Hero at Large

by Janet Evanovich

“To treat you with respect and to stay far away…and never ever to stop and help you on the highway.”

  Chris glowered at him for a second, then turned on her heel and swished from the rink. “Hideous, insufferable son of a beet,” she ground out. She slammed the contract down on the office desk and slashed her name across the bottom. Kenneth Knight, she fumed. The man was lower than slime! He was using her sense of responsibility to make her sign a superior contract. What nerve. She paced the office like a caged lioness. She threw the office door open and stormed back to the rink. She approached Ken’s scaffold and gave it another kick.

  Ken scrambled to maintain his balance, reaching frantically for the handrail. “What the devil? Now what?” He scowled down at Chris.

  “I…you…unk!” She threw her hands into the air in exasperation.

  “Could you be more precise?”

  “Fiend!”

  “Two weeks ago you told me I was adorable.”

  “Ken Callahan was adorable. Kenneth Knight is unscrupulous and despicable.”

  His black brows drew together. His eyes changed from ice blue to ebony as he swung lithely down from the platform at the top of the scaffolding to the ice. “Ken Callahan and Kenneth Knight are the same person. You’re inventing a double identity and creating a mythical bad guy because you’re scared to commit yourself to a permanent relationship. I might be despicable in your eyes, but I’m not unscrupulous. I presented you with a good contract.”

  “I know that, and I think it was rotten of you.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I think I’m beginning to understand this conversation, and it scares the hell out of me. Do you suppose convoluted reasoning can be catching? Like the plague?”

  Chris narrowed her eyes and made a fist. “Do you suppose you could catch a knuckle sandwich!”

  Ken bowed his head and held his hand up. “Stop.” He looked at Chris from under menacing lowered lashes. “I’m not going to stand here and fight with you. I have too many things to do today.” He took a grip on her upper arm and guided her to the lobby door. “I want you to go into the office and have a cup of coffee, and when you’ve calmed down enough to hold a pencil without snapping it in half, you can make up a schedule.”

  “I don’t need a cup of coffee to make me calm,” she shouted. “I’m perfectly calm right now.”

  “Yes, I can see that by the smoke coming out of your ears,” he said dryly. He loosened his grip on her arms and watched her for a moment. There was a sadness, a tiredness to his eyes that Chris hadn’t noticed before. It seemed incongruous with the small half smile that curved his mouth. “Actually, I’d like a cup, and I’d be eternally grateful if you’d start a pot going. One of those cartons just outside the box office should contain a new coffee maker.”

  “Hmmph.”

  The smile widened just a bit. “I know I’ve got you when you resort to hmmph. That’s as good as a grudging yes.”

  Chris sighed and made her way through a maze of tools and cardboard boxes. He knew her too well. He knew what grunts and sighs and other unintelligible signals meant. He was no dope, and she’d never made much of an effort to hide her emotions from him. Hmmph was definitely a grudging yes. If he’d been a different sort of person…if he’d really been Callahan…that intuition would have been an asset. In Knight’s talons it was just one more thing to worry about. Chris looked at the labels on the boxes. Computer equipment. A new sound system. He was installing a new ceiling. It took time to order this sort of stuff, Chris thought. He must have bought the rink weeks ago, when he first saw the place. Devious, Chris snorted. The man was filled with secrets and covert activities. She sorted through the boxes until she found one marked COFFEE MAKER. A supermarket bag containing coffee and filters and paper cups had been set atop the coffee-maker box. Sneaky but organized, she concluded—qualities essential for corporate success.

  A half hour later, Chris sat with her fingers curled around a mug of cold coffee, concentrating on the scheduling sheet in front of her. She’d been interrupted twice—once to decide upon colors for the lobby and once to give her approval on a new trampoline. It was like Christmas. No, it was better than Christmas—it was a coach’s dream come true. It didn’t matter who owned the rink, she told herself, or what his motives were for buying it. So what if it was just another lark? Who cared if it was just a tax shelter? Northern Virginia was finally going to have a first-rate training center. She slumped in her seat. So why did she feel so crummy? Love is the pits, she decided. It ruins everything.

