Fudgeballs And Other Sweets Read online

  Dave let out his breath loudly. “They?”

  “More bad news. Nancy got married in France and is honeymooning on a private yacht. The happy couple has more security than Bill Clinton.”

  Dave felt sick. His chances of having Megan during August were slipping through his fingers. “For crying out loud, who the hell did she marry? Jonathan Pharis the Third?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “How’d I know what?”

  “She married Jonathan Pharis the Third.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “Jonathan Pharis—the shipping magnate?”

  “The same.”

  Dave threw the pencil across the room. It bounced off an alien face and fell to the floor. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “On the ship with them. Like I said, I tried to get—”

  “Trying’s not good enough, Freeman. I don’t care what you have to do, you get my kid off that damn boat and back here now!”

  Dave banged the receiver down and paced the small cubicle he called an office. He impatiently ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck. A headache throbbed at the base of his skull—a headache by the name of Nancy. He knew Nancy and could predict the future. She’d travel all over the world and drag Megan with her. Hell, she’d probably move to France. Damn her! He’d rot in hell before he’d let her keep Megan away from him. He didn’t care how much money Jonathan Pharis the Third had. Jonathan Pharis the Third wasn’t going to have Dave’s daughter.

  Glancing out the window, Dave felt the hackles on his neck rise. Jenny had walked out of the shop with a bowl of fresh water for Princess. Jake had backed off, giving her plenty of leeway.

  A bib. Dave snorted. That woman was going to make his dog paranoid.

  “WOMEN!” Jake growled as Jenny left. He curled his upper lip over his teeth. “Put that damn bib on me again, human, and you and me…” He trailed off in a rambling spurt of disjointed mumblings.

  Princess strutted back and forth, refusing to look at him. “Men!”

  She was really starting to get to him. The broad was hyper. Keeping an eye on her, he tried to sneak a chew of his bone, but she strutted back and he had to quickly roll over to hide his treasure. He stuck all four legs in the air.

  Wrinkling her nose with disgust, she turned away. “How crude. Have you no decency?”

  Maybe she’ll go away if I don’t answer.

  She whirled. “Get up! You look like an imbecile lying that way!”

  “I can lay any way I want. This is my side of the tree.”

  “Get up, I say, before someone sees you and hauls you off!”

  “I’m not moving. I’m comfortable.” Actually, the bone was killing him, jabbing in his back. He wished she’d move on so he could get up.

  Princess sniffed. “You have the decorum of a warthog!”

  That does it! He sprang to his feet and lunged toward her.

  She sprinted just beyond his reach.

  Bouncing on his hind legs, he felt his collar slip off.

  Free at last!

  His eyes narrowed. “Now you’ve had it, you little French twister.”

  She let out an earsplitting yip that curled his hair. “Hey, calm down, calm down!” He pinned her to the ground with a paw as her spindly legs flailed the air wildly. “You’ll have the humans down on us!”

  True to his words, the fudge shop door sprang open, and Jenny rushed out with a broom in her hand.

  Hoo, boy.

  “Get away!” she yelled, menacing him with the broom.

  He had Frenchie down, and he wasn’t letting her up unless the human went for that hose again. He eyed Jenny, keeping a firm paw on the Brillo pad.

  “Let me up, you big bebe!” Princess yelped.

  Jake glanced down, grinning. “Make me.”

  He saw stars as the broom landed against the flat of his butt.

  “Hey!”

  Jake shook his head, trying to focus as he heard the squeal of brakes and Officer Jim Harris waded into the melee. In disbelief Jake watched as the man took a hook from the back of his bike. He threw a dogcatcher’s ring around Jake’s neck and dragged him to the cage on the back of the vehicle.

  Jenny ran after the officer, waving a chocolate-stained spoon. “That’s not necessary, Jim!” she called over the yelping and howling.

  Jim, struggling to get Jake in the cage and the door closed, yelled over his shoulder, “I can’t hear you! Call me later!”

  “But Jim!” she hollered as he gave her a friendly salute and drove away.

