The Rocky Road to Romance

Chapter 3

Daisy pulled into the Belle Haven Marina lot, parked the newscar facing the river, and blew out a long sigh of relief. She’d managed to drive the entire loop without having an accident. She’d even given traffic reports.

Now she slouched against the door, angled her legs across the floor, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d been this tense. This morning, on the way to work, she decided. She’d been tense when her car had stalled at the fast-food drive-through and fifteen angry motorists, hungry for their morning coffee and muffins, had piled up behind her. She should have had breakfast at home, but Kevin had eaten all twelve of the pancakes she’d prepared. She made a mental note to stop at the store on the way home from work. She’d also been tense at two in the morning when she woke up in a cold sweat thinking about another evening with Steve Crow, realizing he was coming to visit, and remembering the house was a wreck. The shower-stall door needed the grunge scrubbed away and the living room rug was due for a vacuuming. There were cobwebs on the dining room chandelier, fingerprints on the kitchen cabinets, and if he looked in her oven, she’d die.

So she’d gotten up and cleaned her bathroom, dusted the chandelier, scoured the cabinets, and said the heck with the oven. As far as she was concerned any man who looked in a woman’s oven wasn’t worth snake spit anyway.

Exhausted, she dozed off with her forehead resting on the wheel. She’d slept for only a few minutes when she woke with a start. The car phone was ringing.

“Good morning,” Steve said. “Just calling to see if everything is okay.”

“Yup. Everything is fine.” Not counting the heart arrhythmia she got when she thought about the way he’d kissed her.

“I also wanted to make sure our dinner date was still on for tonight.”

“Of course,” Daisy said. “I’m looking forward to meeting Bob.”

“Uh, right. If you run into any problems on the job, be sure to call me.”

“Thanks, but things are nice and quiet.”

She gave her last report at three-fifty-five while she was en route to the radio station. As she was heading north on the George Washington Parkway back to the station, a D.C. police call for backup came over a scanner. The officer was shouting into his two-way, giving his location. Gunfire rattled in the background. It sounded as if there was a firefight going on in the southwest section of the city in an area well-known for drugs and violence. There was a request for an ambulance. One of the officers on the scene had been shot. More gunfire.

It seemed to Daisy that this was the sort of news a radio station should know about, so she called WZZZ’s editor and told him about the incident, concluding, “I can hear the gunshots coming over the scanner.”

“Where are you?”

“Coming up to the EighteenthStreetBridge.”

“Take the bridge, babe. Go for it.”

“Go for it? What do you mean ‘go for it’?” Daisy asked.

“Go mobile. That’s what you’ve got the tape recorder for. You’ve got the tape recorder, haven’t you?”

“You mean you want me to go to report on this? Don’t you want to send someone else? Someone with more experience?”

“Hell, no. It’d take too long for anyone else to get there.”

Daisy looked overhead, saw the bridge directions flash by, and followed them. “Watch out, Lois Lane,” she said. “Here comes Daisy Adams!”

Fifteen minutes later she was driving down a strange street lined with litter and boarded-up buildings. The scanner was still tuned to D.C. police. The confrontation had quieted down. SWAT teams were at the site and had a lone gunman pinned down in a row house. The gunman held a little girl hostage. It was a standoff.

A large TV news truck blocked off part of the road, and Daisy felt a stab of disappointment. She didn’t have a “scoop.” Then she looked at the equipment in her car and realized she still could beat out the TV crew. She had the ability to broadcast sooner.

Suddenly the scanner came alive again with shouting. The gunman was coming out with the hostage. They were in the doorway of the house. They were on the steps.

Daisy turned the car down the cross street. She didn’t want to miss seeing the gunman. She took the corner and found at least half the road clogged with police cars. They’d kept a lane open for emergency vehicles, and Daisy told herself this was an emergency. She was relieved that she was driving a compact and could squeeze through the narrow corridor of empty roadway. A man darted from between two parked cars. Daisy slammed on the brakes the moment she saw him, but it was too late. She would never forget the look of astonishment on his face just before impact- just before he was deflected off her right front fender.

