Wade shifted slightly so his deep brown eyes focused intimately on hers. “I’ve been told that regrets are a waste of good energy,” he said. “But most of us have them. I have a couple of really big whoppers that will probably never go away.”
Meg knew he was talking about his wife’s death. Instinctively she wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I guess regrets are a part of becoming an adult.”
The flashlight lay in the grass above their heads, providing just enough glow for her to study his rugged, experience-scarred features, the fine lines around his eyes, the creases at the corners of his mouth. Wade Murdock’s face had character that reflected his history. “So, Deputy,” she said, “what are your regrets today?”
His gaze remained locked with hers, warm and intensely personal. After a moment, his eyes sparkled with humor. “That’s an easy one. I regret that it’s Tuesday.”
She smiled. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s been three whole days and I’m sorry that I never finished what I started on Saturday.”
She nearly asked what that was. But then she knew without asking, and her smile faded. She was grateful for the night shadows that cloaked the flush she felt on her cheeks. Three whole days had gone by, and he’d been having the same thoughts she had—the same regrets as it turned out, the same longings. He was talking about the kiss that never happened.
Her lips parted, but no words came. She was certain he could hear the beating of her heart. Just like the water churning from hidden sources at their feet, Meg’s heartbeat surged through her bloodstream and pounded in her ears. She felt dizzy, as giddy as the waters in the center of the spring. She licked her lips, subconsciously preparing them to accept what Wade offered. “Wade, I don’t know if we should…”
Stupid words. She didn’t mean them.
“I am going to kiss you, Meg,” he said, giving her fair warning, in a soft yet masterful way that stole her breath.
He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was hard, insistent, a bit awkward for both of them. But that first clumsy touch was soon erased by the full onslaught of his eager mouth. He kissed her completely. His lips grew soft and sensuous and hers became pliant, accepting. When his tongue invaded her mouth, her inhibitions faded as her senses took over. It had been so long. This felt so good.
When Wade ended the kiss, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head so her face nestled into the warm, vaguely spice-scented crook of his neck. He teased the hair at her temple with his breath.
“Thank you for showing me your favorite spot, Meg,” he whispered.
She clung to him until continuing to do so would have demanded more from each of them than they were prepared to give. When she withdrew, the world intruded upon them, bringing with it an uncertain future. “I wonder if you’ll thank me tomorrow when we have to face…”
“I think we should let tomorrow take care of itself,” he said. He picked up her shoes and handed them to her, and then put his boots on. When he offered his hand, she took it, and with his light guiding the way, they walked back toward Ashford House.
ROONE TURNED DOWN the television volume when Wade came into the parlor a few minutes later. “So tell me about the doggone caper you had tonight,” he said.
Wade explained about the Arnolds and his decision to send the husband to the county jail for the night. As he spoke, Meg hurried through the room, waved quickly to Roone and climbed the stairs without a backward glance.
“What’s gotten into her?” Roone asked. “She looks like she’s seen a ghost.”
“Nothing so bad as that I hope,” Wade said. “I think she may have lost her way out there in the woods, but was reluctant to admit it.”
Roone stared at his son. His eyes narrowed with suspicion and he rubbed his fingers along the shadow of his beard. “Looks like more than that to me. She’s all flushed like something scared the daylights out of her.” When a pleasing thought occurred to him, he added, “Maybe she’s given up on her claim to the house. Might as well. She never found the deed, if there ever was one.”
“No, that’s not it,” Wade assured him.
“Well, if she’s not ready to buckle under, then the only other thing I can think of that gets a woman all flustered like that is…” He frowned. “No. When you were out in that woods together, you two didn’t…” He shook his head. “Of course not. You wouldn’t…”
Wade had been about to sit down and talk to his dad a while, but thought better of it now. He picked up a magazine from the top of a stack on the coffee table and headed for the stairs. “None of your business,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”
“I hope you didn’t do anything foolish,” Roone warned. “Because if you did, you’re heading for trouble that’s a lot worse than any dog-catching caper in town tonight. Don’t forget you’ve got twenty thousand dollars at stake.”
“I’m not forgetting anything,” Wade said. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“I hope that’s what it is, but I wonder.” Roone picked up the TV remote. “Because, macho man, you’re carrying a catalogue of flower arrangements up to your bedroom.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
WADE CAME DOWNSTAIRS the next morning at 7:30. Roone was reading yesterday’s newspaper and sipping coffee. Jenny had poured a mountain of Frosted Flakes into a bowl and was drowning it in milk.
“Hurry up. You’ll miss your bus,” Wade said.
“That’s okay. You can drive me.”
“No, I can’t.”
Roone lowered the paper and peered over the top at Wade. “Where are you off to?”
Wade looked down the length of his uniform and answered, “Gee, I don’t know. Dressed in this getup, I figured I’d go parasailing on Panama City Beach.”
Both of his family members stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, which wasn’t far off the mark.
“Little touchy this morning, aren’t you?” Roone said.
“I didn’t sleep well.” Of course that didn’t excuse him from acting like a jerk.
