Shipping Sharon

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

  Keller smiled at the frazzled woman with the smudged, fake beauty spot, cabernet colored lips and the assortment of hair clips dangling from her tangled mess of honey blonde hair. "It would be my pleasure to escort this exquisite vision of loveliness home, Norman." He glanced at Maisy and smirked.

  Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, Maisy grumbled an expletive under her breath and buried her head in her hands. "This is not happening. This is not happening!"

  "Good, Keller, then Maisy can fill you in on all the details about our little costumed drama." The Cadillac pulled out a little further.

  "What?! Norman!" Maisy screeched. "You sonovabitch."

  Norman shook his head and tsked. "You know, you really should have more respect for your boss, Maisy, darling. Oh, and don't worry about making it back to the office this afternoon. Just take the rest of the day off." Beaming a bright smile, Norman snapped the brim of his fedora and winked. "Toodles," he said, waving his fingers through the open window crack before he closed it and headed out of the parking lot.

  "Norman, you come back here this instant, do you hear me? Norman!" Waving the wig in the air in a sorry attempt to catch Norman's attention as she ran after his car, Maisy stamped her foot, snapping off her high heel in the process. "Great, just what I needed," she said, retrieving the two-inch heel from the ground. She growled in exasperation as her boss turned out of the parking lot, waved, and took off. "Oooh, of all the conniving, low-down, miserable, sneaky, underhanded . . ."

  "Yeah, Norman's a character all right," Keller said, laughing.

  Enraged enough to spit fire, Maisy turned on her heel to face Keller. "Oh, you think this is really funny, don't you?"

  Keller scratched his head. "As a matter of fact . . ."

  "Oh, you men are all alike," Maisy said as she hobbled past Keller.

  "Just where do you think you're going?"

  "I'm walking home."

  "Looking like that?"

  Her blond curls half hanging and half still clipped to her head, Maisy stopped dead in her tracks. In one hand, she held her wig--which was so tangled and bedraggled now that it looked more like road-kill--and in the other hand she carried her broken heel and spy-worthy dark glasses. Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. She looked like hell and she knew it.

  "Come on, Maisy, quit being so stubborn and let me take you home," Keller said.

  Heaving a melodious sigh, Maisy turned back to Keller. "All right, you may drive me home," she said, holding her chin proudly as she tottered back towards Keller with as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances.

  "Thank you, your highness," Keller said, unable to repress a battery of hearty laughter any longer. "My carriage awaits." He motioned to the little red sports car.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  After giving directions to her townhouse, Maisy busied herself with discreetly trying to remove the rest of the hair clips from what was now a tangled mass of honey-blonde."Okay, so what's the story, princess?" Shifting into gear, Keller deftly piloted the snazzy red Ferrari out of the parking lot and into traffic.

  "Story? What story?" As Maisy endeavored to appear calm and nonchalant, her mind raced. How on earth was she supposed to come up with a plausible explanation--especially when the only fathomable ideas that flitted through her brain at the moment had to do with gleeful thoughts of pulverizing her boss in some wonderfully gruesome manner.

  "The Boris and Natasha story."

  "Oh that."

  "Yeah . . . that."

  "You know, I used to watch them and Rocky and Bullwinkle on TV all the time when I was a kid, how about you? Wasn't that the show with Fractured Fairy Tales? Oh, and what was that segment where the professor helped the kid go back in time to famous events in history?" Valiantly babbling in the hopes that she could distract Keller from asking any more questions, Maisy went on. "As a matter of fact, I used to do a mean imitation of Bullwinkle way back when. Gee, I wonder if I can still do it."

  As Maisy opened her mouth to continue, Keller pressed his finger to her lips. "As much as I'd love to hear you do your Bullwinkle the Moose impersonation, I'm afraid it's just going to have to wait for another time. You're not getting off that easy, Ms. Mazel Lynn, so stop trying to change the subject." He looked down at the glossy smudge of red on the finger he had pressed to Maisy's lips and laughed. "Put this on with a trowel, did you?"

  Flushing furiously, Maisy retrieved the little pack of Kleenex she always carried in her purse and, grabbing a tissue, rubbed at the berry-red stain on Keller's finger. "I'm really sorry about that, Keller."

