Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [52]
She believed.
Paul’s head buzzed as he shook hands all around. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as good as he felt right then. Everyone seemed genuinely glad he was aboard. He was going to like working there, doing something he loved. Finally. It was his day. A day he thought would never arrive, but it had. Thanks to a mugging in Central Park.
Another round of good-byes, and then Jack literally pushed him out the door. “I’m taking you home, buddy, and you’re going to chug down a pot of coffee before you meet the lady with the big feet. You don’t want her bouncing you out on your ear. Besides, you said the private dick was coming by at five. It’s almost five now. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Where do you think I should take Josie for dinner?”
“I think, if I were you, I’d try to coax her into cooking something for you. Stay in, cuddle on the couch, and don’t drink any more. You like this little gal, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Paul said smartly.
“You don’t have a good track record with women. Do you want some advice?”
“No, I do not want any advice. I can handle my own love life. You haven’t done that well yourself.”
“That’s true,” Jack said amiably. “You, on the other hand, are a different story. You just love ’em and leave ’em.”
“That’s also true, but I’ve been in no position to get serious about anyone. My life has been at odds, and I could never subject a woman to something like that. It wouldn’t have been fair. Now that I’ve shed my shackles, I’m free to pursue a relationship.”
“Are you going to go to see your mother?”
“Eventually. I really don’t want to talk about that right now, Jack.”
“By the way, Paul, you can take Zip to the office with you if you want. He’ll make a good mascot. There will be no end of people to walk and play with him. We run a loose ship. It’s something to think about. Okay, we’re home. Do you want me to come in and make you that pot of coffee?”
The look Paul shot at his friend was so withering, Jack flinched. “I think I’m capable of making my own coffee and drinking it, too. Thanks, buddy. Pick up your lady and have a great time. I’ll see you when you get back. Were you serious about me taking Zip to the office?”
“Yep. I love that big hound. See ya, buddy.”
Paul unlocked the door and walked into his house, aware of the thundering silence. He looked around at the perfection the decorator had created as though seeing it for the first time. He threw his tie on one chair, his jacket on another. He stood back, took a basketball stance and pitched his briefcase in the general direction of the couch. It landed on the hearth. He threw back his head and howled with laughter. The garment bag and carry-on bag were shoved to the middle of an exquisite Oriental rug. He laughed again when the rolled-up newspaper worked loose from the flap on the carry-on bag and toppled to the floor. He gave it a kick and watched the paper spread in all directions. All he needed was for Zip to be there to poop on the paper.
He walked from room to room, wondering why his house still smelled like paint and wallpaper paste. He hated the smell almost as much as he hated the smell of a new car. He made his way to the back of the house, stopping in the kitchen to grab a chicken leg and a hunk of cheese. He backed up, filled the coffeepot, poured water, swung the basket to the left, and listened to the machine grind the beans. When it swung back into place he moved on to the room he shared with Zip. Not that Zip was confined to that one particular room. He had the run of the house but seemed to like the glassed-in room the best. He could see outside and fantasize about catching the squirrels