The Rocky Road to Romance

  “Holy cow,” Kevin said, “look at this dinosaur!” He ran his hand over the powder blue fender. “It’s not even fiberglass. It’s real metal! I bet it gets two miles to a gallon. It’s a wonder the parking lot isn’t caving in under the strain.”

  Elsie had been sitting in the shadows on Daisy’s front porch. She lurched to her feet and marched over to her car. “This here’s a real car,” she said. “They don’t make cars like this anymore.” She thumped on the fender. “This car’s got substance. This car’s got quality.”

  “Yeah, but this car’s got cool,” Kevin said, patting Steve’s low-slung black sports car.

  Elsie looked at Steve’s car and worked her dentures around in her mouth a little. “It’s a beauty, all right. I guess I wouldn’t mind having a car like that. I’d look hot driving around town in one of them things.”

  “This is Elsie Hawkins,” Steve said to Kevin. “She’s your sister’s bodyguard. She’s going to be staying here until things calm down.”

  “Very suave,” Kevin said. He looked at the Cadillac and grinned. “Are they gonna drive around in the armored car?”

  “I’ve chased down kidnappers, dope dealers, and flashers in this baby,” Elsie said. “I’ll take my Caddy any day in a high-speed chase. You ever hear of Carolyn Towne? She plays the violin with that fancy orchestra in Washington. She was kidnapped by a dope dealer, and I rescued her in this here car. I wasn’t even a certified guard back then.” Elsie’s eyes narrowed on Kevin. “I was just a mean old lady.”

  “You still look pretty mean,” Kevin said to her, grinning.

  Elsie adjusted her pocketbook on her arm. “I try to keep up appearances. I got a reputation, you know.”

  They went inside, and Daisy showed Elsie to the guest room. Bob was asleep on the bed.

  “This is Bob,” Daisy explained. “He belongs to Steve.”

  “Do I gotta share a room with Bob?” Elsie asked. “I don’t mind, so long as he don’t hog my side of the bed. I’m an old lady. I need my rest.”

  Daisy jumped when the phone rang.

  “I’ve got it,” Steve called from the kitchen. “Let me answer.”

  Everyone was silent when he said hello twice. Daisy and Elsie waited at the top of the stairs.

  “Nobody on the line,” Steve said. “They hung up when they heard my voice.”

  “Don’t worry,” Elsie told him. “From now on I answer the phone. I’ll take care of this. And I’d just like to see someone try to break into the house,” she said, patting her pocketbook.

  Steve walked Bob home and put him to bed. He changed into a pair of jeans and a navy shirt. He took a blanket, a pillow, a thermos of coffee, and a package of Oreos out to the SUV. He locked his house and drove to Daisy’s subdivision. As a reporter, he’d acquired a certain amount of street smarts over the years, and experience told him Daisy probably wasn’t in a lot of danger. The Roach had threatened to get even, but there were lots of ways of getting even. Steve thought harassment would be high on the list. If someone were serious about hurting Daisy, they wouldn’t have called to tell her about it. That was providing the guy with the spray paint and bad phone manners was a card-carrying, professional dope pusher. If the man was a druggie with a few cans missing from his case, the prognosis wasn’t nearly so positive. No sense taking chances, Steve thought. Until he had a better handle on the situation, he was sticking close to Daisy. He parked across the street from her house. He rolled his window down, adjusted the pillow for comfort, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  At two-fifteen his head snapped off the back of the seat. The crack of a gunshot had broken the stillness of the night. Another shot rang out, and Steve was on his feet, running to Daisy’s house. He pulled at the front door, but it was locked. The windows were dark. He heard shouting behind the locked door. He heard the muffled thud of feet pounding downstairs. A light blinked on in the foyer, the living room, and upstairs behind bedroom curtains. He hammered at the door. “It’s Steve. Let me in.”

  Elsie opened the door with her gun in her hand. “What are you doing here?”

  He pushed past Elsie and almost collapsed with relief when he saw Daisy. “You aren’t shot?” he asked, not so subtly examining her for bullet holes.

  Daisy rolled her eyes.

