Make Me Howl (5 page)

I chuckled, pretending she hadn’t been mad enough to imprint me just an hour earlier. I knew she couldn’t stay mad. Not at me. “If you need help feeding them, let me know.”

“That would be a first.” Bella shot me a bright smile. “You’ve never been fond of any kind of babies.”

Thanks for reminding me.
I rarely used our telepathic link because it gave me a grinding headache. Maybe I could use a headache to keep me from enjoying Doc’s presence too much, and to help me keep in mind his life goal. I let my gaze drift toward him to make my meaning clear.

No problem.
She gave me a miniscule, smug smile.
How’s your head?

When they brought the food, it was all I could do to accept the plate of vegetables while Doc’s juicy roast-sized slab of meat put its wonderful smoky scent into the air. Dead vegetables or red meat? It was all I could do to keep from wrestling his plate away from him.

While he slathered his potato with butter and sour cream, I salted and peppered my greens. He reached for a chunk of bread nubby with seeds and herbs, and smelled of honey and heaven. I ignored the cellophane wrapped saltines in the ugly basket between Bella and me.

“Is your steak done enough?” Bella asked, her damned smile still hovering around her lips.

He cut into the beef and watched the red juices run before he stabbed the bite with his fork. “Perfect. Just right.”

And it was. Seared on the outside, most of the beef was dark pink and firm. I was practically salivating as I lifted my fork to my lips. The greens were bitter. I picked up my cup of ranch—house dressing of Texas—and drowned my plate with it. If I couldn’t have real sustenance, I should at least be able to have some good taste with my meal.

Bella shook her head as she dipped her fork in the dressing, then, with a sweet smile, stabbed the lettuce on her plate and took a bite. As she chewed, she closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the watered down flavor of veggies. The only thing missing from her performance was a heartfelt yummy sound while she rubbed her belly.

She always was Little Goodie Two-Shoes.

Bella and Doc glided into shop talk while I let my brain go numb. Instead of lasagna for dinner, I was stuck with lettuce and critter-speak, and nothing to look forward to but a bed that smelled of smoke. Good thing I didn’t keep a journal like Grandma Maleva had because the entry for that night I would have had to write in boring beige.

****

I accepted the script the mall manager handed me and took my place in front of the microphone. Since this was a fund raiser for literacy, I hadn’t expected much of a crowd, but I was surprised. The room was filled almost to capacity. Next year the organization would have to think about finding a larger room.

After the show had started and we were into designer separates, a woman made her way down the aisle to sit near the dais. Either she was going to climb up on the platform to help with my narration or the room was even more crowded than I realized.

As I talked about the fashions, tossing in a joke here and there to perk up the script, I found her watching me instead of the clothes. Since she looked well into her sixties, wore a Chanel suit and diamonds the size of my Z4, I wasn’t too worried that she was a serial killer. At least I hoped she wasn’t.

As I gathered my things to leave after the show, Chanel Suit woman stopped me. “Hello. I’m Beatrice Holliday.”

“Holliday? Are you Doc’s mother?” I didn’t have my hair so short it made me fuzzy, but I couldn’t figure it. I’d briefly met Doc a couple of times, and now his mother was checking me out?

Her laughter was almost musical. “Yes, I am. He mentioned having met you, and since I had an invitation to this show, I thought I’d say hello.”

That didn’t sound good. He hadn’t looked like a mama’s boy, but looks could be deceiving. “Does Doc still live at home?”

“Oh, yes. All my boys do.” Her gray hair was drawn into a neat chignon at the back of her head. “When we built the house a few years ago, we made it like six separate houses that are attached—one for each of the boys, one for Sam and me, and then, of course, one for guests. We call it a wagon wheel. And the hub is a garden area.”

“That sounds…interesting.” What else could I say?

“It can be. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” When I nodded, we walked to a small restaurant there in the mall, where we ordered Irish coffees. “Trouble is, as busy as my sons are, I hardly ever hear from them, much less see them. That’s why I decided to come tonight. Chase must have been very impressed to call me and just happen to mention you.”

