Honey and Smoke

  The deputy cleared his throat. “Does, uhmmm, this lady belong to you. Judge?”

  “Yes,” Betty answered. “Whether he wants me or not.”

  She felt Max’s fingers tightening around her hand. “She’s with me. I’ll take responsibility if she goes berserk again.”

  Betty looked toward the group. “I apologize,” she said in a voice that shook. “I just … I didn’t know anything except that the house”—she swiveled her attention to Max—“your house!”

  “You and I don’t have much luck with home ownership, do we?” He winced as he shifted his injured hand. His tired, bloodshot eyes caressed her face. He was silent, studying her with a heart-wrenching welcome, a look that made her lean closer to him and stroke his cheek tenderly.

  The others left, whispering among themselves. Betty sat down limply by Max’s side. Her throat wouldn’t let words pass. She shook her head in bittersweet frustration. “What happened?”

  “Our cellar rat wanted revenge.”

  She covered her throat. “The man we caught in my basement? From the robbery?”

  Max nodded with painful effort. “He made bail while he was waiting for his trial. I don’t know if he had anything to do with the fire at your place, but he definitely paid a visit to mine. He rigged a gas line.”

  She felt sick. “He was trying to kill you?”

  “Honestly, no. The stupid bastard was just trying to burn my house down. He didn’t know I was in it.” Max shut his eyes and smiled thinly. “Now he knows.”

  “You caught him yourself?”

  “When the explosion happened I was asleep in the bedroom. The house nearly caved in. I woke up with the bedroom full of smoke and the floor half gone. I crawled to a window and broke the glass with my hand. I saw our friend heading for the woods behind the house. I went after him.”

  She made a keening sound and looked at the bloody gauze. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “I’ll need a few dozen stitches. Nothing serious.”

  “Oh. Nothing serious,” she repeated numbly. “Did you … Where is that guy? Can I see him? Can I take a baseball bat with me when I do?”

  “Too late. He’s upstairs. In surgery. Having his jaw wired and his nose fixed.” Max’s expression was troubled. “There was a moment when I wanted to kill him. I could have done it easily.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He managed a hint of the cocky smile she knew so well. It was terribly sad. “I’m getting soft and sentimental.”

  She smothered a sob and kissed him. “You’re not soft. And I like you sentimental.”

  In a hoarse voice he whispered, “Good. I need a hug damned fast.”

  She cried out and carefully put her arms around him. Betty nestled her head against his shoulder. “I suppose the house is a total loss. Did the firemen save anything?”

  “No.” His voice was leaden. “Including what was left of your clothes.”

  “Maximilian, are we under some sort of curse, or what?”

  “Looks that way.” But his good hand was stroking her hair in a way that said he wasn’t thinking about their bad luck at the moment. “But you came back.”

  “I live here, you know.”

  A long breath shuddered from his chest. “For good?”

  “For good. I just went out to California to get my priorities straight.” She knotted her fingers in his damp, dirty shirt. “That’s all I did. Do you savvy. Major?”

  “I savvy,” he whispered.

  “Where’s Norma?”

  “I asked her to go buy me something clean to wear.”

  The enormity of his loss began to sink in. She cried softly and held him tighter. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “Now we’re both homeless and clothesless. I’m even Jeep-less, because the damned thing was sitting right next to the house.”

  “Please tell me that you have Insurance.”

  “The Jeep is covered. The house, well, sort of.”

  “Max!”

  “My father only had it insured for twenty thousand. I hadn’t gotten around to changing the policy. Do you know what twenty thousand dollars will build in today’s market?”

  “A nice two-seater outhouse?”

  “Right.”

  They were both silent. “So we’re in the same boat,” she said finally.

  “And it seems to be sinking, fast. A helluva mess.”

  She felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Couldn’t he even consider the possibility of them building a new home and a new life together? Betty bit her tongue and silently swore to love him as he was and hope for the best.

  She sat up and gently began straightening his hair with her fingertips. “Let’s live for the moment, Major.”

