Tooth And Nailed Part 1

Tooth and Nailed.

Hannah Murray.

Acknowledgement.

My family and friends put up with me while I was writing this and never once told me to stop whining, so I thank them profusely for thata"especially Shannon and Amy, to whom I whined the most. And thanks also to my dog, who gave up way too many evening walks so mommy could write.

Trademarks Acknowledgement.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Ambien: Sanofi-Aventis Corporation France Avon: Avon Products, Inc.

Buffy: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation Buick: General Motors Corporation Gap: Gap (Apparel) Inc.

Girl Scout: Girl Scouts of the United States of America G.o.diva: G.o.diva Brands, Inc.

Guinness: Guinness Ireland Group Company Harp: Guinness Ireland Group Company Harry Potter: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

Hooters: HI Limited Partnership Hooters Enterprises L.L.C.

Mercedes: DaimlerChrysler AG Corporation Fed Rep Germany Netflix: Netflix, Inc.

New York Times: The New York Times Company Red Cross: American National Red Cross, The Federally Chartered Corporation Red Hot Chili Peppers: Red Hot Chili Peppers Anthony Kiedis, Chad Smith and John Frusciante (all U.S. citizens) and Michael Balzary (Australian citizen) Partnership California Rice Krispies: Kellogg North America Company Tiffany: Tiffany (NY) Inc.

Triple A: American Automobile a.s.sociation, Inc.

Valium: Hoffmann-La Roche Inc.

v.i.a.g.r.a: Pfizer Inc.

Volvo: Volvo Trademark Holding AB Corporation Sweden Wizard Of Oz: Turner Entertainment Co.

Xanax: Upjohn Company, The.

Chapter One.

"What an absolutely s.h.i.tty day." Rowan Evans punctuated the muttered words by slamming the front door and walking straight into the living room to fall facedown onto the couch.

From over her head she heard Marvin ask, "Darling, what's wrong?"

Marvin's presence in the house didn't startle her. As her next-door neighbor and best friend, he had a key and often popped over to use her restaurant-grade oven when he was getting ready to entertain. He often lamented that if he'd just started looking for a house a week earlier, he'd have snapped up her cozy little bungalow with the gourmet kitchen. As it was, she'd put in her bid a week before him and snagged the house with the industrial kitchen she never used. He was slightly mollified by the fact his house had a pool and since Rowan was always willing to let him use the kitchen of his dreams, he got the best of both houses. It was a good systema"her very expensive oven got some use and she didn't have to order takeout. And from the scents wafting into the room, he was working on Italian night.

She didn't bother to pick her head up but spoke directly into the scarred leather cushion. "My car had a flat tire and I broke three nails changing it."

"Sweetie, why don't you call Triple A for these things? I swear, ever since you took that auto repair course you have delusions of capability."

She twisted her head enough to scowl at him. "I resent that," she mumbled then her head came up in a rush. "What do you have on?"

Marvin grinned. "You like it? It's for Halloween." He twirled in a circle, making the full Fifties-style, red-and-white-polka-dotted skirt billow out around his hairy, muscular legs. Size fourteen pumps in a blazing white encased his bony feet and the whole thing was topped off by a frilly ap.r.o.n in Avon red.

"Fifties theme this year?" she guessed.

He nodded, his artfully arranged dark hair falling over his perfectly groomed brow. "I'm going as Donna Reed and Harry's going to be June Cleaver."

"Cute," she said, "but Halloween isn't for a month. Why are you wearing it now?"

"If I'm going to be Donna, I have to see how it feels to cook in this getup."

"Right. Method drag," she said, and dropped her face back into the couch cushion.

"Sweetie, you're going to smother in all that leather." She could hear the wince in his voice and knew without looking he was once again shaking his head at her choice of living-room furniture.

"Darling, when are you going to get rid of this Italian monstrosity?"

Right on cue. "It's a good couch, Marvin," she mumbled, trying not to drool on the upholstery. "It's functional. I'm not getting rid of it just because it's ugly."

"Darling, you should always, always, get rid of both furniture and men when the best thing you can say about either is that they're functional."

It was an old argument and inexplicably cheered Rowan up. She turned her face to the side to grin at him. "That's what you say about shoes."

Marvin waved an elegant, manicured hand. "It's good for everythinga"shoes, men, furniturea" He frowned. "And it's good for those slacks. What is thata"tweed?"

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Bite me, they were on sale."

Marvin was fingering the hem. "Oh Gawd, it's like plastic corduroy. Girlfriend, spend some money on a natural fiber, would you please?"

Rowan grinned and sniffed the air. "I think your sauce is burning, Mary."

"s.h.i.t!"

Rowan giggled as he clomped into the kitchen in those ridiculous heels. She heard pots clattering and low murmuring as he talked to the sauce. He always said communicating with the tomatoes and the spices was the secret to great homemade red sauce. Which was why she got her sauce out of a jar with Paul Newman's face on ita"it didn't require conversation.

She boosted herself more fully onto the sofa, letting her shoes fall to the floor and curling up fetal style with a sigh. She closed her eyes and was already floating off when Marvin came back in. She felt him sit at the end of the couch and lift her feet into his lap.

"Rough day?"

"You have no idea," she muttered then groaned out loud as he began kneading her toes. "G.o.d, that feels amazing."

"You get five minutes and then I have to take the bread out of the oven and finish the sauce."

"I'll take it," she sighed.

"So what happened today besides the flat tire?" he asked.

