Almost Heaven

by Charlotte Douglas

  They spotted no marks of the dog’s passage, heard no answering barks to their cries, and their discouragement grew.

  Gloria had completely disappeared.

  The western mountaintops had been cloaked by clouds from the approaching storm when they’d set out. In less than an hour, darkness had fallen and flurries of snowflakes filled the air. Despite their continuing search, they still had no sign of Gloria.

  Grant stopped again and Merrilee passed in front of the headlights to return to the truck after another futile effort at locating the wolfhound. The intense glare of the beams revealed the pallor of her skin, the thin white line around her mouth and her violent shivering, in spite of her heavy jacket.

  When she slid onto the passenger seat, Grant wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. “You’re freezing.”

  Expecting her to jerk away, he was surprised when she snuggled against him for warmth.

  “I’m not nearly so cold as poor Gloria must be. Besides, I have my anger to keep me warm.” She tilted her head toward him and even in the darkness of the cab, fury sparked like blue flames in her eyes. “It’s a good thing you got me out of there and away from her. I was ready to commit murder.”

  “Couldn’t let you do that,” he murmured against her hair, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle that played havoc with his pulse. “A prison cell definitely limits your scope as a photographer.”

  With her arms tight around his waist, her shivers were subsiding. “I’m warmer now. Shouldn’t we keep looking?”

  Snow covered the windshield. Grant flipped on the wipers to clear it. The headlights barely penetrated the heavy snowfall that obscured the road.

  “We’d better call it quits for tonight,” he admitted with reluctance.

  “But Gloria—”

  “She’s smart enough to find a warm burrow until the snow passes,” he said for Merrilee’s sake, although he doubted that Gloria, in her frantic state, was reacting to anything but fear. He couldn’t find the wolfhound until light came and the weather cleared, but tonight Merrilee needed him. He’d witnessed her fury and devastation at meeting Ginger. Merrilee shouldn’t be alone to deal with her turmoil of emotions.

  “Come home with me,” he offered.

  This time she jerked away as if he’d slapped her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Her refusal hurt, more than he wanted to admit. He reminded himself that she was afraid of her feelings for him, terrified of having her heart broken. But her rejection still smarted.

  “Then let me take you to your nana’s. You shouldn’t chance running into your dad now. You’re too angry and you might say something you’ll regret.”

  Merrilee let out a breath, lifting a wisp of bangs that had fallen over her eyes. “You’re right. I’d tell him in no uncertain terms exactly what I think of that…that…”

  “Hussy?”

  “Hussy’s not strong enough by far, but I’ll settle for it for now.” She scooted to her side of the truck and fastened her seat belt. “Take me to Nana’s, please. She and I have to talk. Dad’s situation is much worse than we thought.”

  Grant turned the truck and headed toward town. Limited visibility slowed his progress to a creep. “Ginger’s worse than you thought?”

  “That, too, but she was waving a ring in Fran’s face, claiming she and Daddy are engaged.”

  Grant cursed.

  “Say that in front of Nana,” Merrilee said dryly, “and she’ll wash your mouth with soap.”

  “Gosh darn,” he amended.

  By the light from the dashboard, he could see Merrilee grin before her expression sobered again. “Nana’s plan isn’t working. I’m taking some great pictures, but Daddy’s avoiding me like the plague. I can’t have any influence on him if I can’t get near him.”

  Grant nodded. For weeks his partner had lived in a world of his own, going about his business as if in a trance that blocked out everyone else. Grant wished he could offer Merrilee some crumb of hope, but if Jim was planning to divorce Cat and marry Ginger, Grant felt helpless to intervene.

  The worsening weather soon took his thoughts off the Strattons’s imminent breakup. The snow was thickening, ice slicks were forming on the road and howling wind rocked the heavy-duty pickup.

  “Sorry,” he said, “There’s no way we’re going to make it into town through this storm. We’re almost to my house, though. Okay to stop?”