  "No problem. Don't worry about--" Turning to glance at Maisy, Keller stopped in mid sentence--his face contorting and twitching with imminent laughter. The next instant, he began to chortle and before long, was engaged in full, snorting laughter.

  Alarmed, Maisy bolted upright in the black leather bucket-seat. "What? What are you laughing at?" Wiping the tears from his eyes, Keller pointed to Maisy's hair. She flipped down the visor and gasped when she peered at her reflection. There, embedded right on the top of her honey-blonde crown of tangles, sat two, inch-long, fire engine red fingernails. "Oh my God. I could just die." As she attempted to pick the fake nails from her head, two nails from the other hand dropped off and Maisy groaned.

  "I guess this is what's known as having a bad hair day, huh?"

  Maisy slapped her hands over her face. "Don't look at me. I'm . . . I'm a geek."

  "No, you are not a geek, Maisy." Reaching over, Keller drew Maisy's hands from her face. Unfortunately, covering her heavily made-up face with her hands only seemed to exacerbate the problem. "You're just a little . . . a little . . ." Taking in the full picture of the disheveled, woefully smudged, dilapidated woman in the seat next to him, Keller's mouth began to twitch again. Gallantly fighting to keep from laughing, he focused beyond the smudged rims of Maisy's beautiful, Prussian-blue eyes and saw the despondency there. "You're just a little tousled . . . and, uh . . . smudged," he motioned to her eyes and the corner of his lip started to quiver as he worked hard to choke back the laughter, "that's all. You'll feel better once you wash all that gunk off your face."

  Maisy looked into the mirror again, gasped as she took in her raccoon eyes, and slipped down in her seat. "Oh, my face," she said, covering it with her hands.

  "At least it's still there."

  "Huh? What's still there?"

  "Your face."

  Maisy shook her head, as if to clear it. "Keller, you're not making any sense. What do you mean--at least my face is still there? And you can turn left in here on Walnut." She pointed ahead. "This is my complex. Just keep going straight."

  Keller turned and drove on silently.

  "Well?" Maisy said.

  "Well what?"

  She growled in exasperation. "Well, what did you mean about my face still being there!?"

  "Oh that," Keller said with a laugh. "I'm just surprised to see it's still in place after it nearly got sucked off last night at Jazzbo's restaurant."

  Maisy sank down in her seat another notch, bracing for the impending heart attack because her heart was beating so fast it was about to explode. "You saw that, huh?"

  "Let's just say that I couldn't help but notice that you and your . . . friend . . . were actively engaged in some heavy mouth-to mouth as the two of you slid under the table." Keller tightened his jaw and glanced accusingly at Maisy.

  "Turn right on that next street. And, not that I owe you any explanation, mind you, but what you saw wasn't at all what it appeared to be."

  "Yeah, right." Keller huffed a humorless laugh. "I mean, not that it's any business of mine, of course. It's not like you and I have a commitment or anything like that." He shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant.

  "That's right. In fact, I noticed that you and that little brunette you were with seemed to be rather cozy--so let's not start pointing fingers. There," Maisy said, pointing. "That's my townhouse. You can pull up right in front of
it to let me off."

  "So you noticed me and Marla, huh?" Keller pulled up in front of Maisy's townhouse and put the car in park. Turning to Maisy, he continued. "I'm amazed that you could notice anything at all while you were in the process of making a spectacle of yourself by getting it on right in the middle of the restaurant."

  Maisy drew in an audible gasp. "I was most definitely NOT getting it on, as you call it. And don't try to deflect things, Keller. You were obviously enjoying yourself with Marla." As Maisy heard herself say the woman's name in a singsong voice that smacked of high school immaturity, she could have kicked herself for being so transparently jealous.

  "And not that I owe you any explanation, either, but Marla Davenport happens to be the head of the Michigan Fruit Growers Advisory Board, Miss Smarty-Pants. She's fifty years old, has six kids and has been married to the same man for 30 years--who, by the way, was in the restroom while I escorted Mrs. Davenport to our table. Oh . . . and neither of us tried to suck the other's face off even once during the entire evening--nor did I usher the woman under the table to engage in . . . God knows what."

