Love Is a Four-Legged Word (13 page)

And Jerome. He looked impossibly handsome and evilly sincere. “I was concerned about my great-uncle’s state of mind. He was too feeble to see what the vixen was up to.”

“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” was all Maddy could get out. She buried her face in her hands.

“This is all lies,” said Serena. “Tom, can’t you and Maddy sue the newspaper?”

“The story is short on facts and long on speculation,” said Tom. “But they’ve been careful not to publish anything libel ous.”

He put his hand on Maddy’s shoulder. She lifted her face to meet his concerned gaze. “If it’s any consolation, today’s headlines are tomorrow’s recycling,” he said. “But other media might follow this up. It could get worse before it gets better.”

Without a word, Serena walked over to the television in the corner and switched on a news channel. Tom and Maddy followed her. Almost immediately the text that ran at the bottom of the screen flashed the words: “Millionaire Mutt Under Threat.”

“Oh no!” Maddy cried. “How can they say that?”

Before anyone had time to comment, the elegant female news anchor started her next item. The newspaper picture of Tom, Maddy, and Brutus flashed up behind her. Then a faded picture of young Walter, in his World War II naval uniform.

Maddy gasped. “Where on earth did they get that?”

“Three guesses,” said Tom, “and the clues all start with the letter
J
.”

“It’s a tale as old as time,” the anchor started. “A lonely, wealthy old man. A sexy young woman. But there’s a twist to this tale. And it
has
a tail.”

The screen changed to a close-up of Brutus. “America is fascinated by the story of this cute little mutt worth millions.” Brutus’s pugnacious face with its jutting lower jaw made him seem to glare at the viewer. “Well,” said the anchor, playing for laughs, “maybe not so cute. Maybe more ... characterful.”

Maddy realized she was holding her breath. She let it out as she lunged for the control. “Turn it off !”

The studio seemed very silent. Maddy turned to Tom. Her heart was pounding. “So what do I do now?”

“You and Brutus move out of your apartment and go into hiding.”

For a long second Maddy stared at him, uncertain she’d heard right. “Go into hiding? Why?”

Tom answered as only Tom could answer. By listing his reasons and ticking them off on his fingers.

“One: Jerome Stoddard could be trying to get Brutus out of the way to give him a better chance to contest Walter’s will. Two: the media now knows where you live and will camp on your doorstep and make your life hell.Three: all kinds of lowlifes might come out of the woodwork—dognappers, blackmailers, stalkers.”

Maddy was so shocked she could hardly think. “But where could I go?”

“Well,” said Tom slowly, “I have—”

“You can move in with me,” said Serena. “I’d love to have you, and Brutus will be company for Snowball.”

“Snowball?” asked Tom.

“My Maltese terrier,” said Serena.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Good,” said Tom, and Maddy couldn’t be sure if he was serious or not. “We don’t want to disburse any more funds to Brutus’s ill-gotten progeny.”

Maddy laughed, but her laugh came out forced and she knew it.

“Okay, Maddy?” Tom asked and she appreciated the concern in his eyes. She wondered if for a moment he’d been about to suggest she move into his place. In spite of herself a thrill ran through her at the thought.

Maddy hugged Brutus so tightly to her he yelped. She loosened her grip to just tight enough to keep him in check. Poor little thing had escaped death by chocolate only to nearly suffer asphyxiation by hugging. How good a dog guardian was she?

She began to feel overwhelmed by all that had happened since Walter’s passing. She shivered. “Tom, I’m scared. This is all so horrible. I can’t believe those reporters went after my family. And how could anyone want to harm this little animal? I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Tom closed the distance between them and put his arm around her. It felt warm and comforting and she leaned gratefully against him, snuggling her head into his shoulder. It felt wonderful to be close to him again. She breathed in the heady, citrus maleness of him.

“Of course you can handle it,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “You’re strong and you’re brave. Walter wouldn’t have entrusted Brutus to you if he didn’t believe you could look after him.”

Did she feel a light brush of his lips against her hair?

She twisted her neck to look up at him. His face was so close she could easily reach up and kiss that dimple. She started melting again. “You think so?” Her voice didn’t come out very strong or brave.

“I do. And you’ve got friends to help you. Isn’t that so, Serena?” he said.

“All the way,” said Serena.

Friends? Maddy pulled away from Tom. Did he see himself just as a friend? But wasn’t that what she’d told Serena he was to her? Darn it, she wanted him to kiss her again. To run his hands along her body, to hold her to his hard muscles. Not just be friends.

But do so and she might end up on TV screens all over the country.

This was all way too confusing. She put Brutus down on the floor and fastened his leash. This dog wasn’t going anywhere near that chocolate, no matter how much he whimpered and strained toward it.

She turned to face Tom and Serena and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll decamp to Serena’s. But for how long?”

“Until the twenty-one days expire,” said Tom. “That’s fourteen days.”

“I thought you’d say that,” she said with a sigh. “Do you realize how awkward this will be for me? Serena’s kitchen is designed to microwave frozen diet meals and make egg-white omelets.”

“Oh, come on, Maddy, it’ll be fun,” said Serena. “I’ll wipe the cobwebs off the stove for you.”

“Fun. Of course it will be. And I’m so grateful you’re taking me in.” She took another deep breath. She had to stop thinking about those awful headlines. “Right, well, anyone got any ideas on how to siphon the chocolate into the trash?”

“We’ll think of something,” said Tom. “Just point me in the direction of where you need help.”

Help? He was going to help her clean up? Somehow she hadn’t expected that. Russell had never, ever offered to help her with her work. Or even shown much interest in it. It had been all about his career.

“Me, too,” said Serena.

“Right, well, let’s feed the workers first,” said Maddy, feeling immeasurably cheered. “Would you like a brownie? Or a slice of chocolate fudge cake? Strawberries dipped in chocolate, maybe?”