  He didn’t want to pressure her, but driving further under these conditions was suicidal.

  Merrilee hesitated, then peered through the window at the deepening snow. “Okay, but only until the road’s been plowed and salted.”

  “I have supper ready in the Crock-Pot.”

  “That woman killed my appetite.”

  “My secret recipe will bring it back to life.”

  “Secret recipe?”

  He could feel Merrilee’s gaze, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the treacherous road to look at her. “Black-eyed peas.”

  “Nothing secret about them,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Grant smacked his lips in anticipation. “I cook them all day with diced ham, pearl onions and a judicious amount of chopped tomatoes, chili peppers and spices.”

  “Salsa?”

  He grinned. “You got it.”

  “Not your typical Southern fare,” she admitted.

  “If you had any sense—” he strove to keep his tone light “—you’d marry me for my cooking.”

  “If I married you for your cooking, I’d end up weighing three hundred pounds.”

  “We’d work it off.”

  “I hate exercise.”

  “Sex burns a lot of calories.”

  “But I’d be marrying you for your cooking, not for sex.” Her tone was teasing, too.

  “Then the sex would be the quid pro quo. I cook. You be the sex goddess.”

  “Sex goddess?” She laughed and the sound warmed him more than the hot air from the truck’s heater.

  “That’ll never work.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how to cook, but I’ve never had a single sex goddess lesson.”

  You don’t need lessons. Every hormone in my body adores you just as you are.

  He shoved aside memories of their lovemaking. Those recollections, still vivid after so many years, weren’t helpful to his resolution to go slow with Merrilee. And if he didn’t concentrate on his driving, he’d land the truck in a ditch.

  “Do they have a school for sex goddesses?” he asked in feigned surprise.

  “Maybe I could take a correspondence course.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Can I help with your homework?”

  She swatted his arm. “In your dreams.”

  Yeah, she was in his dreams all right. And now she’d be in his house. For the night, from the looks of the storm. Resigned to a cold shower to cool his jets, he turned into his driveway.

  The cold shower wasn’t necessary. Remembering Gloria, lost in the horrible weather, doused his ardor. And reignited his furor toward Ginger Parker.

  Slipping and sliding on the icy walk, Grant and Merrilee hurried toward the house. Inside, they were greeted by the glow of lights, deliciously warm air, and a spicy aroma from the Crock-Pot.

  “At least the power’s still on.” Grant peeled off his outer garments and headed for his phone, a common routine, since he was always on call. A blinking red light on the handset indicated waiting voice mail.

  “A message,” he told Merrilee. “I hope it’s not an emergency, not in this weather.”

  MJ PEELED OFF HER sodden jacket and hung it over a ladder-backed chair near the fireplace. Grant touched a match to the kindling while he checked his voice mail on his portable phone.

  Gloria’s empty bed by the hearth reminded MJ of the dog’s plight and Ginger’s cruelty. For a moment anger threatened to choke her. Ginger obviously didn’t have a solitary shred of human kindness. She’d exhibited no remorse for striking a helples
s animal or for breaking up a marriage.

  It takes two to tango.

  Okay, so her dad was also at fault. But after encountering Ginger, MJ instinctively knew that his involvement with the other woman wasn’t cold and calculating, unlike the trap Ginger had set for him. Stressed, overworked, exhausted, and with Cat too often away, MJ’s dad had fallen into Ginger’s clutches unawares.

  What he needed was a wake-up call. And Merrilee had to figure out how to put one through to him.

  “The message’s from Brynn,” Grant said. “She’s found out more about our resident home-wrecker and wants to fill us in.”

  MJ felt like a gawker at a train wreck. She really didn’t want to know more about Ginger, but she couldn’t help herself. “Call Brynn back.”

  Grant punched in a number and, from his conversation, MJ gathered he was talking with the dispatcher at the police department.

  “Brynn’s on a call,” he said when he broke the connection. “Traffic accident. The dispatcher will have her phone us when she’s free.”