  "Oh." Shrinking from embarrassment, Maisy felt so small she wondered if she could reach up to open the car door. "Sorry." She shrugged apologetically. "Uh . . . I better go in now. Thanks for the ride, Keller. I appreciate it."

  "Uh-uh."

  "Uh-uh? What do you mean, uh-uh?"

  "I mean I coming in, that's what I mean."

  "Look Keller, I appreciate the ride and all, but--" As she reached for the door handle, Keller pushed the automatic locks. Breathing out a sigh of exasperation, Maisy searched for the unlocking mechanism on the passenger side, giving up when all she managed to do was raise and lower the window. "Cute. Very cute. In less than an hour's time, that annoying boss of mine locks me out of his car--and you lock me in to yours. That's it--I've had it. Keller, I am not amused. Please unlock this door--now!"

  "You don't honestly think I'm going to let you get away that easily without any explanation after that shenanigans you and Norman pulled back at the real estate office, do you?"

  "I was kind of hoping you would."

  "No such luck, sweetheart. And I'd still love to hear your explanation about that passionate little scene at Jazzbo's, too." As Keller clenched his jaw and gazed straight into her eyes, a distinctly non-humorous expression took hold--and Maisy wondered if it just might be jealousy. The thought warmed her tremendously.

  "I ... uh . . . I have a huge, fierce dog--a guard dog."

  "Oh really?" Keller displayed a tongue-in-cheek smile.

  "Yup. Absolutely ferocious." Maisy nodded. "And he hates men. He's liable to tear your head off if you come in."

  "You don't say."

  Maisy wanted to smack that self-assured smile right off his handsome kisser. "Don't make light of this, Keller--I'm serious. I'm really sorry, but I simply can't take responsibility for what might happen to you if I let you come into the house. You'll just have to drop me off--and trust me to explain all of this to you another time." She shrugged and smiled.

  "Tell you what, Maisy. I think I'll take my chances with old Rover in there. Now let's go."

  "But--"

  Keller shook his head and heaved an affected sigh. "Either you let me in, or I'll make you sit here in this locked car until you explain every last detail to me. What's it gonna be?"

  Maisy rolled her eyes and then planted a narrow-eyed glare on Keller. "Well, it looks like I don't have much choice." Grumbling something inaudible, she let her head fall back against the headrest and sighed. "All right, have it your way. You can park over there."

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  As soon as Maisy opened the door to her townhouse, little Hershey sprinted towards her, wagging his tail and eagerly leaping up to greet her. Maisy bent down to gather the spirited pup in her arms. "Hey there, Hershey, how's my best buddy today?"

  After slobbering kisses across Maisy's heavily made-up face, Hershey finally took notice of Keller and let out a low mini-growl.

  "Whoa!" Keller said in mock horror, raising his hands in surrender and backing away. "Please, Maisy, restrain that vicious killer before he tears me to pieces."

  Hershey jumped to the floor, bounded over to Keller, took a few cautious sniffs and then soared into his arms, licking his face from chin to hairline.

  Maisy slapped her hand against her forehead and groaned. "Hershey, how could you do this to me?"

  The little dog looked over at his mistress and slanted her one of those adorable, tongue-lolling dog smiles. And then he returned his attention to his new friend, gifting Keller with another generous lick.

  When Keller finally stopped laughing, he placed Hershey on the floor and wiped the tears from his eyes. "So you, uh . . . you have this little attack dog trained to kill them with kindness--is that it?" He was barely able to get the last words out before he erupted into laughter once again.

  "Just . . . just . . . just . . ." Maisy sputtered in exasperation as she frantically motioned towards the family room near the kitchen.

  Keller folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Yes?"

  "Just go sit down in there while I clean all this gunk off my face--and consider yourself VERY fortunate that Hershey was in a magnanimous mood this afternoon and spared your life."

  "I'll reflect on my good luck as I rub my hands together in anticipation of your explanation . . . Natasha."

  As Maisy brushed by Keller, turning her head away to hide her crimson-hot cheeks, she said, "Help yourself to whatever I have in the refrigerator. There's Diet Coke, low-fat chocolate milk, some orange juice and a bottle of Bailey's."

  "Sounds like a great concoction," Keller teased.

