To All A Good Night. Jill Shalvis

yet.

      Reminding herself how great the payday was going to be, plus the potential future clients the job would nab, Emma took a deep breath and eased her Land Rover into the ten-car garage. She then spent the next several minutes jaw-dropped as she stared at the half dozen or so very shiny, very expensive cars. She pulled in next to a midnight-blue Maserati and parked, then patted the dash of her Land Rover. “Don’t let them make you feel bad. You have character.”

      She turned on the overhead light, sighing in relief when it didn’t flicker back off, then consulted the first of the many detailed house maps in the addendum section of the notebook. After making sure the garage door was closed behind her and the alarm light activated, she grabbed two of her lighter bags, and made her way to the main house through an enclosed passageway. Once she made sure she could get in and move around without setting off the alarm system, she’d unpack the rest. But first she wanted to go introduce herself to her charges.

      They didn’t come to meet her at the door, but her notebook had explained that they would be penned up off the kitchen in the back, awaiting her arrival. She just followed the barking. And a voice shouting, “Welcome! Right this way!”

      She wound her way through the expansive foyer, around the central staircase, then down one long hallway before finally coming to the double swinging doors that led to the kitchen. If you wanted to call it that. It did, indeed, have kitchen appliances and a large workstation in the center of one part of the immense room. That was the smaller part, though there was nothing small about it. Martha Stewart would weep for such a well-appointed kitchen space. But Emma’s attention was drawn to the rest of the room, starting with the overlarge, low, round table, patterned in beautiful detailed mosaic tiles. The chairs surrounding it were cushioned with heavy brown and burgundy pillows and the whole thing was framed with an immense stone fireplace.

      “Welcome! Right this way!”

      Smiling, she went over to the huge wrought iron aviary and smiled at the rather imperious African Grey perched inside. “You must be Cicero.”

      “Cicero!” he repeated. “Welcome!” Then he whistled a beautiful tune that Emma didn’t know the title of, but couldn’t help laughing at, as she enjoyed his little show. She then turned her attention to the series of French doors leading to the enclosed, equally impressive, sunroom off the back of the kitchen. Most of her one-bedroom apartment would fit in that space. Behind the doors waited a tail-thumping basset hound named Jack, and Martha, a Harlequin Great Dane.

      “Hi, guys,” she said, accepting their enthusiastic welcome with a sincere smile and open arms. They made quick friends, then she found their leads and specially tailored doggie jackets right where the notebook said they would be. Thankfully, they were both used to wearing their Burberry plaid winter-wear and didn’t struggle too much as she slid on the lined pieces and strapped them and their leads into place.

      She led them both out into the cold, damp of the night as the ice and snow continued to pelt down. “Sorry, critters. I know this isn’t the best of situations, here.” As she carefully led them across the patio, lights sprang on in the trees, illuminating the immediate area, which was mostly wooded and slanted immediately uphill. The dogs were obviously used to the topography as they easily led her up a snow-and ice-covered path. The heavy layer of leaves and pine needles beneath the slippery surface provided much needed traction as their feet broke through the crusty surface. Still, she was huffing a little as they finally made it to a clearing at the top of the rise. The lighting cast an eerie glow through the mixture of snowflakes and slanted streaks of ice pellets, making her wonder what it must be like up here on a clear night. She spied two stone benches and evenly spaced mounds around the circumference, which were probably gardens or landscaped areas around the edges of the clearing, before becoming wooded once again.

      Fortunately, the dogs made quick work of the business at hand, and they were soon heading back down the path and into the house. Where, just as the book noted, there were towels and a brush to loosen leaves and burrs, and chunks of ice, in this case, if needed. She quickly removed their leads and jackets, and rubbed them both down. Jack especially seemed to love this part of the deal, and squirmed in rhapsodic delight, while Martha spent most of the time sniffing Emma and trying to give her a dog-tongue facial. At least they were going to be easy to get along with.

      “Welcome!” Cicero greeted them as Emma let all three of them into the kitchen area. “Right this way!”

      She found the dogs’ water dishes and topped them off, cleaned Cicero’s as well, then rubbed her hands as she decided what to do next. First, she placed a quick call to her parents, letting them know she’d arrived safely, and once again assured them she would be fine, and yes, she was definitely going to miss seeing them for the holidays. She hung up, feeling a bit homesick. Christmas was her favorite time of year to go home to Connecticut. And though disappointed at not seeing their only daughter over the holidays, her mom and dad understood about the business decision she’d made and had supported her, for which she was very grateful. She thought about calling Chelsea, but decided to put that off until she’d settled in and seen more of the place. Which was, admittedly, calling to her. So, she also put off the plan of heading back out to the garage to get the rest of her things in favor of exploring. Otherwise known as snooping around.

      She dug a bag of pretzels and a bottle of water out of one of the satchels she had carried in, and crunched on a few while she consulted the maps in the addendum section of the notebook.

      “Snack time for Cicero! Snack time. I’m the pretty bird. Pretty bird!” There was a repeat performance of the whistled song, with a new flourish at the end.

      She laughed and shook her finger at the Grey. “I’ve been well warned about your charming ways, mister. You’re not going to wheedle junk food from me. You’ll get your bedtime piece of mango, and that’s it.”

      In response, Cicero gave her a wolf whistle, then laughed, quite impressed with himself.

      Shaking her head and smiling, Emma balanced the notebook, the pretzels, and her water bottle, and wandered back to the main foyer, trying to decide where to explore first. Jack and Martha followed, quite happy to be off on another trek. She’d been informed that as long as she was in residence, they had the run of the house, but were to be put out in the Florida room if she had to leave for any reason. So she waved a hand toward the stairs. “Shall we?”

      Martha loped easily up the wide marble staircase, while Jack took his time as his stubby little legs required a bit more effort to heave his long body from one riser to the next. But his tail was wagging the whole time, so she left him to his labors and went back to consulting the maps as she climbed to the second floor landing.

      An hour later, she was quite thankful for the addendum maps, as she’d be hopelessly lost without them. Actually, even with them she’d gotten herself somewhat turned around, out at the end of the west wing—at least she was pretty sure it was west. Even the dogs had given up on the adventure and trotted off after some time, to God knew where. She was sure they’d find her when they got hungry or wanted to go out, so she wasn’t too concerned about that. But she was getting hungry herself and she had no idea how to get back to the kitchen, much less the garage, or the rooms she’d been assigned to stay in.

      She was stumbling down a dark corridor, unable to find the hall light switch, when a very deep male voice said, “If you’re a burglar, then might I direct your attention downstairs to the formal dining room. The silver tea set alone would keep you in much better stealth gear for at least the next decade. At the very least, you’d be able to afford a flashlight.”

      Emma let out a strangled yelp as her heart leapt straight to her throat, then she froze in the darkness. Except for the animals, she was supposed to be completely alone. Not so much as a valet or sous chef was to be on the premises for the next twelve days. Of course, the notebook did say that Cicero had a lengthy and amazing vocabulary. But he was at least two floors away. And she doubted he knew how to use the house speaker system. Armed with the notebook and not much else, Emma decided offense was the best defense. “Please state who you are and how you got in here. Security has already been alerted, so you’d best—”

      Rich