“Thanks for wrapping this up for me, Denise. It’s appreciated. Hopefully, I’ll have all the pieces of the puzzle in place soon, and I can be done with this.” Adam dropped his BlackBerry on the hotel bed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration after his conversation with his secretary. He couldn’t concentrate on his original purpose for being in Riverbend to begin with because of a wildly sexy woman with dark eyes and a laugh that made his heart pound like some teenager’s.
Damn this woman for making him crazy. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. He couldn’t keep his thoughts from her. He. Couldn’t.
And damn it, he had a fucking cat to let out of the bag. A big one. One that could change everything, and he wanted to share that with Len. He wanted to share a lot of things with Len.
Yet her staunch insistence that they do absolutely nothing more than wring each other dry of all their bodily fluids was so crystal clear, most times, he was almost too hesitant to even ask her something as simple as how her day had gone.
At first, when he’d arrived in Riverbend, he’d been in semi-agreement that they should keep things strictly related to the bedroom. He wasn’t typically into that kind of thing, but when their chemistry had exploded over that first drink, Len had managed to change his mind. Little did he know, after that first encounter, she’d leave him with a lingering ache in his gut he’d never experienced in forty-three years.
Besides, most women never really meant they didn’t want a commitment—not to the degree the average male looking for no-strings-attached sex did. He’d gone along with it for a time, certain he’d work her out of his system, do what he came to do, and go back to the city. Maybe they’d even end up friends when this all came to pass.
Ironically, that wasn’t working out. The more time he spent with Len in the sack, the more he wanted to find out how she lived her life out of it. What her favorite food was. If she liked ketchup or mustard on her hot dogs—if she even liked hot dogs.
Instead, he had a woman who wouldn’t share the simplest of details about herself and her life. A woman who was displaying all the signs of preparing to run when he pressed her to allow him to date her rather than just meet him illicitly at his hotel.
But did that stop him from coming back for more? No. Every opportunity he could grab to get away from his office and make a trip to Riverbend he took like some love-starved, abandoned puppy.
Maybe this thing with Len was just a case of his ego and winning. He liked to win.
But that wasn’t what his gut was telling him.
for that matter, his heart.
Two days later, after another long day of last-minute details for the dance, Maxine dropped her mother’s phone back into its charger with a disappointed grunt.
“No luck?” Connor asked.
“Nope. No one at the nursing home even remembers Grandma Dorothy. The staff’s changed hands so many times and they definitely don’t remember a pink letter.” What Dorothy could have meant in that letter had troubled her all day long. That she’d known about Finley’s indiscretions, as she’d called them, made her cringe. Maxine had taken as many precautions as she could to keep their sordid affairs from her, and she’d known all along anyway.
Connor put a hand on her shoulder. “You look really pretty, Mom.”
Maxine smiled up at him. Wow, a compliment from Connor was rare. She glanced down at her Target dress, bought on sale for twenty-two bucks, and smiled again. She’d earned this dress, and the shiny periwinkle pumps to match it. It felt like it was worth a million bucks. She gave Connor’s hand a pat. “Thanks, honey. I guess I’d better go.” She rose, smoothing the swirly length of material around her legs and tightening the tie of her halter dress around her neck.
“Do you think we’ll ever know what Grandma meant in the letter?”
Maxine paused, a fleeting memory of Dorothy’s smiling eyes flashing in front of her. “I don’t know, kiddo. But it was so good to get something like that from her when things have been looking so glum. It was kinda like she knew we needed a bit of cheering up, huh?”
Connor smiled with his own fond memory in mind, Maxine was sure. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”
“All right. I’m out,” she said, blowing him a kiss. “Wish me a troll-free night, eh?”
Her mother had offered her a ride to the rec center, but Maxine decided to walk. A moment to catch her breath was in order. A silent wish for Campbell’s presence was in order, too. She’d had a difficult time focusing today when he came to mind.
What had Len said the other night at the diner? There was only so much she’d put up with before she couldn’t put up with any more of her ridiculous behavior. The phrase haunted Maxine. Len loved her—she was willing to go the extra mile. Campbell didn’t even like her right now. Why would he bother to even give an extra inch?
Shaking her head, Max tried to put the fear she’d screwed up for good aside in favor of the dance. Her hand fluttered in a nervous gesture over the silky material of her skirt, thankful Grace had offered to man the battle stations just long enough to give Maxine the opportunity to go back to her mother’s to shower and change.
