Home Is Where the Bark Is (16 page)

She truly was a dream woman come true. He remembered how his business partner Adam’s eyes had glazed over at the mention of her name. But her legions of fans couldn’t possible know just how exalted a fantasy woman she was. Because not only was Serena beautiful, sexy and smart; she was also a damn fine cook.

Nowhere in his extensive online research on Serena St. James had it been revealed she was a culinary goddess. He’d found that out all by himself. The taste of that superb lasagna still lingered. And what she’d done to his taste buds with that avocado salad dressing bordered on the obscene.

After the morning’s strenuous exercise and the hearty lunch, he felt relaxed to the point of drowsiness. As his mind started to drift, he couldn’t help wondering what it might be like to come home to a woman like her. His body reacted instantly at the thought of having her in his bed. Her beautiful long limbs entwined with his. That lovely face flushed with pleasure.

And imagine being welcomed after a long day in a surveillance van with a Serena-cooked dinner. As many helpings as he wanted of the best lasagna a man had ever tasted. Dog snoring at his feet. Kids asleep in their rooms.

He sat bolt upright in his chair. His heart racing, his hands suddenly clammy. Where the hell did that come from?

The thought that a dog might fit into his life had nudged its way with wet nose and sad eyes into his consciousness. But a woman. This woman. And
kids
.

He swallowed hard. That might take some getting used to.

Getting used to
.

Not dismissed immediately out of hand?

He wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. Groaned a low, almost inaudible groan that was immediately picked up by two sets of sharp canine ears. Mack gave a gruff reply—somewhere between a bark and a growl—that Nick could only interpret as sympathy from one alpha male to another.

It wasn’t that he had anything against settling down with a woman. He’d always thought he’d end up married someday. But this was the first time a woman had made him even contemplate the thought that “someday” might actually be looming nearer.

And she was his prime suspect in a major fraud case.

Permitting himself these thoughts broke every rule in the private investigator’s handbook—both written and the other kind.

But the more he got to know Serena, the more he was beginning to think it was a possibility she might have nothing to do with the identity fraud. That it really was coincidence the clients of Paws-A-While were in disproportionate numbers among the victims.

She did not show any overt signs of being a professional fraudster. In fact she gave every impression of having nothing to hide.

On his way to the bathroom he’d managed to quickly divert into her bedroom. Had fought with every fiber of his being to keep a clear head and banish thoughts of a naked Serena in that bedroom with him.

A tabby-and-white cat was curled up asleep on the bed. She had opened a lazy green eye, dismissed him, and went back to sleep. Nearby on the silk comforter Serena’s purse spilled open: wallet, cell phone, notebook. He’d itched to pick up the cell phone, but it was too risky. Then told himself that she wouldn’t have left it there for him to see if it contained anything incriminating. Especially as she suspected he was a cop.

But then again could she be clever enough to leave the contents of her purse artfully strewn to give an appearance of innocence?

That time he did crack his knuckles. Much to the disdain of the cat.

He had left the bedroom wishing he’d had the opportunity to systematically check through her closet, behind the pictures on the wall, under the rug. But his first impression remained that there was nothing devious there.

Of course she could be a real dumb kind of amateur criminal who just didn’t think to hide her cell phone. Again he doubted that. Serena was a smart, successful businesswoman. Paws-A-While appeared to be thriving. And before her days as a doggy day-care director she’d been a model. She’d made a success of that in a hard world where he suspected you had to do more than shove with your elbows to get ahead. If Serena had decided on a life of crime, he had no doubt she’d be professional at that, too.

He thought, too, of her friends’ fierce loyalty to her. And of her generosity to the stricken Godfrey family.

No. There were no real signals coming from Serena to suggest she was anything other than what she said she was. Conjecture, suspicion, and the feeling that all was not right at Paws-A-While were all he had to link her to the crimes. And gut feeling was not enough to lay charges.

Which led him to think that after this was over, after the crime was solved and the perpetrator brought to justice and Serena cleared of any suspicion, he could consider a personal relationship with her.

He liked that feeling.