  The office door opened and Ken entered with a rush of cold air. He looked at Chris for a moment, assessing her mood. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and moved toward the coffee pot. “How can anyone skate in there? It’s freezing.”

  “We need a new heater.”

  “I think this would have been cheaper if I’d just started from the ground up and built a brand-new arena.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped at it appreciatively. “Good coffee.”

  Chris folded her hands on the desk and made an effort to control the jumble of emotions squeezing at her heart. “I’ve almost completed the schedule. I’ve kept the afternoon public session on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. That leaves an equivalent block of time Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for group lessons.”

  Ken stared into his coffee. “Fine.”

  “Gosh. So much enthusiasm. So much emotion,” Chris chided.

  He looked at her over the top of his coffee cup. A flame flickered in blue-black eyes. “Would you like to see some emotion?”

  Chris felt her stomach flip. “Uh…” She blinked under his riveting gaze, unable to formulate a retort. The tension stretched between them, joining them together in breathless suspense. Chris licked dry lips. She saw Ken’s attention waver. A small look of annoyance skimmed across his brow and was immediately replaced with one of incredulity as he stared past her and focused on the open office door.

  Chris turned to see what had saved her from certain suffocation. “Aunt Edna?”

  “Oh my God,” Ken said. “She’s got my mom with her.”

  The two women stood side by side in the small office. They seemed about the same age and were of comparable build. Good sturdy sausages wearing sensible shoes and warm woolen coats. Edna glared at her niece defensively, her expression silently communicating. “This isn’t my fault and don’t you dare say otherwise!” Mrs. Knight smiled warmly.

  Edna pressed her lips together. “Margaret, this is my niece, Chris Nelson. Chris, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Knight.” Edna rolled her eyes. “This here’s Ken’s mother…all the way from Pennsylvania.”

  Mrs. Knight extended her hand. “I hope I didn’t come at an awkward time.”

  Chris smiled warmly at the woman and shook her hand. She cocked an eyebrow at Edna.

  Edna bobbed her head up and down and tapped her foot on the rubberized carpet. “It was just after Thanksgiving. You remember when your mom called, Ken? She called to say happy Thanksgiving and you never seemed to be home when she called, and we got to talking and having a wonderful conversation. And so, of course, I told her about you being engaged, and all. And how it would be nice if she came down to meet Chris, here…and we could all plan the wedding together.” Edna’s eyes narrowed pugnaciously. “And then in all the excitement, danged if I didn’t forget!”

  Ken shifted behind Chris. “Sounds like a setup,” he whispered into her hair.

  “Mmmmmm,” she murmured, more in response to his proximity than to his statement.

  Mrs. Knight smiled at her son and held out her arms. “It’s so good to see you. You don’t come home enough.”

  Ken hugged his mother and returned the smile. Some of the strain left his eyes as laugh lines crinkled in the corners. “You don’t fool me for a minute. You’re in league with Edna to patch things up, aren’t you?”

  Mrs. Knight flushed and turned to Edna, who was studying the ceiling. “Well, Edna did mention something this morning about s
ome difficulties…”

  Chris shook her finger at Edna. “Your meddling has gone too far this time.”

  “Bunch of dang silliness,” Edna snorted. “Making a ruckus over nothing,” she told her niece. “And you!” she turned on Ken. “You don’t know beans about what you’re doing. You let her slip through your fingers.”

  There was a noticeable silence in the lobby. The sounds of hammering and sawing had been replaced with whispers and stifled chuckles. Ken reached behind his mother and closed the office door. “I have to make a phone call about a new heating system. It’ll only take a minute, and then I can leave for a while. I’d be delighted to take you two ladies to brunch.”

  “Nonsense,” his mother said. “I came all the way down here to meet Chris. I’d like to see the ice arena, and then we can all go to brunch.”