  “Some yahoo broke into the house,” Elsie said. “I got up to go to the john and thought I heard a funny noise coming from downstairs. So I got my purse and went down to investigate. Danged if I didn’t catch some slimeball creeping through the kitchen. I said, ‘Stop or I’ll blast you from here to kingdom come.’ It was real dark, and I couldn’t get a good look at him, but it didn’t take much sight to know he wasn’t stopping.”

  “There isn’t anyone bleeding to death on the kitchen floor, is there?” Steve asked.

  “No,” Elsie said. “He was moving fast once he saw me take out my gun. He was heading for the back door, and I had to aim real low so as to get him in the leg. Police get testy when you shoot a man too high in the back.”

  “Did you get him in the leg?”

  “No. I’m not so good at legs.”

  Steve went into the kitchen. There was a large hole in the back door and another one in the wastebasket beside the door.

  Kevin was at the kitchen table, eating a piece of leftover pie. “She’s death to wastebaskets,” he said. “Got it right in the kneecap.”

  “How’d he get in?”

  Kevin pointed to the patio door in the dining room. “Carved out a chunk of glass with a glazier’s knife and unlocked the door.”

  Steve started to dial the police. He punched in two numbers and stopped. Elsie didn’t have a license for her gun. If Elsie were in trouble with the police, he wouldn’t have anyone to ride with Daisy. He ran his hand through his hair and swore under his breath. “Everyone pack up. You’re all coming to my house, and you’re going to stay there until we find out what’s going on with this guy. Take clothes for overnight. We can do a more thorough move tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Kevin said. “I’m no hero. I’m not excited about staying here to get blown away while I sleep. I’m only fourteen. I have a long life ahead of me. I got an A in sex ed last year. It would be terrible to waste all that knowledge.”

  Elsie shrugged. “Don’t make any difference to me. I haven’t hardly unpacked yet.”

  Daisy leaned against the doorjamb. She’d never been so scared in her life. Her heart was still racing, and her stomach was nauseous. She’d felt vulnerable and victimized when her car had been stolen, but that was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. She shivered when she thought what might have happened if it hadn’t been for Elsie and her gun. She’d been lucky, she realized. She hadn’t taken any of this seriously. She’d hired Elsie, not because she thought Elsie would make a good guard but because she wanted to give a chance to the elderly.

  Now she didn’t know what to do. A one-way ticket to Texas sounded appealing. She realized she’d been thinking along those lines a lot lately and pushed the thought aside. Running away never solved anything, she told herself. She didn’t like being bullied out of her house, and she didn’t like giving in to her fear. Unfortunately, she had Kevin and Elsie to consider. It would be wrong to endanger them just to satisfy her belligerent pursuit of independence.

  “I suppose it would be a good idea to hide out for a while,” she said to Steve. “It’s nice of you to offer us the use of your house.”

  Daisy was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a second cup of coffee, when Steve ambled in. She opened her mouth to tease him about sleeping late on a glorious Saturday, but her thoughts scattered at the sight of him. His hair was silky clean, fresh from a shower. His movements were efficient, but his eyes were soft and drowsy, as if the shower hadn’t quite awakened him.

  He wore a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut out and a pair of shorts that had been washed to butter softness. She’d never been a sucker for muscle, but Steve Crow in a sleeveless shirt made her eyes gl
aze over. He wasn’t big and full of bulges like a wrestler; Steve was lean and hard and dangerous-looking. Her thoughts flew back to the night of the barbecue when they’d made love on his living room floor, and she remembered in breathtaking clarity just how lean and hard and yummy he could be.

  She’d spent a lot of time lying awake thinking last night and had reached the conclusion that she would be much better off if she could maintain a platonic relationship with Steve. It wasn’t exactly a new concept, but it seemed to be a decision that required constant rethinking and reinforcement.

  Now they were alone in the kitchen, and she was having a difficult time remembering why a platonic relationship had seemed so important. It would be easier if Elsie or Kevin were here, she told herself. There wouldn’t be such a strong feeling of morning intimacy; there would be diversions. As it was, she found her attention focused on Steve, and she found herself trying desperately not to look like a starving woman suddenly confronted with a five-course meal.

