Read Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs) Online
Authors: Zoe Dawson
“Well, well, he can carry my…package any time he wants.”
The other man covered his mouth and giggled. “Oh, stop! You’re embarrassing the poor thing.”
Brooke walked over, still grinning, eyes twinkling. She took the dry cleaning from him. “Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. Not the…proposition or carrying a 20 pound bag of dog food. How were you going to manage all this if I hadn’t tagged along?”
“Oh, I would have had them deliver the bag instead and picked up something at the grocery store to tide Roscoe over, but I don’t like feeding him conventional dog food, and since you were here…”
“Just call me your pack mule.” He hefted the bag onto his shoulder and took back the dry cleaning. Her eyes roamed over his arms and chest as he settled the bag at a comfortable angle.
“My apartment isn’t far.”
“I remember.”
“Of course you do,” she said, her face flushed. “That is a very good blend for him. Bulldogs usually don’t live past ten, but I’ve been very careful with Roscoe and his diet and exercise. The dog food is made from chicken, good lean source of protein, natural glucosamine and chondroitin for his joints, omega-3 fatty acids, ALA and DHA for brain and cellular health, and omega-6 fatty acid, zinc and B vitamins.”
“Damn, that dog eats better than I do. I’d say there was something in there for strong teeth as well. He had a pretty easy job of ripping out the seat of my pants.”
Brooke laughed, and he smiled, and
zing
went his heart.
Once they entered the lobby of her apartment complex, Brooke groaned. “Oh, no. The elevator is out.”
“It’s only four floors up,” he said. “I could carry you and this bag and not break a sweat.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Yes. You look like you don’t weigh more than 99 pounds.”
“A lady doesn’t reveal her weight,” she said sniffing.
“You are a pistol.”
Before she could say another word, he gently placed the dog food bag in her arms, and then proceeded to lift her, the dog food, the dry cleaning, her groceries and the flowers. Settling her against his chest, he headed for the stairs.
“Drew. Stop being ridiculous.”
He took the first flight of stairs at an easy pace. With her nestled against his chest, he could feel the soft curves of her body molding to his.
Zoooommmm
went the blood in his veins, heading straight for all points south.
“Oh, no. I want you to realize I’m true to my word, and, as a bonus, I got you to finally call me by my first name. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
The second set of stairs he looked into her eyes as he climbed, such an intense and warm brown.
Pow,
right to his solar plexus, as their gazes connected and deepened.
“Probably not a place we should go,” she murmured.
“How about we just visit,” he said with a husky edge. His nerves went
ratatattat
with a delicious kind of vibration as he easily climbed the third and then final set of stairs.
At her apartment door, she grabbed the bag and set it down on the floor. He supported her as he released her legs, but the rest of her slid down his torso. He got lost in her eyes as she flowed to the floor. Damn that slightly lush bottom lip of hers that just begged a man to taste it. Bite it. Just a little. For a moment, they stood in the hall until a door opened and an aged female voice called out.
“Is that you, Brooke? Did you remember to pick up my dry cleaning?”
It took Brooke a moment to answer as her eyes stayed locked with his. “Yes, Mrs. Santos. I have it,” she said, her voice just as flustered as her face, with a breathless quality that made his body tighten. He removed the groceries and flowers from her arms and she moved away from him, but not breaking eye contact until she turned the corner.
He took a deep breath and felt like his chest couldn’t expand enough to get the air he needed. Must have been the climb making it hard to catch his breath.
When she came back, she unlocked the door. The scent of apple and cinnamon lingered on the air, and he hadn’t realized until now just how much he had longed to smell it again.. Roscoe greeted her with a bark, and she took a moment to bend down and ruffle the fur of his head. He looked at Drew as if to say,
“Oh, you again. Don’t make me have to prove again that I’m top dog by taking another bite out of your backside.”
He chuckled and cautiously reached out his hand. Roscoe looked away, then gave him a quick lick. Looked like he was making a bit of headway with the dog, at least. He closed the door behind him and followed her from the foyer into her kitchen, where she set down her parcels. Roscoe padded after them, his eye on the dog food slung over Drew’s shoulder.
“The container for the dog food is in the corner cabinet. Would you mind terribly pouring it for me? I always spill it because it’s so unwieldy.”
He pulled the bag of dog food off his shoulder, set it on the floor, and opened a cupboard door, but found pots and pans.
