Uniformly Hot! Volume 1 from Harlequin: Letters from HomeBreaking the RulesComing Up for Air

by Rhonda Nelson

  “And it is a success,” Max pointed out. “We’re just making sure it stays that way.”

  As they passed through the arches toward the hall that led to her office and the bathrooms, Sophia shot a quick glance at the showrooms. A few dozen people were milling through, talking, sipping champagne and enjoying the show. She saw Gina, clipboard in hand. Taking orders, Sophia knew.

  A skunk, an attempted catering catastrophe and a fire. And they were still buying.

  She’d celebrate later. After she’d thrown up.

  They went into her office and stepped over to the closed bathroom door someone was pounding on. Max accepted the key from the guy standing guard. He gave a nod and the guy left, closing the door behind him. She could see his shadow against the etched glass of the door as he stood, arms crossed and his back to them. Ensuring privacy, Sophia realized.

  Privacy was good.

  “Ready?” Max said, holding up the key.

  13

  “WHAT IF IT’S LYNN?” Sophia winced. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. She knew the woman hated her. But to have to see proof, face-to-face, made her a little ill.

  “Then we have her arrested.”

  Dread moved through her stomach like greasy smoke. She took a deep breath, trying to banish the sick feeling.

  The pounding on the bathroom door continued.

  They kept right on ignoring it.

  Overwhelmed, Sophia closed her eyes and dropped her forehead against Max’s chest. His arms encircled her, pulling her tight against him. She felt safe. Safe and loved. Breathing in his warm male scent, she realized that half of loving someone was trusting them. She’d been so afraid of giving up control, she’d refused to see the obvious. That Max was a man she could trust. With her life, with her business, with her heart.

  “I need you,” she finally admitted, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I know I can deal with this. That’s the important thing, right? That I can handle it on my own. That doesn’t mean I have to be all stubborn and independent, though. I want you there…just for support.”

  Sophia waited for the roof to cave in. For Max to crow in triumph or give her a condescending smile, as if he’d just been waiting for permission to run her life.

  She got neither. Instead, he gave her a tight hug and whispered against her hair, “Sweetie, I’m here for you. Just for support.”

  She smiled against his chest, warmth and contentment like she’d never felt before centering her. Maybe, so busy trying to prove she could do it all by herself, she’d blown chances to let people show her that they believed in her.

  Then she thought back to Joseph’s passive-aggressive attacks and her brothers all-out bullying bossiness.

  Nope. Max was just special.

  “Ready?” he asked after a few seconds.

  Sophia took a deep breath and stepped out of the safe haven of his arms. Whoever was on the other side of the door had added kicking to their pounding. Sophia winced. She’d rather stay wrapped around Max permanently, but she knew she had to face this head-on.

  “Ready,” she told him.

  Max inserted the key into the shaking door.

  He motioned her back, just in case Lynn came out swinging, she figured.

  And he turned the knob.

  The door swung open.

  Sophia gasped. Her knees turned to jelly and her jaw hit her chest.

  “What the…” Max growled.

  “Oh, my God,” Sophia breathed, dropping onto her tapestry couch when her knees gave away. “This is some kind of a joke, right?”

  “Mom?” Max said, stunned.

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, SOPHIA paced her office, tugging at her hair just in case it relieved a little of the pressure on her brain. “But… I don’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand? Insanity is beyond comprehension,” Max muttered through clenched teeth.

  Finally unable to deny the truth, Sophia threw her hands in the air and exclaimed, “Your mother is a vandal? The dame of Nob Hill? Mrs. General St. James, the committee queen?”

  “I’m going to have to have her locked up,” Max said, pacing opposite her and muttering. “Psychiatric evaluations. Therapy. House arrest. The press. Oh, hell, the press. This is going to be a nightmare.”

  “Going to be a nightmare?” Sophia exclaimed. “It’s been a nightmare for the past two months. I can’t believe this. She can’t be responsible. Not all along. Can she? I didn’t even know she was at the gallery tonight, for crying out loud.”