An instant later the area was swarming with police. Daisy’s car door was opened and she was helped out. The minicam appeared. Medics and police surrounded the man Daisy had hit.

Daisy tried to go to the man, but she was restrained by a cop.

“Is he all right?” she asked. “This is terrible!” She felt the tears gathering behind her eyes.

The man was on his feet, swearing at Daisy. “I’m gonna get you!” he said. “You’re a marked woman. Your life is gone, sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Daisy said. “I didn’t see you…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” the cop told Daisy. “You were going real slow, and there was no way you could have seen him. He ran right into the side of your car. Besides, you’re a hero. He let the little girl go and made a run for it, but we couldn’t get near him what with all these bystanders. We might have lost him if you hadn’t knocked him on his keister.”

“Oh no,” Daisy said. “Are you telling me that man was the gunman?”

The minicam zoomed in on Daisy.

“How does it feel to have captured Barry LeRoy, the Roach?” a woman asked.

“Well, I didn’t exactly capture him,” Daisy said. “I sort of inadvertently ran into him.”

The minicam swung around to record the Roach, handcuffed now, being led to the paddy wagon.

The woman continued the interview. “Are you a police officer?” she asked Daisy, noting the antennae sticking out of her car like porcupine quills.

“No! Goodness. I’m the WZZZ traffic reporter. I was hoping for an interview. I suppose it’s too late for that,” Daisy said, watching the doors clang closed on the police van.

Steve Crow was on his way to the pound to get a dog when he heard the bulletin come over the radio. The Dog Lady of Snore had just run down the Roach, a major dope dealer. Steve made a U-turn and put in a call to the station.

“Who the devil sent her out on an interview?” Steve yelled into his phone.

“I did,” the editor said. “I thought that’s what she was supposed to do. We always use the traffic cars as mobile units.”

“She bakes dog biscuits!” Steve shouted.

“For crying out loud, she gives fashion reports on accident victims.”

“It’s the human interest angle,” the editor said. “People seem to like it.”

Steve slammed the phone into its cradle. He knew people liked it. In fact, he, too, found it pleasant to have the traffic report humanized. What he’d actually been thinking, but didn’t dare say, was that Daisy Adams, despite her cheerful busyness and obvious competency, seemed fragile and vulnerable to him. He wanted to care for her, protect her. He definitely did not want her running around in bad neighborhoods and bagging dope dealers.

He dialed her car phone number and clenched his teeth while he waited. One ring, two rings. “Come on, come on,” he said. When she answered he didn’t bother with hello. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yup. I’m fine.”

“Is it true you ran down Barry LeRoy?”

“Sort of. He kind of bounced off my fender. It was an accident.”

Steve clenched his teeth again and counted to ten. “Okay, where are you now?”

“I’m on my way to the station.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the garage.”

“Do you have Bob?” Daisy asked. “The editor said you went home to get Bob.”

Steve smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Yeah, I have Bob. We’ll both meet you at the garage.”

He made another U-turn. The pound was only a few miles away. He still had time to pick up a dog. It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. A dog was man’s best friend. They could go jogging together. And Bob would be waiting for him when he came home each evening. Coming home to an empty house had gotten old lately. This was going to work out fine. In fact, he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought to get a dog sooner.

Five minutes later Steve followed a young woman in a blue kennel coat down the rows of cages, checking out the dogs. Small mutt with perky ears; greyhound rescued from a lab; mixed breed with a litter of puppies; fox terrier… and Bob. Steve knew him the moment he laid eyes on him. Bob was a gray-and-white sheepdog. Steve knew he’d be a great pet because he looked just like the nursemaid dog in Peter Pan. He was almost as wide as he was tall. He looked like a big box with hair.

“That’s him,” Steve said. “That’s my dog.”

“He’s just a puppy,” the girl said. “He’ll be a year old next week.”

“Perfect. Wrap him up.” Steve looked at his watch. “I’m running a little late.”

The girl opened the cage door and put a collar around the dog. She clicked on a leash and handed it to Steve. “There are a few forms to fill out.”

The dog bounded from his cage, put his two front paws on Steve’s chest, and barked.