“Oh, no, this one,” she said as she opened it for him. They reached for the top to the container at the same time and his face went right into her fragrant hair. Where he had wanted it buried at the dry cleaners. He should immediately back up, put the appropriate amount of space between them. In his head, that’s exactly what he did. In reality, though, he kept on moving, pushing her up and back into the countertop.
His breathing was raspy, his body surging in response to her closeness. She was trapped between him and the counter, and that was just fine, because he didn’t want her going anywhere. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her rapid breathing matching his own. Her hands had landed on his biceps, and her fingers clenched on the muscles and then flowed down his chest, as if finally giving into the fantasy he’d seen in her eyes when she’d watched him heft the bag of food onto his shoulder.
He sucked in a breath, trying to get himself under control. But it was no use.
Brooke couldn’t breathe without being filled with his alluring scent. Her hands molded over the muscles she’d only felt briefly as he carried her and all her crap up the stairs like it was nothing more than a bunch of feathers.
His powerful shoulders blocked her view of the rest of the kitchen. He was overpowering her senses, and she mentally chucked her reservations into the kitchen trash as she realized nothing mattered but this man and this incredible moment of finally kissing him.
With a soft groan he lowered his head and captured her mouth. The feel of his lips on hers was electric, exquisite, hot and moist. When their tongues touched, then tangled silkily, fire licked through her, deep and low. He tasted dark and dangerous, like wild, untamed lust, and an amazing sense of feminine power zipped through her that she could make this man so hungry for her.
With a low growl deep in his throat, he closed the scant distance between them and pressed his hard-muscled body up against hers. His strong thighs widened on either side of hers, trapping her hips against the thick ridge at his fly. The heat and hardness of his chest crushed her breasts and the breathtaking ripple of muscles in his belly and flanks triggered goosebumps all over her as he shifted even closer.
Lost in the release of all the pent-up desire they’d stoked over the past several days, Brooke reveled in the passion exploding between them—without thoughts of rules or the propriety of engaging in this kind of behavior with a man who was hell-bent on railroading her. Instinct took over then, and she slid her hands around to his tight butt, molded her palms to his firm backside and arched into him.
The effect was like setting off rockets, and he slanted his mouth over hers for a deeper kiss, a hotter, wetter possession. His hand stole beneath her top, and she shivered as his fingers skimmed their way upward, then curled around the plump curve of her breast. Her bra was lacy and sheer, the fabric thin and insubstantial, and she was forever thankful there was so little to separate the heat of his touch from her aching flesh. Then he found her nipple and rolled the taut, throbbing tip between his thumb and forefinger, and she nearly came undone right then and there.
As if sensing just how fast their encounter was spiraling out of control, he slowed their kisses, leaving her feeling flushed and both of them breathing fast. As she tried to calm her erratic heartbeat, he took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently, then laved it, and then sucked gently.
Eyes closed, she let her head fall back against the wall, exposing the column of her neck. With his hand still on her breast, he dipped his head, his silky soft hair brushing her jaw as he suckled on a patch of skin, then nibbled his way up to her ear. She inhaled a sharp breath as another surge of sensation swamped her, and filled herself with Drew’s uniquely warm, masculine scent.
Lord, he smelled delicious.
“Brooke,” he said softly, her name lingering in the air between them. Roscoe barked and started to growl as he attacked Drew’s pant leg.
Drew pulled away from her almost violently. He moved backwards so quickly he tripped over Roscoe, who backed away from him and barked as if to show him who was boss. Sprawled on the kitchen floor, he looked up at her and her eyes collided with his.
Her stomach tumbled over and over, and she couldn’t control herself as she was drawn into his deep, dark eyes, touched by his agonized expression and wanting to somehow fix everything so he wouldn’t have to struggle so.
Oh, my god! What was she
doing
? “Roscoe, shush,” she said to the dog and he quieted. She stepped forward. “Are you all right?”
He looked confused for a second, then realized he was on the floor. He ignored her hand, and she drew it back. It wouldn’t be a good idea to touch him again.
“I should go. It’s getting late.”
She nodded as her heart sank. Without knowing why she did it, she snatched one of her muffins out of the bin and wrapped it. “Take it. You didn’t have any dinner.”
He took the muffin without touching her fingers and backed up out of her apartment. From the kitchen she heard the door close and listened to his retreating footsteps for a moment, wanting to weep with embarrassment for both of them.
#
Drew flew down the stairs and out into the street, the muffin clutched in his hand.
