Free A Mutt in Disguise by Doris O'Connor

A MUTT IN
DISGUISE
     
     
    Doris O’Connor
     
    Copyright © 2015
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
    Holidays are
coming, holidays are coming...
    Anja turned the
annoying jingle off with a flick of her finger and blew a strand of hair off
her face. She'd tied it up and out of the way, but as usual it had a mind of
its own and had escaped her attempt at an elegant chignon. Holidays indeed! It
was Christmas, for flip's sake—time for carols and the season of goodwill—not
political correctness gone mad. What did her dad always say? Without Christ in
Christmas it would be just M&S. The store made great knickers and excellent
food, but had little to do with the season of goodwill.
    She licked the
icing off her fingers and perused the small army of homemade cupcakes with a
satisfied smile. Decked out in festive colors of red and green, they would
bring much-needed cheer to the homeless shelter, and, she hoped, an influx of
cash, too. The cake sale was always popular. Declan wouldn't be pleased at the
detour, but they had to more or less drive past it on the way to his parents',
so he couldn't object too much.
    It was Christmas
in a week's time, and Anja was determined to make a
difference this year. She had even prepared a Christmas cake for Declan's
parents, knowing full well that Lord and Lady Hemington would turn their aristocratic noses up at it, but Anja was done trying to please them. In fact, unless Declan stopped acting like a
complete ass, he could kiss her pert behind on the way out.
    Right on cue the
doorbell rang, and Anja suppressed a sigh at the
impatient staccato of it. She took off the apron, smoothed down her simple
black shift dress, stepped into her equally understated three-inch black court
shoes, and buzzed the door open. No sooner had she completed boxing up the
cakes than Declan stepped through the front door of her flat.
    "There you
are, but what on earth are you doing?" His cultured tones held a hint of
impatience, and when his steely-gray gaze connected with hers, his brows drew
together and his eyes darkened in temper. Before he could say anything else,
she shoved the largest of the boxes containing the Christmas cake into his
hands.
    "I'd have
thought that was obvious, Declan." She ignored his pout and put the
remaining boxes into two large cloth bags. "I know what you said, but I
like baking, and I like giving personal gifts."
    Declan grunted,
and continued to eye the box she'd given him, as though it were likely to
detonate any minute. "My parents do not expect personal gifts. The hamper
we bought them from Harrods will suffice. And who on earth are those for?"
He gestured to the two bags in her hand. "And you've got icing all over
your nose. I suggest you wash it off."
    Anja glanced at her
reflection in the hallway mirror, and, sure enough, a smudge of bright green
icing was smeared across her nose and halfway up her cheek. She took the
starched, monogrammed handkerchief Declan passed her and wiped the offending
mixture away with a barely suppressed sigh. Had they really come to this? A
year into their relationship and with Declan pushing her into setting a date
for their marriage soon, all the passion seemed to have evaporated like mist in
the sun.   Instead of kissing her and
licking the icing off her nose, as she would have liked him to have done, every
line of his body screamed his annoyance at her unreasonable behavior.
    "There,
better, my lord?" She couldn't help but goad him a little, but he'd
already turned his back on her and was striding out the door. She stuck her
tongue out at his retreating back, and followed him down the steep stairs and
out into the frigid air.
      He tossed the cake
box carelessly into the back of his Jaguar and by the time she'd carefully
stashed her bags on the back seats, his fingers were drumming against the
steering wheel. "Are you going to tell me what all those are for, or do I
have to guess?"
    "You know who
they're for. I told you last night."
    He revved