Foul Play (2 page)

“I probably shouldn't ask such a delicate question, but who are you talking to, and why the devil are you so mad?”

“Myself, and because I've been replaced by a chicken. A seven-pound Rhode Island Red that can cluck ‘The Star-Spangled Banner' and count with its stupid chicken toes.”

“I don't think chickens have toes.”

“Ha!” Amy said. “A lot you know.”

It had been several years since Penn State veterinary school, but Jake was almost certain chickens didn't have toes. Probably not the best time to press the issue, he decided.

The engine finally caught and three loud volleys exploded from the tailpipe. Amy had never been in a car that backfired. She had always equated such mechanical indignities
with human intestinal problems. She slunk into her seat, praying not to be recognized. Life could only get better. This had to be the bottom, didn't it?

Jake exhaled a long sigh of contentment. Everything was working perfectly. Life couldn't get any better. “Where to, my lady?”

“King's Park West. Wheatstone Drive.”

The car chugged out of the parking lot and headed west. “About this chicken…”

“I'd like to feed it to my cat.”

“Not many people are replaced by a chicken.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.”

“Just exactly what sort of job did you have?”

“Lulu the Clown. I hosted a daytime television show for preschoolers on one of the local stations. I sang a little and danced a little and told stories.”

“I've seen that show. My nephew loves it.” Lulu the Clown. Jake got an instant image of the lively young female clown with a bush of curly red hair and long slender legs clad in red-and-white striped
stockings. He remembered her as being sensational, with an obvious affection for her Munchkin audience.

Spot slung his massive head over the back of the front seat and rested his jaw on Amy's shoulder. Amy unconsciously scratched the dog between the ears. “After college I tried teaching first grade, but my principal thought my methods were…unorthodox.”

“Let me guess. Lulu?”

Amy grinned. “Sometimes. Sometimes I'd be Katy Kitten or a medieval princess, or Annie Oakley. I just wanted to make things more interesting. More entertaining. Time can pass very slowly for a seven-year-old who's away from his mom six hours a day.”

Jake wanted to punch out that principal. In fact, Jake was ready to punch out anyone who didn't appreciate Amy.

Good Lord, he silently groaned, how could he be so besotted by someone he'd only known for ten minutes? He made a conscious effort to relax, loosening his white-knuckled grip on the wheel, easing the tension at the base of his neck.

There had been strong feelings for a few other women in his life, but nothing like this. Nothing that hit him so fast and so hard. This was scary. Four hours ago he was in surgery, happily operating on Tommy Hostrup's cat. Four hours ago he'd been contented, well adjusted, a respected member of the community…and now he was sweating bullets because he was afraid he was going to attack the delicious little morsel sitting next to him. If she knew what he was thinking she'd probably jump out the window.

Amy indicated that he should take a right-hand turn, and continued. “Anyway, when the school year came to a close I decided maybe I wasn't destined to teach first grade. I loved working with children, but I needed something with more personal freedom…more action. The idea for a TV show came to me in the middle of the night. I woke up in a sweat, thinking, holy cow, wouldn't it be great to entertain hundreds of kids at a time instead of just twenty-five! So, the next day I got dressed up in my clown suit and marched into the studio.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I still don't believe I had the nerve to do that! I read
The Little Engine That Could
to the station manager. He sat there the whole time, smoking a cigar and looking at me as if I was from outer space. I was into the second round of singing ‘I'm a Little Teapot' when Gilda Szalagy, the Morning Cooker, walked in and announced she was leaving to take a job in Atlanta. They gave me her slot on a trial basis, and I've been Lulu the Clown ever since…until four o'clock today.”

“Didn't you have a contract?”

She shook her head. “Nope. It's a mom-and-pop-type station. We just went day by day. It was always very low key. Very pleasant.”

“Did they say why they were replacing you?”

“Two weeks ago Sam, the station manager, retired. The new station manager said the show needed a fresh face.”

“Yeah, but a fresh beak? Hard to believe a chicken could entertain kids for a whole hour.”