That kiss.
It was making him crazy, even now, even with distance between them. It was too much. It was much too brief. He hadn’t gotten his fill before they separated.
When he reached the sidewalk, he paused, leaning against her building, working desperately to get his raging body under control, lecturing and berating himself. He wasn’t here to get her into bed. He was here to secure his partnership. He’d worked too damn hard to fail now, and no frivolous lawsuit was going to stand in his way. He needed that partnership. And he honestly believed it was better for Brooke if she settled out of court. If she didn’t, he would have to annihilate her. He didn’t want to do that, so his plan was solid, and for her own good because now, after that kiss, he was more determined to settle this without the court battle, but not for Roger Wright-Davis, but for him…and for Brooke.
He had the edge. He was ruthless and she wasn’t. That was totally clear. Although seducing her with his charm was on his agenda, he drew the line with actually having sex with her. He closed his eyes at the images that conjured, but ruthlessly pushed that away.
Looking down at the muffin in his hand, he unwrapped it and took a bite. His face twisted. And he was swamped with longing for the kind of woman Brooke was—homey, caring to a fault, smart, beautiful, and damned sexy. She
would
have to cross Kristen Wright-Davis; she
would
have to be principled and stubborn. Those were the things about her that only made him want her more. He swore softly and viciously as he hailed a cab. When it pulled up to the curb, he swallowed. Even though he wanted to devour it, he threw the muffin into the waste can.
Brooke approached the dog park and slowed when she saw Harper and Poe immediately, but couldn’t find Callie. She searched the frolicking dogs. No Great Danes in the park. She would have noticed them right away. It was the first Saturday Callie had ever missed. A hollow feeling blossomed in the pit of Brooke’s stomach. It felt way too familiar, felt like when she was rejected by her parents, when they removed their support, when they couldn’t even be bothered to make an effort to see her during the holidays. Brooke reached into her pocket and checked her phone. There was no message. That feeling only intensified.
Poe waved when Brooke entered through the gate and latched it behind her. A powerful and unwelcome emotion building in her chest, she honed in on the empty seat where Callie should be, bubbling with personality.
Poe gave Harper a look when Brooke inevitably asked, “Where’s Callie?”
Harper smiled as if to soften the blow. “She called and told me Owen had planned something this morning and she wouldn’t be able to make it, but promised to be here next week.”
Brooke tried not to resent Owen, but she didn’t like it. He was taking Callie away from them. “Oh, I thought our dog park visits were sacred.”
Harper nodded. “She was really apologetic.”
Brooke had to wonder why Callie hadn’t called her—her best friend, her maid of honor. Maybe Callie found it easier to tell Harper than Brooke. Had she been acting needy in some way?
Harper shrugged. “Don’t know. Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?”
“No, it’s not that, and you know it. It’s just we’re a foursome, and I like it that way.”
“I know,” Poe said. “Change is hard, but we’ll have to get used to it. She’s getting married. She’ll probably have less time for us.” She pulled out a pair of purple fingerless gloves that matched her hair and slipped them on.
Brooke’s chest tightened and her stomach churned as the unsettled feelings she’d had in Stunning came back tenfold. She took a deep breath to try to dispel it. She was so happy for Callie. Truly, deeply happy for her. But why did things have to change?
It was bad enough she’d made a complete fool of herself with Drew Hudson last night, and now she had to do without her best friend’s support.
“You don’t look so good,” Poe said. “Is it Roscoe?”
“No, he seems fine. He’s moving a little slower, but he ate really well last night and seemed eager for the walk to the dog park. I swear he knows what day it is.”
“Dogs are really smart. I taught The Terrible Two to turn on music when I’m not there to keep them busy. It hasn’t stopped them from using my socks as balls, but they are less crazy when I get home.”
“The Terrible Two are dancing?” Brooke said, a grin spreading across her face. This is exactly what she needed.
“Sure are. They’re so cute, too. Do you know they have dog dancing competitions? I saw some on
YouTube
. They were hilarious.”
“I think Roscoe would look cute dancing.”
“Probably not a good idea. He’s getting too old for…”
Harper shook her head, cutting Poe off. “Don’t give me that look, Harper. She has to know Roscoe is getting old.”
“Roscoe is going to live forever. So, there’s nothing to worry about,” Brooke said.
“I’m sorry, Brooke. Sometimes I don’t think. I’m too much of a geek, too cerebral. Sometimes the nuances of emotions escape me.”
