MM02 - Until Morning Comes (21 page)

Authors: Peggy Webb

Tags: #the Donovans of the Delta, #humor, #the Mississippi McGills, #romantic comedy, #Southern authors, #Native American heroes, #romance ebooks, #comedy series, #romance, #Peggy Webb backlist, #Peggy Webb romance, #classic romance, #contemporary romance, #contemporary series

BOOK: MM02 - Until Morning Comes

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Andrew never could resist a challenge. He plucked the little poodle from her arms. With firm, sure strokes and soft, soothing words, he calmed Christine.

Margaret Leigh nearly fainted when the poodle licked his hand. Good grief, even her dog was bent on betrayal.

“Animals are like women: they respond to a master's touch.” Andrew winked at her.

“They said you were good with animals—”

“And women.”

“—that's why I came to you.”

“You did?”

She blushed again. “Because of Christine... and her problem.”

He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he prompted her. “You said Christine has a problem.”

“It's her manners. She forgets them from time to time.”

“She uses a spoon instead of a fork?”

“No. She...” Margaret Leigh paused. She'd never discussed things of an intimate nature with a man. She'd never even had a chance, what with nursing her sick father for six years and then taking care of whichever maiden aunt and down-on-her-luck cousin happened to come along. “She wets the rug, but only since my Aunt Bertha came to stay with us. Frankly, I think Christine is just a little jealous, and this is her way of vying for my attention. It's probably a passing thing, and she’ll get over it in time.”

She paused for breath, reaching for her dog all the while. At that moment, the thing she wanted most was to be out of Andrew McGill's presence. She'd never met such a disturbing man.

“If you'll hand Christine to me, I'll be on my way.”

“Not so fast.” Andrew continued stroking the little dog. “I've decided that training Christine will be a nice change of pace from training bird dogs.”

“I don't want her to point, just to stop wetting the rug. I’ll just take her and be on my way.”

“You don't look like the scaredy-cat type to me.”

“I'm not scared. I've changed my mind. That's all.” She lied. She'd never been as scared in all her life. What was more, she didn't know which frightened her the most—that Andrew McGill would find her attractive or that he wouldn't.

“I'll tell you what: I'll make a deal with you. Leave Christine here for a few days, and if she's not minding her manners by next Saturday, you can take her home. No charge.”

“And if she is?” Margaret Leigh hesitated. She'd always been uncomfortable discussing money. “You never did name your fee.”

Andrew McGill considered the woman standing beside him. Whim had made him take on the poodle. He had no idea what prompted him to lower his fee. But he did just that, naming a fee that was so reasonable even the most avid bargain hunter would have been delighted.

Margaret Leigh hesitated only a moment. If Andrew McGill weren't careful, she'd be forced to revise her opinion of him.

“It's a deal.” She held out her hand.

Andrew shook her hand solemnly. Then on another whim, he lifted it to his lips. He took his time with the kiss, lingering over her soft skin, inhaling its light floral fragrance. He could feel the heat of her blush all the way down to her fingertips.

Still holding her hand, he said, “You never did tell me your name.”

“Margaret Leigh Jones.” Her voice was breathless.

Andrew was as pleased with himself as if he had won a National Field Trial trophy. Releasing her, he gazed into her eyes in the manner that he knew most women loved.

“Margaret Leigh Jones, your dog is in expert hands... and so are you.”

“Mr. McGill—”

“Andrew.”

“—I'm not in any man's hands.”

Margaret Leigh plucked up her courage enough to lean forward and tell her dog good-bye.

“Christine, I'm going to leave you with this man for a day or two. But I’ll be back. I promise you.” She patted the little dog's head and accidentally brushed her hands against Andrew's. The hairs on her arms stood on end. “You'll be good to Christine, won't you?”

“Margaret...”

“Margaret Leigh.”

He smiled. “Margaret Leigh, I might be a scoundrel through and through, but I know how to treat a dog. Trust me.” He was surprised at himself. He never reassured the dog owners who came to him: he was a take-it-or-leave-it man. “If it will make you feel better, you can come back to visit her during the training.”

“Thank you.” She started to leave, then turned back for last-minute instructions. “She's afraid of the dark. I keep a night-light on for her. And she's vain. She loves to sleep in her ribbons. Loud noises bother her, so don't play the television too loud.”

“I don't own a television.”

“How do you keep up with current events?”

“Radio and newspapers.”

“Well, keep the radio down low for Christine... please.”

“Don't worry. She’ll be returned to you safe and sound, but without her bad habit.”

“Thank you.”

Margaret Leigh realized that was the second time she had said
thank you.
He must think she was a ninny. How did you deal with a man like Andrew McGill? Tess would know. She'd had experience. Margaret Leigh decided the best thing to do was just turn around and leave before she made any more blunders. With a little wave of her hand, she started off.

