The Billionaire's Matchmaker(61)

“Question is, what do I do now?”

“You’re asking me?” Marney chuckled.

“Of the four of us, you do have the most legal experience.”

“Being married to the sheriff doesn’t make me a legal expert. It’s not like you gain knowledge through osmosis.”

“But you could ask him a hypothetical question.”

“Which he’ll immediately figure out is code for ‘it involves one of my friends’. You forget, he’s met Charlie. Besides, I don’t have to ask him. I can make a decent guess all on my own. You took a valuable purebred dog without permission. I’m pretty sure that counts as larceny. Mr. B. could press charges.”

Groaning, Jenny dropped the bag of dog food by the back door. She leaned back against the frame with her eyes closed, cursing whatever got her in this situation. Why couldn’t Gabby have kept Charlie the entire year like she was supposed to? Why did she and the others have to fall in love?

“From the sound of that groan, you’re worried Mr. B. might,” Marney’s voice said in her ear.

Worried wasn’t a strong enough word. If Bonaparte balked at paying a tiny vet bill—tiny for him anyway—she could only imagine the stink he’d throw over someone taking his property. “I’m screwed.”

“He’s that bad?”

“Did you forget the part where he called me a con artist?”

“Too bad. We’ve spent so much time speculating about him. Shame to think we wasted our time on a jerk. Is he at least as handsome as those pictures we found?”

“Hey! Isn’t it a little early in the marriage to develop a wandering eye?”

“I’m just asking. Is he?”

“I don’t know.” She’d forgotten their Internet search. One night, after a pitcher of tequila, they’d taken their Mr. B. speculation online and searched for images. The ones they found showed an attractive man with a mop of dark curls and deep blue eyes. “I didn’t get a very good look. The room was dark.”

“Dark?”

“Yeah, like really dark,” she said, recalling the drawn curtains and reversed laptop screens.

“Maybe he’s a vampire.”

“Very funny. I’m sure it was some form of intimidation tactic.” For that matter, she bet he used his voice in the same manner. The husky growl had to be put on. No one’s voice actually sounded that way. Gravel-laced yet smooth. Like sandpaper being dragged across silk. She shivered as the memory of the sound wrapped around the base of her spine. Definitely staged. She considered herself an expert on disingenuous voices. After all, she’d fallen for some of Chicago’s best.

“Perhaps you’ll get a better look on the second visit.”

Lost in thought, Jenny almost missed Marney’s comment. “What second visit?” Oh. “Never mind.” Marney meant when she returned Charlie. “He called me a con artist,” she repeated for the third time, pretending her voice did not have a whiny tone.

“I know he did, but I doubt a judge will care when you’re dragged in on larceny charges. I looked it up while we were talking. Theft of property over $500 is larceny, and seeing how Charlie is probably worth—”

“I get your point.” Damn. This wasn’t fair. Charlie was more than property. “What about the fact he owes me money? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Marney paused. “Might change the crime from kidnapping to extortion.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Jenny leaned her head against the crown molding. Much as she hated to admit it, Marney was right. Bonaparte refusing to reimburse her expenses without a genetic test wasn’t illegal—her refusing to return his dog was. What’s more, if word got out about her stealing Bonaparte’s property, she’d have to answer to the superintendent. School boards were pretty sensitive about their teachers having criminal records. Her best was to return Charlie and hope Bonaparte had a sense of humor. “I’ll take Charlie back tonight.”

“Now there’s the sensible school teacher we all know and love. Let me know how things go.”

Jenny already knew how they would go. Awful. Having clicked off the phone, she stood in the kitchen doorway with the receiver pressed against her stomach, hoping to stem the nausea. Just the idea of facing Nicholas Bonaparte jumbled her insides. She didn’t tell Marney, but something about this afternoon’s visit unnerved her. Not in a frightened way, but rather a confused, exposed kind of feeling. In five minutes he’d managed to unlock a side of her that until now, she’d successfully buried. She didn’t like how he pushed her buttons, caused her self-control to slip. If a simple argument could drive her to dognapping, what else might she be driven to do?


If only he’d shown Charlie a little affection. Then she wouldn’t have felt such a kinship for the damn dog.

Kinship or not, nothing was worth losing her job and reputation over. She took a couple deep cleansing breaths to prepare her herself, then opened her eyes. “Come on, Charlie, we might as well get this over with.”

The house was strangely quiet.

“Charlie? Lulu?”

She looked around the kitchen. Nothing but Lulu’s empty dog bed, a pair of empty food dishes, and the new bag of dog food propped next to the back door. The open back door.