Honey and Smoke (21 page)

Muttering darkly to his self-doubts, he parked the
Jeep behind the house because the back door was quicker to reach. He bolted inside and went straight to his bedroom. Damp, exhausted, and depressed, he stretched out on the futon without undressing, and fell asleep.

He awoke to a deafening explosion and the roar of flames.

It had been raining when her jet landed at the airport, but now a sapphire sky emerged from the clouds. The sun sparkled coldly on the windshield of the Mercedes she’d borrowed from her mother. Her mother had jokingly threatened to tie Faux Paw to the back bumper. Clumsy Faux Paw had not been the ideal houseguest in a house filled with expensive knickknacks.

Faux Paw would be coming back to Webster Springs as soon as Betty arranged the apartment over Grace’s shop. Troubled, Betty turned up the car’s heater and shivered inside a heavy green sweater she’d pulled over her shirtwaist dress. She hadn’t prepared for the change from Los Angeles to north Georgia temperatures. But she also shivered from anticipation.

She was going to be the woman who changed Maximilian Templeton’s opinion of marriage and family life. It might take a while, but she’d do it. Such faith would have struck her as foolish a few days ago, but Sloan had given her back her pride. Believing in Sloan hadn’t been a mistake, even though marrying him would have been a big one.

Now she had the confidence to accept whatever happened between her and Max. She was going to show
him that his dark distrust of the future was no match for her patience, dignity, and love.

Forested hills swept past her as the road climbed toward Webster Springs. She sighed with relief. Home. Max. The two were the same.

He should be finished with his work at the courthouse by this time of day. She’d stop by his house and see him. They’d talk. She’d explain about Sloan and the trip to L.A. She’d explain that she wasn’t going to brood about the past if Max would stop brooding about the future.

Maybe Max would go into town with her and help get the apartment ready. Later, maybe they’d celebrate this new phase of their relationship with some barbecue and a bottle of muscadine wine. She smiled, thinking of other ways to celebrate.

Her smile froze in horror as soon as she turned into the drive below Max’s place. Up on the hill a charred, smoldering shell was all that remained of his house. The apple trees in the front yard were scorched. The remnant of the flag pole was a thin black spindle. The lawn was a muddy mess cut by the tracks of fire engines. Ruined furniture was scattered everywhere.

She was dimly aware of screaming Max’s name as she slammed the Mercedes into the graveled lot by the wedding parlor. She threw herself from the car and ran to find Norma. The parlor had a cold, deserted look. The unlit “Get Hitched” sign stared down at her cheerlessly.

Betty pounded on the front door. Norma must be wherever Max was. The hospital? The
morgue
?

Gulping for air, Betty raced back to the car. She did her best to drive slowly and safely into town, but by the time she reached the square, she had run off the edge of the road twice and clipped the passenger-side mirror on a mailbox. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the road long enough to look at the speedometer.

A patrol car from the sheriffs department swung out of a side street and followed her, lights flashing, to the
small hospital on a hill east of town. Betty parked the Mercedes with one wheel atop the curb at the emergency-room entrance. She bolted for the doors, while a deputy trotted after her, calling firmly for her to stop.

She ran inside and nearly collided with paramedics covered in mud and soot. Betty took a quick, terrified look at them and staggered to the admissions window. “Max Templeton!” she said to the startled young woman behind the window. “Is he here?”

“Ma’am, you’re in trouble,” the deputy said, arriving behind her and grabbing her arm.

Betty hung on to the ledge of the admissions window. “Is Max Templeton here?”

The clerk blinked anxiously. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, my God.” Betty pivoted blindly and stared at the doors to the treatment areas. “Max!”

The paramedics gave her curious looks and stepped closer. The deputy clung to her arm. He said something authoritative, but it was a meaningless buzz in her ears. She lurched forward, twisted away from him, and gave him a shove. Caught off guard, he stumbled into the paramedics. All three men bumped into a watercooler, and it fell over with a boom that reverberated down the corridor.

Betty ran for the doors to the treatment area. She plowed through them and met a bewildering array of emergency-room equipment and personnel. A nurse started toward her, shaking her head. “This area is off-limits, ma’am—”

“I’m here to see Max Templeton!”

“You’ll have to wait outside, ma’am.”

Betty dodged her. She scrambled through an obstacle course of gurneys, scanning a distant corner where individual screens hid other gurneys. She heard shouts and running feet behind her.

They had hidden him. He must be dead. Fear numbed her as she ran from one screen to the next. The gurneys behind the first three were empty. A deputy grabbed
her. She elbowed him in the ribs and their combined momentum carried them past the last screen.

Betty slammed into the wall. Gasping, she looked fearfully at the last gurney. A groan of relief burst from her throat. “Max!”

He looked terrible—bruised, muddy, his face covered in grime and his clothes a damp mess. He was propped up on pillows. A bloody cocoon of gauze surrounded his left hand. He stared at her in groggy amazement as she careened to his side.

“What happened? Are you all right?” Her hands flew over him, patting his chest and stomach. “My God, Max. Max, are you okay?”

“He’s fine,” a deputy grumbled. “But you’re under arrest.”

Max finally dragged his eyes from her to the small army of deputies, paramedics, and nurses behind her. He shook his head at them. “She’s not always like this. Sometimes she’s worse.”

Betty weakly bowed her head to his shoulder and held his good hand. “I thought you were … but you’re not. You’re not.”

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
.