Home Is Where the Bark Is (13 page)

“Didn’t he?” said Maddy, her lips curved in obvious remembered relish. “But then you didn’t contact the police when your stalker started behaving so strangely—”

“You know why. I thought I could handle it myself. At first.”

“And then that cop turned out to be such a sleaze. Sorry. I know you probably don’t want to talk about all that. But, Serena, you’ve got to. Talk, talk, and talk ’til it’s all gone out of your head.” She patted Serena’s arm. “You know I’m always there for you.”

Maddy made the offer in all sincerity. But Serena knew that for Maddy, Tom now came first. And that was absolutely the way it should be. She would no sooner call Maddy just any old time to spill her problems as she once had than Mack would share his burger with Snowball. It felt like disloyalty to Tom, whom she loved to pieces, but she was secretly glad he was out of town so she could enjoy this rare catch-up time with his wife.

“Thanks, Maddy,” she said. Then, to change the subject, she pointed at Snowball and Brutus madly sniffing around the base of a well-watered signpost. “Hey, look at the dogs—they’re checking their pee mail.”

It took a moment for Maddy to get it but, when she did, she broke into peals of laughter that had a group of spandex-clad joggers pointedly giving the two girls a wide berth as they ran along the pathway.

But when Maddy got her breath back, and they were back to striding along the grass with the dogs, she came back for the attack. “That was very funny, but please don’t think you’re changing the subject so easily.”

“So you noticed.”

“I noticed.”

“Tell me again about this Nick guy?”

“I told you. Big. Blond. Built.”

“So where’s the weird in that?”

“Weird isn’t the right word. It’s just that . . . Oh, I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. But I feel edgy around him, even when we’re just discussing his dog’s routine.”

“Could ‘edgy’ have something to do with the fact he’s hot and all you can think about is how you want to jump his bones?”

“Well, there’s that, too.”

Trust Maddy to put it into words.
That
was the really weird thing. That first day the door chime had scarcely finished sounding “Who Let the Dogs Out?” and she’d been overwhelmed by instant lust. It was a feeling she didn’t trust.

“And he knows he’s in the presence of Serena St. James. Chocolate-coated goddess and fantasy figure to America’s larger population of red-blooded males. That’s enough to make
him
edgy.”

“Add that, too. I guess. Though I’d rather you said ‘former’ goddess. You know I so want to put all that behind me.” She could still hear Dave thundering at her about how he couldn’t hold his head up in front of his crew when he knew they’d been Googling, then ogling, his girlfriend.

“Shame. You looked so amazing in that tub. And it was all my idea. I was so proud every time I saw the billboards. You know the chocolate people would have you back in a flash for a new campaign.”

“And what would they do to top the first one? No. I’m done with it. And all that came with it. As you know, Joel the photographer got the lion’s share of the money for the calendar. The job gave me enough to set up the business and support myself for a year and I’m grateful for it. But that’s as far as it goes. Paws-A-While is where I want to be now. It’s everything I want.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Working with dogs is a dream come true. Fact is, most other jobs involve sick or injured dogs or dogs that have been abandoned or treated badly.”

“Like at a shelter or a vet clinic?”

Serena nodded. “But dogs who come to Paws-A-While are loved dogs whose owners care and can afford to spend an outrageous number of dollars for me to look after them. They’re happy, healthy animals, and it’s a joy to work with them.”

“But dogs can’t replace people, Serena—”

She’d heard this before from Maddy. “I know, I know. I enjoy working with my staff, too.”

“All female. You can’t cut yourself off from men forever.”

“That’s not the intention,” said Serena, unable to stop a note of defensiveness from making her voice rise. Her decision to take a sabbatical from sex was not something she had actually discussed with her friend.

Maddy being Maddy had guessed it.

“So what is there to stop you from having lunch with Mr. Blond Hunk?” said Maddy.

“Uh, the slight fact that he didn’t suggest it.”