How did I answer that? Yeah, he should have been? “My sister is the other vet there at the zoo. That’s probably why he mentioned me.”

Idly, she turned her cup on the saucer. “No. I understand they’ve worked together for some time now, and this is the first I’ve heard about anyone. Human, that is.”

Wishing I could be alone to think over her words, I took a sip of my coffee. “He was very nice—what I got to see of him, that is.”

“Well, he’s one of the nicest of my boys.” She picked up her coffee, but didn’t drink. “The two youngest are wilder than March hares. They take after their father, while Chase and Spence are more like me.”

Oh, goody.

“So tell me, dear. What do you do when you aren’t officiating fashion shows?” Finally she sipped her coffee. I was halfway through mine and wishing I could chase it with a shot of Southern Comfort.

“I’m a fashion consultant and personal shopper. And I do a little legwork for buying offices out of New York now and then.”

“Turned a vice into a career opportunity?”

I shrugged. “You know what they say. If life gives you lemons, twist mine and drop it in a martini.”

I couldn’t tell if her laughter was amusement or a sympathy chuckle. I decided to change the subject. “What are your other sons’ names?”

“Besides Chase there’s Spence, Drew and Mack.” She finally took another sip then set her cup down with a
thunk.
“You’ll get to meet them at the dedication dinner for Safari Land.”

“Dedication dinner?” I thought for a moment, but couldn’t recall an invitation. “When is it?”

“Thursday night in the park’s multi-purpose building.” She quirked a delicately arched eyebrow. “Didn’t Bella tell you? She and Chase will both be speaking.”

That explained it. Bella hated public speaking, and if she was absolutely forced to do it, she wouldn’t want her little sister there. Laughing. “Oh, I’ll be there, Mrs. Holliday. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Mrs. Holliday checked her diamond encrusted watch. “I’d better head for home or Sam will send the hounds after me.”

I glanced around for the tab. “It is late. You go ahead, and I’ll take care of this.”

She gave me a sweet smile then shook her head. “Oh, no, dear. It’s my treat.”

After she’d left a bill on the table to cover the coffee and tip, I walked with her to the main entrance, where she gave the valet her parking ticket. In just a few moments, a sleek red Mercedes stopped in front of the door. “It’s been lovely, Jazzy. I’ll look forward to seeing you next Thursday.” With a wave of her hand, she slid into the leather seat, slammed the door and drove away.

Across the lot, about fifty miles away, was my car. Wishing my feet would go numb instead of my brain, I took off across the parking area.

When I got home, Bella was in bed, asleep. How could she sleep when I wanted to talk to her? And scold her about the dinner, which I was certain I should have been invited to. After all, I am her sister.

She’d need a new dress to wear, I was sure. Her only gown even close to appropriate was older than dirt. I would see to it she got a new one if I had to drag her shopping. I doubted she’d thought to make an appointment to have her hair done, and while we’re there, we might as well have them do our makeup, too.

I tried to ignore the fact that I buzzed all over. I wasn’t excited just because I’d get to see Doc again. I’d gone out with doctors before. I’d dated men with more money at their disposal than the United States government.

I’d just never met anyone who I was as anxious to see again. I caught myself as I realized the direction of my thoughts. It had to be the danger he carried with him making me quiver.

****

Chase looked in the mirror and tied his tie for the third time. If he didn’t get it right this time, he’d be forced to hike across the garden to get his mother’s help. Or Spence’s. Why was it he could understand DNA but couldn’t tie a bowtie? He should have bought the fake.

He almost winced as he thought of his brother’s response if he walked into the room with an easy-does-it tie on. According to Spence, any man who couldn’t handle neckwear wasn’t any kind of man at all.

Chase thought about the time when they roomed together in college, when Spence had been so pissed with him that he was ready to fight. But rather than skin his knuckles before the formal dance they were both attending, he’d left before helping Chase with his tie.