Steve grinned at him. “He likes me,” he told the kennel attendant.

He had his first doubts about Bob when he opened the car door for him and the dog barely fit through. He had more serious doubts when he slid behind the wheel and couldn’t find the gearshift under Bob’s tail. Bob began to pant in the close quarters. A glob of drool plopped onto Steve’s shoulder. The windows fogged. Steve opened the sun roof and Bob tipped his nose up for fresh air.

“This isn’t going to work,” Steve said. “The car is too small.”

He pushed against Bob, trying to get to the cell phone plugged into the consul, but Bob was sitting on it. In truth, he had no place else to sit.

“Okay,” Steve said, “just hang in there. I’m going to fix this. We have to make the best of it for a few miles.” He turned the air-conditioning on full blast and opened the windows, deciding Bob needed a few lessons in personal hygiene.

Ten minutes later Steve and Bob were in a new-car showroom looking at SUVs. “What about this one?” Steve said to Bob. “You like red?”

Bob wagged his tail.

“I’ll take it,” Steve said to the salesman. “I want to trade in that black car in the parking lot. The one with dog drool on the windshield.”

The salesman blinked at the car. “You can’t trade that in. It’s worth at least fifty thousand dollars more than the car you’re buying!”

He was right, Steve realized. The car was almost new. “Okay,” he said, taking out his checkbook. “I’ll pay cash for the Explorer. I’ll leave the black car here and pick it up later… maybe tomorrow.”

He called Daisy while the salesman was completing the paperwork. “I’m going to be a little late,” he said. “Do you mind waiting for me?”

Daisy thought about her schedule. It didn’t include waiting-around time. Then she thought about Steve Crow and his terrific mouth and warm hands and cute butt.

“Okay,” Daisy said. “I’ll wait, I just got here myself.”

“I’m only around the corner. I’ll be there in half an hour tops.”

Steve drove out of the showroom humming happily. This was much better. They’d put the backseat down, and Bob had lots of room to stretch out. He didn’t smell any better, but he’d stopped panting and drooling. And this wasn’t a woman-catcher car, Steve thought. He wouldn’t have to worry about finding panties on his antenna.

His heart beat a little faster when he saw Daisy. She was wearing a black tank top and a white linen skirt that stopped an inch above her knees. “That’s her,” he said to Bob. “That’s Daisy. What do you think? Great legs, huh?”

Bob started panting again.

Steve patted him on top of his head. “I know just how you feel,” he said to Bob. “I feel like panting, too, but you have to learn to control these body functions. Take my word for it, women don’t usually like to be drooled on.” He parked the car next to Daisy and went around to open the door for Bob.

Bob jumped out, happily lunged at Daisy, and pinned her to the WZZZ car, his paws planted on her chest.

Steve studied Bob’s technique and wondered if it’d work for him. Bob even received a hug. Steve pulled the dog off Daisy and encouraged him to sit down. “He’s a tad low on manners,” Steve explained. “He’s a puppy. He hasn’t been to obedience school yet.”

Bob’s mouth fell open, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“I don’t think he likes the idea of obedience school,” Daisy said, fondling Bob’s droopy ears.

“Sure he does. Only the other day he was telling me how he wanted a chance to do some socializing.”

Bob looked at Steve with his head cocked and his eyes narrowed.

“Jeez,” Daisy said, “if I could put that look into words, I’d probably be embarrassed to say them.”

Steve thought he was beginning to understand why Bob had been left at the pound. “He needs food. You know how it is with youngsters, if you don’t keep feeding them, they get cranky.” He leveled a look at Bob that implied neutering might follow obedience school. The warning wasn’t necessary. At the mention of the word food Bob snapped to attention. His mouth tipped up into a smile. His tail thumped the cement floor. His eyes brightened.

“I have just the thing,” Daisy said. “A nice nutritious stir-fry dinner.”

“We’ll follow you home,” Steve said. “I want to make sure nothing else happens to you today.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Until today I had an impeccable driving record.”

“Humor me.”

