his name?"

"Snarts."

"Why did you call him that?"

" 'Cause he snores and—"

"Lizzie, I don't think Ms. Abby wants to know."

Abby grinned.

Lizzie blew a gust of air, sending her bangs fluttering. "Can he play with Butterballs?"

Abby nodded and gestured for them to follow her, but the dog bounded off and ran through the house. Suddenly the sound of crashing glass rent the air. Lizzie raced after the dog, Hunter and Abby on her heels. When Abby found them in the kitchen, Lizzie was staring wide-eyed at one of Abby's teapots on the floor.

"He broked it," Lizzie cried, horror-struck.

"It's okay, Lizzie," Abby said, hating the fear in the little girl's eyes.

Hunter consoled Lizzie, searching Abby's face. They knelt at the same time to clean up the glass before Lizzie cut herself. "We'll replace it," he said. Snarts disappeared under the table, his head ducked, his paw over his head.

"No, it's all right. The teapot wasn't expensive."

"I'm sorry," Lizzie cried again. "Don't hates me and Snarts, Ms. Abby."

"Her mother is pretty particular about her fancy things," Hunter explained in a low voice.

Abby's breath caught in her chest. She dropped the glass in the trash, then brushed Lizzie's bangs back and hugged her. "Honey, don't worry. I don't hate you or your doggie. It's just broken glass. I can buy another teapot."

Hunter gestured toward the collection on the shelf. "They must be special to you."

"Yes, but they're not expensive." Abby grabbed a tissue to dry Lizzie's eyes. "I collect them because my grandmother and I played tea party when I was small."

Lizzie's eyes widened. "Can we play tea party sometimes?"

"Sure."

"Right now, put Snarts out and let him walk, though," Hunter advised.

Lizzie plucked out a pair of sunglasses and settled them on the bridge of her nose. Abby frowned. Bright orange sunglasses with rhinestones. Wasn't that cross-dresser wearing a pair just like those at the bookstore? "Where did you get those, Lizzie?"

"I don't 'member," Lizzie said. "But aren't they cool?"

"They're a dime a dozen at the QT," Hunter said. "Now take Snarts outside, Lizzie."

Lizzie bounded out, and Abby grabbed the tabloid and used it as a dustpan.

His gaze fell to the headline. "You saw the paper?"

Abby hesitated, then scooped the glass on top. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Abby." He placed a hand over hers. "I don't like the ugly things that tabloid guy implied."

Abby shrugged. "Neither do I. And I'm sorry they involved you and Lizzie."

His expression looked pained for a second.

"I'd really like to forget about it," Abby said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Most people don't pay any attention to the junk the tabloids print anyway." They finished cleaning up the glass, then stood in awkward silence.

"So what are you and Lizzie up to today?"

"We planned to grab a picnic and take it to the park." His eyes searched her face. "Would you like to go?"

Abby hesitated, then smiled. "Sure, that sounds great." Finally, something normal to do for a day. Maybe a picnic would distract him from wondering why the police had been at her door.

* * *

"Daddy, did you gets the condoms?" Lizzie asked.

Hunter nearly tripped over a tree root on the way to the picnic site. He'd barely had time to recover from panic over the sunglasses, and now this.

Abby halted, clutching the blanket to her chest. "The what, Harry?"

"The ketchup and mustard," Lizzie said.

"Those are called condiments," Hunter clarified. "And yes, I got them."

Lizzie plopped down on the ground, Indian-style. "Mom gots other condoms. Not like mustard and ketchup. They looks like balloons."

Hunter and Abby exchanged raised brows. "Did she show these to you?" Hunter tried not to react as he helped Abby spread the blanket, yet his heart danced in his chest.