  Max shook his head, holding his palms up in a who-the-hell-knows move. Then he twirled his finger around his ear in the classic cuckoo sign.

  “I’m standing right here, you know,” Tabby stated in a snippy tone. She gave them both an icy glare. Her arms were wrapped around her chest like a straight jacket. Apt, Sophia figured, since she was apparently crazy.

  “Since you’re sitting here,” Max growled, “how about you tell us what the hell is going on.”

  “I won’t be talked to in that manner, Maximilian.” His mother gave him a chilly look and lifted her chin. Faint color warmed cheeks still damp from the ice water deluge.

  Class, Sophia realized. This was class. The woman’s perfect hair was dripping down her back, she had tiny chunks of ice cube melting on her shoulder and she’d been caught trying to set fire to Sophia’s bathroom. And she still looked as if she’d have a servant beheaded if the cold cucumber sandwiches weren’t cut into perfect circles.

  “What’s going on, Mother?”

  Apparently that manner of speaking was more acceptable to Mrs. St. James. She nodded and, after a brief glance at her options, sat in one of the leather wingbacked chairs. Sophia wondered if that was a courtesy so her wet self didn’t ruin the upholstery, or if it was because nothing else was deemed worthy.

  “The fire, the food, the vandalism. Was that all you?” Sophia asked Tabby, her head still reeling in shock.

  “I had to stop the show,” Tabby explained, looking at Sophia instead of her son. “I couldn’t let…”

  Sophia frowned. Couldn’t let what? Before she could push, Max butted in.

  “A skunk, Mother? Where the hell did you get a skunk? How did you get it in here? Twice?”

  “SANALT.”

  “Huh?”

  “What?” Max asked at the same time.

  “Stinky Animals Need A lot of Love, Too. It’s one of the groups the Ladies Club supports. I just drop by their shelter and check out one of the destunk skunks. The skunk’s name is Andrew.”

  “That stinky little thing is named Andrew?”

  “They don’t spray, so they barely stink.” Tabby gave Sophia a horrified look. “You don’t think I’d risk carrying a fully loaded one, do you? No, these are more like kitty cats. They’re litter-box trained, sweet and cuddly. Very good pets, actually.”

  “Pets?” Sophia repeated faintly.

  “You use someone’s pets as a threat,” Max said, his voice strong and sure. Strong and sure enough to make both women wince. “You trashed Sophia’s place, ruined her show and are now hauling skunks in your purse?”

  “Oh, Maximilian, calm down. Of course I didn’t do all of that.” Tabby waved her perfectly manicured hand and confessed, “Bobby, the gardener’s assistant, did most of the dirty work for me. Which is why my roses look so poor this year, to be honest. He’s been so busy with this little side job.”

  Sophia shook her heard, trying to get rid of the buzzing in her ears. Roses? Really?

  It was like being dropped into bizzaro land.

  Next thing she knew, Tabby would break out in song and dance on the coffee table. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit, either.

  Dance.

  Sophia caught her breath. No way.

  She lifted her head and squinted at Tabby. Was it possible?

  “Wait a minute,” Sophia said slowly. Max gave her a questioning look but she wasn’t paying any attention to him. She tried to pretend she was looking through a camera’s viewfinder. Snap
, she imagined.

  Yep, and there it was.

  “I know what’s going on,” she breathed, shock rocking through her system.

  Max’s mother narrowed her eyes, one disdainful brow arched as if she were calling Sophia a liar. Then she looked closer. She blanched, her face the same gray as the muted black-and-white photo behind her head.

  “No, you don’t,” she dismissed. But her voice was shaky and she looked scared.

  “What’s the deal?” Max asked, directing his question to Sophia.

  She gave him a long, considering look. “Maybe this would be easier if you waited in the hall.”

  Tabby nodded.

  Max clamped his arms over his chest and stared.

