by Ann DeFee
“Don’t screw with me.” He brought his face in close to hers. “You’re coming with me and I’m not terribly interested in your opinion.” Trip emphasized his command by grabbing a handful of Maizie’s hair. It was a show of domination that hurt like hell.
“Stop it!” She swatted at him, missing her mark by a mile.
“We don’t have all day. Your stupid assistant will be back soon.” He jerked Maizie’s hair again, forcing her out from behind the counter.
Think, girl, think! She didn’t have a weapon, so what did she have? Her brains—that was it. She’d have to outsmart him. She was not getting in a car with him.
She had to think self-defense. Talk to him. Get him to relax. Make him think she was his friend.
Deep breath. Get your brain in gear!
Other than a jewelry display, the only thing on the counter was a bottle of Ralph Lauren perfume. Maizie didn’t know how she could use it, but she was running out of options.
Trip pulled a shiny, pointed stiletto from his pocket. Holy crap! Maizie had come to a knife fight armed with a bottle of Ralph. Those were bad odds.
“Move it!” He pushed Maizie toward the door.
If she went with him, she wouldn’t be returning. Or if she did, it would be in a body bag. So for better or worse, she had to put up the fight of a lifetime.
When Maizie stumbled, he kicked her—and boy, that made her mad. The sadistic little bastard might win, but he was gonna find himself hurting.
Seconds later he managed to drag her to the back parking lot. The silver subcompact sitting next to her Mustang had to be his. It couldn’t be any bigger than a smart car. What kind of idiot came to a kidnapping in Marian the Librarian’s car? On TV the bad guys always used a nondescript white van—without windows. But this wasn’t CSI, it was life or death.
“Trip. Think about it. You don’t want to do this.”
He responded with a grunt—so much for reasoning. He was as crazy as a loon.
Maizie’s resolve strengthened, her spine stiffened and her calm returned with a vengeance. Trip Fitzgerald was going to wish he’d never met her. You didn’t mess with a Westerfield twin and come out unscathed.
He hit the electric door locks and shoved her toward the vehicle. Maizie had already decided she wasn’t going to get in his car, but when he popped the trunk her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.
He could wave his stiletto all he wanted—it didn’t matter one bit. There was no way she’d fit in that trunk.
“Get in, right now!” He pushed her headfirst toward the gaping abyss. It couldn’t be any bigger than two-by-two, and wouldn’t hold a twenty-five-pound turkey. Even so it looked like a black hole, ready to suck her in.
Maizie was afraid she might faint but then her anger came back. If he wanted to stab her, so be it. She had righteous indignation and a ton of adrenaline on her side.
Maizie grabbed his ears and rammed her knee into his groin. To the casual observer it might have looked brutal, and yes, it probably was. Frankly, she hoped his gonads had taken up residence in his nasal cavity.
His scream was primal. His agony was apparent. And Maizie was happy as a clam. She slapped her hands together. It served him right.
CLAY AND ZACK PULLED INTO the parking lot in time to get an up close and personal look at Maizie’s martial arts exhibition.
Zack winced as Trip collapsed on the pavement clutching his groin. “Ooh, that hurts.”
Clay frankly didn’t care two hoots about the bastard’s pain. He was too focused on getting to Maizie and reassuring himself that she was okay.
“Do you suppose she needs some help?” Zack’s question was clearly rhetorical. He hopped from the cruiser and jerked Trip off the ground. He slapped the cuffs on Mr. Fitzgerald with a certain amount of relish, read him his rights and tossed him in the back of the police car.
It was a darned good thing Zack was there, otherwise Clay would have been tempted to beat the crap out of the tennis pro. And Clay hadn’t been in a fight since the ninth grade. That was the time Poochie Benton gave him a black eye and Clay had learned a valuable lesson—watch out for the wiry guys.
He enveloped his wife in a bear hug. “Oh, baby. I was so scared.” He wasn’t quite sure his heart would ever recover.
“Clay. Clay!” She hit him on the chest, trying to pull away.
“What?”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Oh.” He reluctantly loosened his grip. He couldn’t help feeling overwrought. It wasn’t every day he had to watch his best girl take down a kidnapper.
“Sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the flowery scent of her hair. “I almost had a coronary when we drove up and I realized what was happening.”
Maizie made a muffled sound he couldn’t quite understand so he squeezed her a little tighter. It wasn’t until she whacked him that he realized he was smothering her again.
“Sorry.” Clay pushed back just far enough to make a thorough inspection. No blood. No visible bruises. That was a relief. Her hair was all messed up, but it merely looked as if she’d been running her hands through it.
“What exactly happened?”
It was a simple question. But if her sputtering was any indication, it wasn’t one she could answer. Mary Stuart Walker had been silenced by shock and possibly some version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Clay didn’t think it would last long.
By that time so many people were converging on the premises you’d think it was a tourist attraction. Zack had obviously called his wife, so naturally the entire family had heard about the fiasco. Mama was the first to arrive, quickly followed by Kenni and Liza.
“May I take Maizie home?” Clay asked Zack.
