by Sherry Lewis
“Not positive. My friend thought this was the name of the place she told him.”
Phyllis pulled a stool close to the counter and sat. “Maybe you should check with Joe Walker. He has some apartments over on Spring Street and he sometimes rents by the month. It’s possible that he’s got someone living over there I haven’t met.”
“I might do that, thanks.” Max picked up his bags again.
“If he’s not at the apartments, try the newspaper office. He’s the editor.”
Max glanced back at her, surprised. “Serenity has its own newspaper?”
“A weekly.” Phyllis pulled a thin bundle of newsprint from beneath the counter and pushed it toward him. “We don’t have enough news for it to come out more often than that.”
The Serenity Sunrise. Quaint. Max took a look at the front page. The banner headline read Girls Basketball Team Wins Squeaker, but the story beneath made it almost impossible to keep a straight face. Mavis Butterfield Entertains Family for a Week.
“Thanks.” He didn’t want to seem rude, so he folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I needed something to read.”
Phyllis arched an eyebrow, as if she knew he was only humoring her. “If somebody new has moved in, or if they’re here to visit, chances are it’s probably mentioned in there. I don’t always get it read cover to cover so sometimes I miss things, but I have issues for about six months back if you’re interested in tracking someone down. It seems odd that your friend didn’t tell you his sister’s last name.”
Max’s smile faded as he took in her unwavering gaze. She knew something, but how? And what? He settled his bags back on the counter and nodded slowly. “I’m interested.”
“I thought you might be. I’ll bring the papers to your room when I clean it in the morning. Will that be soon enough?”
“Perfect.”
She grinned and crossed her legs. “You’re wondering how I figured you out.”
“The question crossed my mind.”
“I cleaned your room, Mr. Gardner.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had come up behind her. “You left some of your papers out of your briefcase when you went to lunch, and I had to go back with fresh towels and clean glasses. I didn’t mean to pry, but I knocked some papers to the floor when I was gathering up the used glasses. It happened to be a police report.”
“I see.”
“Are you with the police?”
“I’m what people usually call a bounty hunter, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this between the two of us.”
“Of course. But why are you hiding why you’re really here?”
“This fugitive I’m looking for has slipped away from me twice already. His sister’s supposed to be living here, and I’m counting that he’ll show up at her place. He could already be there for all I know. I haven’t been able to find her yet, and I don’t want her to hear about me before I find her. It might give him a chance to get away again.”
Phyllis nodded. “And his sister is this Ronnie you’re looking for?”
“So I’m told.”
“What’s his name?”
Max pulled the picture of Travis from his pocket. “Travis Carmichael. I don’t suppose there’s any chance this is our Mr. Carter?”
Phyllis gave the picture a slow once-over and handed it back. “No such luck. Sorry.”
“Has the guy in the picture ever stayed with you before?”
“I’ve never seen him.”
“And you’ve never heard of Ronnie Carmichael.”
“No. But I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Just let me give you a word of advice. If you want to keep your reason for being here secret, don’t let Elvin know. He’s my husband and I love him, but his mouth does tend to run at times. And stay away from Hattie Brown down at the post office. She might know more than anyone else in town, but she can’t resist sharing what she knows, either.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Phyllis stood and picked up the stool to put it back in the corner. “People have already been asking me and Elvin what we know about you.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“If it’ll help any, I could make up a story to tell everybody. Something juicy that’ll keep them busy for days.”
The offer helped Max relax again. “I can’t ask you to lie. It’s enough to know that you won’t tell anyone what you know.”
Phyllis scowled playfully. “You’re not asking me to lie. I’m volunteering. I could say that you’re working for a celebrity who wants to escape Hollywood. I could keep people busy for days dropping hints.”
Max laughed and shook his head. “I don’t want your neighbors to get angry with you when they find out it’s a lie.”
She pushed a hand at him. “Oh, I don’t think they will. By the time the truth comes out, they’ll know it was all in fun. One thing about people around here, Mr. Gardner, most of ’em know how to take a joke as well as play one.” She settled the stool in the corner and turned back looking younger and more energetic than she had when he came in. “So, tell me, is there anyone special you’d like to work for?”
Laughing, Max pushed open the glass door. “It’s your story, Mrs. Graham. I’ll leave that part up to you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
A STIFF WIND BLEW down from the mountains as Max pulled into Reagan’s driveway that evening. Branches danced overhead, bits of twigs and dirt skittered across the ground in front of him, and he could smell rain. The storm had come out of nowhere a few minutes earlier, dark clouds that seemed to pause at the threshold of the valley, gathering strength before the assault began.
Max gave the house a quick once-over as he rounded the back of the car. It wasn’t new by any means, but the paint was fresh white with green shutters and door, and the yard was neat and trimmed. Empty hanging planters swung along a full-length front porch, just waiting to be filled with flowers, and two white Adirondack chairs flanked a low-slung wooden table.