  Sigh. Sophia knew she shouldn’t feel sorry for the woman who’d gone out of her way to cause so many problems. But now that she understood why. Kinda.

  “You’re the cage girl, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.

  Tabby burst into tears. Not ladylike and contained tears. Big, gulping sobs. As if the shell she’d carefully crafted had cracked and suddenly everything was gushing out. If she’d shown as much of her stuff as Tabby had in those pictures, Sophia figured she’d crack, too.

  She grabbed a box of tissues and pressed it into the older woman’s hand. Then, already wincing, she looked at Max.

  He looked like a bomb had just exploded in his face.

  MAX STARED, HORRIFIED. What should he do? Panic gripped his stomach. He stood, sat, then stood again. Should he go to her? Get a doctor? Run?

  He liked the idea of running.

  “What the hell is a cage girl?” he heard himself ask. Whatever it was, he was sure he’d regret finding out.

  His mother cried harder. He winced, sinking down in the chair and wishing someone would throw an explosive into the room. At least he’d have something less dangerous that he’d know how to handle.

  Sophia sighed, then apparently unable to watch the drama any longer, got up and moved over to sit next to his mother. She wrapped an arm around Tabby’s shoulder and the older woman sank into her chest, bawling as if someone had told her she was broke.

  “Sergeant?”

  Max glanced at the door.

  “Just wanted to let you know everything’s under control out here. Louie said the skunk is in the back room drinking milk. The food and drinks are being served again. No sign of an accomplice. Do you want the cops called?”

  Hell, no, he didn’t want to call the police on his mother. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped. He slanted a look at Sophia. Her pale eyes stared back. Waiting.

  “Ask Ms. Castillo,” he said. “It’s her call whether we call the police or not.”

  Tabby howled louder.

  Sophia glared.

  “What?” he asked. “I thought you didn’t want me interfering in your life or poking my nose in your business.”

  “Don’t be mean,” she said, now giving his mother’s back a soothing pat. “No, of course we won’t need the police.”

  She stopped and bit her lip. Max could see the battle between wisdom and compassion going on behind that pretty face. Finally she said, “Unless someone else is involved. If there are any more threats or problems, I want the cops and my lawyer called.”

  Tabby shook her head, leaving a black smear on Sophia’s shoulder. Max winced.

  “No, no,” his mother said in a small voice. “No threats. Nothing else.”

  Max waited for Louie to close the door behind him, then he dropped his head into his hands.

  Sophia was right. Who was he to tell her how to fix her problems? He was the root of all of her problems.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said, finally raising his head to stare at the two women who’d apparently bonded. His mother and his girlfriend. All cozied up, buddy-buddy and giving him fish-eyed stares as if he was the bad guy here.

  “Von Schilling’s show includes a few photos of your mother,” Sophia said.

  Max frowned. “No, it doesn’t. Those are all…”

  Horrified, he broke off and stared.

  First at Sophia.

  Then at his mother.

  Then at a spot on the wall behind them both where he hoped the blank space would cover the images in his brain.

  “Oh, God.” Max closed his eyes. The images wouldn’t fade. He didn’t know which one of those photographs had been of his mother. He didn’t want to know.

  His eyes popped open.

  “This is the project you mentioned? The business you thought was too controversial? You sicced the Historical Guild on Sophia?” he accused.

  “What?” Sophia exclaimed. “Your mother’s behind that?”

  She pulled back to glare at Tabby. Then she and Max both grimaced at the sight of his mother’s face, all swollen and blotchy. Mascara ran in streaks to her chin and her lips were white as she pressed them together to try to hold back sobs.

  Sophia sighed, then pulled her arms tight again. Max’s heart did a little flip-flop.

  “You should have told me,” she hissed.

  “Why are you holding her so tight?” he countered.

  She tried to glare, but he could see there was no heat behind it. Then she rolled her eyes and pulled back so Tabby had to look at her.

  “You’re going to convince the Historical Guild not to sell this building,” she told his mother. “You owe me that.”