“Okay if I scrape the chocolate off the strawberries?” asked Serena.

Maddy was amazed at the look of almost anguish that contorted Tom’s handsome face. “Haven’t you got anything that isn’t chocolate?” he asked.

“Not today,” she said. “We’re talking the Ultimate Chocolate Fix here, remember.”

“To hell with the cholesterol,” he said finally, “I’ve got to try one of your brownies.”

Brutus whimpered at the sound of the word. “Kibble for you, Brutus,” said Maddy, “from a sealed packet that no one could have tampered with.”

“Right,” said Tom to Maddy. “And after that I’ll take you to your apartment while you get your stuff together to go to Serena’s. I want to make damn sure Jerome isn’t sniffing around again. And that you don’t accidentally blurt out a new headline for the media.”

Ten

Tom tried hard not to look at Maddy’s underwear as she stuffed it haphazardly into the bright purple suitcase that lay open on top of her bed. The lid of the suitcase was up and she probably thought he couldn’t see what she was doing. But he could.

He hadn’t given any thought to her underwear before. But if he had he would probably have imagined something along the lines of fresh white cotton—charming in its simplicity but not really mattering much as he’d just want to get it off her ASAP.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her underwear. Black lace bras that wouldn’t hide a thing from a man’s hungry eyes, thong panties in a rainbow of colors, barely there bikinis—and was that a frilly garter belt? Had she bought out Victoria’s Secret?

He felt his body reacting as he imagined Maddy’s milky skin peeking through black lace, her delicious curves cupped by something silky and sheer, the alluring triangle of her thong ...

He couldn’t quite suppress a groan and she looked up at him with those wide, candid eyes. A silky camisole the color of warm, naked skin dangled from her hand.

“Tom, are you okay? Are you worrying about those reporters? I—” Then she faltered. “Oh,” she said reading the message of his eyes, his body. Color flooded her cheeks. She dropped the camisole.

The bed loomed between them, a white iron bed covered in a silky quilt and a heap of embroidered pillows. As soft and feminine as its owner. And as enticing. For a long moment her gaze locked with his across the expanse of flowery silk. Was she thinking what he was thinking? Because if she was—

Maddy slammed the suitcase shut. Her flush deepened. She spoke very quickly. “That’s the clothes packed. Now the kitchen stuff—Serena hasn’t got so much as a decent saucepan. And Brutus’s things, of course, and—”

So she wasn’t thinking what he was thinking. In spite of the hard peaks her nipples had formed under her snug-fitting T-shirt. “I get the picture,” he said, commanding his body to a mental cold shower. “If you’ve finished packing, I’ll take this suitcase out to the car.”

“Fine. Great. Thanks,” she said, making several attempts to lock the suitcase before succeeding. “Just be careful, it’s got my—”

“I know what it’s got in it,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended, still amazed at the surprise of the sexy underwear she owned. What did she have on now under her T-shirt and jeans? A low-cut sheer bra that barely contained her breasts? Thong panties?

“I was going to say my lucky china pony, actually,” she said, obviously making an effort to look dignified despite knowing he’d seen the contents of her underwear drawer. “I would never move anywhere without it. It’s wrapped in my ... never mind what it’s wrapped in.”

“A lucky china pony,” he said slowly, envying the figurine. Would he ever get so lucky and be wrapped in her ... whatever? “Is that the one that sits on your mantelpiece?”

“Yes,” she said, “It was a gift from my mother and it really works—got me through all my exams. And job interviews.”

“And the proof of that would stand up in a court of law?” he asked, enjoying the annoyed exasperation on her face.

“It works for me and that’s all that counts,” she said with dignity. “Now, come on, I’ve got to pack that other stuff I’ll need at Serena’s house.”

Maddy’s bedroom was small and she could not get past him to the door without brushing against him. Her shoulder touched his arm and it felt like an electric shock pulsing through his body. It was all he could do not to reach out and pull her to him, to kiss her senseless, and then fall with her onto that bed, which didn’t seem strong enough to bear his weight, let alone the two of them.

The precise details of the five-year plan, sections 2a through 2c, were starting to get fuzzy in his memory. “Maddy,” he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him, her pupils so black they nearly obscured the green of her eyes. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.

“What’s not a good idea?” he said, struggling to maintain his equilibrium.

“K ... kissing you,” Maddy stammered, fighting the urge to wind her arms around his neck and claim that sexy mouth. She was finding it very difficult to find reasons why she shouldn’t kiss Tom O’Brien in private and away from prying cameras. But being in such close proximity to a bed should probably be one of them.

With his shirtsleeves rolled up and the first few buttons of his shirt undone he was so handsome that just looking at him sent a shiver of desire through her. His hair was all mussed up from his habit of raking his hands through it. She didn’t know whether she wanted to smooth it down or ruffle it some more.

“Who said anything about kissing?” he said.

“You did,” she said, knowing that he hadn’t. But he’d had a kissing look about him.That she could be sure of.

“If it’s no to kissing, how about holding hands? That’s harmless enough, isn’t it?” A half smile played lazily around his mouth—the sexy mouth of the best kisser in the universe.

“I ... I guess,” she said, struggling with the warmth that was rising in her body at the thought of just holding hands with Tom O’Brien.

Very deliberately, he picked up her hand. He started to stroke the palm with his fingers, circling it slowly round and round. Not a tickle, more a caress. Then he moved up each of her fingers one by one, stroking right to the tip. She shivered with pleasure.

Harmless? Had he said harmless? There was nothing harmless about the way Tom O’Brien held hands. If his hand felt this good on her hand, how would it feel on her body, stroking and caressing her bare skin, exploring parts of her that were just waiting to be discovered by him?