  MJ sank into the deep leather sofa in front of the fire. When Grant sat beside her, draped his arm over her shoulders and snuggled against her, she didn’t resist. She welcomed his presence, his reassuring warmth. She needed a friend and she wanted his advice on how to deal with her father’s infidelity.

  Infidelity?

  Insanity was a better term, especially now that she’d actually seen the infamous Ginger. Her father had to be out of his mind.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said with a sigh.

  “Saving your parents’ marriage isn’t up to you, despite what your grandmother has implied,” Grant reminded her softly but without censure. “Their relationship is their responsibility.”

  MJ placed her finger on the tip of his nose. “Remember your little lecture about objectivity? There has to be some way to help Dad see what kind of woman he’s involved with. And what he’s doing to Mom.”

  Grant grasped her finger and moved it to his lips. His touch sent a shiver of delight up her spine. She knew she should withdraw her hand, but now he held it, kissing her palm with tender little nibbles that drove her senses wild, and all she wanted was to feel his lips on hers, his arms around her.

  Sitting next to him, feeling his heat seeping through the layers of her clothes, hearing the calming reassurance of his voice, brought home with a vengeance how much she’d missed him. Only the frenetic pace of New York City living had kept her longing for him at bay. Here in the comfy, peaceful setting of his home, with snow blasting against the two-story windows, she had no buffer against her feelings.

  When he slid his other arm around her and lifted her onto his lap, she couldn’t resist. Didn’t want to, even though her brain was screaming that she was setting herself up for more heartbreak.

  But how could she think about heartbreak when his lips were tasting hers and the flick of his tongue was igniting bursts of desire that threatened to set her aflame? She threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair, opened her mouth to his and moaned with pleasure.

  Somewhere a noise sounded.

  For several seconds, she was too lost in Grant’s kiss for the sound to register.

  When it happened again, she realized the doorbell was ringing.

  Grant lifted his head and stared at the door in disbelief. “Who’s out in this storm?”

  “Has to be a maniac,” MJ observed breathlessly. “And I didn’t hear a car.”

  She didn’t add that an eighteen-wheeler could have roared through the room and, lost in the power of Grant’s embrace, she wouldn’t have noticed.

  With a smoldering look that promised he would finish what they’d started, Grant rose from the sofa and went to the door.

  Brynn Sawyer blew in with a flurry of snowflakes, her high-energy personality charging the room like an electrical current. “Saw your lights on. I just finished working an accident down the road.”

  “Anyone hurt?” Grant asked.

  Brynn removed her uniform hat, dusted off the snow, and shook her head. “Car slid off the road into a ditch. They’re being towed back to town as we speak.”

  “What are you doing here?” MJ joined them at the door.

  “I tried phoning you at the clinic and Fran said you were with Grant. When I spotted his truck and saw the lights on, I took a chance you’d be here.”

  MJ resisted the impulse to finger-comb her disheveled hair.

  “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” Brynn’s saucy grin contradicted her words.

  “We just got in,” MJ said. “We’ve been searching for Gloria.”

  “Gloria?” Brynn looked to Grant. “What happened?”

  Grant related the wolfhound’s run-in with Ginger, and Brynn’s face darkened, anger turning her midnight-blue eyes almost black. “When I check in with dispatch, I’ll have a bulletin issued for the other officers to be on the lookout for her.”

  “Thanks,” Grant said grimly, “but I’m afraid, even if they come across her, she’ll run the other way.”

  MJ’s heart went out to him. Grant loved all animals, but he’d formed a special bond with the wolfhound.

  “I was about to dish up supper,” Grant said to Brynn. “You hungry?”

  “That fabulous smell would make anyone hungry,” Brynn said. “It’s time for my supper break, but I can’t make it back to town until the plow comes through.”

  “Then eat here,” Grant offered. “You can tell us the latest on Ginger Parker over supper.”