“The chicken comes with a trainer. I
suppose she'll read the stories and sing the songs.”

“And the chicken will do the dancing?”

Amy grinned. “Listen, I've seen the chicken dance—it's pretty good.”

“I bet its legs aren't nearly as nice as yours.”

“Thank you.” It was a funny little compliment, but it made her feel better. Now that the anger was subsiding she was left with an empty sadness. It had been the injustice and the suddenness of the action that had stung her heart. She'd worked hard to entertain and educate her young audience. She felt a responsibility to those children. What would they think when she simply didn't appear tomorrow? How would they know that she loved them…that she hadn't willy-nilly abandoned them?

That rotten new manager hadn't even given her a chance to say good-bye. She couldn't believe he'd even been hired. Who needed to have
the
highest ratings on the air? Amy thought they'd been doing just fine. She felt a tear catch in her lower lashes. “Damn.”

Jake covered her hand with his. “It's okay.”

“I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye. I asked them for one more day. Just one more day, and they said
no.
”

He didn't know how to comfort her. He saw the brightness in her eyes and was scared to death that she was about to burst into tears. He waited a moment. “So now what?”

“I don't know.”

She had rent to pay, car payments, utility bills. Thank goodness, she had a savings account, but that wouldn't last forever.

“If I could find a temporary job to get me through the summer, I could go back to teaching school in September,” she said.

Jake didn't even hesitate. “You're in luck. I could give you a job. I happen to need a receptionist.” He needed a receptionist like a hole in the head, but he'd do anything to be near her. He quickly reviewed his budget and determined he'd be able to pay her a modest salary. The awkward part would be finding work for her in the small, two-man office.

Work for Jacob Elliott? Amy's heart flopped in her chest and her stomach contracted into a knot of anxiety. What an odd reaction, she thought. Why was she so panic-stricken at the thought of working for Jacob Elliott? Because Jacob Elliott was the most incredible male she'd ever met, and there were a whole bunch of warm, tingling sensations occurring in private places throughout her body. If she could tingle like this when she was depressed, what would happen in a day or two when she became her usual cheery self? Those tingles were going to get her into a mess of trouble if she wasn't careful.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost missed her house. “There!” she gasped. “The brick Cape Cod with the tan trim.”

Jake hit the brakes and made a fast turn into the driveway. He squinted at the two-foot-high grass and twelve-foot-tall hedge. Ivy crept over almost every inch of brick, snaking across windows, peeping down the chimney, slithering along drainpipes.
Border shrubs had grown to gigantic proportions.

“You live here?” Jake thought the house looked like it was being eaten alive by its own greenery. The five-foot-high, six-foot-wide spreading juniper that had spread across her front stoop reminded him of Jaws.

“It's a little overgrown.”

Jake bit his lip to keep from laughing. A little overgrown? She could lose a rhinocerous in that lawn.

Amy jumped from the Jeep and balanced a grocery bag on her hip. “I just moved into this house last month. I've been so busy fixing the inside that I just haven't gotten around to the yard.”

She paused at the front door and skeptically surveyed her property. “To tell you the truth, I'm not sure where to begin. I've never had a yard before. And this bush…”

“Jaws?”

Amy giggled. “Yeah. Sometimes I worry it's going to reach out and grab me.”

“Couldn't blame it.”

Amy felt the keys slide through her fingers and land on the cement porch. She'd never heard anyone's voice change so quickly from casual joking to husky intimacy. His comment had been nothing more than a low murmur, deep and dusky, like fine smoky whiskey…or rustling sheets. She realized he was very close. His dark eyes caressed her lips, her throat…Holy Toledo, he was going to kiss her. Her heart frantically pounded in her chest. She took a small step backward—and fell off the small stoop into a blooming forsythia.

