“We were playing catch,” Walter stated. “Bouncer tired early, but Foxie chased and chased some more. I rolled the ball down the hallway, it bounced off the baseboards, and shot into Law’s bedroom. Foxie ran after it, but never came back. When I went to the room and looked around, I found the ball on the floor near the foot of the bed, but there was no sign of her. I’ve called and called,” Walter stressed. “Not a peep.”
“No one’s come or gone?” asked Law. “Maid or food service?” A cracked door, and the schipperke could’ve slipped out.
“Bouncer left with the dog walker a bit ago. I watched them leave. It was just the two of them. Other than that, it’s been quiet,” Walter assured him.
“Then she has to be here.” Law offered Walter a hand up. Walter stood, his palms red, the knees on his pants wrinkled.
“Let’s start in your bedroom.” Catherine moved down the hall ahead of the men. “Foxie likes to hide.”
“End of the hall, on the left,” Law directed her.
“Sir?” Walter asked. “Are you sure?”
Law understood his question. His penthouse had five bedrooms and whenever he brought a woman home, they made love in a guest room. Catherine May would be the first female to enter his sanctuary.
“We need to find Cat’s dog,” Law assured Walter. “If Foxie was last seen running into my bedroom, we start looking for her there.”
“As you wish,” Walter conceded.
Cat was first to cross the threshold, and she stopped cold. Her eyes went wide, her lips parted, and she breathed, “Oh ... my.”
Law saw the room through her eyes. A masculine Mediterranean space designed to his specifications. The room took him back to the last European vacation he’d spent with his parents. He’d been seven, and they’d stayed at the Athens Grace. His bedroom was done in Grecian décor.
A platform ultra-king-size bed with four columned posts was centered on the far wall. It was topped by a top-of-the-line Swedish mattress. He slept between midnight-blue silk sheets, warmed by a navy suede comforter. His pillows were orthopedic foam for solid head support. He couldn’t afford to wake up with a crick in his neck. Playing second base took a lot of twisting and swiveling.
On restless nights, he wanted food, movies, and music at a finger’s touch. His custom-made headboard arched like a bridge. The base supported a compact refrigerator and the lower drawers held snacks. Discreet lighting ran across the arch. A sixty-inch plasma TV popped up from the footboard.
Two navy leather chairs flanked wide windows that offered a panoramic view of Richmond. Late-afternoon shadows fell over the city, burnishing the sunlight to gold.
Cat took it all in, yet didn’t pause in her purpose. She crouched down, clutched the hem of her dress in one hand, then called for Foxie. Law hit the floor, too, as did Walter.
Bouncer returned from his walk and joined in the hunt. His nose down, he zigzagged across the carpet, trailing Foxie like a bloodhound.
Catherine looked hot crawling on his carpet. Law would’ve suffered rug burn to have sex with the woman. Doggy-style seemed an inappropriate thought.
On all fours near the curtains, Cat twisted around so quickly that her bottom brushed his chin. The urge to bite her ass was strong. Cat blushed so red, Law was afraid her head would explode.
She apologized and rapidly crawled off in the direction of his walk-in closet. The door stood ajar.
“The light switch?” Cat scrambled to her feet, then ran one hand along the inner wall.
“To the right,” said Law.
Anxiety had her accidentally pressing more than one switch. The closet was illuminated as paneled lights shone bright on a revolving clothes rack she’d set in motion. Shirts, suits, and slacks rotated past her.
His Windbreakers flew by, followed by Wonder Woman’s lasso. Law had hung the golden lariat out of sight until he located the heroine. The sight of it seemed to disturb Cat. She’d gone pale on him. Her reaction to the rope was unnatural.
Law came to stand beside her. Bouncer leaned against Law’s thigh. The big dog seldom barked, but today he let out a howl that could be heard at the reception desk of the hotel.
A random glance at his shoe rack caught movement in a leather boot. There was wiggling, fur, and a serious yawn from Foxie as she rolled from the footwear.
Law was the first to grab her, surprising himself that he’d worried over the pup. The schipperke looked up at him with fox-bright eyes before she clamped down on his wrist, gentle this time.
“I’m yours,” he said, and Foxie licked his hand.
Cat reached for the puppy. “I’ll take her now.”
A mother and child reunion, Law thought. Foxie was as much a part of Catherine’s family as Bouncer was his. The boxer often seemed more personable and genuine than many of the people who crossed Law’s path. Fans and groupies saw him as an elite athlete, and they wanted to swing from his star.
Cat moved toward the door, only to slow near an ornate curio cabinet containing family heirlooms and photographs. She studied the foremost picture in a platinum frame.
Law held his breath. The picture captured his parents on their wedding day. A highly personal photo, seen only by Walter and his grandfather. Yet Catherine May viewed it now.
His father looked clean-cut and polished in his black tuxedo. His mother was soft and lovely in a lace wedding gown. A great love shone in their eyes as they embraced each other and a golden future. The photograph was one of Law’s favorites, and one he never shared with anyone. Ever.
Cat shifted her gaze from the photo to Law, her smile tentative. “You have your mother’s hair and eyes and your father’s ... mouth.”
The lady was right. Law favored both sides of the family. Her mention of his mouth hung between them. He hadn’t forgotten their kiss. Apparently neither had she.
The memory seemed to make Cat uneasy. “It’s time for me to head back to the office,” she finally said. “I need to consult with Zen before he leaves for the day.”
Had she not had a meeting, Law would have asked her to dinner. They’d spent the entire day together, yet he hadn’t tired of her company. Unusual for him.
He followed Cat back to the foyer. Walter trailed Law. Bouncer dogged Walter.
“Allow me a second chance to watch Foxie,” Walter implored at the door. “She won’t escape me twice.”