Steve and Bob got back into the Explorer and waited for Daisy. A moment later she drove by and waved to them. The car was yellow and maroon, or at least might have been yellow and maroon when it was new. Steve could barely see for the exhaust. New had been a lot of years ago. Valves clattered, the fan belt squealed, the muffler rattled, and the beast left a trail of oil that reminded Steve of Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.

Forty-five minutes later Daisy had a mound of food on her chopping block and was waiting for her electric wok to heat up. “It’s my mom’s,” she said to Steve. “She sent over a box full of pots and pans, hoping Kevin wouldn’t starve to death before they returned from Texas.”

Kevin was forlornly staring into an empty bag of chips. “Bob ate all my chips.”

“He’s a puppy,” Steve said, throwing a black look at Bob.

Daisy added oil to the wok. “I hope he hasn’t ruined his appetite.”

Kevin looked at Bob sprawled across the kitchen floor. “I don’t think this house is big enough for the two of us. He’s a nice dog, Steve, but he’s moving in on my territory.”

Steve could appreciate Kevin’s point of view. Bob was getting more than his share of attention from Daisy. He was getting hugs and kisses and tasty morsels of food. When they got home tonight, Steve was going to have a long talk with Bob. He was going to tell him about hogging the chips and moving in on a budding relationship.

Daisy dumped the meat and vegetables into the wok and stirred.

Bob was on his feet beside her. His tail was swishing back and forth, his ears were perked up, his mouth was open in joyous expectation.

“He sure gets excited about food,” Daisy said.

“So do I,” Kevin told her. “I get excited about food. Doesn’t anyone want to feed me?”

“We’re going out to eat,” Steve said. “I was supposed to bring the people food, but things got sort of hectic, and I didn’t get a chance to shop.”

Daisy scooped the stir-fry into a heavy ceramic bowl, blew on it, and when it was cool, she said to Bob, “Bon appétit.” She set the bowl on the floor.

Bob made a few loud grunting, slurping, snorting noises, and the food was gone. He sat back and studied the bowl, as if more food might suddenly appear. He had a slim scrap of sautéed pepper stuck in his chin whiskers. Steve thought Kevin looked like he was thinking about eating it, but Bob sniffed, located the pepper slice with his tongue, and swallowed it before Kevin had a chance to snatch it away.

Daisy still had the fork in her hand. “I thought you said this dog was finicky.”

“Probably he draws the line at table legs,” Kevin said.

Steve picked the bowl up off the floor. It was licked so clean it looked like it had just come out of the dishwasher. “I guess my food isn’t as good as your food.”

Daisy smiled. “This is one recipe that will definitely get included in my next book.”

Steve put a friendly arm around Daisy. “Now for my part of the bargain. I’m going to take you guys to a first-class restaurant.”

“Excellent,” Kevin said, already at the door. “Do I get to ride in the car from hell?”

“Afraid not. I don’t have the car from hell today. Today I have the Ford SUV,” Steve said.

“That’s okay,” Kevin said. “SUVs are cool.”

Daisy slung her purse over her shoulder. “What’ll we do about Bob?”

The question took Steve by surprise. He wasn’t used to worrying about dogs. “Could we leave him in your backyard?”

“Fang ate a hole through my privacy fence. Bob would be able to escape. I suppose we could leave him in the house, though.”

“You be a good dog,” Steve told Bob. “Don’t do anything rude in the house, and I’ll take you for a walk when we come back.”

Daisy closed and locked the door and was halfway to the car when an unearthly sound stopped her in her tracks. “My Lord, what is that?”

Everyone listened. The pitch rose. Bob was howling for all he was worth.

“He’s lonely,” Daisy said, returning to the house. “We’ll have to take him with us.” She unlocked the door and snapped Bob’s leash on his choke collar. “We can go to one of those fast-food drive-throughs. Then we won’t have to leave Bob home alone.”

Bob galloped to the car and jumped onto the backseat beside Kevin.

When everyone ordered at the drive-through, Bob got two burgers and a vanilla shake. He was vastly subdued on the way home, and by the time Daisy and Steve had cleaned the kitchen and were ready to settle themselves in front of the TV to hear the eleven o’clock news, Bob was sound asleep on the couch.