“Give me a second to disperse the mob. I need to ask her some questions and get a statement first.” The sheriff turned to the crowd and made an announcement. “The excitement’s over so everyone without a badge can head on out.” When the gawkers left, Zack turned to his wife. “Liza, why don’t you and your mother go inside and wait for me?”
“Okay,” Liza replied steering Mama toward the door.
Maizie burrowed her head into Clay’s chest. He could tell from the way she was shaking that she was close to hysteria.
Clay disentangled himself and led Maizie inside. “Where’s PJ?” he asked.
“She went to the post office.” Maizie wiped her nose on her sleeve. “She should be back in a few minutes.”
Right on cue there was a ruckus at the front door. “Bubba Carter, you dolt, let me in!”
“The cavalry has arrived,” Maizie said with the hint of a smile.
“Maizie, what happened?” PJ almost bowled her boss over with a huge hug. “There are cops and EMTs and your family. Can’t I leave for five minutes without you getting into trouble?” She ended her tirade with a flood of tears.
“I’m okay,” Maizie reassured her friend. “Trip Fitzgerald tried to kidnap me but I fought him off.”
“The tennis pro tried to kidnap you!” PJ shouted.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Ohmigod! What’s happening to this town? A girl’s not safe anywhere.”
To forestall another diatribe, Maizie asked, “Would you mind closing up while I talk to Zack? Clay’s going to take me home when that’s done.”
“Of course.” PJ put her hands on her hips and spoke to Clay. “You pamper her, ya hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Clay said with a mock salute.
MAIZIE WAS IN HEAVEN. What more could a girl want than a steamy bath and a cold glass of bubbly? The end of cellulite or world peace might be nice, but that was way outside her ability.
The water was cooling and she was starting to look like a California raisin so it was probably time to get back to the real world. She’d just wrapped herself in a towel when Clay strolled in and refilled her champagne flute.
“How are you feeling?” He ran his hands up her arms and caressed her shoulders.
“Better.” Maizie wrapped h
er arms around his neck.
“That’s good, really good,” Clay muttered, keeping his eyes on her lips. He went for a soft exploratory kiss that quickly deepened until they were both having a hard time catching their breath. The old magic was back, and it was better than ever.
For what seemed like hours, although it was probably only minutes, Clay feasted on her body. She felt like a delectable treat, but that wasn’t enough. Even in love, turnabout was fair play. Without regard for buttons, she ripped open his shirt, running her fingers through his chest hair.
“I love this.” Maizie lowered her hands to massage his butt.
“And I love doing this.” He leaned down to take her nipple into his mouth, sending shock waves through her.
That was the last of the conversation. Their lovemaking was a wonderful combination of youthful lust and mature passion. It was a reaffirmation of a marriage that had endured for more than two decades. Exhausted, Maizie and Clay were spooned prior to drifting off to sleep.
“I was terrified something horrible had happened to you,” Clay murmured.
“I got a few gray hairs on that one, too,” Maizie said with a giggle.
Clay kissed the side of her neck. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“It’s a good thing you won’t have to find out, isn’t it? I’m not going anywhere. And for what it’s worth I’m really sorry I started this whole thing by wanting to make you jealous. It was silly and immature.”
“Don’t worry. It’s kind of funny now.” So their marriage was back on its foundation—the ability to find humor in almost any situation.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was almost two weeks before the brouhaha died down. Trip Fitzgerald remained in jail unable to meet an astronomical bail set by an irate judge and Maizie wasn’t losing any sleep over it. As far she was concerned the dweeb could rot in the slammer. Society would be better off.
Clay’s business problems had been resolved. The planner from hell had been sent off to harass some other poor sucker. The construction company was able to get on with the highway project and Clay’s engineering firm was in the black. Yeah!
Hannah had come to grips with her mother’s brush with crime. And last but certainly not least, the Walkers were back to being the most loving married couple in Magnolia Bluffs.
After hours of conversation, a few tears and, oh, yes, some memorable lovemaking, they came to an agreement about communication and not taking each other for granted. It was something they’d both needed to be reminded of.
Maizie admitted she was equally responsible for the stagnation of their relationship and Clay vowed to be more open with his concerns, both personal and professional. It was a classic win-win situation.
But Maizie still had something up her sleeve.
IT WAS TUESDAY AND that meant a cellulite-building and utterly delectable Southern breakfast at Daisy’s Dining Spot with Kenni and Liza.
“I have an idea.” Maizie took a sip of her coffee. “After everything we’ve gone through, I want to do something special for Clay. That’s what I need your help with.”
Kenni put her head in her hands. “Oh, boy.”
Liza grimaced as she doctored her coffee, obviously seeking a sugar high.
After taking Trip Fitzgerald down—literally—Maizie had adopted a new attitude. It wasn’t that she viewed herself as a super ninja, it was simply that she had renewed confidence. But this idea had nothing to do with woman power; it was about doing something special for the man she loved more than life itself. And who better to help her with it than her BFFs Liza and Kenni?
She explained her idea before asking for their opinion. “Am I crazy or do you think it will work?”
“Let me get this straight.” Liza rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You want to lure Clay out to the baseball field to renew your vows on the pitcher’s mound, and you want to make it a surprise. Do I have that right?”
