Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)
Devon’s brows rose. “So you did do some homework before coming in.”
“Are you offended?”
“Not at all. I didn’t expect you to take my word for the clinic’s attributes. Chomper’s important to you. That makes you a caring dog owner—something we love to see.” Devon glanced at her watch. “How are you handling today’s logistics? Your uncle’s funeral is at noon. That’s only an hour and a half from now. Did you want to leave Chomper with us?”
“Actually, yes. I’ve already made arrangement at your doggie day care.”
“Good.” Devon nodded. “Chomper will have the time of his life. I’ll make sure he meets my dog, Terror, and my mom’s Brussels griffon, Scamp. They’re both superfriendly.”
“I’m sure.” Blake’s brows had drawn together. “I don’t recall mentioning that the funeral was at noon.”
“You didn’t. James did.”
“James.” Blake’s tone was noncommittal. If the resentment Devon had picked up from James was reciprocated, it was well concealed. “I didn’t realize you and he had spent any time together yesterday.”
“We didn’t.” Devon tested the waters. “He called this morning. We’re having dinner together tonight, before he leaves for Wellington.”
“Ah.” Blake looked more reflective than troubled. “And here I thought I was moving fast. It seems my cousin’s even speedier. Kudos to him.”
Devon folded her arms across her breasts. “Why do I feel like this is the NHL play-offs and I’m the Stanley Cup?”
That elicited a chuckle. “Because, in a way, you are.” Blake surprised her with a bluntly frank reply. “James and I are competitive. We always have been. Two years apart in age, the only Pierson grandsons—it comes with the territory. In this case, it’s also that we both have good taste.”
“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or put off. I’m not into the whole macho rivalry thing. And I don’t want to cause friction between you and James—especially not at a time like this.”
“You won’t.” Blake dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“Why? Because James will be in Wellington where he can’t find out?”
“No, because you’re busy tonight, which is when I was going to ask you out for. Feel free to tell James. I’d do it myself, but a funeral’s not exactly the right time to compare social calendars. If it makes you feel better, I’ll track him down at the office and let him know. If you say yes to my invitation, that is.”
Devon wished she knew what the full agenda here was, where the acting ended and the reality began. She also wished that the thought of having dinner with Blake Pierson wasn’t so damned pleasing.
“Sure. Tomorrow night’s fine.”
“Great. Then I’ll arrange for Chomper to spend the evening here. I’ll pick him up after I take you home.” Blake’s fingers tightened on the leash as Chomper finished off his cookie and scrambled to his feet, ready to start bounding around. “That’s my cue. What’s your address, what time is good, and what kind of food do you like?”
“Fifteen Green Court, seven o’clock, and anything but sushi.” Devon scribbled down a few quick directions. “It’s a contemporary town-house development in northern White Plains. It’s just a mile off the highway, right near the main drag. It’s easy to find.”
“Then I’ll find it.”
BLAKE PULLED OUT of the clinic’s parking lot fifteen minutes later, then glanced at his watch. He had to take a detour through Yonkers, check out the progress at Chomping at the Bit, and make it to the funeral service early. Time was tight.
He snapped his cell phone into the hands-free cradle and punched in his grandfather’s private line.
“It’s done,” he announced.
“Good. Any snags?”
“Just one. James.”
CHAPTER 10
Philip Rhodes shut his office door and straightened his tie for the third time in as many minutes.
New head of security, his ass. Pete Montgomery was here for a lot more than safeguarding the Piersons. He was digging around for a lead in Frederick’s murder.
He was still closeted with James in his office. What the hell were they talking about?