“Well, apparently you’re the only one who didn’t. I haven’t seen Meg yet this morning.”
Wade poured himself a cup of coffee and pretended disinterest.
Jenny stopped crunching, and stared first at her father and then her grandfather. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” both men said at once.
“To answer your question,” Wade said with more civility this time, “I’m going over to Vera Arnold’s to see if she’ll consider dropping charges against Clifford. If so, I’ll pick the guy up and bring him home, with a warning and the advice that he find something to do to occupy his time.”
“You might suggest that he try training his dog,” Roone said.
“Can I have some friends over Friday night for a sleepover?” Jenny asked.
“It’s not a real good time, Jen,” Wade said. “You should check with Meg anyway.”
“Why?” Roone asked. “It’s not her house.”
“Yeah, Grandpa’s right,” Jenny said. “I shouldn’t have to ask Meg.”
“Well, you’re going to,” Wade said. “It’s the polite thing to do.” He stopped there, thinking he’d avoid a conversation that would only aggravate his already churning stomach.
Jenny’s shoulders sagged with resignation. “And if she says yes?”
“Then…maybe. No boys at all. Three girls.”
“Four girls.”
Wade gave her a warning frown. “Don’t push your luck, Jen.”
He set down his mug, picked up his keys and cell phone and headed for the back door. He’d just made it down the porch steps when Jenny called to him.
He turned around. “What is it, Jen? We’re both late.”
“What’s really going on with you?” she asked. “Are you, like, seriously mad at me? You haven’t been this grumpy since…well, since Brooklyn and the stuff that happened there.”
He sighed and looked down at the dirt. Jenny didn’t bring u
p her mother’s death often, so when she did, he had to address it. “Look honey, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, and I’m not grumpy, really.” Well, maybe he was, but how was he going to tell his thirteen-year-old daughter that his foul mood had more to do with his hormones than anything else at the moment?
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jenny said. “Meg? She’s making you miserable.”
“No!” That much he knew for sure. Meg was making him a little crazy, but certainly not miserable. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” he said. “This house, the job I’m still adjusting to…” He smiled. “…trying to figure out my baby daughter who’s suddenly older and wiser and wearing little bitty things.”
“It’s not that I don’t like Meg,” she said, completely discounting his litany of excuses. “She’s okay I guess, but I don’t want you jumping into something you may not be ready for.”
Was this his daughter giving him advice as if their roles had suddenly become reversed? “Pumpkin, I’m not jumping into anything.” He thought about last night at the spring, about the kiss and his disturbingly male reaction to it. “In fact,” he added, “I’m not even getting my feet wet.”
“Well, good,” she said. “Because some men need more time after something like what happened to us.” She gave him an earnest assessment with her mother’s eyes. “You’re kind of a slow-mover, Dad. And that’s probably good. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Jen. But I’m fine. Really.” He turned her around and walked her up the steps to the back door. “And you’re still late.” He shot a warning look through the door at Roone, and said, “Behave yourself.”
As he walked to the patrol car, he heard Jenny grumble, “I’m never really sure who he’s talking to.”
“Both of us, I guess,” her grandfather said.
LATER THAT MORNING, Wade dropped Clifford Arnold at his house after securing the man’s solemn pledge to keep his temper under control and take up a hobby. Then Wade stopped at the Quick Mart to get a cup of coffee. As he was paying, he noticed a flyer stuck to the back of the cash register. It advertised the auction at the house on the following Saturday beginning at ten o’clock in the morning.
Fast work, Wade thought, knowing Meg must have delivered the flyer this morning.
Harvey Crockett nodded toward the poster. “Guess that auction’s about the biggest thing to happen around here in a long time,” he said.
“I suppose so,” Wade said.
“I heard folks talking about it even before that lady brought the flyer in this morning. A lot of people think they might end up with more than just one of Miz Ashford’s treasures.”
Having slid a five-dollar bill across the counter, Wade still waited for his change. “Really? Like what?”
“Money. I understand there could be a good bit of cash hid in that house. Folks’ll be bidding up the prices of anything that looks like it might hold cash.”
“Oh, great. That’s just the rumor I don’t want to hear started around this town. It’s that kind of talk that resulted in Ashford House being broken into the other night.” He wiggled his fingers with impatience. “My change, Harv.”
The clerk counted out bills and handed them to Wade. “I don’t think it’s a rumor. I remember Stewart Ashford. Once he got up in years I think the old fella was just nutty enough to leave money squirreled away in Mason jars.”
“Think it if you like, Harvey, but don’t go getting everybody in town believing that they might strike it rich. Miss Hamilton just wants a smooth-running auction without a lot of complications about hidden treasure.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Harvey said. “You know I just mind my own business. Live and let live, I always say.”
That’s not how you reacted when you wanted Newt Bonner strung up for running out on a twenty-dollar gas bill, Wade thought. But, wisely, he said, “Okay, I appreciate that.”