Serena came back into the living room bearing coffee, and he got up to help her with the tray. From the rich aroma that wafted to his nostrils, it appeared she was as good at making coffee as she was at creating delicious meals. As he anticipated she would be at meeting his other needs. Seeing to her needs would be more than a pleasure. He’d make it into an art form.

This was getting better and better.

But first he had to make a decision about Mack.

What had Maddy Cartwright called him? A man-sized dog. Just the kind of dog he would like for himself. Aunt Alice’s house had a decent-sized yard that would give Mack room to stretch his legs. And when Mack’s knee was healed he could run with him just like he had with Fella. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having a dog.

He put the tray on the coffee table. “I’ve been thinking about Mack,” he said.

“Yes?” she said. He could hear the hope in her voice.

“I want to adopt him,” he said.

She stopped still. “But you said you didn’t have room.”

“I can make room.”

He was rewarded by one of her megawatt smiles that made him feel like he’d been showered in light. She took a step forward. For a moment he thought she would hug him, but she paused, her smile dimmed by a return of that anxious furrowing of her brow. There was still something unexplained there. But he doubted it was directed to him or connected to a life of crime. The stalker, perhaps.

“Thank you,” she said. “And thank you from Mack, too.”

“You’re welcome. And so is Mack. He’s a great dog.”

Nick hunkered down beside Mack. Yes. He could see this animal as his. They fit. And Mack would be an ongoing link to Serena. No matter what happened with the Paws-A-While investigation, he would still have an excuse to see her.

Mack thump-thump-thumped his white-tipped tail. Hauled himself up from his dog bed. Then stumbled on his sore knee and fell heavily back onto the bed. Nick winced. Serena had booked a preliminary meeting for Mack with the surgeon for three o’clock Monday afternoon. He would demand the procedure be done ASAP. Tuesday morning if possible.

“He’s not having a good day,” said Serena. “Some days he can get around fine but others . . .”

“We’ll get him as good as new again,” said Nick. He patted Mack on the top of his massive head. “Won’t we, fella?” The big dog looked up at him with grateful eyes. Then laid his head on Nick’s knee. Nick stayed very still. It was a sign of trust that turned him instantly to mush. And from Mack’s benefactor to Mack’s owner. Or guardian. Or . . . No. Definitely not the other.

“I think you two are going to get on just fine,” said Serena, her voice betraying the slightest of tremors.

Nick patted down the dog’s solid flanks and scratched him behind the ears. Fella had always liked that. Mack’s expression of bliss indicated he did, too. So Nick moved his hand to do the same under the black collar with its multitude of mutt-with-attitude studs.

Then froze.

Every muscle tensed. He felt the color drain from his face and sweat prickle up his spine.

Concealed in among the rows of silver studs on the collar was the tiny, almost imperceptible lens of a micro surveillance camera. The covert, wireless kind that relayed images and sound to a remote receiver. To Nick’s trained eye there could be no doubt that was what it was.

He was aware of Serena chatting away about Mack and the brand of burger he favored, but it sounded like it was coming through a thick layer of San Francisco fog.

So this was how she did it.

Correctly angled, the camera had the capacity to zoom in on a credit card and record every detail. Or scan a room and detect every security device. It could record the most private of conversations. What a devious idea. Who guarded their words in front of their family dog?

Nausea threatened to gag him. Every word of his conversation with Serena had been recorded. Right now someone could be examining in close-up the details of his face.

He put his finger over the lens as if it were accidental.

He couldn’t say anything. Do anything. If he removed the collar from the dog, he would alert whoever was at the receiving end.

He attempted to cover the lens with Mack’s fur but the dog’s short, thick coat didn’t allow it. Reluctantly Nick removed his finger from the collar and stood up.

He called upon all his training to mask his expression. To hide the shock, anger, and contempt that rocked him. Had she intended to use Mack today to get access to his personal details so she could fleece him, too? Or did Mack spy on her staff and other clients? Was Snowball equipped in the same manner? He would have to check the little white dog’s collar as soon as he got the chance.

