Mad About You

foreign markings from the lamp back into his pocket. "I must have packed the carpet and simply forgotten. I don't want to take up any more of your time."
    But she still stared at the ceiling. "How on earth did you get that carpet up there?"
    "I-I didn't," he stammered. "I mean, it was already there."
    "When you bought the place?"
    He cleared his throat. "Uh-huh."
    Her thin eyebrows rose. "You really should find a way to get it down. From here it looks Indian, and the markings are some of the most ancient I've seen." She nodded emphatically. "You could have a museum-quality piece up there."
    "Thanks, Ms. Davies," he said, ushering her back into the showroom. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
    "Call me when you find the rug," she said, "and when you get your hands on the carpet on the ceiling."
    "Will do," he said, waving cheerfully, wondering what he'd tell Jasmine now about the rug she wanted for her boyfriend's boudoir. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Where's a genie when you need one?"
    "Greetings, Master," a familiar voice said behind him.
    Ladden froze and turned slowly to see Gene, new pajamas, same turban. "Hey, Gene. You could give a person the creeps the way you pop in and out of places."
    "Did you need something, Master?"
    Ladden lowered his voice to a menacing level. "As a matter of fact, buddy, I have a bone to pick with you. Leave Jasmine alone. We compared notes last night after you lured us to the men's room and locked us in. You're a weirdo, and if I see you around here or around Jasmine again, I'm going to call the police and have you hauled off to a looney bin, got it?"
    The man's thick gray eyebrows knitted. "You were not happy to be alone with your princess?"
    Ladden felt like shaking the man. "Not when it's so underhanded! What if she thinks I put you up to it? I'm lucky she's even speaking to me."
    "Sometimes extreme measures are required." Gene grinned widely. "You saved her life, did you not?"
    Frowning at the man's gleeful expression, Ladden answered warily. "Yes, but barely."
    Gene scoffed. "I made sure you had plenty of time."
    Ladden went completely still. "What are you saying?"
    Another gap-toothed grin. "I arranged for Ms. Crowne to fall into the pool so you could save her life!"
    "You what?"
    "I knew she couldn't swim—"
    Ladden cut off his words with a hand around his windpipe. "You pushed her in?" A red haze descended over his eyes and his stomach boiled. "She could have died because of you!"
    "Master," the man sputtered in a strangled voice, "I knew... you would... save her... I cannot... take a life."
    But Ladden only tightened his grip around the man's scrawny throat.
    "Ladden, boy, what are you doing?" Ernie boomed behind him, then lunged between the men to break Ladden's death grip. Gene stumbled backward, coughing and gasping for air.
    His uncle shook him by the shoulders. "Good thing I stopped by—you might have killed that man!"
    Ladden was seething. "I might still."
    "Pipe down," Ernie chided. "You have customers."
    Gene straightened, his face sad and crumpled. "But Master, I only wanted you and your princess—"
    "Shut up!" Ladden snapped. "Enough with the Master and the princess garbage! I'm calling the police." He charged to the phone, but when he put the handset to his mouth and turned around, the old man was gone.
    "Where did he go?" Ernie asked, turning in a full circle, craning his neck.
    With a loud sigh, Ladden replaced the phone. "The man's a lunatic—he has a way of disappearing." He ran his hand through his hair, his nerves frayed.
    "What did he do?"
    "He's been harassing Jasmine, and as good as admitted he pushed her in the swimming pool last night."
    "The paper said she fell."
    "The paper also insinuated she might have been drunk."
    "Was she?"
    "No!" Ladden slumped against an old desk. "What a damn mess."
    "Yeah... well, Ladden, I came to deliver bad news," Ernie said soberly.
    Ladden straightened. "What?"
    "The health department inspector just closed down Tabby's."

Chapter Twelve

    "SO TELL ME ABOUT this Sanderson guy," Trey said casually.
    Jasmine glanced up in surprise. Intent on the brunch menu, Trey appeared scrupulously uninterested, but she wasn't fooled. Her body temperature spiked. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean," he said, closing the menu and setting it aside, "is there or isn't there something going on between the two of you?"
    She didn't need this—not after lying awake all night, confused and restless, reliving Ladden's kiss a hundred times,