  Tabby nodded without hesitation.

  “In exchange, I’ll pull your photos from the display.”

  Tabby started bawling again.

  Max just stared, baffled. He’d been prepared to bring in an attorney. To fight his own mother to protect Sophia’s interests. And just like that, she’d taken care of it all by herself.

  Max knew he should be glad. Thrilled and proud. But all he felt was a defeated sense of uselessness. Sophia had solved her problems with the gallery vandal. His mother had solved her apparent problems of her, oh, God, nudie shots. And him? He’d started out without any and now his entire life was a problem.

  Needing air, he murmured something about letting the women figure things out together. He barely noticed Sophia wave him out of the room as he left.

  MAX DIDN’T KNOW HOW HE found himself on the cement stoop in front of the plain one-story military house. He had no clue what he was doing here. It was pointless.

  But while he’d always worked his way around confrontations, he’d never backed down from anything. Or anyone.

  He glanced at the small brass plate next to the doorbell. General C. St. James. The lights were on, so he knew his uncle was home. That wasn’t why he was hesitating.

  Suicide missions done in the name of useless heroics had always pissed him off. And yet, here he was.

  Ordering himself to get it over with, he rapped on the door. It took his uncle a minute to open it, then, after a frown, the older man silently stood aside to welcome Max into the house.

  “Well, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?” the General asked after they were both seated in the den.

  Max had to give the old guy credit. He was a strategist right down to his toenails. After his silent welcome, he’d bypassed the comfy living room with its welcoming fire and led the way down the hall, seated himself in the position of command behind his desk and waved Max into the leather seat opposite him.

  “I’d like you to rescind the Personal Change of Status,” Max said, getting right to the point.

  “Request denied.”

  Exactly what he’d expected. Max raised one eyebrow and rested his hands on the studded arms of the chair. Nothing showed on his face. He’d just been schooled by the two most important women in his life about what it really meant to fight for something, and he’d be damned if he’d fail.

  “I won’t serve at some cushy job while we’re at war,” Max calmly stated. “Not while men are overseas risking their lives.”

  For a brief second, he saw a glimpse of pride in his uncle’s eyes. But then he blinked and the stoi
c command was back in place.

  “You have no choice,” the General corrected. “Orders have been issued. You’ll follow them.”

  “I do have a choice. And if these orders were for the good of anything other than your own personal agenda, I would follow them. But they don’t benefit me, they don’t benefit my unit and they don’t benefit my country.”

  “Are you questioning my authority?”

  “As my superior, no,” Max said, knowing he was walking a very fine line. The road to family loyalty only went one way with his uncle. “But as your nephew, I’m saying you’ve crossed the line.”

  The General stared, his face blank. For a second, Max hoped he’d gotten through. Maybe the old guy would finally accept that Max was a good soldier, a credit to his uniform and, dammit, an adult who could make his own career choices.

  Then the General shook his head. “The order stands.”

  Max’s gut tightened. But he didn’t hesitate before replying. “I’ll ETS and leave the service.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’ve already informed Colonel Gilden that I was leaving.”

  “You signed reenlistment papers.”

  “I signed a contract that specified that I’d serve overseas in EOD. Unless you rescind this PCS, the Army is in breach of contract. I might have to serve the last month of my duty in Washington, but then I walk away. Honorable discharge.”

  His eyes locked with his uncle’s. Neither man blinked, neither looked away. And Max knew that was it. He was out of the Army.

  SOPHIA WAVED AWAY THE last of the cleaning crew and said good-night to Gina. Then, with a deep sigh, she locked the front door. She left the back unlocked, though. Max had to come back eventually, right? She thought of the roses and chocolates in her office and smiled. She had an early Valentine’s celebration planned when he did.

  She was equal parts exhausted and exhilarated. Since the two emotions didn’t mix well, she felt a little woozy. The night had been seriously overwhelming.

  But it was Valentine’s weekend. And despite the weirdness of it all, her problems were solved. Well, mostly solved.