He forced his voice to an even, neutral tone. “As I’m going to be Mack’s new, uh, dad, I want to take some photos of him.”

Delight—or was it triumph that she was getting away with her scam?—gleamed in those remarkable eyes. He could hardly bear to look at her. “Sure. I have a camera. Do you want—?”

“I can use my cell phone,” he said, as he pulled it out of his pocket.

It looked like a regular cell but was, in fact, a sophisticated multi-lens piece of industrial spy equipment.

“C’mon, Mack, smile for the camera,” urged Serena. Mack tilted his head to the side. “Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” she said and laughed.

Ten minutes ago Nick would have thought it funny, too. Right now it was all he could do to stretch his mouth into the semblance of a smile.

Quickly he snapped some images of Mack. Zoomed right in on the almost-hidden camera winking quietly among the shiny studs. Took the opportunity to sneak a close-up of Snowball, too.

He had been played by a master.

Forgotten every rule of his game.

How could he have gotten her so wrong?

“I
can’t believe you told him you’d made the lasagna!” Maddy’s laughter came through the telephone receiver so loud Serena had to hold it away from her ear. Lucky she had her office door shut to catch up on paperwork, a routine she followed every Monday after the morning dog walks.

Serena waited for her friend’s laughter to dwindle to a series of choked giggles before she spoke. “I’m sorry, Maddy. I didn’t mean to claim credit where credit was definitely not due. But he was so sure I was this wonderful cook I just kind of got caught up in the moment.”

“You mean the scam.”

“Would you call it a scam? I didn’t mean—”

“Serena, I don’t mind. Really I don’t. I just think it’s so funny. What about the cookies?”

“Wee-ell. The cookies, too.”

Maddy laughed again. “It’s a good recipe. Tell me, did he like them? You were meant to be taste-testing those cookies for me, remember.”

“He really liked them. In fact I parceled up a doggy bag for him to take home. But he left in a hurry and—”

“He left in a hurry? Oh. That doesn’t sound so good.”

“I admit it was . . . a surprise. One minute we were talking about Mack; the next thing he’s suddenly remembered he had to be somewhere.”

She had spent way too much time puzzling over Nick’s abrupt departure in the time since. This was the first time she’d had a chance to talk to Maddy about it. Maddy had been too busy with puppies and picnic food at the descendants-of-Brutus gathering on Sunday.

“Maybe he didn’t want to hang around and be hassled into adopting Mack,” Maddy teased.

“As if I’d hassle him! That’s the funny thing—he’d already agreed to adopt Mack. Seemed really happy about it in fact.”

“You must be thrilled about that.”

“Yes, I am. I think Nick and Mack make a really good match.”

“And Nick and you?”

Serena paused. “Nothing doing. I told you it wasn’t a date.” “‘Big, blond, and built,’ remember.”

“I remember. Maddy, the guy is hot. And yeah, I like him. But he could hardly wait to get out of there on Saturday.”

Not even to her best friend would she admit how offended she’d been at Nick’s hasty departure. Or that she’d brought the cookies into work with a plan to give them to Nick when he dropped off Bessie. Only to find his visit had been so brief it could be counted in seconds rather than minutes. There had been no time for anything except his terse “thank you” for the lunch and her confirmation of the appointment with the surgeon for Mack. “He’s just a client.”

“Bad luck. What a waste of a good lasagna. But it’s great news about Mack.”

Serena knew Maddy was trying to cheer her up, but she didn’t need her friend’s well-intentioned effort. The disappointment she’d felt over Nick’s abrupt change of mood on Saturday had only served to reinforce her resolve to take time out from dating. The emotional disruption when something went wrong wasn’t worth it. Nick was taking Mack to the surgeon this afternoon—she would not go with him.

She smiled as she replied to Maddy. “The lunch achieved its purpose—Mack is going to have his knee fixed and go to a good home. Who knows, maybe your lasagna was the tipping point for Nick in his decision to adopt. And it doesn’t matter that I fibbed about my skills as a cook because—” The other phone rang. “Maddy, gotta dash. The bank is on the other line.”