One of Those Malibu Nights (12 page)

“ ‘What d’ya mean, get him?’ I said when I called him back. ‘He’s not
my
dog. I just scooped him up off the canyon blacktop, gave him another shot at life.’

“And this is what the vet told me: ‘There’s an old Chinese saying, that if you save a life you are responsible for that soul forever. He’s all yours Mr. Reilly. So come and get him.’”

Mac shook his head, remembering. “So of course I did. And despite his sorry state that dog greeted me as though we had known each other forever. And believe me, now it seems as though we have. I wouldn’t be without him.”

Allie reached for his hand “And tell me, Mac Reilly,” she said, surprising him. “Would you ever be without Sunny?”

Mac took a deep breath. He was looking at one of the most beautiful, the most famous, the most desirable women in the world. Temptation hovered between them, soft as silk.

“I could never be without Sunny,” he said quietly.

Allie sighed. Rejection was not sweet. “I like your honesty,” she said, gathering her bag and her dog. “It’s getting late. I must be on my way.”

He walked with her to her car.

“I asked you to come to Cannes with me,” she said. “You told me ‘maybe.’ Is that ‘maybe’ a promise?”

Mac put his hands on her shoulders.

“A lot depends on your answer,” she said. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her gently on each velvety peach cheek. “Maybe,” he said again.

She turned for the door, then turned back again. “Mac,” she said. “Rich men don’t just go missing, do they?”

He shook his head. “Particularly ones who owe their wives.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought. You will find Ron for me, though?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiled, that heavenly smile that had made moviegoers fall in love with her. “That’s all I can ask,” she said.

As Allie drove away Mac took Pirate and went back into their little house and closed the door. It was sad, Mac thought, that golden opportunities sometimes missed their mark. It just went to show you, timing was everything.

He went out onto the deck, listening to the surge of the tide and thinking about the missing husband, and about the weird letters and the real stalker. He did not like the scenario. Not one bit.

He dialed Lev Orenstein’s number and discussed it with him. “Allie won’t bring the police in,” he said, “so it’s up to us.”

“I’ll keep her covered,” Lev replied, “and keep my eye out for the crazy guy. But the rest is up to you.”

Worried, Mac knew he was right. Now, he had three people anxious to find Ron Perrin. His wife, who wanted a divorce; his mistress, who wanted marriage; and his business partner, who wanted his friend back, and possible absolution in case of any financial misdoings. RP was an interesting man.

Mac’s thoughts returned to Sunny. Hadn’t he said in
front of the love of his life that he might consider going off to the South of France with a world-famous beauty? Just him and her? He was lucky she was still speaking to him. It was late and he didn’t want to call her because of her jet lag. He knew she was probably already sleeping.

He sent her a text message instead. “
HOPE U SLEPT OFF THE JET LAG. MISS U LIKE CRAZY. THE MARINAS NOT AS FAR AS ROME. ANY CHANCE OF U INVITING ME OVER FOR DINNER TOMORROW NIGHT? TAMALES WOULD BE GOOD. AND NO, I’M NOT GOING TO CANNES WITH THE GORGEOUS MOVIE STAR. I WAS JUST BEING POLITE.’ LOVE U, BABE.”

Her Return Message was Waiting for him the next morning.

“MY PLACE. SEVEN O’CLOCK. FORGET THE TAMALES. I CAN COOK OTHER THINGS YOU KNOW.”

Sunny had it all planned. Mac was an old-fashioned guy at heart. And she decided to start with butternut squash soup that tasted like sweet velvet scattered with crumbled almond cookies and cinnamon. No one would guess how easy it was to make. Then his favorite chicken cacciatore, which, like the soup, could be made in advance, so she wouldn’t be racing around the kitchen at the last minute. For dessert, her own personal favorite, a light-as-a-feather lemon cake from Mrs. Gooch’s on Melrose, served with low-fat Dreyer’s chocolate fudge ice cream.

She’d thrown in the low-fat as a concession to her own conscience, though when you were romancing a guy you aimed to please. Plus she had bought a good champagne, Henriot, a lesser-known marc but famous in France, and a
very splurgy bottle of Bordeaux, a Ducru-Beaucaillou that had cost far too much and which practically had to be opened the day before in order for it to breathe.