  He looked at her with dull surprise. “I don’t believe you said that.”

  “We’ll get your hand stitched up, then we’ll move our tired fannies to a quiet, comfortable room over at the new inn that opened last week.”

  “Betty—”

  “I’ve heard that the rooms have hot tubs.”

  He wound his good hand under her hair and cupped the back of her head, holding her still as he scrutinized her. Betty caught her breath. “What’s wrong, Max?”

  “Nothing,” he said finally. “I’m not going to question this too much. I’m just so damned glad you’re back. I love you. All I want is to be alone with you and not think about anything beyond today.”

  She nodded, hiding her sorrow.

  He was in pain, and the least of it was physical. Max was no more than vaguely aware of his bruises, aching muscles, and injured hand. He pulled Betty closer to him, spoon style, and watched her sleep. The soft light of a lamp beside the inn’s antique bedstead gleamed on her black hair and cast a golden tone on her skin. She had never looked more beautiful.

  Bittersweet anger tore at him. He had so little to offer her now. How would it sound if he suddenly asked her to spend the rest of her life with him? Manipulative, that’s how—as if he had nothing else to lose and was making a commitment out of desperation.

  No, that was no way to convince her that this tiger was changing his stripes. He needed to approach her from a position of power, of money, so that she’d know that he was sincere.

  His eyes narrowed in thought as he glanced at the nightstand. His wallet lay there. It was the only personal possession he’d been able to save. Inside it was Audubon’s card. Max grimaced. Fate had an interesting way of narrowing life’s choices.

  Betty stirred sleepily, twisted inside the circle of his arms, and nuzzled her face against his chest. She stretched, giving him a naked full-body caress that made him catch his breath. She seemed to sense that he was watching her. She tilted her head back and looked straight into his eyes, frowning benignly. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Enjoying the view,” he assured her.

  Her worried scrutiny told him that she wasn’t satisfied with that answer. All evening she had fussed over him, brushing his hair while he soaked in the hot tub that graced one corner of the room, slipping bite-sized chunks of pizza into his mouth as he lounged in bed, giving him a rubdown with a hot, soothing liniment, then giving him the sweetest kind of soothing with her mouth.

  Now she rolled onto her back but remained snuggled against him. Slowly she drew her fingertips to his face and traced the lines of fatigue around his eyes. “Don’t think about what happened today,” she urged gently. “Everything will be okay. Try to sleep.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m fine, babe. I’m just trying to decide how to reciprocate all the TLC you’ve given me tonight.”

  “I’ll take an IOU for the TLC.”

  “Gee! Keep it on the QT, BBQ, but you’re OK.”

  They both began to chuckle. In the midst of it he realized how extraordinary it was that she could make him laugh after such a rotten day. He reached under the covers, stroking her from breasts to thighs with slow, loving care. “Here’s my RSVP.”

  She feigned surprise. “I wasn’t aware that
I’d issued an invitation.”

  “You can’t see the glow in your eyes. It’s definitely an invitation.” With gentle exploration he found where she was warmest and softest. “You should see your eyes now,” Max told her gruffly.

  She quivered, arching against his hand. Her expression was suffused with a devotion that humbled him. Her lips moved almost soundlessly. Make love to me.

  His mouth touched hers, absorbing the words, and returning them. Tomorrow would arrive too soon. He prayed that she’d understand.

  It was ridiculous to be this happy. She had no house, no furniture, and no more clothes than had been in a suitcase in the trunk of her mother’s car.

  Betty sipped her orange juice and smiled at Max over breakfast. Sunshine filtered through the restaurant’s lace curtains; the dining room was warm with contentment. It would be an hour or more before Andy arrived for the day. Right now she and Max were the only ones in the house. They’d scrambled eggs and made pancakes in the big commercial kitchen, hardly a place she would have called romantic, but lovely when viewed through the afterglow of a tender, caring night.

