Azure Secrets

by Patricia Rice

  “I can’t look at numbers anymore,” he admitted. “They make my head hurt. I used to have a genius IQ and now I feel like a demented jock. I don’t want you thinking I’m anyone special. I need you to see me, not the expensive trappings and family name.” He almost seemed to be pleading.

  She kissed his bristled jaw. “I smell you. I know you are a man of integrity, and that’s more important than all the money in the world.”

  “I smell right?” he asked with what sounded like a need to believe.

  All those marvelous muscles seemed to release their tension when she kissed him in agreement. She loved that this man who had everything still needed her, so she carried her kisses downward, over his throat. “I told you that. Did you think I’d trust just anyone? There isn’t a hint of fish on you.”

  “I love fish,” he warned.

  She chuckled. “I’ve watched you with people,” she continued, in between kisses. “What happened after I left the restaurant? Harvey said you had a fit. Why did people come help me after I walked out on them?”

  Monty rolled her over and braced himself on both arms. “I threw things and yelled—good offense, that’s all.”

  “Uh huh. You got their attention, and then what did you do?” Now that she dared trust him a little more, she could almost see it. This slow-walking, slow-talking jock bottled his emotions like fine champagne, until he popped a cork, and they exploded all over the place.

  His hands were doing very fine things as he processed what she was asking. “I probably yelled a lot and said rude things to some wealthy, powerful people. That was not diplomatic.”

  “I’m thinking they aren’t the kind of people accustomed to diplomacy. I’m guessing those people are on their way to jail now, right?” She hoped and prayed.

  His kisses started to slide down her jaw and throat. “Yeah, more or less. And I may have to fire Roper. He and Portelli were helping Lee find Sukey, after he got wind of her. Lee and Haas spilled all kinds of crap once I had them sitting down, and Mariah slapped ghost juice around. Then Mrs. G kinda went ballistic all over them. I left Walker to handle it and ran.”

  She stroked downward over his washboard abs. “In essence, you brought together a room full of people who probably all wanted to kill each other, made them listen to you, and restored order to chaos. That’s what you do. Look at this town. Really look at it sometime. How do you think the spooky Lucys get along with what they call Nulls without anyone ever getting shot or beat over the head with crystal witch sticks? Where was this town before you stepped up and became mayor?”

  He was silent. She understood he needed time to think, just as she did. She stroked lower. His body was reacting with the pride he deserved to feel, and she slid lower. If she did nothing else in whatever time she had with this man, she’d make him proud of himself.

  “Hillvale was dying,” he said in wonder. “I don’t think I fixed it.”

  “Stupid, silly man.” She gave up on talking and licked where he needed it.

  The scent of orange blossoms filled the air, and she thought maybe she was smelling love for the first time since her parents died.

  Thirty-five

  Tuesday, morning

  Monty woke to an empty bed and a full heart. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so. . . together. Even when he was a kid, he’d known his world wasn’t whole, although he hadn’t understood why. He thought he knew now—he’d been missing half his heart.

  And the damned woman who completed it had to be an early riser.

  Okay, fine, no relationship was perfect, but after last night. . . he was willing to accept half-baked and upside-down if it meant he could have Fee forever and always. He just didn’t know how the hell he’d convince her. . .

  Oh yeah, he did.

  He wasn’t a clueless, brain-damaged jock, she’d said. He was a man who understood people and brought them together. Monty thought that meant he knew how to manipulate them, but that was good too.

  He just needed to start manipulating real soon or Fee would take it in her head that she didn’t belong or some other such foolery, and he’d spend the rest of his life hunting her down. He had other goals he’d like to accomplish before he died, and chasing Fee across the country would eat into his precious time.

  She’d taken the dog.

  Heart pounding, he punched buttons into his landline and used the speaker while he hastily shaved. He needed to know where he could safely take Fee so she could have the home she wanted. If his mother was returning here, he’d need a new place.

  He almost threw the cordless receiver across the room when he learned his mother had checked herself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders—after her damned chauffeur was released. They could be anywhere.