Anyhow, that was her man-pleaser menu, everything carefully planned, the table beautifully set, in honor of her man, with very masculine graphite-gray table mats, plain square white dishes and streamlined silverware. Not a curl or a flourish in sight. Except for a crystal vase of Sterling roses in that offbeat grayish lilac color.

And she was at her most girlish in a sweet-but-naughty silky little dress in the same color as the roses, spaghetti-strapped and with a touch of lace at the dipping neckline. Towering-heeled sandals—just a sliver of silver—Jimmy Choo of course and four years old but she loved them to pieces.

Her dark hair was brushed loose and arranged to fall sexily over one eye, and she wore her favorite Dior Rouge lipstick—the evening one—and of course, the Mitsouko perfume. The fire (gas logs only, but still effective) sparkled in the grate even though the night was mild. Neil Young was singing “Harvest Moon,” very softly, and votive candles glimmered in the shadows.

For once the place was tidy, because knowing how Mac hated her chaotic housekeeping, Sunny had shoved everything into cupboards and drawers. Of course this meant she wouldn’t be able to find anything for weeks, but tonight would be worth it.

She took a chocolate-covered fig from the refrigerator and bit into it, wondering, at the same time, why she had no self-control when it came to sweet things, when she knew perfectly well that her butt would get bigger by the minute. She sighed, and told herself that after all life was made up of small pleasures. Sweet ones especially. And besides, those figs were heaven.

Looking round, she thought somehow her home didn’t seem to lend itself to tidiness. The Shabby Chic butter-colored linen sofas had permanent dents in them where she sprawled with Tesoro on her lap watching TV, or just catching up on paperwork. The glass desk with the brushed nickel trestle legs, a recent purchase from Williams-Sonoma Home in an attempt to add a little modern chic, was perpetually covered in papers as well as Tesoro’s paw marks. The Santa Fe-style rug her mother had given her didn’t really go with the rest of her things, but its vivid colors reminded her of home, though anyhow it kept skidding across the floor because she’d never gotten around to finding one of those pads to anchor it.

The wooden coffee table in front of the fireplace was one of her flea market finds that she was hoping would turn out to be an authentic antique, and was now covered in assorted vases filled with flowers picked up at Gelson’s supermarket, and made more beautiful with the addition of smooth gray pebbles to hold them in place. Photos lined another wall; of her
abuela
, her family and her friends. But in
the place of honor was a steel-framed photograph of her first Harley and, right next to it, the other love of her youth, her horse, a chestnut filly by the name of Jupiter. Sunny’s heart still filled with emotion when she looked at her. Jupiter had shared her life for fourteen exciting years, and she still missed her. She missed the old Harley too, but for other reasons, mostly because it reminded her of her youth and all the fun she’d had misspending it.

Only the huge many-branched silver candelabra on the coffee table was a genuine antique, given to her by her grandmother. Her sister, Summer, had its twin, and it meant more to Sunny than anything else in her home. She lit the candles now, faintly scented with beeswax and honey, and let the aroma drift slowly through the room.

Books were piled on the shelves that covered the rear wall, but best of all, and the reason she had bought the condo, was the wall of windows facing out onto a perfect view of the marina, a-sparkle with lights. It was where she stood, every evening, watching the sun set and then dusk fall and the lights gradually come on. It was like Christmas Eve every night—though at real Christmastime it was even better, because then the boats were trimmed and decorated and lit like colorful chandeliers. She and Mac would watch the parade go by from her deck, shivering in the December night, hot toddies in hand to stave off the cold.

The place did clean up nicely, though, she thought, glancing round approvingly. And of course the one room
that was always immaculate was her kitchen. She couldn’t abide mess in there. She had to know where everything was: her knives, her spices, her dishes. She was a cook and tonight she would tempt Mac Reilly all over again with her dinner and the sexy dress. He would forget about Allie Ray for a while, though somehow she knew she could not.

Loneliness was the thing that had struck her most about Allie. Yet with all her success, with all the people she knew, and everyone wanting to know her, how could the woman be lonely?

But this was her night, not Allie’s. And if there was ever a setup for seduction, this was it. Sunny shrugged. Hey, a girl could only try, right? She might even have to pop the question herself tonight if Mac didn’t come through.

