Your Wish Is My Command (8 page)

He had no umbrella. His shirt was soaked and clinging to his chest. His hair was dripping wet, yet he
had a broad grin on his face. Jamie gulped, easily envisioning him standing at the prow of a ship, and she caught herself checking his waist for a sword. She lifted her eyes and met his gaze.

“A glorious good morning to you all,” he said, but he kept his eyes on Jamie. “Nothing like a good storm to get the day going.”

She started to say something—what, she had no idea—when Baxter snarled and drew his attention away from her.

Sebastien crouched down but kept his hands carefully away from the dog. “What have we here?”

“Marta picked up a stray at the market this morning.”

“I did no such thing,” Marta said. “The stray picked up me. And who might you be?”

Sebastien swept into a bow, elegant despite his bedraggled appearance. “Sebastien Valentin, at your service.”

Marta looked at Erin, who could only shrug. “He's harmless.” She hoped.

“He looks quite thankful for the rescue,” Sebastien commented, ignoring her. “A good bath and a warm bite would probably be welcome at this moment.” He looked to Jamie. “Can we use your facilities upstairs?”

Jamie opened her mouth to object—certainly she was going to object—but Marta cut in.

“I am going to call the vet on his tag and track down the owner. He or she can give him a bath.” She turned and stumbled over the dog but walked determinedly back toward her office. Baxter dripped water after her, resolutely following right on her heels. Marta stopped abruptly after only a few steps. “Oh, for heaven's sake.”

Sebastien stepped forward and relieved her of her purse and parcels, in turn handing them to a frozenin- place Ree before turning back to Marta. “Allow
me to assist you.” He bent toward the dog, who made it clear he had no intention of being touched by anyone. Anyone other than Marta.

Sebastien grinned up at her. “You've made quite the conquest here, mademoiselle.”

“It wasn't intentional.”

“Be that as it may, I say we take the poor lad upstairs and at least get him clean and dry. If you'll unlatch the collar, I'm certain Jamie can locate the vet while we clean the fellow up a bit and make him presentable.”

Marta looked ready to protest, then heaved a sigh of defeat. “Fine, fine.” She looked down at the dog. “A bath, then you get your one phone call. That's it, you understand?”

Baxter thumped his bedraggled tail enthusiastically on the floor. Marta slipped the dog collar off and handed it to Jamie, then scooped the dog up. Her expression one of total disgust, she turned and walked to the rear door that led to the upstairs apartment, Sebastien in tow.

Jamie finally found her voice as they were unlocking the door. “I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Valentin.”

He winked over his shoulder. “Certainly,
mon amie
. As soon as we have completed our rescue mission.”

Mission
. Jamie's eyes narrowed in suspicion as they disappeared upstairs.

Ree clutched her arm. “Do you think that's wise? Lettin'the two of them go upstairs alone like that?”

“I didn't see you jumping in to stop them.”

Ree let her go. “Well, I was still startled by his sudden appearance.”

“He has a habit of doing that to people.”

“I mean, I've barely had time to register everything you told me, then there he was.”

“Big as life,” Jamie muttered.

“Dear Lord, yes,” Ree sighed.

Now it was Jamie's turn to sigh in defeat. “I don't think he means her any harm, but why don't you go on up and oversee the proceedings while I contact the vet and clean up the floor.” She looked around. “It's not like we're having a traffic jam of customers today.”

As if to punctuate that statement, another rattling boom of thunder shook the windows.

Ree nodded and crossed the room, then turned back. “You know, even knowing what you said and all, I have a hard time believing he's a bad guy.”

“Yeah, well, that's what I said about Chad, and that was
after
I overheard him telling a pal he'd married me only to guarantee a sponsorship deal with my dad.”

Ree wasn't listening. “He just seems so perfectly … sane to me.”

“That's just your hormones wanting him to be sane,” Jamie muttered, well understanding the condition.

Ree wasn't the least offended. “I saw your face when he was lookin'at you just now. You have to admit, Jamie Lynne, when he walked in that door and started in with that voice of his, we were both prepared to believe whatever he wanted us to believe.” She fanned her neck. “Wacko or not, the man has presence. In spades. And diamonds, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get your drift. Go on upstairs and protect and defend, okay? Leave the door open and scream if you need me.”