“It’s all right, Poe.” Brooke hugged her. “You mean well, and you’re an excellent vet.” Brooke couldn’t allow herself to even consider the thought of being without Roscoe. Not now, not during the holiday season. Halloween was only weeks away, and she had plenty to do before the Animal League’s Howloween Party. Not least of which was finding the elusively perfect costume.
“Then if it’s not that, what is it?”
“I kissed Drew Hudson last night.”
“Oh, God, here we go again,” Poe said.
“So you gave him a little kiss. There’s no harm in that.”
She looked at Harper with a pained expression on her face and Harper closed her eyes. “Oh. It wasn’t a little kiss.”
“Nope,” Brooke agreed. “It was hit-a-home-run-out-of-the-park, I-can’t-breathe, I-just-ate-a-pound-of Godiva-chocolate kind of kiss.”
“Oh, God,” Poe said, “That sounds really good. Suddenly I have a craving for chocolate. I wish a man would kiss me like that. All I get is a three-strikes-you’re-out; smothered; eating-raw-fish-kind-of-kiss.”
Harper gave her a sidelong glance and shook her head.
Poe said, “What? I was using imagery like Brooke.”
“Just stop.”
“Okay.”
Just then The Terrible Two came up to Brooke and jumped into her lap and showered her with warm, pink doggie kisses. Then they jumped down and scampered off.
Brooke just laughed and Poe pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry for the dog attack. They love you.”
“No, I needed that.”
“Okay, can we get back to Drew Hudson? What’s his angle?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think he was too happy about kissing me. He looked a bit shell shocked. I gave him one of my muffins.”
“Who cares how he feels, Brooke? I swear if you punched a burglar in the mouth, you’d then give him first aid.”
“I would not.”
“I don’t trust Hudson’s motives. Was he asking you a lot of questions?”
“No, not really. We walked to my apartment and he carried Roscoe’s bag of dog food on his broad shoulder like it was nothing.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality as she remembered the feel of his bulging biceps, how his strong chest had contracted, all those muscles moving in strength and unity. “Then he carried me up the stairs because the elevator was out.”
“He what? What did you do?”
“I confess that I snuggled up to all those amazing chest muscles.”
“Brooke…I’m so surprised at you.”
“Why? Is it because I’m human and female and I got lost in the man’s exceptionally gorgeous chest?”
“Yes! This is your business we’re talking about here. Your livelihood. Kick that man to the curb and stick to your guns.”
“You’re right. I’ll admit I’ve lost some business, but I talked to a reporter at the
Times
and he’s going to run a positive story for me this week.”
“That’s great,” Poe said, getting up and digging in her pocket for a ball and throwing it. Several dogs ran after it, but Edgar got there first and trotted back to Poe, who threw it again.
“I’ll be damned if I give into Kristen and her tactics. I’m actually thinking I’ll go and talk to her. She’s had enough time to cool off.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Poe said, sitting back down while the dogs chased after the loose ball.
“Yes. I think she’ll see reason.”
“That’s because you’re soft-hearted and an optimist.” Harper turned to face her on the park bench, her breath fogging the air. “Listen to me. Poe, Callie and I are one hundred percent behind you. In fact, you say the word and I’ll have my lawyer contact you.”
“I couldn’t accept—”
“Yes, you damn well can accept. You are simply one of the kindest, sweetest, most helpful people I know, and I count myself lucky the day I came to this park and met you all. I know how strapped you are…no protests,” she said when Brooke opened her mouth. “You’ve given everything to this business, and you’re not going to lose it over this woman’s madness. Now, I have my lawyer on retainer. He just sits around and counts my money, so you’ll use him when it’s time.”
“All right. If you insist.”
Harper gripped Brooke’s hands and squeezed. “I insist.”
An hour later, Poe clipped the leashes on her two rambunctious Jack Russells and headed home. Brooke and Harper, leading their dogs, walked slowly away from the Park.
“Harper, I need a favor. Could you help me find a Howloween costume?”
“Sure. We’ll go to my penthouse, drop off the dogs and head out. I’ll get Stevens to drive us in the limo. It’ll be fun.”
Brooke linked arms with Harper. “That does sound decadent.”
“Do you have feelings for this lawyer?” Harper asked, her face growing serious.