Andrew watched her go. Her eyes were the color of grape lollipops. The thought popped into his conscious mind unexpectedly. He'd never met a woman with eyes so blue they looked purple.

Christine whimpered, and he stroked her.

“Your mistress is about the most uptight woman I've ever met. Did you know that, Christine?” The little dog licked his hand. “I've never seen such a proper lady.”

The small car chugged around the bend and disappeared in a puff of dust.

“What would happen,” Andrew mused, “if I trained
both
of you?”

He chuckled at the thought. Teaching Margaret Leigh how to have fun might be just the thing to add some spice to his Saturday mornings.

o0o

As soon as Margaret Leigh was around the bend, she pulled off the road and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. She couldn't believe herself. She'd actually carried on with that man like a brazen hussy—letting him rub her cheek and calling him a scoundrel. What in the world had gotten into her? She should have taken her dog and marched right out of there. And that was another thing. She'd actually left Christine with the rogue.

Of course, he
was
a well-respected dog trainer.

She took a handkerchief out of her purse and carefully wiped her perspiring palms. Southern ladies didn't sweat. Aunt Bertha had always told her that. So had Aunt Grace.

Southern ladies didn't smoke standing up, either. She and Tess used to laugh over that bit of maidenly aunt wisdom. They'd get behind the barn with a pack of cigarettes Tess had swiped from Grandpa Jones and smoke standing up just to see if it made them feel like floozies. It never had.

Of course Tess had gone on to become the family floozy—three divorces and singing in juke joints. At least, that was the family's opinion. It made Margaret Leigh as mad as... well, nearly as mad as hell.

She drew a deep breath. There. She'd thought it.

“Hell.” She even said it out loud. And it felt good.

If she had had a cigarette, she'd have climbed out of her car and smoked it standing up just for the heck of it. Maybe she was turning into a floozy. The strange thing was, it didn't feel bad, not bad at all.

She cranked her car and headed home. She knew her bold and reckless feelings were only temporary. Shy all her life and content to live in Tess's shadow, she was something of an anachronism, a woman with Victorian manners and morals in an age of easy sex and instant gratification.

Driving away from Andrew McGill's cabin, she wished she were different. She wished she wore bleached hair and leather skirts instead of a French twist and sensible gabardine. She wished she knew the art of banal banter and sexual innuendo rather than how to make Southern fried chicken and how to get dog piddle out of the rug. She wished she knew how to flirt instead of how to blush. She wished she preferred French kissing to French cooking.

Of course, she didn't wish any of that as a permanent condition, just on a short-term basis, just long enough to deal with the likes of Andrew McGill. She sighed. She’d feel more like herself when she raked the leaves.

o0o

Coming October 1, 2012 –
Elvis and the Blue Christmas Corpse
(A Southern Cousins Mystery, Book Five)

Coming December, 2012,
The Tender Mercy of Roses
by Anna Michaels in trade paperback (available now in digital and hardcover)

Coming soon,
That Jones Girl
, sequel to
Saturday Mornings

About Peggy Webb

In a career that spans 26 years, the Mississippi author has written almost 70 books. Writing as Peggy Webb, she pens romance and the popular, comedic Southern Cousins Mystery Series starring Elvis, the basset hound who thinks he’s the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll reincarnated. Writing as Anna Michaels, she pens literary fiction. She has been on the romance bestseller list numerous times and has won many awards, including a Romantic Times Pioneer Award for creating the sub-genre of romantic comedy. Several of her romances have been optioned for film.

The Tender Mercy of Roses, 2011,
written as Anna Michaels, is a Delta Magazine Top Five Pick, a Literary Guild and Doubleday Book Club Featured Alternate. Pat Conroy, author of
The Prince of Tides,
calls it “astonishing.”

Peggy is a member of Novelists, Inc., International Thriller Writers, and Romance Writers of America. She is excited about bringing her romance classics (originally published as Bantam
Loveswepts)
back to readers as E-books. The award-winning
Touched by Angels
and
A Prince for Jenny,
as well as the Donovans of the Delta series, are Kindle Top 100 bestsellers.

Follow the author on her websites:
www.peggywebb.com
and
www.annamichaels.net
and on Facebook as both Peggy Webb and Anna Michaels.

o0o

Other E-Books from Peggy Webb

Classic Romance (originally published as Loveswept)

Dark Fire

Touched by Angels
(RT Reviewer’s Choice)

A Prince for Jenny,
sequel to
Touched by Angels

The Edge of Paradise

Duplicity
(Rave review, RT Reviewer’s Choice)

Where Dolphins Go (
RT Reviewer’s Choice, women’s fiction, optioned for film)

Night of the Dragon
(time travel romance)

Christmas in Time
(time travel, prequel to
Only Yesterday)