Ree winked at her and did a little shiver. “I'd sure like for him to make me scream, sugar. Okay, okay, I'm going.” Laughing, she turned and left.

Jamie went to the desk and looked at the dog tag as she picked up the phone. She didn't believe Sebastien
was what he claimed to be, but if she was honest, she also wasn't ready to believe the alternative. Otherwise, she'd be making a list of mental hospitals to call, and she hadn't ruled that out. Yet. She simply wanted another chance to talk to him. Just this one last time.

T
hree days later Marta walked into the shop with I Baxter trotting happily behind her. Ree Ann and Jamie smiled at the duo. Marta scowled and headed directly for her office. Just as she had the previous two mornings.

“I know we shouldn't be happy she's miserable,” Ree Ann said. “But he is so cute. And you know, maybe it's not so bad for her to get a teensy bit attached to the little darlin'.”

“I heard that,” Marta called over her shoulder. “The 'little darlin''ate my Etienne Aigner loafers this morning. I've had them since college.” She turned and eyed them both. “The only thing I'm attached to right now is calling the pound.”

Ree put her hand to her mouth. “You wouldn't.”

“I talked to the vet again yesterday afternoon,” Jamie said. “She said they've left messages with our shop number on the owner's answering machine. He's obviously out of town or something.”

“Then he doesn't deserve the dog back,” Marta retorted. “If he can't arrange better care for him than to turn him loose on the streets.”

“Baxter deserves better than the pound,” Ree countered.

Marta narrowed her eyes. “Then you take him.”

Jamie smiled sweetly. “He doesn't love us. He loves you.”

Marta opened her mouth to retort when—as if sensing his life was hanging in the balance—Baxter reached up and nuzzled her leg. She went into her office without saying another word.

Ree nodded in approval when Marta didn't close her office door until Baxter was inside with her.

“You may be right,” Jamie said. “If she'd just stop fighting it, she'd realize she's already half in love with the little floor-duster.”

Ree frowned. “Yeah, but Bax
does
already have an owner, even if he is unfit.”

“Maybe we can convince the guy to leave him with Marta. Or we can get her another dog when Bax goes home.” Jamie looked at Ree, who glared at her. “What? Just because she doesn't want to give her heart to a man doesn't mean she can't give it to an animal. I know there's a downside at the end, but that's years away.”

“Precisely why she won't give her heart away. No guarantee on how much time she'll get. She refuses to risk having it broken again. Her heart is as big as the two of ours put together.”

“So why did you say it was a good idea for her to fall for the mutt?”

“Because more than anything else, she needs to be needed,” Ree said quietly. “And by more than just the two of us and a half dozen small-business owners.” She walked back over to the coffee bar. “You're right. If we can't talk the owner into giving the dog a good home with her, maybe we'll surprise her with a puppy for her birthday.” She opened a box of napkins and started to arrange them in fancy stacks. After a few moments she said, “So, have you made any decisions about you know who?”

Jamie wished they were still discussing Marta's love
life. Even if it was a canine affair. She didn't want to talk about Sebastien. Three days had gone by since she'd seen him, and she still hadn't come to any firm resolutions on how to handle his appearance in their lives. “No. I never got the chance to talk with him.” A seniors group had chosen the bookstore as a refuge from the storm right after Jamie had called the vet. She'd been tied up answering questions and guiding everyone through the stacks when Sebastien had slipped out to pick up some dog food. He'd apparently met Jack en route to the shop and sent the food back with him.

“What else is there to talk about with him? Have you called any of the hospitals?”

Jamie nodded. “I figured I had to at least do that for our own protection.”

Ree rubbed her hands. “Oh, I have to hear this. What in the world did you ask them?”

Jamie gave her a look. “I just asked if they'd released anyone lately, either voluntarily or involuntarily, who was delusional.”

“And?”

“Nada. Zip. Zero.”

Ree sat down on one of the barstools. “So what next?”

Jamie shrugged. “What else can we do? Call the cops and claim harassment? I don't really want to go that far.”

Ree smiled knowingly, humming as she went back to her napkin piles.

“Don't you hum at me like that.”

“Why, sugar, whatever do you mean? I'm merely enjoying my day's work.”