  Steve poured himself a cup of coffee, leaned against a kitchen counter, and openly studied Daisy. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide. She had that “kid in a candy shop” expression on her face again, he thought. She was looking at him like he was lunch—and he loved it. He wanted to be the bill of fare for the next fifty years.

  “Where did Elsie and Kevin disappear to?” he asked.

  “They went back to the town house to get essentials. You know, clothes, toiletries, the kitchen sink.” Her eyes narrowed a little as she looked at him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

  “Anything.”

  “What were you doing at my house at two in the morning?”

  “I was worried about you, and didn’t entirely trust Elsie to be able to handle a disaster. So I camped out in the SUV.”

  “You were willing to sleep in your car all night just to protect me?”

  “Mmmm.” He sipped his coffee. “I have plans.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Oh, boy? Is that a negative reaction?”

  “I don’t know if I can handle any more plans right now. I’m about all planned out.”

  “Some of my plans don’t require much planning. For instance, I plan to take you to a garden party this afternoon.”

  “You mean a barbecue?”

  “No. This is definitely a garden party. There’ll be inedible little sandwiches without crusts, white wine with fruit floating in it, and tasteless cookies for dessert.”

  “Gee, I can hardly wait.”

  He took a frozen waffle from the freezer and slid it into the toaster. “You haven’t even heard the best part. My Aunt Zena will be there.”

  Daisy leaned forward in her seat. “You mean there’s really an Aunt Zena?”

  “You bet. Aunt Zena comes from the Crow side of the family. Her father was Crow, but her mother was Hungarian. Her third husband was elected to Congress sort of late in life. He died six months after taking office. Aunt Zena decided she liked Washington, so she stayed here. Now she’s heavily into fund-raising.”

  “Is this party a fund-raiser?”

  He took his waffle from the toaster and ate it like a cookie. “Yup. Some junior congressman from Oklahoma. I get invited to all of Aunt Zena’s fund-raisers. She’s decided I need to get married. Not only do I have to contribute to all of her causes, but I have to show up and run the gauntlet of eligible women she’s drummed up for me.”

  He sat across from Daisy, slouching back in his chair with his coffee cup resting on his stomach. “This is the part where you are supposed to show some jealousy as you contemplate all those eligible women.”

  Daisy smiled at him. “Won’t Aunt Zena be disappointed if you show up with me in tow? What about the sacrificial lambs she’s recruited for this bash?”

  “Hell, she’ll be ecstatic. I’ll tell her I’m madly in love with you, that we’ve already made whoopee on the floor and our bodies fit together like a dream, and that you’ve moved into my house. Aunt Zena will be relieved. I think she’s running out of marriage applicants.”

  “You wouldn’t dare tell her that!”

  “I might.”

  She tipped her nose up a little. “Well, then I’m not going with you.”

  “Okay, then how about if we tell her we’re engaged?”

  “No.”

  “You’re not very cooperative,” he said. “This is my big chance to get Aunt Zena off my back.”

  “You can tell her we’re friends.”

  “Honey, I’m friends with eighty percent of all the unmarried women in Northern Virginia and the District of Columbia.”

  “That’s a lot of women.”

  “I’ve been to a lot of fund-raisers.”

  “Well, it’s friends or nothing.”

  He reached forward, took her face in his hands and kissed her. It started out as a playful type of kiss with his eyes open and smiling, but all that changed when their mouths met. He dragged her onto the table, mindless of the coffee cups crashing to the floor, and in an instant his hands were under her shirt.

  She gasped in protest, but his mouth covered hers, and objection quickly turned to obsession as desire bit into her.

  He came fast and hard, trembling under the intensity of his own passion, wondering at the pinnacle if he would live through it, wondering if a man could survive loving a woman like this.

  Still on the kitchen table, they slowly became aware of their surroundings. Coffee and cereal had been flung from one end of the kitchen to the other, dishes lay broken on the floor, chairs had been overturned.

  There was the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and Daisy and Steve looked into each other’s eyes and saw panic.