Too bad he wasn’t a white-picket-fence kind of guy.
Reagan answered the door wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a rust-colored sweater that was nearly the same color as her hair. Max tried to keep his composure, but it was damn hard to act as if he had nothing but dinner on his mind.
The scents of simmering garlic and spices floated out to meet him, and the appeal of the whole homey picture worked through his defenses. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal that wasn’t a special occasion at his parents’ house, and he was surprised by how much he looked forward to this one.
He handed Reagan the bottle of wine with a dry smile. “I hope this is all right. Your wine selection here in Serenity is a bit limited.”
“Just another downside to living in a small town, I guess.” She looked at the label and grinned up at him. “It’s one of my favorites. Thank you.”
Before she could say anything more, her daughters exploded into the entryway, followed by a puff of gray cat. Reagan’s smile turned apologetic and she waved one hand to get the girls’ attention. “Ladies…Company’s here.”
“We know.” The shorter of the two girls—the one Max guessed was the tomboy—gave a little skip-hop to stand behind Reagan and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m Jamie, and that’s my sister, Danielle.”
“Jamie. Danielle.” Max nodded at each in turn. “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me. Something smells delicious.”
Reagan turned toward the small living room off the entryway. “The girls made the lasagna. I’m in charge of the salad and garlic bread.”
Max followed, surprised to see how much the room looked like her. It was compact, neat and tidy. Everywhere he turned he saw something interesting and unusual, from a shingled birdhouse on the far wall, through a crystal Mickey Mouse on one of the packed bookshelves, to a gleaming brass toadstool beside the couch. The colors matched her, as well—earth tones with splashes of vibrant green or red or yellow to liven thi
ngs up.
He turned a quizzical glance on her, which earned a delighted laugh. “I like whimsical things,” she explained before he could ask. “They make me happy.” She waved a hand toward the couch. “Please, make yourself at home. I need to check on a couple of things.”
“I’d be glad to help.”
“You know how to cook?”
He grinned. “Not very well, but I do know how to stir, and I can throw together a salad. My mother doesn’t believe in idle hands, so if you’re in her kitchen, you’d better be doing something.”
“Well, then, by all means. Let’s see just how well you can do with lettuce and tomatoes.”
Reagan’s smile was like the rest of her, pure sun, all warmth. Max gave himself a stern reminder about the promise he’d made at lunch the day before and followed her down the short hallway. The kitchen bore the same whimsical touches as the living room. He grinned at a ceramic frog that appeared to be climbing the blinds and turned back just in time to see Reagan stretch to reach a bowl in a high cupboard.
Instinctively, he stepped behind her and reached for the bowl. “Let me get that for you.” His hand brushed hers, and his hip grazed the curve of her bottom. Her scent filled the space between them and Max had to battle the sudden urge to slip his arms around her waist and pull her close.
Reagan’s hand froze, her body stiffened, and she drew away at the same moment Max did. Her wide eyes shot to his and his breath caught as he looked into their depths. His heart began to hammer as the plastic bowl slid from the cupboard, hit the counter and landed on the floor.
The stunned silence was broken only by the sound of plastic rolling across linoleum and bumping into a wall, and of one of the girls whispering something to the other. Max would have to watch himself around those two. They wouldn’t miss a thing.
He pulled himself together and forced a laugh. “Okay, so I don’t know how to get things out of the cupboard.”
Reagan bent to pick up the bowl. “I think it was my fault, not yours.” She rinsed the dish under the tap and began to towel it dry. “Would you like a glass of wine while you’re waiting?”
Max was fairly sure alcohol wouldn’t make it any easier to ignore her. “Thanks, but I think I’ll wait.” He turned away and studied the figurines, painted flowerpots and other decorations she’d placed around the large kitchen and attached dining room. He paused in front of a fragile teapot. It seemed out of sync with the ceramic frogs and brass toadstool, but it seemed as much a part of Reagan as her other treasures.
“This looks old,” he said when he realized she was watching him. “Is it an antique?”
“It might be. I found it at a yard sale and I’ve never bothered to have it appraised.”
“I thought maybe it was a family heirloom.”
She shook her head and patted lettuce with a paper towel. “I don’t have any of those. My dad has his mother’s china and crystal, and all of my mom’s things are in storage.”
“Your mother isn’t around?”
“She passed away when I was fourteen.”
First her mother, then her husband. No wonder she surrounded herself with things that made her smile. Max pulled out one of the chairs at the table and made himself comfortable. And he tried to imagine her the age of her daughters.
A powerful protective urge swept through him—the desire to keep Reagan and her daughters safe. But why would he feel that way? What was he doing? No women with kids had always been his number-one rule. For the first time in his life, he had no desire to live by the rules, and he could understand why Donovan had thrown caution out the window when he met Holly. Max had told Donovan that a week with any woman was too long.