Steve liked Bob a lot when he was sleeping. Not only was Bob adorable, but he was also taking up most of the couch, making it necessary for everyone else to sit pressed together, squeezed into the remaining few inches. Since Kevin had gone to his room to avoid drying dishes, the squeezing was left to Steve and Daisy. Steve sat down and waited for Daisy to sit beside him.

She stood with hands on hips, surveying the space left available to her. All right! This was her chance to snuggle next to Steve Crow. She felt giddy with anticipation, but she didn’t want to seem too eager, so she pretended there wasn’t enough room for her. “Your dog is a couch hog.” God bless him.

“I could move him,” Steve offered. He didn’t mean it, of course. He wouldn’t move that dog if the house was on fire. Good old Bob had finally done something right.

“He looks so comfy.”

As if on cue Bob rolled over, feet in the air, looking twice as comfy as before.

“That settles it,” Daisy said, wedging herself next to Steve. “He’s really a sweetie-pie.”

Steve put his arm around her, and everywhere their bodies met he felt warmth. It crept through his shirt and the fabric of his gray slacks and heated his blood. He realized it had been a long time since he’d been this easily aroused. Probably not since ninth grade when he’d felt a girl’s breast for the first time. Mary Lou Resnick, he thought fondly. He could still remember the look in her eyes. At the time he’d thought it was unbridled passion; now he recognized it as pure terror.

Daisy was experiencing a lot of both. The touch of his hand at her shoulder sent a shock of desire. The intensity of the desire prompted a wave of apprehension. If she had any sense, she’d be sitting in the club chair on the other side of the room, she thought. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to respond by tearing his clothes off and embarrassing herself. She turned toward him and heard him suck in his breath when her breast flattened against the wall of his chest. “Oops,” she said, “maybe we’re sitting too close.”

His answer was a kiss that made her toes curl.

As far as he was concerned they weren’t nearly close enough. He kissed her again and wondered what it was about this woman that had him constantly wanting. Just the thought of her drove all logic from his mind. He’d adopted a dog because of her! He’d bought a new car. Since she’d walked into his office yesterday, he’d instantly turned into a scheming juvenile. Must be a midlife crisis, he decided, although thirty-two seemed a little young. He felt her move against him, and thought was pushed aside.

They would never have heard Kevin if it hadn’t been for his size-fourteen feet. He thundered down the stairs with the speed he usually reserved for locating a refrigerator. “Hey, you guys, do you have the TV on? Daisy made the news!”

Daisy sat up and blinked, embarrassed. She’d forgotten about Kevin being in the house. She made a fast check of her clothes and was relieved to find them all in order. “What do you mean, I made the news?”

“Look,” Kevin said, sitting in front of the television, “it’s you!”

The camera focused on Daisy being interviewed by the woman reporter, then panned to the gunman, swearing and threatening to get even.

Steve was stunned. “He threatened you!”

“He got excited. He didn’t mean it,” Daisy said.

“How do you know? How can you be sure?”

“For goodness sake, he doesn’t even know me.”

“He does now,” Steve said. “You’ve just been on national television.”

“He’s been arrested,” Daisy insisted. “He’s locked up. He couldn’t hurt me even if he wanted to.”

“That guy is one of the biggest dope dealers in Washington. He was out on bail before you even arrived home tonight. And he has friends. Lots of ugly friends.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ll be especially careful if I see any ugly people who look like dope dealers.”

“Damn right you’ll be careful. You’ll stay here in this house until that guy comes to trial. I’ll hire a bodyguard, I’ll buy an attack dog, I’ll install an alarm system.”

Daisy put her hand to his forehead. The kiss had gotten pretty hot, but she didn’t think it was enough to make him delirious. “Maybe you need some fresh air.”

“I don’t need fresh air. I need peace of mind. I’m not going to have you cruising the city in the newscar when some maniacal dope dealer is out to get you.”

Daisy narrowed her eyes at him. “Exactly what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re fired. You’re grounded. You’re confined to quarters.”

“You can’t do that to me! I need the money, and I like the job. I was beginning to get good at it.”

“I’ll give you the money. I’ll pay you to stay home.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Kevin said. “Take the money.”