  She glanced at the kite shop, then stepped back, cradling Princess protectively to her breast Dave suddenly loomed in his doorway, his face a thundercloud. His gaze followed Jake down the street, imprisoned in the small cage.

  Jake stared at him pitifully.

  Meeting Dave’s glower, Jenny hugged Princess tighter, muffling her dog’s cries. “Don’t look at me. I tried to stop him—”

  “If I hear ‘I tried’ one more time today—”

  When she opened her mouth to explain, he lifted his hand, palm outward, his features cold.

  “Just tell me where to pick up my dog—”

  “Dave, I didn’t mean for your dog”

  His glacial stare stopped her. “Where can I get Jake?”

  “The island pound,” she answered, making her response deliberately curt. She sighed. “Take your checkbook. It’ll cost you.”

  “That’s just great.” He stepped into the kite shop and slammed the door.

  She blinked, staring at the closed door, wondering if it meant their date for tonight was off.

  “Men!” she scoffed.

  Princess snuggled closer. “Yip!” Ditto!

  DAVE ARRIVED at Jenny’s at ten to seven lugging two sacks of groceries.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, surprised but delighted he’d decided to show up. “I thought you’d pick up a pizza or something.”

  “Pizza!” Dave pretended to be repelled by the idea. “Springing a dog from the Big House makes a man hungry.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad you came, and relieved to see you still have a sense of humor.”

  “I fail to see anything funny about Jake being hauled off to the pound.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and he ceremoniously unpacked the bags and placed cans and spices on the counter.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “I’m not mad. Moreover, you will think you’ve died and gone to heaven once you’ve tasted Spaghetti Kasada.”

  “Hm, I will, will I?” She examined a couple of the spices. “You really have a thing for Italian food, don’t you?”

  He rescued the vials from her hand. “Don’t be nosing around for my secrets.” He smiled, his gaze resting on her soft features. “You look tired.”

  “Awful’s a better word.” She touched her hair. “I had a time getting Dory to sleep. She likes to play with my hair while I rock her.”

  Who wouldn’t, he thought, eyeing the thick blond mane pulled into a jaunty ponytail. “You don’t look awful, you look like a woman with a busy life. Actually, you look…nice.” She looked more than nice. She looked like someone he’d like to wake up next to every morning. Soft, warm… He shook the thought aside and turned his attention to his culinary efforts. “Got a big pot?”

  She pushed away from the counter and knelt to get the pan from a lower cabinet. He reached and stopped her. He was right. She was soft and warm. “I’ll get it.”

  When she straightened, her face was so close he could smell her perfume. When was the last time he wanted a woman, needed one? Ached for one? Hell, when was the last time he was this close to one alone?

  He stepped back. “Why don’t you relax in the living room and let your personal chef do his thing.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, kind sir. You’ll find everything you need in the top cabinet.”

  “Thanks.” Back off, Dave, he thought. He was glad she left
the room. There was no way he could concentrate on cooking when all he could do was admire the way she filled out a pair of jeans and the cleavage he saw in the V of her pink cotton knit top. “Stick to cooking,” he mumbled as he searched for a spoon.

  Twenty minutes later, the sauce simmering, he walked into the living room and found Jenny curled up on the couch sound asleep. Her head was squeezed between the armrest and a cushion, and she looked uncomfortable as hell. He put his hand under her head and tried to place a pillow there, but she roused and sat up.

  “I’m sure good company, huh?” she said, yawning.

  “Here.” He lowered himself to the couch and eased her back to him. “You look like you could use a little down time.” His thumbs gently kneaded the knots in her shoulders. “Relax.”

  Sounds emanated from her throat like tiny mews. “Mmm, that feels good.”

  Yes, it certainly did, he decided, pulling her closer while the heels of his palms pressed circles on her upper arms. He took a deep breath and savored her delicate scent. It wasn’t overpowering, like Nancy’s perfume. But it was intoxicating.