  All right, he could do this. Not in style, maybe, but he hoped Fee wouldn’t mind. She didn’t seem so much interested in his fancy assets as she was in his scent. Fee needed her own kitchen. And a yard for the dog—if she was still here. If she would listen to him.

  He yanked on a freshly laundered shirt and decided he could give up servants and learn to operate a washing machine.

  The sun was flooding the valley as he swung his car down the road into town. How had Fee got down the hill? Walking that road in the dark was damned dangerous. He needed to build that shortcut path everyone kept talking about.

  Swinging into his usual parking spot, he noted that Peggy’s memorial had been removed. The white bike was gone. A ghostcatcher swung idly from the boardwalk roof. If any remnant of Peggy lingered, Mariah would send her on to a better place. He was officially nuts as the Lucys if he believed that. And he did, because it made him feel better to believe Peggy had moved on to a better place.

  To his immense relief, Sukey was tied to the boardwalk post, soaking up a sunspot. She yipped a greeting, and his heart had that full feeling again. He scratched her shaggy head.

  With a more confident stride, he shoved open the café door.

  A blast of sound hit him, and he almost backed out again. He could risk Dinah’s frying pan and find Fee through the kitchen door. Except curiosity got the better of him.

  “Sushi! Sushi! Sushi!” everyone chanted, raising crystal walking sticks and waving them Harry Potter style.

  Or were they saying Sukey?

  Monty followed their gazes to the television where the talking heads were flashing photos of Lee, Gonzalez, and Haas.

  Oooookay.

  Standing, he could see over the heads of the customers at the counter. Fee wasn’t there. He didn’t want to pick a fight with Dinah when he needed her cooperation, so he wouldn’t invade her kitchen. Yet. He was pretty desperate to get at Fee.

  The television flashed images of Delphines’ exterior and Fee’s sushi platters. The chant grew louder. Even the non-wand-waving Nulls had joined in. Xavier and Orville raised their coffee cups, and Monty was pretty damned certain neither of them touched raw fish. For all that mattered, neither did most of the Lucys.

  Mariah and Sam were behind the counter, deliberately ignoring him and leading the chant. He looked for Aaron and Harvey, but they’d wisely stayed away. They weren’t breakfast eaters anyway. Mariah’s geologist husband wasn’t here to keep her in line. Keegan had probably returned to his mine now that the crisis was over.

  Monty checked his phone messages. Walker was still down the mountain, working with the feds and the sheriff. He was on his own.

  The television flashed an image of Mrs. G proudly holding a shy but beaming Stacy in her arms, while the nanny and the kid’s ignorant father stood in the background. The chant instantly quieted, so maybe they’d been saying Stacy.

  Fee appeared behind the counter, wiping her hands on a towel to watch. Monty sighed in relief and immediately took a stool nearest her. She smiled tentatively at him, then returned her attention to the news report making it sound as if Stacy’s grandmother had single-handedly rescued her granddaughter from drug dealers and kidnappers.

  “The nanny is Peggy’s cousin,
” Fee whispered, pushing a juice glass in his direction. “She wasn’t part of the gang. She just refused to leave Stacy when Lee stole her.”

  “Peggy sent a spy into her ex’s household!” Monty got it instantly. “Fake papers so they didn’t know who she was.”

  Fee nodded. “And no one is mentioning the ex as involved in his father’s dealings. Do you think he got out of the gang and that’s why he moved to the city? I wish I could smell him.”

  “Mrs. G will straighten him out,” Monty said confidently. “And if she and Peggy’s cousin have the kid, Stacy will be safe.”

  She beamed at him. “You know people. I’ll trust your judgment. I’ll go get your egg bagel. You need iron this morning.”

  “I don’t want—” But she was gone, and he realized he was famished and did want a monster egg bagel.

  That wasn’t all he wanted though.

  The television went silent. Irate voices broke out.

  Fee hastily finished Monty’s bagel and exchanged worried glances with Dinah.