When Mac walked in her door, though, her heart did triple turns and her knees turned to Jell-O. He was just such a heartbreaker, even though he claimed to be quite ordinary.

“Ordinary” he most certainly was not. She loved his lean, muscular body, she wanted to run her fingers through his dark hair, and when his blue eyes looked deeply into hers, she could swear he saw her soul. And his hands were beautiful, thin and kind of bony, firm when they needed to be, gentle and tender when you wanted it most. “Romantic hands,” she would call them. Yes, definitely “romantic.”

They stood looking at each other for a long minute. Then Sunny stepped into his arms. She breathed in the familiar
scent of his skin, smelled his aftershave, his freshly washed hair, his old cashmere sweater that had a tang of Pirate about it—and now also a hint of another woman’s perfume. Chanel, she thought.

They staggered backward into the living room, still entwined, lips still clinging.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he murmured, sending a thrill through her.

Then she glanced down and saw Tesoro standing next to them, her cute little Chihuahua face upturned.

“Uh-uh,” she said, suddenly apprehensive.

Mac removed his lips from her hair to look. Tesoro bent her head slightly to sniff his shoes. Then, daintily of course, because she was a very well-bred dog, she threw up all over them.

Sunny yelled and Mac groaned, and Tesoro retreated to the sofa, where she propped one leg heavenward and proceeded nonchalantly to lick her more intimate parts.

“That dog is uncivilized,” Mac said as Sunny ran to fetch paper towels. “Pirate would never do anything like that, and he’s just a mutt from the L.A. streets, for God’s sakes. What is it with these aristocrats? They think they don’t need manners?”

“So much for good breeding,” Sunny agreed humbly.

Tesoro had succeeded in bringing the romantic tone of the evening down a notch or two, so Sunny quickly poured the champagne, hoping it might soothe Mac’s ruffled nerves.
It seemed to do the trick and they sat, holding hands and talking about Demarco and the Perrins.

“I’m not sure exactly what Demarco’s role is yet,” Mac said. “If he really is RP’s full partner I’ll bet it was a recent thing. And if a takeover is what they were planning he’ll need his friend Perrin around. So I don’t think he has anything to do with his disappearance. Especially as he’s asked me to find him. As for Allie, I’m not sure she’s happy to be rid of him. Anyhow, now all three of them are looking for RP and it’s up to us to find him.”

Sunny took a sip of champagne, eyeing him over the top of the glass. “You getting paid for all this?”

“Financial arrangements are being made with Demarco. Allie Ray is paying more than generously to have me on call twenty-four/seven, not only to find her missing husband but also to nail the real stalker, who might have become a major threat. As for Marisa, well I guess she just goes along for the ride.”

“Hah!” Sunny sniffed.

“Hah—what?”

“You’ll never get rich.”

He grinned at her. “But just think how I’m enjoying myself.”

Mac changed the subject, admiring the flowers and her dress. He even commented on how neat the place was, then he went onto the terrace and took in the view, while Sunny turned the music up a little and served the soup. As she had
hoped, it knocked his socks off, taste-wise, and they were back on romantic course once again. She smiled happily. She definitely knew the way to a man’s heart.

The special Bordeaux with the main course mellowed Mac even further. Forgetting about dessert, they took their still-full glasses and, with Mac’s arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, wandered into the bedroom, already artfully arranged with piled up pillows and the old-but-good Frette sheets her mom had given her, as well as a soft cashmere throw. Oh all right, she’d admit it, it was only cashmere
blend
. Still she knew it would warm their naked bodies in its soft folds in the event they felt chilled. Not much chance of that though.

The lamps threw soft golden pools of light, the music was to make love by, and her bed—their destiny—awaited.

She allowed Mac to undress her. Not that there was much to take off, but she loved the way he lingered over the important bits. Then he picked her up and lay her on the bed.

They were both being transported to heaven, or at least that part of paradise you can achieve while still on this earth, when she heard a menacing growl. Opening her eyes she was just in time to see Tesoro launch herself at Mac. All claws extended.

Mac’s yell was not the one of passion she had expected. He flung himself upright, cursing the dog, who gave him a contemptuous look then jumped off the bed and stalked out.

Sunny ran to get the Bactine, dabbing it onto the scratch marks that furrowed neatly in four places down his back. He yelled again as it stung.