Dog Collar Couture (23 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Giordano

BOOK: Dog Collar Couture
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“I'll explain later. You done with her? I can get her out of here.”

Yes. Please do.
She'd calmed down from the bitch-slapping she'd given Bill in the hallway, but sitting there, across from that pompous ass, Mr. Dukane, wound her up again. If she wasn't careful, she'd launch herself over the table at him and that would really be embarrassing.

“Just so you know,” she said to Dukane. “I think you're a jerk.”

“Okay.” Tim waved her up from her chair. “Let's go. You're done here.”

He led her from the room and closed the door, holding his finger to his lips and then pointing to the elevator. Apparently, he didn't want them to be overheard.

Lucie turned the corner and spotted Ro sitting in one of the club chairs that were probably more for ambience than sitting. She had one shoe off and the broken one in her lap. Joey stood beside her, his thumbs going hyperspeed on his phone.

“Hey,” Lucie said.

Ro threw her hands up. “Thank God! I saw that detective come off the elevator and nearly peed myself.”

“Luce, you okay?”

“I'm fine, Joey. Thanks. For everything. I'm sorry I almost got you arrested.”

“You didn't. It was those lunatic Cock Heads.” He tucked his phone in his back pocket and faced Tim. “What's going on with her? Do we need a lawyer?”

“I doubt it. Those idiots are in there hanging themselves.”

Lucie nodded. “Get this. That Bill guy,” she turned to Ro, “the one who destroyed your shoe—”

“That rat-bastard. He better not go to sleep tonight.”

“Right. Well, Bill started spewing about how Mr. Dukane wanted the insurance money for the dress, so he had it stolen.”

A low groan came from Ro. “He stole his own dress?”

“Can you believe it?”

“Please, honey. Lately I believe everything.”

“Anyway,” Tim said, “it all has to shake out. And I really can't talk about this with you. I'm gonna head back in there, and you three can rip it apart.” He turned to Lucie. “Please go home or back to your office. I'm begging you, stay out of it. Let us work through it.”

This poor guy. She'd driven him to begging. She'd have to make it up to him. Somehow. Maybe naked.

“I'll go back to the office. I promise. No interfering. I know you'll take care of it from here.”

He tugged on a loose hair that had slipped from her ponytail. “Thank you. I'll call you in a while. Give you the update.”

Ro stood and hobbled toward the elevator. Joey laughed. If Lucie knew her brother at all, some sick, demented comment would soon fly from his mouth.

“Listen,” he said to Ro's back, “you're a mess right now, but you've still got the best ass ever.”

Lucie drew a long breath, then exhaled. “Poetry, Joey. Truly.”

“Yep.” Tim bent closer, right next to her ear. “I'll call you later. And be ready for a replay of last night.”

Go. Lucie.

“Oh, I'll be ready.”

A
t five fifteen
, the doggie bells on Coco Barknell's front door jangled. Lucie looked up from the array of feathers Ro had dumped on her desk to find Tim stepping into the shop.

A wave of something—relief? Happiness? All of the above?—swished around inside her.

If that man wasn't a sight for sore eyes she didn't know who was. As usual, he'd ditched his suit jacket somewhere, stripped off his tie and popped the top button of his shirt. She loved this relaxed look on him.

And with his big shoulders, he wore it well.

Plus, he'd come to see her. That alone might be worth celebrating, since she'd spent all afternoon wondering if he'd decide life with Lucie Rizzo might be a tad too eccentric.

Among other things.

Yes, he'd given every indication that he'd gotten over being mad—that more-than-subtle hint about wanting a replay attested to that—but that had been hours ago. Plenty of time for a man like him, a catch among catches, to change his mind.

She dropped the feather she'd been studying. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, yourself. What's with the feathers? Or should I even ask?”

Lucie laughed. “It's nothing criminal. Believe me. After all this craziness, Ro wants to create doggie coats with feathers. Couture coats.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It sounds nuts, but she's been spot-on since we started this accessory gig so I'm rolling with it. What's new with our other feather problem?”

Tim came around her desk, sat on the edge and the faded scent of his cologne reached her.

He ran his hand over his face and yawned. “Dukane's lawyer showed up and knocked some sense into him. He copped to the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He's got a ton of debt. Figured the dress would make him even.”

“I can't believe he paraded the actual dress through that lobby.”

Tim shrugged. “The model is his son's girlfriend. I guess they figured the dress would blend in with the rest of the fakes. And, by the way, the feather Bickel took from you that first morning?”

“The one I found?”

“Yep. It's from the dress. No surprise there. It must have fallen off when those idiots left the gallery. The lab couldn't get any of your prints off of it. Even if they had, you admitted to picking it up.”

“Just crazy. What about the other thief?”

“We're working on it. He's running, but won't get far. All three of them will probably take a plea. Armed robbery, conspiracy, insurance fraud. It'll be a nice, long jail sentence. The other good news is you've been cleared.” He grinned. “And I don't have to slog through thousands of tips from your reward offer.”

Cleared.
Thank God.
She dropped back in her chair, her torso collapsing in on itself. “Thank you.”

“I did my job, Luce.”

“You did more. I know you did. So, just, thank you. And I'm sorry if I made you crazy.”

The side of his mouth quirked. “You may not believe this, but I get it. I watched Bickel doubt you because of your last name, and then the cop from this morning did it with Joey. That's gotta suck.” He shifted a little and faced her. “But here's the thing.”

Oh, no.
Here it comes.
The breakup. The “I can't do this” speech she'd given to Frankie thousands of times.

“It's okay, Tim. You don't have to say it.”

“I think I do. I think you need to hear it.”