She laughed without opening her eyes. "What didn't happen? It's like every kid in the room was on speed today. They were just relentless. I wasn't a teacher, I was a referee."

"Sounds pretty par for the course to me," he said. "They're kindergarteners, after all."

"No, this was different. Oh right there on the side, that's perfect," she said as his fingers began kneading her calf.

"I don't see how you work with other people's children all day," Marvin said, and she opened her eyes to see him shaking his head.

"I like the kids," she said, letting her eyes drift closed again. "I like teaching them and helping them discover the kind of people they want to be. I just don't want to have any of my own."

"You'd be a great mom," Marvin protested.

Rowan snorted. "Marvin, you're more maternal than I am."

"This is true."

"I'm happy to have them for a year when they're five or six, help them get started then shuffle them off to first grade. I have a short attention span so that works."

"Short is an understatement. I remember when I tried to teach you how to make paella. You fell asleep before we got to browning the sausage."

"Well, who makes paella with sausage instead of shrimp? It's just not dignified."

"Listen, doll, when you use that stove in there for something more complicated than Rice Krispies treats, then you can talk to me about dignified food. And speaking of, my meal is calling me." He gave her foot a final pat and stood then paused to look down at her.

"Sweetie, you really ought to go clean up. You look like something died on you."

"That's very comforting. Thank you, Marvin."

"Hey, if you want comfort, call a shrink. Me, I tell it like it is."

Rowan grinned at him. "And I love you for it." She curled back up on the couch, closing her eyes. "What's the occasion, anyway? You usually say Italian takes too much time to do it right."

Marvin's voice traveled from the kitchen where, from the scent in the air, he was no doubt taking the garlic bread from the oven. "Michael's coming over."

"Ah. What is this, date number three?"

"Four, actually. I was going to cook for him last weekend but he had that thing in San Jose with his mother so we went out for lunch before he had to catch a plane."

"Slept with him yet?" Rowan grinned at his gasp as he clomped back into the living room.

"That is such a personal question."

She chuckled without opening her eyes. "So, that's a no then?"

"That's a no," he said, the huff in his voice coming through loud and clear. "I'm not sure he's interested."

Rowan opened her eyes at that, frowning. "It's your fourth date. He must be interested in something."

Marvin fluffed his ap.r.o.n. "Well, I thought so. But when I suggested lunch in bed last weekend instead of lunch at the deli, he turned me down."

Rowan shrugged. "Maybe he's one of those guys who needs to be in a committed relationship to have s.e.x."

Marvin shot her a look. "Darling, that would mean he's straight and a woman."

She laughed. "Well, if Italian night doesn't do it, you can be sure he's not interested. h.e.l.l, from the smell of that sauce, I'd f.u.c.k you after eating it."

Marvin rolled his eyes. "That's a big surprise." He started to say something else but the sound of a car pulling into the driveway their two houses shared had him cursing instead. "Oh please don't let him be early," he wailed, and ran as fast as his pumps would let him to the front window.

When he turned back to her with a raised eyebrow, Rowan sat up. "What?" she asked warily. "That is not a good face."

Marvin cleared his throat. "Brace yourself, darling. Tall, Blond and Delicious is here."

Rowan felt a wave of dread wash over her. "You're kidding. He was supposed to be in Europe for another week! Please tell me you're kidding!"

"Fraid not." Marvin turned back to the window. "He's climbing out of that p.e.n.i.s on wheels as we speak."

"p.e.n.i.s on wheels" was Marvin-speak for flashy sports car that served no purpose other than as a declaration of the owner's manhood, and Rowan found herself chuckling at the mental notion of her father's security chief driving around L.A. in a big p.e.n.i.s. However, her laughter died in a rush of panic when she heard the steady fall of booted feet across her front porch.

"Tell him I'm not here," she whispered fiercely to Marvin, and slid off the sofa to crouch on the floor where she couldn't be seen from the door.

Marvin gave her a pitying look. "Darling, that's so junior high."

"So f.u.c.king what?" she hissed, feeling panic rise into her throat at the thought of having to deal with Jack Donnelly. The knock on the door nearly made her yelp with fright. "Please, Marvin? I just can't deal with him right now. I've had a s.h.i.tty day, I'm tired and I have it on good authority I look like something died on me. Please?"

She could see he was waffling but it was taking too long. A second knock came and Rowan knew from experience one virtue Jack did not possess was patience. She had about ten seconds before he opened the door himself. He had a key, thanks to her traitor of a father, and if he thought she was in the house hiding from him, he wouldn't hesitate to use it.

"Marvin!"

"All right, fine!" Marvin fluffed his skirt and straightened his ap.r.o.n before striding to the door. He put one hand on the doork.n.o.b. "How do I look?" he whispered, and Rowan barely choked back a giggle. He sent her a wink then turned the k.n.o.b and drew the door open with a flourish as she ducked completely from view.

"Well, Mr. Donnelly! Isn't this a lovely surprise. What brings you by?"

"Marvin." Rowan felt a shiver run over her spine at the sound of his gravelly voice with its yummy hint of Irish accent and ruthlessly suppressed it. "You're lookingainteresting tonight."

Rowan heard the rustle of petticoats and crinolines as Marvin, traitor that he was, just couldn't resist twirling in the doorway. "Do you like it? I'm trying it out for Halloween."

"Hmmm." There was humor in Jack's voice now. "Donna Reed?" he guessed.

Marvin sounded as if someone had just handed him Ricky Martin wrapped in bow. "Yes!"