  Ken was silent for a moment while he contemplated his options. He sighed and checked his watch. “Okay, but I haven’t much time…”

  Chris scowled at him. Haven’t much time? For his mother? Isn’t that typical, she fumed. Kenneth Knight, Big Tycoon! Chris linked her arms with the two women. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour, and then we can find someplace quiet for a cup of tea. We really don’t need Ken along, at all.”

  “Hmmmph,” Edna grunted. “Of course we need Ken. How do you expect to plan a wedding without the groom?”

  Chris stopped short. “There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

  Edna narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you think. I’m no quitter. Ken’s the perfect husband for you.”

  “Yeah,” Ken mumbled. “No one else is rich enough to afford the medical insurance.”

  Chris whirled around and glared at him, nose to nose. “What a horrid thing to say. I’ve never said a word about your poisonous food, but you bring broken bones into the conversation every chance you get.”

  He looked genuinely injured. “What do you mean…poisonous food?”

  “You tried to make me eat a potholder!”

  Edna shook her head. “This isn’t going too good,” she told Margaret Knight.

  “Are you sure they used to like each other?”

  “Maybe we should just plan the wedding without them,” Edna mused.

  Ken and Chris exchanged looks of exasperated disbelief. “The heating system can wait,” Ken decided. “Let’s just get them out of here.”

  Chris sat with her fingers curled around a cup of cold coffee. The conversation buzzing around her was grimly fascinating. So fascinating that for the second time that morning she forgot to drink her coffee. Edna and Margaret were planning a wedding.

  “It should be a Christmas wedding,” Edna pronounced. “Christmas weddings are nice.”

  Margaret agreed. “I had a spring wedding, but if I had it to do again it would definitely be a Christmas wedding. I think it’s so nice when you can decorate with holly and red bows.”

  Chris looked at the man sitting silently beside her. He, too, was absorbed in the older women’s conversation. He relaxed against the padded cushion of the booth, his long legs reaching almost to the side occupied by Edna and his mother. One hand held his empty coffee cup, the other unconsciously traced circular patterns across Chris’s shoulder and along her neck. A bemused expression hovered at his mouth and lurked in his eyes.

  “I think spice cake is good for a December wedding,” Margaret said. “Of course it should have white icing and be decorated like any other wedding cake, but if the inside were spice, it would be nice.”

  Chris wriggled to get Ken’s attention. “How can you let them go on like this?” she whispered. “How can you just sit there smiling?”

  “They’re enjoying themselves. Anyway, I don’t know how to stop them.”

  “Now I know why you got along so well with Aunt Edna.”

  Ken grinned. “She’s just like my mom.”

  Chris looked at Ken sidewise. “I’m not going to marry you.”

  “Of course not.” The circles at her neck grew lazier, more provocative.

  He has great thumbs, Chris thought. It’s the thumbs that make the difference between a good massage and a great massage. Little prickles of pleasure warmed her skin.

  He leaned against her, snuggling her against his chest and his shoulder. “They don’t even know we’re here.”

  “Mmmmm,” she agreed, her curly lashes drooping over slightly glazed eyes.

  “You’ve got a big family, Margaret,” Edna worried. “We wouldn’t want to leave anyone out, but I don’t know if I can fit such a bunch of people into the town house. I suppose we could hire out a restaurant room.”

  The two women looked depressed at the thought. “Those restaurant weddings always seem so cold,” Margaret finally said.

  Edna looked hopeful. “How about your house? Is your house in Pennsylvania big enough to hold everyone?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a nice house, but it’s not real big. It’s pretty much busting at the seams during holidays.”

  Chris was startled out of her trance by Ken’s deep voice joining the conversation. “How about Darby Hills?”

  Chris sat up straight and squeaked, “Are you crazy?”

  Ken chuckled and tweaked an orange curl.

  “What’s Darby Hills?” Edna asked.

  Margaret beamed. “It’s this huge awful house he bought. It sits on this little hill like a fat lady squatting on an orange.”

  Edna shivered. “It don’t sound like a place for a wedding.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Chris offered. “The land around it is really beautiful. There are cows and big oak trees and lots of azaleas…” She stopped short and flushed red. She closed her eyes tight and sank into her seat, unable to believe she’d just risen to the defense of Darby Hills. She opened one eye and glared at Ken, daring him to even crack a smile.