  A few moments of massage, and he knew he’d better get up while he could. Simply being with her aroused him. Touching her tempted him to do so much more. He guided her shoulders against the couch, stood and put a throw pillow on top of the coffee table.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making madam comfortable. What’s all this?” he asked, moving aside a stack of receipts strewn on the table.

  “My tax records. I have to get a financial report together—”

  “Not tonight, you don’t. Tonight you relax.”

  He slipped her sneakers off and placed her bare feet on the cushion. Even her feet inspired ideas he shouldn’t have, but feet were safer than thinking about her breasts. It was already too late to keep from getting aroused.

  She smiled, pulling her foot away when he began rubbing the bottom. “That tickles.”

  “Just hold still. Apparently I’m not pressing hard enough.”

  His thumbs circled the pad of her foot while his fingers massaged the top. He felt her relax and her leg go limp.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Mmm. Spaghetti Kasada and a foot rub. What did I do to deserve this?”

  He grinned as contentment spread over her face. He pulled her foot close against him and massaged her ankle and up her calf. Her warmth was contagious. So was she, he realized. He’d be more than happy to let dinner burn if he could take her in his arms and—

  The tightening in his groin was painful. He was wrong. Feet weren’t safe enough.

  “How’s Jake?”

  “A little testy, but I gave him a T-bone steak before I left. He seemed in a better mood.”

  “I am sorry about the incident this afternoon, but it really wasn’t my fault.”

  “I know.” He massaged the foot, admiring her polish. “I like the shade. What’s it called?”

  “I have no idea,” Jenny murmured, stretching lazily. “Something I picked up at the salon.”

  The cloth of her T-shirt tightened over her breasts. His gaze was riveted to the seductive sight, and he realized the massage was a bad idea, period.

  He eased her foot to the cushion and released it, but her eyes snapped open, making his escape harder than he thought. “I think the sauce is burning.”

  “Need help?”

  A lot of it. “No, stay where you are.”

  FULL OF SPAGHETTI, cheese bread and salad, they convened to the couch around nine.

  Jenny covered her stomach with her hands and moaned. “I ate too much.”

  Settling back, Dave stretched out. “I’m glad you liked it. I enjoy cooking.”

  He could feel her studying him. What was she thinking? Was she wondering why he wasn’t still married? Good question. David knew he was solid, dependable, a smart businessman, he’d like to think a good father. Was she wondering what happened to break up his marriage? Was it him, was it her?

  “You don’t seem the domestic type. I had you figured for a man who eats at the finest restaurants, has dinner parties catered—”

  “That’s how it was when Nancy and I were married,” he admitted. “She never cooked, and I didn’t know how, but after the divorce, I discovered the joys of eating at home.”

  “Oh? That’s a joy?” She laughed.

  “I think so. During a blue funk period, I was lying on the couch, watching a chef on Oprah, and I thought, ‘I can do that.”’

  “No kidding? One episode of Oprah, and you became a chef?”

  “Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “What about you? I’ll bet you can whip up a mean meal.”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Fudge is my specialty. In a pinch, I can throw a few things together out of a can and make a passable casserole. I’m mostly a breakfast person.”

  “Omelets? Eggs Benedict?”

  “Cornflakes.”

  They burst out laughing. Their amusement disturbed Dory, and Jenny went to the bedroom and brought her out.

  “Look who’s here.” She pointed toward Dave. “Wave to Uncle Dave.” She picked up Dory’s arm and wagged it back and forth. When the baby spotted Dave, she grinned and reached for him.

  “Ah, women,” Dave sighed, “they can’t leave me alone.”

  Jenny made a face and handed Dory to him. “That’s understandable. You have your moments.”

  Cradling the baby in the crook of his arm, he tickled her under her chin. “You ever think about having kids of your own?”

  Jenny sank down on the sofa beside him, leaning close to look at Dory’s new teeth. Her bare arm brushed his. “I’ve thought about it, especially when I was with Brian Maybe someday. Right now I’m too busy to think about it.”

  “The expansion?”