  “Elsie and Kevin,” Daisy whispered.

  They scrambled to their feet and adjusted their clothes. They both glanced furtively at the only escape route which would lead to a shower and knew they’d never make it. Elsie was already in the foyer.

  “Just act like nothing happened,” Steve said.

  “We can pull this off.”

  Daisy clapped a hand to her mouth to stop a hysterical giggle. He had smashed Froot Loops on his knees and his shirt was torn.

  Elsie stopped in her tracks at the kitchen door, and Kevin looked over her shoulder. “Whoa,” he said, “who trashed the kitchen?”

  “Bob,” Steve told him. “Bob did it.”

  Chapter 7

  Steve took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile at Daisy. She was wearing a little white number that hugged her body in all the right places and still miraculously projected an image of classy respectability. The slim skirt stopped a few inches above her knee, showing off long, tanned legs and dainty feet trapped in gold strappy sandals. The top of the dress was off-the-shoulder, with a band of material that wrapped across her upper arms and slanted down to her full breasts. The dress was entirely devoid of ornamentation, proving the old adage that less is sometimes more. She wore dangly gold earrings and wide gold bands at each wrist.

  She was a knockout, and Aunt Zena would love her, Steve thought. Zena would also be suspicious and nosy as hell, but an impetuous love-at-first-sight romance would appeal to her.

  They rolled through Potomac, Maryland, in the racy black car, down wide streets where high six-digit incomes and suburban sprawl had spawned the tract mansion. Steve turned into a gated driveway and followed the smooth blacktop to a monster of a house riddled with columns and porticos and upgraded window trim. It rose phoenixlike, in redbrick splendor, from silver-dollar-sized wood chips and a great expanse of manicured lawn, its nether parts obscured by professionally tended azalea, holly, and rhododendron.

  “An architectural masterpiece,” Steve said. “Neobeltway.”

  Daisy gaped at it. “I’m glad I don’t have to deliver papers here.”

  A white-coated attendant helped her from the car and ran around to the driver’s side.

  “Is this Zena’s house?” Daisy asked Steve.

  “No. Aunt Zena ha
s a condo in Georgetown. This little honey belongs to George and Ethel Begley. They’re really very nice people. I don’t know why they chose to live at Tara here.”

  They walked into the vaulted foyer and were greeted by Ethel. She gave Steve a cheek-kiss, rewarded Daisy with a dazzling smile, and propelled them forward into the cool interior of the house.

  A sideboard held liver pâté, salmon mousse, and French bread crusts. The pâté and mousse looked fresh on their lettuce beds, and Steve took a crust and scooped up some mousse.

  An older woman barreled through the French doors leading to the patio. Her hair was black and pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She wore dark red lipstick and plum eye shadow. Her gray silk suit firmly whispered designer original. Daisy knew it was Aunt Zena from the first moment. She was a big, handsome woman. Near seventy, Daisy guessed, and still going strong.

  Zena hugged her nephew. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Steve returned the hug, then slid his arm around Daisy’s shoulders. “Aunt Zena, I’d like you to meet my friend Daisy Adams.”

  “Daisy Adams, that name sounds so familiar. Are you a Republican?” she asked Daisy.

  “No,” Daisy said, “I’m a graduate student.”

  “Daisy Adams, Daisy Adams,” Zena repeated. “Oh my Lord, you’re the Dog Lady!”

  A small crowd was forming behind Zena. “Is it really the Dog Lady?” someone asked. “It’s the Roach killer,” someone else exclaimed.

  “I didn’t actually kill him,” Daisy murmured.

  Zena clasped Daisy to her ample bosom. “This is so exciting. We need to make an announcement. I want everyone to know my nephew is dating the city’s leading crime-stopper.”

  Daisy grabbed Steve by the lapel and mouthed the word “help.”

  “Maybe we don’t want to make a public announcement just yet,” Steve suggested.

  A flash went off, a minicam appeared, more people pressed into the dining room. The junior senator came forward to shake Daisy’s hand. “This is a real honor,” he said. “This country needs more people like you—people with a commitment to ridding our streets of drug dealers.”