  What the hell am I going to do? Maisy asked herself as she sped into the bathroom. "Norman, how could you do this to me?" she muttered under her breath as she wiped at the smudged mascara. Stopping to take a good look at her wretched, makeup-encrusted reflection, Maisy cringed. "I can't believe Keller saw me looking like this. I swear to God, Norman Stanley, I'll get you for this. I'll make you pay for humiliating me in front of Keller. Now he thinks I'm a certified nut case." I've got to stall Keller until I can think up something plausible, Maisy thought as she tried to remove the deep ruby color from her lips.

  "And don't try to stall, Maisy," Keller's voice called out from the family room. Freezing in place, Maisy's eyes shot open wide. "I'm not leaving until I hear your story," Keller finished.

  "Sheesh, what is this guy--a psychic or something?" Maisy hissed to herself. Okay, I can say that Norman and I were . . . no, that wouldn't work. Maybe he'd buy it if I told him we were . . . no, Keller's too savvy for that. I could always say . . .Heaving a gargantuan sigh, Maisy's scheming came to a screeching halt as the realization and magnitude of her situation took hold. There's nothing I can possibly tell this man that he'll believe. He'll find out what we were up to and think I'm a terrible, conniving bitch who's out to snare him at any cost. She heaved another sigh. And I wouldn't blame him a bit. She made an attempt to brush out the tangled mass of honey-blonde while fighting back the tears that threatened to erupt.

  As Maisy took a final look at herself before leaving the bathroom, she whispered, "That's it. I have no choice. I'm just going to tell him the truth and then have a good cry when he walks out of my life." She turned to leave the bathroom and then stopped to gaze at the mirror once more. "And then I'm going to kill myself with a massive chocolate overdose." Throwing back her shoulders, she sucked in a deep breath and opened the door, heading for the family room.

  "I guess you weren't kidding when you said you loved chocolate, Maisy," Keller said, nodding to Maisy's unique wall display as she came around the corner. Looking as if he'd known Keller all his life, Hershey was sprawled across his lap, blissfully soaking up Keller's attention.

  Maisy looked at the chocolate-brown wall decorated with shadowboxes and picture frames holding assorted chocolate memorabilia. Vintage examples of Hershey bar wrapper
s; Toll House chips bags; original labels from old cans and jars of cocoa powder and chocolate Ovaltine; and ads declaring the healthy merits of chocolate from turn of the century magazines were displayed alongside small shadowboxes filled with cocoa beans; Hershey Kisses; mini-boxes from Godiva, Frango mints, Fannie-Mae, and other revered chocolate icons.

  "What can I say?" Laughing, Maisy shrugged and shook her head. "Chocolate is my life--and this is sort of my shrine to chocolate."

  "I like it. It's very . . . you," Keller said with a winning grin.

  The thought crossed Maisy's mind that this was probably the last time she'd ever see the man smile at her--because he'd be furious and disgusted with her after she spilled her guts about the plan to ship his sister to Arabia--so she took a mental snapshot to keep locked away in her heart. She also had a fleeting thought about rushing Keller and tackling him to the floor as she ripped off his clothes and then tore off her own before pressing her body against his and engaging in a memorable session of wild, passionate lovemaking. Yup--that would make an even better mental snapshot, she decided.

  Keller ushered Hershey from his lap and rose from his chair. He stepped towards Maisy and gazed into her eyes, smiling. "Now that's an interesting smile, Maisy. What's going through that little head of yours, hmmm? Probably some whopper of a story you're making up."

  Maisy felt her cheeks get warm and laughed. "I guess you could say that." Good grief, how was she going to be able to carry this off? How could she come clean and watch Keller turn his back on her forever. She breathed in a sigh. No, I can't be like Norman and get myself all tangled in a web of deceit. I've got to be honest with Keller--he deserves that much. "Keller, I'm going to tell you the entire truth about what Norman and I were doing at--"

  Keller abruptly cut her off with a kiss so powerful it would have knocked Maisy's socks off if she were wearing any. Oh, the luscious, delicious sensations that coursed through her body! The warmth, the richness, the smooth silky taste of him. Sweet. Succulent. Hypnotizing. In that moment, Maisy realized without a doubt that no chocolate could ever compare with the exquisite taste of Keller Chaney. The persistent thought of tackling him to the floor came flooding back to her just before he released her lips and gazed into her eyes again.