“And the chocolate goddess couldn’t steer the conversation that way? For heaven’s sake, Serena, you’ve been on the dating outfield for too long. That bastard Dave really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

It was a rhetorical question. Serena knew Maddy did not expect an answer. True, it was difficult to forget some of the things Dave (who Maddy now always referred to as “that bastard Dave”) had said to her. Things so personal and wounding she’d shared them with no one. And it was true she’d resolved never again to date a guy who wore a uniform. Or acted like he was the take-command type who should be in uniform.

But Dave was long gone. She’d lost the battle to keep Nick Whalen out of her thoughts and fantasies. And did she want to end up some eccentric old woman who doted on her doggies and had no other life?

“I guess I could suggest lunch,” she said. Lunch meant nothing. Not a date. Just a more comfortable meeting.

Maddy beamed. “That’s the Serena I know and love. Welcome back.”

“After all, it’s a great thing Nick’s doing for Mack.”

“That it is,” said Maddy with little murmurs of encouragement.

“I could book that little Italian place on Chestnut.”

“Sounds good.”

“Or there’s the . . .”

“Yes?” Maddy prompted.

“I just remembered Mack. We can’t take him out to lunch with us. And that’s what this meeting is all about. Mack and his knee.”

Maddy had suggested that Brutus loan Mack the money for the surgery, but Brutus had already invested so much in Paws-A-While. While Serena was grateful to Maddy, she didn’t want to risk her friendship by clocking up too much debt. But she had started thinking it might be her only option not long before Nick had made his offer.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “If it were anyone else but you, I’d suggest you cook the guy lunch.”

Serena swallowed hard against even the thought of such a potential disaster. “You know that’s your department—and I’m happy to leave it that way.”

“Let me guess at the likely state of your fridge.” Maddy closed her eyes. “It’s empty but for a few frozen diet entrées, a stack of diet sodas, eggs for you to make those eternal egg-white omelets, blueberries, and maybe a bag of salad greens all withered around the edges and going kinda slimy.”

Serena cringed and laughed at the same time. “You know me too well. But you’ve missed a few things. I’m not modeling now, remember. My days of starving are behind me. No more egg-white omelets. Ever.”

“So?”

“So there’s fruit. Then frozen pizzas, some leftover Chinese takeout, and a stash of Lindt truffles that I like to nibble with the chocolate coating nice and cold . . .”

Serena thought her friend would catapult backward from horror. The food editor of
Annie
magazine was a superlative cook. Even a Maddy-made sandwich was a gourmet treat.

Maddy glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time if I’m quick.” “Time for what?” Serena could not keep the alarm from her voice.

“To cut short the doggies’ walk and whip around the supermarket to get the fixings for lunch.”

Serena put her hand up in a halt sign. “Whoa! Let’s not get too excited here. The idea is to thank the guy for looking after Mack. Not to scare him away.”

“Don’t think for one moment that I’d let you loose in the kitchen for this date with—”

“It’s not a date.”

“Whatever. No, I’ll fix lunch and leave it with you. Then, if the conversation goes that way—voila.”

“A Maddy-made lunch. Lucky me. Lucky Nick.”

“So what does Nick like to eat?”

Serena shrugged. “Don’t have a clue.” She knew the color of his eyes warmed a degree or two when he smiled. That he looked cute when he scowled. But not a lot else. “Whatever he likes, I’m guessing he eats lots of it.”

“What’s likely to be a big, hunky guy’s favorite meal?” Maddy thought out loud. “Steak? Pasta? Pie? Maybe I could make pot pies.” She thought some more. “No. Take too long. Stir-fry? Too fiddly for you.” She paused. “I’ve got it. Lasagna. I’ve yet to meet a guy who doesn’t like lasagna.”

“I’ve yet to meet
anyone
who doesn’t like lasagna. But isn’t that kind of difficult to make?”

“Can be. But not the lasagna I’ve got in mind. No-boil lasagna sheets. Italian sausage. Canned tomato pasta sauce. Eggplant. Ricotta. Mozzarella. Fresh herbs. Easy.”

Serena gulped. “Sounds easy to you. Intimidating to me. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. All you have to do is help me shop.”

“Now I’m with you. Shopping is something I’m expert at.”