  “Deal. But I can’t promise what I say won’t spoil your appetite.” Brynn stripped off her heavy jacket and gloves, keyed the mike on her radio and checked in with dispatch.

  MJ went to the kitchen, took out place mats and silverware, and set the table. Grant began assembling a salad, just as he’d done the other evening. They were working together, each at his own task, like a long-married couple.

  Brynn finished her call and joined them in the kitchen. “Need help?”

  “It’s under control,” Grant said.

  “No, thanks.” MJ added. “From the sound of the storm, you have a long night ahead. You’d better relax while you can.”

  Brynn’s grin widened. “I see you know your way around the place, Merrilee.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” MJ shot a look at Grant, but could see only the back of his head and the broad expanse of his shoulders as he spooned food from the Crock-Pot.

  “Come here often?” Brynn was goading her, but MJ refused to rise to the bait.

  Grant saved MJ from answering by handing each of them a full plate before he turned to the microwave, where he’d heated cornbread from the freezer. MJ and Brynn took their seats and Grant joined them at the table.

  “Looks good enough to eat,” Brynn joked.

  Grant passed her cornbread. “This’ll have to do. I’m fresh out of doughnuts.”

  “Funny man.” Brynn took a bite of food and jerked her head toward MJ. “You should have married him while you had the chance. Now that I know he can cook like this, I may snap him up myself.”

  If MJ hadn’t known her friend was teasing, she might have worried. As gorgeous as Brynn was, any man she set her sights on was doomed. But Brynn was also a cynic, probably made that way by the criminals she encountered in her work. A man would have to be an icon of perfection to win her jaded heart.

  But MJ wasn’t interested in marrying Grant, she assured herself, so why worry?

  She swallowed a bite of cornbread. “Did you find out anything useful about Ginger?”

  “Tons. Her life reads like a Harold Robbins’ novel.”

  “Glamorous?” Grant asked.

  Brynn shook her head. “Smutty.”

  MJ groaned and set down her fork. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

  “You don’t have to, if you’d rather not.” Brynn dug into her black-eyed peas with gusto.

  MJ returned Grant’s gaze across the table. His deep brown eyes held sympathy. And a deeper emotion s
he didn’t want to recognize.

  “Brynn’s right,” Grant said. “No need to torture yourself. We all know what kind of woman she is.”

  Steeling herself for the worst, MJ took a deep breath. “Tell me everything, Brynn. I’m desperate to free Daddy from that awful woman’s clutches.”

  “She’ll eventually drop him like a hot potato,” Brynn said.

  MJ blinked in surprise. “How can you be sure?”

  “That’s her modus operandi. And that’s also why she left New Jersey and changed her name.”

  Grant leaned forward, his curiosity obviously piqued. “She was running away from a man?”

  “Make that men, plural,” Brynn said.

  Her friend must have noted the puzzlement MJ felt, because she added, “I’d better start at the beginning.”

  “Good idea,” Grant said.

  MJ felt her stomach tighten. Whatever Brynn was about to say wasn’t good, but MJ had to hear it. She owed it to her parents to arm herself with any facts that might help save their marriage.

  “I’ve already told Merrilee about Ginger’s domestic disputes with her late husband,” Brynn said to Grant. “Now I’ve found out what our resident tramp was up to from the time her husband died until her arrival in Pleasant Valley.”

  “New Jersey madam?” Grant suggested.

  “You’re close,” Brynn said. “She was apparently the queen of cybersex.”

  MJ gawked at Brynn. “What does that mean?”

  Brynn laughed. “For all your time in the big city, Merrilee, you’re such an innocent.” Her laughter faded. “Cybersex means Internet chat rooms where people exchange sexually explicit messages. Ginger was active online, particularly in chat rooms for married people looking for some extracurricular excitement.”

  “How do you know all this?” Grant said. “I didn’t think you could access someone’s computer files without a warrant.”

  “I’m coming to that part,” Brynn said. “Be patient. It’s a long and sordid story.”