  He smiled back, though his face was lined with fatigue. His left hand was heavily bandaged; he gingerly rested it on the table. His eyes were shadowed by dark thoughts. He engaged in a one-handed battle with his pancakes. His weapons were a knife and a pat of butter.

  “Would you like me to help?” she asked. “I could cut the pancakes up into small pieces for you.”

  He chuckled dryly. “No way. Aunt Jemima and I refuse to wimp out.”

  She looked at him pensively. “Your self-sufficiency is duly noted.”

  “I may be down, but I’m not out.” His tone was sardonic. He jabbed his knife into the pancakes. “Care to hear any other clichés?”

  Betty slowly set her glass of juice down. “Max, I want you to take back your investment in the barbecue sauce. We’ll work something else out. Well still be partners—”

  “No. I’m not helpless. You need that money for the business. I Intend to carry my weight. You went through enough money problems with Sloan Richards. I don’t want to be compared to him.”

  “It’s not even remotely the same situation,” she said with growing alarm. “Max, what’s the real issue here? Why are you talking like this?”

  “I’m trying to do what’s best for you. Because I love you.”

  His scowl sent a chill through her serenity. “You know, if two people love each other, sometimes one of them lets the other one carry the weight. They know that there’s nothing humiliating about it.” She fumbled with her napkin and carefully folded it into pleats. “It’s not as if I’m trying to hog-tie you with a set of purse strings.”

  He tossed his knife down and pushed himself back from the table. He leveled a hard gaze at her. “I didn’t say that you were trying to manipulate me.”

  “But you seem to be dead set against accepting more of my help.” Her heart was trapped in her throat. “Feeling a little too dependent on me after yesterday? I thought you enjoyed being loved and cared for. Was I wrong? Are you determined to make certain that I don’t get my hopes up about our future together?”

  “We’re getting away from the subject. I’m talking about money.”

  Dread stilled her. She hardly breathed. “No,” she whispered. “It’s something else. Why don’t you just get it over with? Tell me what we’re really talking about.”

  “When you were in the shower this morning, I placed a call to Audubon. He wasn’t in, but hell return the call eventually.”

  She clutched the edge of the table. “You’re not going to … you wouldn’t—”

  “There’s a helluva lot of money to be made working for Audubon. And it’s not as if the work if selfish. Protecting people, getting them out of tight situations, perhaps even saving their lives—it’s honorable. I wouldn’t feel that I was resigning as local magistrate without good reason.”

  “You need … the money more than the glory.”

  His expression hardened. He held her gaze with unblinking honesty. “Yes. But I’m not deserting you or this town. I’ll be back, I plan to build a new home here—a damned nice home.”

  Trembling, she rose and planted her hands on the tabletop. Leaning toward him, her body rigid with control, she said softly, “I don’t think you’ll be back. I think this is an excuse to escape.”

  “No, babe.” He stood also and grasped her by one arm. His anguished gaze told her he wasn’t happy about the pain that he was causing her. “I know that you can’t believe I’ll be back—”

  “How long would this exercise in pride take?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on the assignments that Audubon offers me. A few months, a year—”

  “I won’t see you at all during that time?”

  “Of course you’ll see me. I’ll be here every chance I get.”

  “But Audubon gave me the impression that he’s very demanding.”

  “He is. That’s why he’s worth working for. That’s also why he makes his offers so lucrative.”

  “You’ll be in some far corner of the world most of the time.”

  “Making the world a little better place, if I can,” he replied dully.

  “You’ve been doing a good job of that here. With people who respect you and need you. People like the little boy, Christopher, at Halloween. People like the elderly couple who had a wonderful wedding because of your generosity.” People like me, she added silently. Who will curl up and wither if you leave.

  “Think of it this way,” he told her, his voice strained. “I’ll have a lot of money to invest in our partnership.”

  Her shoulders slumped. What could she do—repeat what she feared was the truth—that he was looking for an excuse to put distance between her and himself? He’d only deny it. It was obvious that he hated hurting her like this.