Nick
stood outside the Paws-A-While shop front on Filbert Street. The building was old—Edwardian, he guessed. Around a hundred years ago it must have been purely residential. At a later time, the first floor at street level had been converted to a business premise. This was prime San Francisco real estate with a staggering monthly rental.

There was no doubt it was a classy operation. The building was painted a pale gray, the woodwork picked out in white. The Paws-A-While name and logo was printed in red on an elegant gray-and-white striped awning. Stenciled white silhouettes of dogs ran across the plate-glass windows. A tub of brightly colored flowers sat by the door. Next to that was a wall-mounted stone drinking bowl, adorned with carvings of paw prints and bones and the words “Dog Bar” in a fancy type.

Nick could see through the windows to the empty reception area. Only the grooming side of the business operated on weekends and everyone must be out back. He itched for an opportunity to get in there one day and check out that webcam footage.

He looked up to the next storey, where two bow windows jutted out—the apartment where Serena lived. To the left of the shop front was an arched doorway, with any possible access covered by a white, elaborately wrought security grille and door. He pressed the button for Serena to buzz him through to upstairs.

Walking from where he’d parked his truck, he’d passed a flower shop. He’d had to fight the urge to buy Serena some roses. Not a good move for a private investigator hunting down his prime suspect. Instead, he clutched a folder of information about cruciate ligament surgery for dogs. Plus printouts of the vet reports on Mack that he’d emailed to himself from Serena’s computer at Paws-A-While.

That computer had given him cause to think. He had way higher than the average IT skills. Still, it had been ridiculously easy to access all the information on both the Paws-A-While staff and the clients—accounts, payroll, everything. That meant anyone there who could crack Serena’s lower-than-low-security-level password had the same access. It meant one of two things: she kept any dealings of a dubious nature elsewhere, or she had nothing to hide and trusted her staff.

He heard the sound of footsteps running down some stairs. He quickly disguised his shock and also, he hoped, his disappointment when the door was opened not by Serena but by a fresh-faced redhead wearing running gear. On a leash by her side was Brutus, the squat little mutt with the pugnacious face. He knew immediately who the girl must be.

She thrust her free hand at him. “I’m Maddy, Serena’s friend. You must be Nick.”

Her smile was friendly, her manner polite, but as he shook her hand, Nick got the distinct impression that he was being inspected with as much scrutiny as one of his brother’s prizewinning bulls at the state fair. Brutus joined in, sniffing and snuffling around his feet. Not, Nick hoped, drooling.

“It’s a good thing that you’re doing for Mack,” Maddy said.

“You won’t regret adopting him. He’s a darling animal. A man-sized dog, my husband calls him. Giant size, I say.”

“He’s big, all right, and I hope to get his knee fixed as good as new.” Where did she get the idea he was planning to adopt Mack?

The cute redhead nodded. She held the door for him and he kept it open with his free hand. “Mack’s up there waiting for you. Serena, too. Nice to meet you, but I can’t stay. I’m cooking for a family reunion and everyone has got different tastes.”

Did she mean the people or the dogs?

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said.

She took a few brisk steps away and then turned back. He was surprised at the determined set of her face. It was as if she had been saving up something to say and only now felt able to spill it. “Serena is the most gorgeous woman I know,” she said.

“Agreed,” he said.

“But not just in looks. She’s good and sweet and . . . and she may not seem it, but she’s vulnerable.” Her pale redhead’s skin flushed.

“I see that,” said Nick. And he did.

But as generous and funny and kind that Serena might be, she might also be a crook. She didn’t appear to have the computer of a crook but this early in his investigation he could not dismiss for even a second the fact that she still remained his prime suspect.

“Do you? See the woman behind the chocolate goddess? Too many people . . . men, I mean, they . . . they don’t see beyond those spectacular looks.”

He had to be careful what he said here. Maddy was Serena’s best friend and he’d be crazy to get on the wrong side of her. However, he also had to squash any implication that he was involved with Serena. That could look very bad in any resultant prosecution. “I’m just one of her clients. I never saw her in those chocolate ads. I wasn’t in the country at the time. But I do see what a nice woman Serena is. That’s why I’m helping her out with Mack.”

“Of course.” Her flush deepened. “Forget I ever said anything.”