Jamie muttered under her breath, then turned to the door when the bell announced another customer. The gentleman that came in was average height, with sandy brown hair and smiling brown eyes to match.
He was dressed in jeans, a pale blue cotton shirt, and a lightweight blazer. No tie.

Well, Jamie thought, at least he'd made some deference to the scorching heat. He had to be dying in that jacket.

“Good morning.” His smile was as infectious as his understated British accent.

Jamie found herself smiling back. “Good morn-ing, yourself. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“As a matter of fact, I think you already have. Apparently you've taken over the dog-sitting duties my cousin abysmally failed at.”

Jamie's smile fell. “You're Baxter's owner?” This guy didn't come close to the Snidely Whiplash type she'd envisioned. He seemed … nice.

“Yes.” His own smile faded and he looked anxious. “He's okay, isn't he?”

“He's fine. More than fine,” Jamie answered. No thanks to you, she added silently.

The man sighed in relief. “Good. I'm already not speaking to Jane. I'd hate to have to put a contract out on her for killing my dog.”

Ree gasped. Jamie's mouth dropped open.

“I'm kidding,” he reassured them, then, with a straight face, added, “I wouldn't have the first clue who to call to put out a hit on anyone.” He shrugged. “Guess I'd have had to kill her myself. Such a bother.”

Jamie and Ree just stared at him. Then Jamie turned to Ree and said, “What, do I have a sign on me somewhere that says,
Send meyour tired,your wretched, your delusional?
”

Ree laughed. “You always have had a way with men.”

“I really am terribly sorry,” he offered, sounding sincerely contrite in a way only a Brit could. “I have a somewhat unconventional sense of humor. My family
never understands it either. We writers tend to get weird from spending long hours alone talking to ourselves.” He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Name is Bennett Graham. I write young-adult books. Possibly you've heard of me.”

Jamie had heard of him. He wrote a popular, offbeat fantasy series for the young teen set. But that didn't automatically make him an okay guy. She very tentatively shook his hand.

He turned to Ree Ann and gave a small salute. The fact that he didn't do a double take or fall all over himself once he'd actually looked at Ree raised him a tiny notch in Jamie's estimation. A very tiny notch.

“That's why I need my dog back,” he went on. “People are much more tolerant of one talking to one's dog than they are of talking to oneself.”

“As long as the dog doesn't answer.”

All three of them turned at the sound of Marta's voice.

Bennett laughed. “True.” He stuck his hand out. “Hello, I'm Bennett Graham, long-lost owner of a small mutt about yea-high.” He started to make a motion with his hand when Baxter came tearing out from behind Marta and bounded joyfully into his owner's arms. “Bax!”

The dog wriggled with joy, his tail thumping so wildly that Bennett could barely hold on to him. Laughing, he staggered back a few steps and cradled the blissful dog in his arms.

“Looks like he's glad to see you.” Ree said this with a tone that almost sounded like disbelief.

Bennett looked a bit taken aback, but Marta stepped in before he could comment. “I'm just glad you two were reunited. I'll get his things.”

“Things?”

Marta blushed. “Well, I … I was just trying to
make him feel at home. You know, until we could contact you.” She hurried off to the back room, not waiting for a reply.

Bennett turned to Jamie and Ree. “Was she the one who took care of him?”

They nodded. “He was glued to her side,” Jamie added. “Wouldn't let anyone else near him.”

Bennett looked thoughtfully toward the spot where Marta had been standing. “That's … funny.”

Jamie studied him. He didn't look amused. He'd sounded almost … melancholy. Another one of his deadpan attempts at humor? She didn't think so.

Then he turned to face them, his smile not quite as bright or natural as before. “It's just … well, he was very attached to someone else once. He's a pretty gregarious sort, but where Lara was concerned, he was like her private guardian.”

“Exactly,” Ree agreed. “He was just like that with Marta.”

“Marta? Pretty name. Unusual. I like it.”

“I'm glad for you,” Jamie said, still not completely won over. “We like it too.”

“Oh, I meant nothing by it. As a writer of fiction, I'm always interested in names. You know, for my characters. I didn't get yours, by the way.”

“Jamie Sullivan, and this is my other partner, Ree Ann Broussard.”