  “When do you expect to hear from Audubon?” she asked with forced nonchalance.

  “I don’t know. I left the phone number for Norma’s place, because that’s where I’ll be.” He smiled thinly, his troubled gaze searching her face. “A minor delay interrupted my schedule yesterday. I have a backlog of weddings.”

  She stared at him miserably and said nothing. His hand tightened on her arm. “Come here, babe.” But he was the one who moved, angling around the table and taking her deeply into his arms. She stood there in silent despair, clasping his waist with cold fingers, trying very hard to understand how love could mask such terrible surprises.

  “It’s not what you think,” he whispered against her ear. “I love you. I’m not deserting you. Give me a chance to prove that.”

  “I don’t have any choice.”

  He held her obstinately, his uninjured hand caressing the small of her back; she clenched her hands into fists against his sides but let her head rest on his shoulder. Anger, confusion, and love were struggling inside her; she didn’t know which was dominant.

  “Well talk about this a lot more,” he assured her in a gruff, unhappy voice.

  “Later. Right now I … I have some thinking to do. And a restaurant to run. I know you have things to do too; people to see …” She stopped painfully, thinking. And places to go. Oh, yes. He was definitely going places.

  They shared a tortured look. He shook his head. “Betty—”

  “Please don’t. I’ll come by the wedding parlor tonight. Don’t say anything else right now.”

  He swallowed roughly, his expression harsh with restraint, and nodded. “I’m going over to the sheriffs office and borrow a car.”

  “Take the Mercedes instead. I have my van out back.”

  “Mercedes aren’t my style, babe.” He kissed her slowly. His eyes shut, he tilted his forehead against hers for a moment. “See you later.”

  She watched him leave, then dropped into a chair. The future was now the present. It was empty.

  The couple, Max’s last wedding for the night, appeared to be in their mid-twenties. She was a plump little sugar cookie with f
rightened eyes. He had the swagger of a Saturday-night hell-raiser but the smile of a shy Boy Scout. They’d inquired about a costume package, but had hastily declined when Norma mentioned that the costume weddings started at $59.95.

  They stepped slowly and awkwardly up the aisle toward Max, trying to keep time with the ponderous wedding march that boomed from Norma’s organ. The groom wore a mud-brown polyester suit. The bride wore a dress of pink ruffles that emphasized every extra snack she’d ever eaten. They held hands and stared at May fixedly. He could almost hear their knees knocking in duet.

  When Max glanced at Norma, she cut her eyes at the couple and shook her head. Doomed from the start, she was saying.

  He silently agreed. But what the hell? He’d married lots of pairs who had looked this hopeless. The unhappiness they were contemplating wasn’t his problem. He had enough unhappiness to contemplate himself.

  Max smoothed the long coat of his black marrying outfit, then clasped his hands in front of himself in his solemn marrying pose, the right hand cupped over the bulky mitten of bandages that covered the left. He was ready to begin his spiel. He forced himself to stop thinking about Betty.

  Betty didn’t cooperate. One of the double doors opened at the back of the room. She slipped inside, dressed in new sneakers, new jeans, a T-shirt, and a gray sweater, with her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. She looked tired and bedraggled. He wanted to forget everything else and carry her off to their rented room.

  She met his eyes with a fathomless gaze as she sat down in the back row. Aside from himself and Norma she was the couple’s only audience. Max tried to hide his anger. This was a pathetic atmosphere for a wedding. Where was the reverence, the joy, the excitement?

  The back doors opened again. Audubon stepped into the room, looked around with amusement, then nodded to Betty—who straightened ominously. Audubon flicked an invisible bit of lint from the aviator’s jacket he wore with black trousers and a white sweater. He sat down across the aisle from Betty and glanced from her to Max with the hint of a frown.

  Max cursed silently. Audubon hadn’t bothered to return the phone call; he’d flown down from Virginia to pursue a deal in person. He probably had an employment contract out in his limo, ready for Max’s signature. He didn’t take chances when he sensed victory close at hand.