  The phone in the office rang. It had been ringing since the first news broadcast about Lee being captured over a plate of Delphines’ sushi. Mariah had taken to shouting sushi every time she took down another reservation. In some wonky Lucy celebration, the rest had taken up the chant, occasionally flinging in Sukey when the Yorkie looked up or Stacy when there was another shot of Peggy’s daughter.

  Fee kind of admired their enthusiasm, and the waving wands seemed to be generating a magical energy that had the entire crowd loopy.

  “I’ll get it,” Dinah murmured. “You stop them from whatever.”

  With so much energy crackling through the small café, she was probably taking her life in her hands to go out there. But Monty was there, and Fee sashayed out as if she belonged.

  Monty was removing the television from the wall.

  “Juice bar, right here,” he said determinedly. “News is bad for the digestion.”

  Fee’s heart plummeted through the floor.

  “That was good news!” Sam yelled in protest. “And there’s no room for a juice bar.”

  “Kurt’s an architect. He’ll figure it out. I’m cutting off your cable.” Monty lugged the enormous TV to the door. Catching sight of Fee with his bagel, he dropped his load in an empty booth and returned to his seat. “I need to talk to Dinah. She either needs to sit in her office and answer the damned phone or start hiring real help.”

  “You ain’t the boss of me,” Dinah cried from the kitchen, evidently returned from her task.

  “I want to be boss of a juice bar,” he shouted back.

  But he didn’t take his gaze off Fee. She was standing here having a heart attack, and he wanted her to read his mind?

  “Then take the ice cream parlor,” Xavier, his rental agent, suggested from his booth. “No one’s renting it yet, and it has a great mural, just like this one.”

  “A whole building costs too much for a juice bar. The café barely makes enough to cover the rent.” Monty bit into his bagel. “And I don’t want to run an ice cream parlor.”

  He was telling her something. He smelled of satisfaction and uncertainty and all that masculine integrity without a hint of fish. And citrus, which weakened her will. What did he want her to do?

  The café didn’t earn enough to pay the rent? She could make improvements, but she needed paid labor. . .

  “A juice bar doesn’t need a kitchen,” she said uncertainly, feeling her way around this new idea. “It could open in the afternoons, when the kitchen is used for Delphines.”

  Mouth full of bagel, Mayor Monty gave her a thumbs up, and her heart returned to her chest again.

  “We could offer wheat grass and smoothies, maybe some acai bowls if we had a small fridge at the bar, maybe some gluten-free products. . .” Fee dredged her brain for memories of the few health food bars she’d visited. “Afternoon tea and coffee, a few baked goods. . .”

  “Juice bar,” Monty said in satisfaction once he finished chewing. “Green lemonade, kale and spinach, beets, ginger, coconut. Can you do that?”

  “Who’s going to eat that crap?” Orville, the veterinarian, demanded from his booth.

  “I would,” Amber cried in delight. Her bracelets jangled as she circled her walking stick as if to say Make it so. “Tourists from the city will love it.”

  Monty’s stare was challenging as he drank his juice.

  He was still waiting for her to say something. Fee’s pulse pounded a little harder. Yesterday, she’d been terrified she’d be searching for still another new home. Today. . . she had a lover who believed in her. One who wanted a juice bar, admittedly, but he owned the town. He had a right to a juice bar if it made him happy.

  But this was Dinah’s café, even if she only rented it from Monty’s corporation. Dinah had built the clientele and made it hers, except she didn’t do juice bars. Neither did Fee.

  “I like to cook, not squeeze lemons and kale,” she said, trying to sound defiant.

  Monty raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “This is Dinah’s café,” she added when he didn’t argue.

  A cheer and applause followed that declaration. Denied the TV, everyone in the damned town was listening.

  Including Dinah, Fee was sure. She turned to the diminutive cook laying plates in the pass-through. Dinah’s forehead was wrinkled in thought. She caught Fee’s look and nodded, but Fee had no idea what that meant.