  Ken’s eyes were wide with surprise. Edna and Margaret stared at her openmouthed. Chris grabbed her cup of cold coffee and drained it.

  “I’m not going to touch this one,” Ken assured Chris. “I don’t mind a little danger in my life every now and then, but I’m not suicidal.”

  Chris looked at her watch. “I should be getting back to the rink.”

  Ken reached across the table and took his mother’s hand. “What are your plans, Mom? How long will you be down here?”

  “I’m just here for the day. I drove down with your sister.”

  “Erin? Where is she?”

  Margaret elbowed Edna, and the two women giggled.

  “She was chicken,” Edna answered with a mischievous grin. “She wouldn’t come with us.”

  Ken’s mother smoothed her napkin on the table in front of her. “Erin decided to stay at Edna’s town house while we visited with you and Chris, and then this afternoon we’re going into Washington together. We’re going to be tourists.”

  The sadness returned to Ken’s eyes. “I’d like to take you out to dinner, but I have to get ready to go to Chicago.”

  “I understand. You take care of yourself. You look so tired.”

  He did look tired, Chris thought. There were times when the animation returned to his face and his smile reached his eyes, but there were also dark circles and lines of tension that testified to sleepless nights.

  He took out a billfold and removed a credit card. “You take this and have a nice afternoon. Take Erin out to lunch. Someplace fancy.” He stood and pulled Chris out of the booth. “We’re only a short distance from the rink. I’ll walk back with Chris. You can take your time over another cup of coffee here and then drive Edna home in the Mercedes.”

  Edna turned to Margaret, explaining ruefully, “I don’t drive. It’s the one thing I don’t do. Tried it from time to time but couldn’t get the hang of it.”

  Chris leaned toward Ken and told him in an aside, “Leadfoot smashed up every car she ever tried to drive. One time in Denver she put Uncle Ed’s station wagon into reverse and took out the garage door.”

  “I heard that!” Edna snapped. “That wasn�
��t my fault. It was that dang electronic door opener that didn’t work right. Besides, my foot slipped. I didn’t mean to go just then.”

  Ken trundled Chris into her ski jacket and pushed her toward the door. “Don’t you know that discretion is the better part of valor? Edna will feed you lima bean soup tonight for that crack about her driving.”

  “I hate lima bean soup.”

  “I know,” he said softly.

  Chris felt a lump form in her throat at the tender intimacy of his response. They stopped and looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Chris saw questions there—questions that had no answers. And regret. She knew her eyes reflected the same. Tears prickled deep inside her. She felt them spill over her lower lashes and slide down her cheeks.

  Ken stared silently at the tears for a moment. He pressed his lips together and brushed his thumb gently across her cheeks. “I wish I could make you happy,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He gathered her to his chest and held her close, bowing his head into her hair and closing his eyes against its softness. “I know you’re scared and angry, and I obviously did a lot of things wrong. But now I don’t know how to make them right.” He pressed a lingering kiss against her ear.

  She trembled against him, not knowing what to say. This morning he hadn’t seemed to care at all, and now he seemed to love her again. Maybe he was just a sucker for tears, she thought. Or maybe sitting together in the booth had triggered a testosterone attack. Although, there were none of the obvious signs…

  A horn blared at them, and a truck pulled into the restaurant parking lot. A burly young man leaned out of the truck window. “We’ve got problems,” he called to Ken. “The new compressor was just delivered, and Marty says it’s not the right one.”

  “Of course,” Ken muttered. “Murphy’s Law. If anything can go wrong…it will.” He wrapped an arm around Chris. “Come on, we’ll hitch a ride back with Steve.”

  Chris quickly wiped away the last remnants of tears and slid up onto the large bench seat of the Ford. Ken read her mind as he took his place next to her. “Yeah”—he smiled regretfully—“life would be a lot less complicated if my truck had been this big.”