“I don’t know. It’s all so mixed up and jumbled. I think he’s just using his charm to get me to change my mind. I will admit I had no concept of lust before Drew and I fused together with that earth-shattering kiss. Now I really know why it can make idiots out of us. ”
“I always thought of you being too sweet. I’m glad you’re a hussy like the rest of us.”
Brooke laughed and nudged her friend. “A Madonna and a whore. That’s me.”
“You’re much too cute to be a Madonna.”
“Okay, a bad girl fairy princess, then.”
“Oooh, I like that. Be careful where you spread that pixie dust.”
Brooke laughed and gave Harper another hip bump.
Spoiled by the limo, it was easy for them to explore numerous stores, but most of the costumes Brooke looked at seemed too skimpy and too…obvious. They lunched at Neville’s, a fusion bistro in upper Manhattan, then finally found the perfect costume—Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Harper promised to let Brooke use her ruby-encrusted Louboutins. And when they returned to the penthouse so Brooke could pick up Roscoe, Harper was true to her word.
#
Brooke entered the Grand Ballroom at The Waldorf Astoria in downtown Manhattan carrying a basket with a fake cairn terrier that resembled the famous Toto. Her hair was in two braids, and her full mouth was painted a wonderful red that matched her gorgeous ruby slippers.
She hadn’t seen Drew since the last time she’d volunteered at the homeless shelter. He’d been way down the row passing out roasted turkey. He had nodded when she glanced over once, but didn’t talk to her at all. A let down feeling curled around her heart. Distance wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. But she still couldn’t help feeling deflated.
She had found herself staring at him more than once as they served the food. He’d even caught her at it, but he looked away. When she left, this time he didn’t follow.
What she was feeling wasn’t disappointment. Really, it was relief.
It was the end of the night after all the food had been served that had gotten to her. She’d seen a man walking out of the shelter wearing a familiar wool coat. She’d run after him and told him he shouldn’t take things that didn’t belong to him. He’d replied by telling her the man that had been serving the turkey realized he didn’t have a coat and he gave him the coat off his back.
She had just stood there, her heart full and aching. Drew had given this man his very expensive cashmere coat.
She yanked herself back to the present as she entered The Waldorf’s magnificent, dim ballroom, which was festooned with ghosts, bats, zombies and werewolves. Hanging from the ceiling were cute photos of dogs waiting to be adopted.
She picked up her name tag and headed to her assigned table. But she paused when she approached her chair and saw a dark, red rose on the seat. She looked around, thinking it had to be a mistake. Picking up the rose, she brought it to her nose and breathed in the intoxicating fragrance.
“You look so beautiful standing there. I want to cement the memory of it in my mind before you click your heels and disappear.”
Her eyes flew open when a warm male hand grasped her fingers and pulled her out to the dance floor. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, stood before her, a white mask covering the upper part of his face, his body clad in a black tuxedo with a white tie and a flowing cape. He pulled her against him. Intense green eyes peeked mysteriously through the eyeholes. This could only be Drew.
She wanted it to be Drew.
She swallowed hard at the intensity of her feelings, the emotions bursting to life inside of her. He might be her enemy, but she still wanted him. It was messed up, but so what?
She was transported into the fantasy by the ease in which Drew swept her around the dance floor, the poignant music, and the way he held her against him.
The music wound down to the last chord and people applauded. Brooke glanced toward the orchestra. When she turned back around, the Phantom was gone. All the desire she’d felt the other night was back and bottled up inside her. Frustrated at her own inability to resist his temptation, she wandered back to her table, sure he’d show up.
But as the minutes passed, no Drew. Maybe it wasn’t him after all, and it was just wistful dreaming. A ghost asked her to dance, but Brooke found she could hardly focus on him. She was too intent on finding that elusive Phantom costume. She caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, only to have him vanish among the dancers when she turned to look more fully. And when she tried to follow, he had disappeared completely.
Back at the table, she nibbled on some of the gourmet food, but without interest. Again, she was asked to dance, but it wasn’t him. Again, she saw him weaving in and out of the dance floor, and, frustrated beyond bearing, she left her dance partner in the middle of the song to pursue her Phantom, but again, he proved too elusive.
Close to midnight she finally gave up and decided to go home. She reached forward and plucked one of the bright sunflowers out of the orange, black and yellow table display, tucking it into her basket/purse next to Toto. But before she could leave her seat, warm hands settled on her shoulders. Words, spoken in a husky baritone, tickled in her ear. “Did you miss me?”