Suddenly, it didn’t feel long enough.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Reagan walked with Max to the front door. Dinner had turned out beautifully, thanks to the girls. Jamie hadn’t brought up the rock climbing lessons even once, and Danielle had even managed to stay off the telephone. They’d taken to Max immediately, of course. Their good-natured bickering with him over music had them all laughing, and resulted in a rotation of music on the stereo ranging from Aerosmith to Alan Jackson, the Backstreet Boys to Will Smith.
Max had been great with the girls, and Reagan found it harder than ever to understand why he didn’t have a family of his own. She was sure he’d make a terrific dad.
She glanced at him across the dimly lit hallway, acutely aware of everything about him from the set of his shoulders to the length of his legs, the curve of his brow and the strong line of his jaw. She’d absorbed every detail about him during the evening—the way his hand gripped his wineglass during dinner, the way his laugh seemed to begin deep inside and bubble outward, or how his smile started slowly on one side of his mouth and then, without warning, took over his face.
He stopped and turned to face her. “Are you sick of hearing me tell you how great dinner was yet? I haven’t eaten like that in ages.”
“You make me wish I could take credit for more than the salad.”
“Someone taught those girls to cook.”
She laughed softly and glanced at the closed doors behind which the girls were supposed to be doing their homework. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. The girls were thrilled.”
He followed her gaze and a fond smile curved his lips. “You have great kids, Reagan. They’re a lot of fun to be around.”
“Thank you.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall and looked deep into her eyes. “It must be a challenge to raise them alone.”
“It is at times, I suppose. Although, Paul was gone a lot when he was alive, so I’m used to dealing with problems by myself. But there are times when I wish I had someone to talk things over with, another point of view. Sometimes the decisions feel pretty heavy.” She stole another glance at Jamie’s bedroom door. “I’m struggling with one right now, as a matter of fact.”
“The climbing lessons you mentioned?”
She nodded, touched and a little surprised that he remembered. “She’s so determined, it frightens me. Then I wonder if I’m being too rigid….”
“What do you know about this place that’s offering the lessons? What kind of safety standards do they have?”
“I don’t know anything,” she admitted.
“Maybe you’d feel better if you checked it out.”
“Maybe. I know I’d feel better if she gave up on the idea.”
Max glanced down the hall again. “I don’t know her like you do, of course, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on anything.”
“That’s what frightens me most about her. She’s so much like her father.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“In this instance, yes.” She felt a pang of guilt over her disloyalty to Paul, but she couldn’t leave that answer hanging out there without an explanation. “Paul’s determination was a wonderful thing in some ways, but once he made up his mind about something, nobody could talk sense into him. I don’t want Jamie to be that way.”
“You can’t change her nature,” Max said with a thin smile. “Whether you say yes or no, she’s still going to want the lessons. Maybe you should teach her how to be safe rather than just saying no. Otherwise, she may start finding ways to get around you.” He glanced at her quickly and pushed away from the wall. “Forget I said that. I don’t know her. I don’t know you. And I sure as hell don’t know anything about being a parent.”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “There are times when I’m not sure I know all that much, either. This happens to be one of them.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” His eyes darkened and he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “How about we talk about something else?”
His touch made her knees weak, and the look in his eyes made her pulse stutter. “Like what?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Reagan. And you’re incredible to be around. I’m not sure I’ve ever known anyone like you.”
She
put both hands against the wall behind her, needing the contact with something solid to keep her standing. She tried to disregard the sudden longing that tightened her belly, and struggled to remember all the reasons why she couldn’t get involved with him.
He drew his hand away slowly. Torn between relief and disappointment, she took a shallow breath. But no matter what logic told her, she wanted to kiss him. Some rebellious part of her brain told her she’d regret it forever if she didn’t. She’d spent her entire life being responsible, but she didn’t want to lose this moment to caution.
Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she stood on tiptoe and drew his mouth down toward her own. His lips were as full, soft and warm as she’d imagined. His breath mingled with hers and his arms slid around her waist, pulling her against him. His lips opened slightly and his tongue flicked against her mouth.
She moaned softly, completely enveloped in sensation, and her body came fully, immediately, to life. She’d forgotten how a kiss could feel, the way the touch of a man’s lips could demand and give at the same time, draw her soul to the surface and lay it bare. She’d forgotten how safe and comforting a man’s embrace could be.
Her heart suddenly seemed louder, more intense, and it took her a beat or two to realize it was the loud bass beat of Jamie’s music from down the hall. Reagan pulled away quickly and smoothed her hair away from her face.
Questions filled Max’s deep gray eyes and she realized she owed him an explanation. “I’m not usually so forward,” she said with a thin laugh. “Especially not with men I’ve only known for two days. But I guess I’ve never known anyone like you, either.”
“No need to apologize,” he said with a lopsided grin. “That was some dessert.”
She put a little distance between them to make sure she wouldn’t give in to temptation again. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m the one who told you I didn’t want a temporary fling.”
“It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“But I haven’t changed my mind. I can’t. My daughters are in the next room.”