Jake couldn't believe his eyes. For a brief moment Amy seemed gobbled up by the yellow bush. Two slim legs frantically waved amidst the leaves and flowers and there was a flash of pink panties. He'd taken a few women by surprise, but he'd never
ever
seen the unabashed terror that Amy had displayed before leaping into the forsythia. Lord, he was a real lady killer. One smoldering look and he had her running for the hills.

He gently lifted her out of the bush and
set her on her feet. Bits of yellow flower and bright green leaves stuck in her hair. The white lace blouse had a small tear in the left sleeve.

Amy fluffed out her skirt as if she were the queen of England. “I got a little nervous,” she explained.

“I noticed.”

“I…um, I thought you were going to kiss me. I always get nervous about the first kiss.”

“Only the first kiss?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. Then let's get the damn thing over with.” He pulled her to him and touched his lips to hers. The kiss deepened, and as they melted together, the world seemed to stand still. Jake released her and took a shaky breath. “Maybe we'd better go inside now.”

Amy blinked at him. She'd known him for less than fifteen minutes, and here he was, kissing her senseless. She really should be mad at him, she thought, but the truth was, she hadn't done anything to discourage the kiss. In fact, she'd been looking forward to it, in a terrified, curious sort of way. She
just hadn't expected the kiss to be so…magical.

“Earth to Amy.”

“Boy, that was some kiss.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes. You're a terrific kisser.” She bent to scoop up the groceries that had spilled and to hide her cheeks till the blush cooled down. Had she really just said that? “This sure has been a strange day.”

She kicked the door open and ushered Jake into the cool interior. “Um, about the job offer. We certainly wouldn't want to go around kissing each other if we were working together. It would be…awkward.”

Jake thought it would be wonderful. He couldn't imagine more ideal working conditions.

He set the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and looked around. It was nice. Light and airy. Beige wall-to-wall carpet in the living room-dining room. Creamy-colored sheers on the front windows. A big comfy-looking couch in sort of a rosy color. The walls were freshly painted eggshell
white. The house had an air of cleanliness and order. It was a peaceful haven—not what he would have expected of Lulu the Clown. And it was very different from his own cramped, messy apartment. He slouched against the counter.

“You've decided to take the receptionist job?”

“It would only be temporary.”

“Of course.”

“And no kisses.”

“Of course.”

Amy didn't know whether she should trust his answers or not. He might have said “of course” but his eyes were sending a message all their own. It didn't matter. She needed the job, and she could handle Jacob Elliott. She would be friendly but professional, pleasant but firm. Everything would be fine.

 

Amy drained her wineglass and dumped the package of ground meat into a large Pyrex bowl. She added an egg, a small amount of grated cheese, bread crumbs, and freshly chopped parsley. She narrowed
her eyes, and her upper lip curled slightly. “Now we have to be brave. We have to mush this stuff together. Are you ready?”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“We gotta wump it a good one.” She wrinkled her nose and plunged her fist into the mixture. “Wump.” She stared glassy-eyed at her target. “Needs something. Ketchup.”

Jake added a dollop of ketchup and returned to his stool in the middle of the kitchen. She was snockered—on one glass of wine. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he wouldn't have believed it.

The raw egg and ketchup squished between Amy's fingers. “Yuck! Lucky for you I have a strong stomach. Not everyone can mix meatballs with their bare hands,” she said, plopping a lump of meatball goo in her hand. She attempted to roll it into a ball, but it stuck to her fingers and went flaccid in her palm. She looked at it in dismay and chewed on her lip. “Can't understand what's the matter. I'm always such a good meat-baller.”

“Maybe we should just pop a couple of those TV dinners into the oven.”

Amy held her hand up. “No need. I'll have everything under control in just a minute. More bread crumbs!” she ordered.

“Um…we're out of bread crumbs.”

Amy paused. “Tell you the truth, I'm not hungry, anyway.” She poured out more wine and leaned against the counter. Jake had four eyes. Funny she hadn't noticed that before. And he was fuzzy. She should bring that to his attention. “Jacob, you're fuzzy…and your mouth is crooked.”

“How about we put some water on for coffee, hmm?”