Kenni didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to, her opinion was written all over her face. She thought her cousin had truly lost her mind. Actually that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“I understand why you’d want to renew your vows,” Liza said, “but I don’t quite get the baseball field part. What’s that about?”
Maizie called the waitress over to order a tea refill. “You remember when I tossed Clay’s stuff out on the curb.”
Kenni piped up. “That would be hard to forget.”
Maizie ignored her cousin’s sarcasm. “When I did that, I accidentally threw away his Little League national championship trophy.” She had the grace to look sheepish. “And it sort of got squashed.”
“Pray tell, how did a metal trophy ‘sort of get squashed’?” Liza asked.
“I’m not real sure,” Maizie admitted. “A guy in a Camaro came along and started rummaging through Clay’s belongings. I ran him off but after he sped away the trophy was in the middle of the road in pieces. Then Clay arrived and had a fit about how I’d ruined his Little League memories. He tossed the rest of his stuff in the truck and hauled butt, leaving me with the bits and pieces of the trophy.”
“So where’s this monument to pre-adolescent baseball accomplishment now?” Kenni asked.
“And do you have all the parts?” Liza asked.
“I think so,” Maizie answered. Then the light dawned. She knew where her friends were going with their questions. “Do you think I can get it fixed?”
“Let’s go to Atlanta and see if we can find a miracle worker,” Liza said. “Then we can discuss the shindig at the ball field. A surprise vow renewal. What an amazing idea. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
It took several days before they could coordinate their schedules to include a trip to Dave’s Trophy Shop in Atlanta. Once they got there, the prognosis was dire.
“I don’t know.” Dave’s accent was pure South Georgia. “This bad boy is plum messed up. Whatcha do, run over it with a lawn mower?” He cackled over his own not-so-funny joke.
“Actually, it was a Camaro,” Maizie said wryly.
“A Camaro?” He evidently thought that was even more hilarious and cackled even louder.
“Let’s get down to business.” Liza took charge. “Can you fix it? And how long will it take?” She didn’t bother to ask about the price.
The shopkeeper scratched his head. “Give me a couple of days.” He quoted a fee that made Maizie’s eyes pop. Did she look like she was made of money? Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Trina’s overpriced stink bomb?
After they finished haggling over price and completion date, Maizie was exhausted. She would never make it at the Chicago Board of Trade.
“Let’s go have a piña colada,” she suggested to her partners in crime. “After everything that’s happened, I think I deserve a little pampering. My treat.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and the forecast for Saturday was clear and crisp—thank goodness. Maizie had been agonizing over the weather for days. Conditions that time of the year could be iffy and considering how many people she’d invited, including their extended families, all their colleagues and the entire Walker and Tucker Little League team she’d be in a big mess if it rained.
The preparations for this production had been mindboggling. Liza was in charge of invitations, Mama was handling the caterers, Kenni was coordinating with the parks department and the Little League and Hannah was responsible for keeping her mouth shut. Maizie’s job was to coordinate the decorations and make sure Clay showed up. It had been a major undertaking and they had one more day to complete the preparations.
“Mama, is everything a go?” Maizie was multitasking by talking on the phone and blowing up hundreds of balloons with a portable helium machine. The back room of the Boudoir was awash in bobbing color.
“The catering tent is up and the cooks are ready to go. I have my assigned duties under control. How about you?”
That was a good question. Maizi
e was questioning her sanity. What was wrong with reserving the church and having a classy ceremony followed by a family-only reception at the country club? That’s what a normal person would do. However, it had been a long time since anyone had accused her of being ordinary.
“I’m fine.” Maizie glanced at the dozens of balloons floating around above her head. “I think,” she muttered.
“How do you plan to get him to the baseball field?”
She had that one nailed at least. “Harvey’s going to help. He told Clay that their Little League team is having a fund-raiser washing cars and they want the sponsors to be there.”
“Isn’t it awfully cold to be washing cars?” Mama asked. She was always the first to pick up on the details.
“Whatever. I can’t come up with anything else, so that’s what we’re going with. We’ll show up around three, so I’m counting on you guys to get everything together.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, baby girl. All you have to do is make sure you get Clay there. You can’t do the vows without him. Oh, and have fun.”
Eleanor was a party-throwing diva, so Maizie wasn’t concerned about that aspect. She was more worried about how Clay would react.
When she’d first come up with the picnic scheme, it had seemed brilliant. Now Maizie wasn’t quite so sure. Would Clay like it or would he think it was another one of her hare-brained ideas?
It was too late to back out now. They’d ordered enough hot dogs to feed a small country and Hannah was on her way home.
BY THE TIME SATURDAY ROLLED around Maizie’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She’d cleaned the kitchen, mopped the floors, vacuumed and paced. She was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
Clay put his arms around her waist. “Is something wrong?”
“Why would you say that?” she snapped.
He answered with a raised eyebrow.
“No, there’s nothing wrong.” She was a terrible liar.
“I’m going to run down to the hardware store to get some paint. Since we don’t have anything planned for the day, I thought I’d redo the fence.”