So cruel! “Well, okay, then. Let me have it.”

He snorted. “So damned cute. Luce, if something like this happens again—God help me—you've got to give me a break. If I ask you to stay out of it, it's for your own good. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

Huh.
Was he dumping her? Didn't sound like it. She took a chance on grabbing his hand and squeezing it. To her immense relief, he squeezed back.

She nodded. “Ro gave me a good talking-to. I don't want to feel crappy about who I am anymore. As my dad likes to say, ‘it is what it is.'”

“Yeah, and look at you. Look what you've done with a tiny dog-walking and accessory business. You're building something here. Be proud of that.”

“Fortune 500, baby. That's the goal.”

“It's a good one. Just please, when I tell you to stay out of police business, trust me. Okay?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now, can I buy you dinner?”

“You betcha.” She scooped the feathers into the plastic container Ro had left for her and set them on the side of her desk. “I have no idea what she plans on doing with all these, but it'll be a hoot to watch.”

The doggie bells jangled again. Dad.
Oh, boy.
She knew Joey had filled him in on the morning's activities.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hiya.”

So far so good. And he didn't look too enraged. None of that squished face and hard eyes that usually preceded one of Dad's tirades.

As he approached, Tim held his hand out. “Mr. Rizzo.”

The two men—the Irish cop and the mob boss—shook hands. “Tim, I hope you got something good to tell me.”

“The case against Lucie has been cleared, sir. All set.”

“Good. And thank you for getting my son out of that jam.”

“All I did was move things along. He tried to break up a fight. No need for him to get locked up.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of people don't see it that way.”

Tim looked down at Lucie. “I'm learning that, sir. And I'm sorry.”

The two men exchanged some look that Lucie didn't understand. Acceptance maybe. Who knew with men? Plus, after today, she'd figured out that Tim had a bit of caveman in him.

“Awright,” Dad said. “Lucie, your mother called. Dinner at six. She made that meatloaf you like. With the bacon.”

Oh, she loved that meatloaf, but . . .

Wild, orgasmic sex with Tim or meatloaf? Hmmm . . .

They could save her a piece. She waggled her hand between her and Tim. “We have dinner plans.”

Dad shrugged. “So, he'll come, too. You know your mother. She makes enough for twelve.”

“But . . .”

Tim set his hand on her arm. “That sounds great, Mr. Rizzo. Thank you.”

What the heck was he doing? Tim was so not ready for a Rizzo family dinner.

“Sure. Don't be late. We eat at six sharp.”

Dad left the shop, and Lucie whirled on Tim. “Are you insane? You're not ready. Believe me, you're not.”

He laughed. “Uh, Luce, have I mentioned I'm a Chicago cop? I mean, I don't want to presume anything, but I see some ugliness on the job.”

He wanted to draw that ridiculous comparison? The streets of Chicago would never compete.

“It's different. Apples to oranges. The conversations that happen at the dinner table will make your ears bleed.”

“Kinda sounds like fun.”

“And, you know, you're a cop, going to Joe Rizzo's house for dinner. Have you thought about that?”

“Every night for the last three months. People are going to talk.” He tweaked her nose then dropped a kiss there. “Let 'em. You're the only thing I care about. I'm on your side, and that means interacting with your family. Even if it makes my ears bleed.”

Team Lucie. The thing she'd always wanted. Someone by her side who, no matter what, backed her up, stood with her,
defended
her. Right or wrong, she wanted that unconditional promise.

And the Irish cop had just given it to her.

“Well, I don't want your mother mad at me when you're hospitalized for mental health issues.”

Tim snorted. “You're cute, Luce.”

She tugged on the front of his shirt and snuggled into him. “So are you, Detective. I just hope your health insurance is up-to-date because after tonight, you'll never be the same.”

Acknowledgments

F
irst
, thank you to all the readers out there who help me chase my dream. From the time I was in high school I dreamed of seeing my name on a book cover, and, without the tremendous support of my readers, I wouldn't be writing. So, thank you!

Jay and Marge Briscione, thank you for bringing the maniac known as Fin into the family. He always makes me smile. Thank you to my usual suspects, Tracey Devlyn, Kelsey Browning, Theresa Stevens and Misty Evans for the amazing plotting help. Special thanks to Kelsey for that wacky conversation about the right name for the fan group. Just wicked fun! Milton Grasle, you always welcome my questions and help me find solutions when I've written myself into a corner. Thank you!

Cynthia Magno, I can't thank you enough for sharing your expertise. You helped me take this book in a new direction, and I'm so grateful for your insight. Thanks also to Anthony Iacullo and Dana Diorio for helping me get “unstuck” on insurance and legal questions.

To John Leach and Scott Silverii, you rock! No matter what I throw out there, you indulge my nutty questions. To Liliana Hart, thank you for always generously sharing your knowledge. I'm so grateful.

To the fabulous Gina Bernal, you teach me something new with each book. You're awesome!

And, as always, a big thanks to “my guys” for always supporting me and encouraging me to do more. I love you.

About the Author

U
SA Today
bestselling
author Adrienne Giordano
writes romantic suspense and mystery.  She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier).

She is a co-founder of Romance University blog and Lady Jane's Salon-Naperville, a reading series dedicated to romantic fiction. For more information on Adrienne's books, please visit
www.AdrienneGiordano.com
. Adrienne can also be found on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/AdrienneGiordanoAuthor
, Twitter at
http://twitter.com/AdriennGiordano
and Goodreads at
http://www.goodreads.com/AdrienneGiordano
. For information on Adrienne's street team,
Dangerous Darlings
, go to
http://www.facebook.com/groups/dangerousdarlings
.

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