  She nodded. “What’s the old saying? When opportunity knocks, open the door.”

  “Strike while the iron’s hot,” he agreed, thinking she couldn’t have struck at a more opportune time. It was a sheer stroke of luck that she’d decided to move without being forced. She was going to be upset enough when he got around to telling her he owned the building.

  She tickled Dory under the chin and made her laugh. “Something like that.”

  “Don’t wait too long.” He watched her eyes light up as she played with the baby. “Having a child is the greatest thing that can happen to you.”

  She smiled. “Heard anything about your daughter?”

  He wasn’t going to bring that up. He’d come here to have a quiet dinner with a friend, but he’d be lying if he said Sam Freeman’s phone call hadn’t been on his mind all evening. Now that he was holding a baby in his arms, and all he could think about was Megan.

  “I got word today. Nancy remarried and they’re due back from their honeymoon the first part of September.” When he glanced at her he was surprised to see her eyes were misty.

  “Couldn’t you have Megan flown home earlier?”

  “I would if I could talk to her—or Nancy.” He felt his anger surface. “I have a few choice words I’d like to say to Nancy—like, what in the hell runs through your brain, dragging Megan all over Europe, cavorting with God only knows who?”

  “Dave.” She laid her hand over his. “I’m sure your ex-wife wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the well-being of your daughter. After all, Megan is her child, too.”

  He held his breath, along with more angry words. She was right. Just the thought of Nancy set him on edge. Lifting Dory to his shoulder, he gently burped her. “Sorry—it’s just so damn frustrating. I don’t care that Nancy’s married one of the richest men in France. All I can think about is Megan being hauled around the world, living a life I know she hates. Megan likes to sleep in the same bed every night. She craves security.”

  She leaned back and rested her head against the sofa as she gazed at him. He wondered if that look meant she would be receptive to a kiss. Was she willing to see him as more than a helpful neighbor? Had Brian caused
her to shy away from all men?

  “Life stinks sometimes.” She took a deep breath. “I thought my life was over when it finally dawned on me that Brian was never going to commit to marriage. I had planned for seven years to settle down with him, have a bunch of kids and live happily ever after.” She sighed. “But, if it’s any consolation, things have a way of working out. They did for me, anyway. What is it they say? God closes one door and opens another? Now things are going so well with Fudgeballs that I don’t have time for marriage, children or happily ever after.”

  He admired her outlook on life. Her eyes shone with promise of a brighter tomorrow, and he found himself wishing he had her faith. How he wished… Leaning over, he put his hand to her cheek and started to pull her closer when she whispered, “You’re beeping.”

  “Huh?”

  “That beeping—either it’s my microwave or you’re being summoned.”

  He groaned and reached for the pager on his belt. Glancing at the number, he frowned. “Sorry. It’s Freeman. I need to return his call.” He handed Dory to her.

  “Sure.” She pointed toward the kitchen.

  He found the phone on the kitchen wall. “Sam? Dave Kasada.” He braced himself against the kitchen counter.

  “Dave, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Sweetheart?” Dave held his hand over the phone and called out to Jenny. “It’s Megan!”

  Jenny smiled at him through the open doorway and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Daddy, I miss you.”

  He wanted to crawl into the phone and hug her. It had been weeks since he’d heard her voice. “Hey, Meggie, I’ve missed you, too. Where are you, honey?”

  “On a big boat. That friend of yours, Mr. Freeman? Well, he rowed out here and told Mommy you wanted to talk to me.”

  “I do. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “You have?”

  “I sure have.” He wanted more than this. Now that he had his daughter on the phone and was assured she was safe and sound, he wanted Nancy’s hide. “I miss you—I want you to come stay with me.”

  “I miss you too, Daddy. My new daddy…” Her voice dropped. “He’s cranky sometimes. He says, ‘Megan, go to your stateroom while Mommy and I talk.”’ She sighed. “I have to go to my room all the time, Daddy. I don’t like it. I want to play with Duffer. He lets me fish.”