Wade left the Quick Mart, got in his car and headed toward the town hall where he shared a two-desk office with Bert Hollinger. They didn’t need much more space than that since Mount Esther didn’t have its own jail cell. All the desperate criminals like Clifford Arnold were taken to the county seat to do time. Wade intended to complete his report on the Arnold incident and then check the traffic flow out on the highway for a couple of hours. He was passing River Real Estate just as Betty Lamb came out the front door. She flagged him to the curb and Wade rolled down his window. “Something wrong, Betty?”
She leaned on the door frame and stuck her head in the patrol car. “Good morning, handsome. I was just coming to see you.” She held up a manila folder. “I have your Right to Purchase Agreement here. All you have to do is sign it. Once you do, Mrs. Ashford will have thirty days to vacate the property, your mortgage will kick in and all this nonsense about a deed will be a thing of the past.”
“You’re sure it’s nonsense?” Wade asked again.
Betty nodded. “Just to be sure, and because I know what a stickler you are, I did a recheck through county records. No deed for that property was ever filed.”
“That doesn’t mean Mrs. Ashford’s lawyer didn’t prepare it. It might have gotten lost at county records.”
She shook her head with impatience. “Look, Wade, you’ve got to stop borrowing trouble and think about your investment.” She stepped back and shoved the folder through the window at him. “Sign this so we can finalize the sale of the house.”
Logically Wade knew she was right. He could put an end to this ownership debate once and for all by signing his name. But morally, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d given his word to Mrs. Ashford, and he couldn’t kick her out of her house even if it was generally assumed that she was never coming back. Feeling mostly like an idiot for sticking to principles that might bite him in the butt, he said, “I can’t sign it now, Betty. I don’t have time.”
She heaved a sigh of frustration. “Wade, how long does it take to scribble your signature on a piece of paper?”
“It’s not that,” he said. “I don’t have time to read it now. I’m running late.”
“Read it?” Betty drummed her fingernails on the top of the car door. “You know, Wade, I hate to sound self-serving about this whole situation, but my commission on this sale doesn’t come into effect until you sign the Right to Purchase Agreement. I’m sitting on a few thousand dollars that I could be happily spending.”
“I know,” Wade said. “But you prepared this contract knowing I wasn’t going to force Mrs. Ashford out of her house.”
“Right. But that’s before I knew there might be a complication.”
“So you admit there might be one?”
“No! I’m just doing all I can to prevent the possibility.”
Wade did feel some sympathy for the Realtor. After all, Betty had put a lot of time into this deal knowing her commission wouldn’t come for a while. She’d been creative in her negotiations and come up with a contract that seemed equally fair to both Wade and Mrs. Ashford. It wasn’t her fault that Meg Hamilton showed up with her own claim to the property. “I’ll stop by the office later,” he finally said. “I’ll look over the agreement then.”
“When later?” Betty said. “Today?”
“Maybe. Soon.”
She backed away from the car. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He drove off down the street and pulled into a parking place in front of the town hall. Before getting out of the car, he thought about the predicament he was in with Meg. “Basically, Murdock, you’re a moron, a thirty-nine-year-old moron to be exact,” he said to himself. “You acted like some two-bit Romeo last night, and then you suffered the consequences like a high-school kid experiencing his first crush.” And bit everybody’s head off at breakfast, he added to himself.
It had been a long, torturous night. Wade hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Meg and where the kiss might have led if they hadn’t been sitting on granite boulders freezing their toes off in sixty
-degree water. His body had reacted to the fantasy for hours. He wasn’t a moonlight and poetry kind of guy. He was straightforward, sensible. And yet all night he’d fancied himself courting Meg almost as if he were one of those cavaliers in Stewart Ashford’s attic painting.
He squirmed a little on the car seat, relieving some of the discomfort coiling right now between his legs. He stretched his arms, rotated his neck muscles and looked out the side window.
That was a mistake.
There she was, sitting next to the town hall, smack in the middle of the sunny corner window of the PrintSmart Shop. Wade watched Meg as her hands flew expertly over a computer keyboard. Her auburn hair was tied up in a bundle of curls on top of her head, leaving her slender neck exposed. She chewed on her bottom lip, deep in concentration.
There was no kidding himself. Meg Hamilton looked every bit as desirable with her hands on a keyboard as she did in the moonlight over a Suwannee River spring.
He got out of the car and forced his mind to the job he came to complete. He had to write up a report on Clifford Arnold’s night in jail. And he couldn’t do that if he kept staring in the window of the PrintSmart Shop.
He yanked open the door to the town hall and walked inside. He had to focus on his family and the new start he had promised them. He didn’t think he could handle getting involved with another woman and the possibility of losing her. “Is it really worth the risk?” he said aloud. “Especially with this woman?”
When he noticed heads turning in his direction, he clamped his mouth shut. You don’t even know if Meg Hamilton is interested in you. Right now she thinks you’re the biggest problem she’s got in her life. He smiled to himself and suddenly walked with a bit more confidence. Though she did seem to like kissing you.
BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON Meg had posted auction flyers in two dozen locations in Mount Esther, sent more than fifty announcements to antique dealers and furniture stores in the tri-county area, and placed three classified newspaper ads. At each stop, the people she contacted were enthusiastic about the auction.
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