her mightiness, too.”
“My wife doesn’t wish to see her.”
“Hey, Michael!” There was a holler from the street, and Michael turned to see Lana heading toward him, with baby Greg bundled in a cocoon at her breast.
“What are you doing home? What’s wrong?” she called, anxiety in her voice. “Is there something the matter with Jenny?”
“Jenny’s fine.”
“I’ve got the day off from the store and just came to take her shopping.” She walked up the street toward them, making a careful assessment of the callers. “Is she busy?”
“She’s entertaining guests,” Michael said, then sighed one last time and stood aside. Why fight what was starting to look like an avalanche? “Jen, we’re coming in,” he called toward the kitchen. “For Pete’s sake, hang on to Socks!”
SOCKS WAS NOT amused. The dog allowed Michael in, even giving a perfunctory wag of his tail. He figured instinctively that Lana and the baby were friends. But when he saw the Suits, his hair stood straight up again, and when Gloria and her thugs marched in, his control broke. He snarled and launched himself forward.
Jenny held on for all she was worth, but Socks had strengths she didn’t know about. She stumbled against something-probably Lana’s foot-and would have fallen except for Michael. He caught her, and then whirled to catch Socks before the mutt went for Gloria’s jugular.
And then there was silence.
The silence went on and on, the only sound the low growl of Socks as he strained against Michael’s grip. Whatever canine instinct was working here, it was working well. These people wished Jenny ill, and Socks wanted them out of here.
“I agree,” Michael said at last, as the second of the thugs came in and edged cautiously around the table out of the dog’s range. “I don’t like them any more than you do, boy, but we have no choice but to talk to them. Now sit.”
And to everybody’s amazement, Socks sat. He looked resignedly at Michael as if to say, “Okay, I’m sitting. But one word from you and I’ll have these guys on toast.”
Jenny couldn’t see. Her face was against Michael’s chest, and she was burning with embarrassment. Michael grimaced, then lightly touched her tousled curls with his lips and turned her to face the assembled company. She made a desperate struggle to stay exactly where she was and then gave up. She stood there, facing Gloria in pajamas…facing the world in pajamas!
They were all looking at her. Megan was watching with kindly approval. Lana was staring with stunned surprise and the beginnings of laughter. The Suits were staring as if she was some sort of peculiar specimen, the thugs were watching with veiled menace, and Gloria was glaring at her with loathing.
And the waist of her pajamas was slipping down!
Before she could do anything, Michael’s arms came around her, and one of his hands slipped to the side and her pajama bottoms rose miraculously to their rightful position. She practically sagged with relief. She
“You’re my wife and I’m proud of you,” he whispered into her ear, and her blush started all over again. “Remember that.” And then he turned to face the company.
“Now.”
Michael’s gaze took in the assembled company. “Who do we have here? Lana, you’re here to take my wife shopping. Very nice. She needs something a little more fashionable in the nightwear line, and I’m counting on you to help out. Aunt Megan, you’re here to get to know my gorgeous Jenny. I know you approve.”
His gaze moved to the immigration officials. “And you two gentlemen. What are you here for?”
“To satisfy ourselves that this woman is living as your wife,” the older Suit said.
“And are you satisfied? I told your colleague last night that my wife was exhausted. She slept late this morning and she can hardly look more domestic than she does now. Or are you saying I telephoned her when I heard your knock, she grabbed a cab and rushed across town and arrived here to greet you?”
“I think we’re satisfied now, sir,” he said, but the younger man stopped him.
“If I may…”
“What is it, Charles?” his partner asked, and Charles gave a self-conscious grin.
“The old lady says this marriage is a sham and she wants us to prove it. You want proof this lady lives here? Use the dog.”
“The dog?”
“It’s obviously Lord’s dog,” Charles said patiently. He addressed himself to Jenny. “Okay. The dog’s clearly vicious. Your husband’s told it to sit. I want you to grab the mutt from behind and haul it backward away from him.” He raised his brows. “There’s not many dogs that’ll tolerate that-except from an owner. So will you do it? Unless you’re afraid, of course. If you’re the least bit unsure, then don’t even try.”
“This is ridiculous,” Megan said, startled, but Michael was grinning. He’d seen what Jenny could do with Socks last night. They’d bonded like two soul mates.
“I don’t want to,” Jenny said with dignity. “It’s not fair to Socks to tease him like that.”
But Michael propelled her forward.
“Just do it, Jen. Then never again. Let them all see that Socks is yours as much as he is mine.” He grinned.
She didn’t grin back.
Her humiliation level somewhere above her eyebrows, she stalked around to stand behind Socks. Socks was still sitting, as ordered, gazing at Michael with love. His dopey face was a huge question mark.
“It’s just me, Socks,” Jenny said, then grabbed his skinny frame around the middle and hauled him backward. “Sorry I have to do this!”
As an attack dog, Socks was definitely a failure. His rump slid easily across the polished tiles, and he gazed around in surprise to see who was doing the hauling. When he realized it was Jenny, he wriggled all over with delight and gave her a long, slurpy lick. Then he went back to glaring at the thugs.
“Sit,” Jenny said as she wiped a hand over her damp face. “Sit!” She stared helplessly at Michael. “He might let me do anything to him but he won’t sit for me.”
“He knows who’s boss,” Michael said smugly, crossing the room to pat Socks and then hold his wife hard against him again. He turned to the officials. “Satisfied?”
“Perfectly, sir,” Charles said, and beamed. He turned to his boss. “This lady knows this dog, sir.”
“It’s not totally conclusive,” the older man said, though clearly it was convincing enough for him. “There’s a written interview we’d like you both to complete.”
“Not now,” Michael said. “My wife’s been through enough. I do not want my son born prematurely.”
There was a hiss from Gloria. “Your
“Yes, ma’am, my son,” Michael said blandly, meeting her look. “We had him checked out so we knew what color to paint his bedroom. We’re hoping he’ll have red hair, just like his daddy.”
“He’s not your son.” Gloria almost spat the words. “He’s my…”
“Yes?” Michael raised his eyebrows.
“He’s my grandson. My heir!” It was practically a wail, and despite himself, Michael softened. There was a touch of desperation there.
“Then I suggest you get yourself on decent terms with my wife,” he said softly. “We have no objections to our son meeting you and getting to know you as he gets older-as long as you realize that we’re his parents.”
“You’re not his parents.”
“You’re saying my wife is not his mother?”
“I-” Gloria was almost speechless with rage.
“Yes?” He smiled at her, waiting for her to go on, and of course she couldn’t.
“You’ll regret this,” she said, and whirled to leave, but Jenny rushed over to her, placing a hand on her beautifully jacketed arm.
“Gloria…”
The woman whirled to face her, and she looked at Jenny’s hand as if it was infectious.