Each time Chase had tied the bow, it looked as if it had been knotted by a drunken sailor. He’d tied and untied the strip of fabric until it looked like a shoelace. Finally, he’d opened the collar of his shirt and let the tie dangle. When he’d walked into the ballroom, Spence had worn a superior smile because of Chase’s less than stellar appearance. But for some reason, his casual appearance had attracted every girl in the room—including the one with whom Spence had been dancing.

Spence told him later that if he’d just forgotten to shave, he’d probably have gotten laid right there on the ballroom floor.

After checking his shoes to make sure they had a hard gloss, he went out his door and walked across the courtyard to Spence’s.

With a light tap, he stepped into the kitchen, which was laid out just like his own. Instead of the utilitarian stainless steel sink, fridge and dishwasher like Chase had chosen, Spence’s sink was stone, as were his countertops. The fridge and dishwasher looked like black glass, and his stove/oven unit, which took up much of his counter space, was a professional model. The cabinet doors all had glass fronts, and the cabinets were immaculate. In the middle of the kitchen was an antique butcher block, which had been their great-grandfather’s, and above it hung a rack with pots dangling from it that each cost as much as Chase’s first car.

From the looks of things, Spence could have been a gourmet chef at an exclusive restaurant rather than the financial officer in the family oil business. Of course, it probably took a truck load of money to finance that kitchen.

Spence stood near the butcher block, a long stemmed glass of white wine in his hand. “You’re the last one.”

Chase grinned at his younger sibling. “You mean Drew and Mack beat me?”

“Hell, yeah.” Spence grinned. His eyebrows, which were auburn just like his hair, dipped to a shallow frown. “After the way you talked about that gypsy dancer, they hurried on out to the zoo, hoping to cut you off at the pass.”

Spence set down his glass, slid Chase’s tie a bit to the left then began tying.

Tension caused Chase’s gut to harden. “Talked about the gypsy dancer? I don’t remember saying much of anything, except that I’d met Bella’s sister.”

Spence twisted and tugged at the bow, then started doing whatever he did to keep them from looking like pigging strings. “Maybe it’s what you didn’t say. They were convinced if they rushed on out, they’d have a vision to behold.”

“Idiots.” Chase glanced at the wine glass Spence had set down. “Got anything to drink besides that Kool-Aid?”

“Not for you.” Spence took a step back, checked Chase’s tie once more then gave a sharp nod. “Not only are you going to be driving in a few moments, you’re speaking, too. I, for one, don’t want you in front of a crowd giving away the family secrets.”

Chase gave him an easy smile. “Why don’t we just tell them that
you’re
Chase the vet, and I’m Spence the money man? Then you could make my speech for me.”

“You’d probably get more women that way. But as soon as they got close enough to smell the water buffalo spoors on you, they’d know better.”

Alarmed, Chase lifted his sleeve to his nose and sniffed. “Is there someth—”

Spence’s chuckle relieved him. “Sorry, Bud. Just yanking your chain.”

“Damn brothers.” Chase scowled, but it didn’t affect Spence. “I should ‘thank you’ for that one.”

Spence folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “Don’t try to get out of this dinner by starting a fight with me. I’ll just drag your butt down there, black eye, split lip and all.”

“You boys stop it.” Beatrice’s high voice cut through the air. “You sound just like you did when you were four and five. Won’t you ever grow up?”

“Probably not,” Dad answered as he moved close behind her. “What’s fun about growing up?”

Their mother’s eyes twinkled just before she kissed his cheek. “I can think of a lot of things.”

Sam took her hand in his—the habit of a lifetime. Sometimes Chase wondered if they even knew they were holding hands, they did it so automatically. But when Beatrice patted Sam’s hand with her free one, he had the answer. They knew.

Beatrice glanced at her two eldest sons. “They clean up fairly well, don’t they?”

Their father shrugged, a mischievous look on his face. “As well as can be expected I guess, considering the material at hand.”