  Someone had to speak up. Looked like it had to be her. To get what she wanted, she had to take risks.

  “Delphines business is picking up,” Fee said aloud, still feeling her way around. “With summer, it should boom, because Dinah’s a brilliant chef.”

  Dinah winked. “You ain’t bad yourself, honey. You gonna make sushi for me?”

  “Anything you ask,” Fee agreed. “I owe you big time.” And that’s when she got it.

  She wasn’t used to making big decisions without worrying over them for days and weeks. Jumping into the frying pan was Monty’s trick, not hers. But Monty was the one who’d leaped in with his crazy juice bar idea, and the sushi thing had just happened, and sometimes, one had to seize the moment.

  “Would it help,” she asked tentatively, “if I took over the café so you could concentrate on the restaurant?”

  “Juice bar,” Monty muttered through a mouthful of bagel.

  Holding the attention of every person in the café, Dinah nodded solemnly. “It might. I could still make pies for you—and the juice bar,” she added with another wink.

  “If we set it up so I buy the café, I could pay you a percentage of the profit every week.” Fee turned back to Monty. “And if you want a juice bar, you buy your own equipment and pay me for space. Or discount my rent,” she added with more confidence when he just beamed at her.

  “Sushi,” Mariah shouted, raising her stick.

  “Wheatgrass,” Amber countered.

  In that moment, when Amber was smiling and waving her stick, Fee finally identified the tarot reader. She widened her eyes in surprise, but this time, she kept her mouth shut. Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

  The rest of the chant deteriorated into pie, pie, pie.

  Fee leaned over the counter and boldly kissed Monty’s cheek. Drinking in the scent of lemons and oranges, she whispered daringly, “I think I love you.”

  “Backatcha,” he said, blue eyes gleaming. “When you take a break here, want to see what else I have up my magic sleeve?”

  The scent of citrus eradicated all else. He thought he loved her? Her? The unlovable? “I’ll follow you anywhere,” she agreed, willing to believe, “But the juice bar is still your baby, not mine.”

  He laughed, stood up, and half pulled her over the counter to kiss her.

  Fee didn’t even attempt to translate the chant that followed.

  Thirty-six

  Monty draped his arm over Fee’s shoulders, needing her solidity to prove he wasn’t dreaming. He gestured at the muddy yard cross-ha
tched with tire treads at the Weldon cabin. “Sam can tell me what I need to make this into a landscape.”

  Fee studied the yard—or lack thereof—while Sukey ran amuck, sniffing exciting scents.

  His success at letting Fee negotiate with Dinah for the sale of the café had gone to his head. He’d manipulated the sale, yes, but he’d known that was what they both wanted. The Weldon Place. . . that was a big question mark.

  “We have plumbers coming out this week to install piping and a bathroom in that small bedroom. The kitchen will have clean running water once we add filters in the well.” He led her down a walkway of old boards one of his workmen had thoughtfully supplied.

  “Electricity?” she asked dubiously.

  “Well, I was hoping you’d like camping out for a while since I own no furniture,” Monty said with a half-laugh. Man, he’d jumped into this one, hadn’t he?

  “Me?” she squeaked. “You want me to live here?”

  Monty mentally slapped his forehead. “You, with me. Is it too soon? I mean, if I’m rushing you. . .”

  She looked at him in astonishment. “You’re fixing this up for us?”

  She gasped as Monty swung her into his arms and carried her up the stone steps and across the newly repaired porch. “A home, for us. We both need one, right? I’m pretty sure I’m head over heels over you, and you said you think you love me. I can’t remember anyone really loving me, so I don’t want to lose you. We can work on that here, if you agree. It’s easy walking distance to town. Is that okay?”

  “A home,” she said dazedly, looking around at the cozy cabin interior. “You love me?” she asked in the same dazed tone.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what this all-full feeling is,” he said with his customary confidence.

  “You smell like citrus and ocean breezes when you say that.” She sounded a little more confident as she looked around.