Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

Chomper’s ears went up. But he didn’t miss a beat. Totally ignoring his owner, he dragged more material into his mouth, made a nice, wet wad, and settled down to chew on it.

“Chomper! I said, drop it!”

This time, the ears barely flickered.

Biting back laughter, Devon gazed from the enthusiastic pup to his irritated owner, who was now squatting down to take a more hands-on approach. “I don’t think he’s listening,” she noted.

“He never does.” The man began trying to physically pry Chomper’s teeth away from Devon’s slacks.

“That’s not going to work,” Devon informed him. “Not in the long run.”

“So I see.” Giving up, Chomper’s owner leaned back on his heels. He tilted back his head and gazed up at her, a corner of his mouth lifting in a rueful grin. “I apologize. We just got in from our walk, and he took off before I could grab him. I’ll gladly pay for any damage to your suit.”

“No problem.” Devon watched the man rise and smooth the front of his navy jacket. He made a pretty devastating package. Over six feet tall, athletic build, Brioni suit—this guy emanated power and charisma. His hair was jet-black, a few strands of which swept his broad forehead, and there was a lionlike quality to his amber eyes that was hard to look away from.

Too tall and powerfully built to be James. Hair color and texture like Cassidy’s.

Must be Blake.

Sure enough, he stuck out his palm and said, “I’m Blake Pierson. This is Chomper, who’s introduced himself the hard way.”

Devon smiled, shaking Blake’s hand. “Devon Montgomery. And don’t worry about Chomper. I’m used to being slobbered on. It’s a daily hazard for me.”

His brows lifted. “You have a manic retriever pup, too?”

“A terrier. Mine steals socks. But that’s not what I meant. I’m a veterinarian.”

“So you deal with guys like Chomper all day.”

“Dogs, cats, birds, ferrets…you name it. That’s probably the reason for my popularity with Chomper. I stopped at the clinic to check on some patients. I’m sure I brought all kinds of interesting animal scents up here with me. And there’s one other reason he could have been drawn to me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of the peanut butter dog biscuits she carried everywhere with her. “May I?”

“Please.” Blake gestured at the floor, where Chomper was still occupied with Devon’s pants. “Especially if it will divert him.”

She squatted down, saying Chomper’s name in a quiet, firm tone until she got his attention. Then she showed him the biscuit. “Not these,” she instructed him, tugging away her pants. “This.” He sniffed at it, caught the enticing scent of peanut butter, and snatched it up. “Good boy,” Devon praised.

The praise was nice. The biscuit was better. Chomper crunched away happily.

“Diversion accomplished,” Devon announced, standing up.

She came face-to-face with a willowy, attractive woman in her mid-thirties, who’d evidently joined them while Devon was dealing with Chomper. Stylish, blond, well put together.

This one didn’t require a guess. Devon had seen her photograph, on the arm of Frederick Pierson, in the newspaper archives Monty had searched.

Louise Chambers. Pierson & Company’s corporate counsel.

“Dr. Montgomery. It’s a pleasure.” The woman held out a manicured hand. “I’m Louise Chambers.”

“Ms. Chambers.” Another handshake. And more head-to-toe scrutiny of Devon. This time it seeme

d to be more personal. Best guess? It was because she was Sally’s daughter and Sally had been dating Frederick. And, from what Devon had gleaned in the social columns, Louise and Frederick had been something of an item this past year and a half.

“Louise is a close family friend,” Blake was saying. “She’s also Pierson & Company’s outstanding general counsel.”

“Put that in my paycheck,” Louise quipped, patting Blake’s arm. She turned back to Devon. “You must be worried sick about your mother.”

“I am.” Devon trod carefully. “Very worried. I’m also very sorry about Mr. Pierson.”

Genuine pain flashed in Louise’s eyes. “We all are.”