This dance was so important. She’d worked day and night for over a month and a half to make every detail as magical as she could within her budget.
If the village board liked her first big event, it would only serve her best interests. Keeping the seniors happy and active, doing things they enjoyed was her first priority, according to the board.
If it flopped . . .
She shook her head as she rounded the corner past the clubhouse. No flopping allowed. Maxine Cambridge knew how to entertain. She’d never thrown a party or charity event that hadn’t left her on the society pages. Surely she could manage a small dance for three hundred or so seniors.
She ticked off details in her head in time with the clack of her heels on the pavement, praying her ex-Broadway stage lighting engineer, Sal Antonetti, had arrived an hour early as promised to have the lights ready to greet everyone.
The hill leading to the rec center was steep, making her once more regret not taking that spinning class. Almost ten months without even an attempt at Pilates had left her soft.
A twinkle of lights caught her eye when she reached the top of the rise, and then her breath caught, too.
Lights were strung on each of the ornamental topiary trees leading to the front door of the center, winding around the rich green leaves. They winked in a glow of muted white under the fading purple and orange sun. Each tall oak tree was graced with the same effect, making the front of the center, and the bit of back patio she could see behind it, look like a fairy tale would begin at twilight.
The bubble machines she’d rented and positioned at either end of the building hummed with a low vibration, spewing a soft cluster of milky bubbles every other minute. They floated off into oblivion with magical abandon. Huge white planters, antiqued with a light blue cast, held pink gladiolas, enormous heads of oyster white hydrangeas, and white freesia sprinkled throughout. They lined the path to the door, leaving behind a fresh fragrance mingled with the soft warm breeze of the evening.
Music floated in the wind, the strains of Doris Day’s “Secret Love” swirled in her ears. Each song she’d chosen had been carefully picked to meet the rise and fall of the evening, from an excitement-filled beginning to a slow and sentimental end.
Maxine paused for a long moment, holding a hand over her eyes to block the setting sun and soak in the swell of pride her work had produced.
A tall figure blocked her view of the front doors, where the seniors were arriving in droves.
Campbell.
That spark of excitement, coupled with the battalion of butterflies in her stomach, rooted her to the spot.
Campbell wore a suit, tailored, dark, insanely sexy. He’d slicked back his hair, and she was sure he didn’t realize how it played up his granite features and blue, blue eyes. He was looking out over the golf course to the right, smiling as each residen
t passed him, allowing her eyes time to gobble up every divine inch of him without scrutiny from his often intense gaze.
Something inside her shifted so far left, so sharp and powerful, Maxine almost stumbled when she tried to walk the last hundred or so feet to the doors.
And then Campbell turned, as if he knew it was her, leaving her tripping over herself like she hadn’t walked a hundred pageant run-ways in her lifetime.
His glance was cursory until he must have realized who she was, and then his eyes met hers, searching, surprised, gentle, powerful, and approving all in one gaze.
Those blue eyes were like a magnet, pulling her, coaxing her to attach herself to him.
The thrash of her heart pounded in her chest, her surprised gulp intrusive to her ears.
Thunderstruck.
It was the only word to describe how Campbell’s gaze affected her.
Thunderstruck.
Campbell was floored. For the first time in his life, a woman’s beauty, so simplified, so pure it radiated from head to toe, left him feeling something he had no identifying emotion for.
His heart crashed around in his chest like he was right back in chemistry class, making him tighten the muscles of his legs just to keep them from going soft.
When Maxine walked up that hill, the warm breeze twirling her blue skirt around her knees in caressing waves of shimmering fabric, the halter top accentuating her breasts with only a hint of their swell peeking through the keyhole at her cleavage, the shine of her hair grazing her lightly tanned shoulders in soft curls left him speechless.
Each step she took toward him, each thrust of her shapely calves ending in sexy high heels, left his mouth bone-dry.
Damn.
That moment, the one where he’d first glimpsed who she must have been once upon a time, made him want her all the more. Not because she was dressed to the nines, but because she’d worked so hard to get back to a semblance of who she once was all on her own.
This Max, the Max who strode along the sidewalk like she owned it, the one who stood two feet away with a hesitant smile, was the Max he wanted to drag to him, make her want him the way he wanted her. She was the Max he knew was hiding behind the neurotic fears and wild conclusion jumping. Seeing her like this made him forget why he was angry with her to begin with. If she only knew how little it would really take to wrap him around her little finger.
Bubbles floated in iridescent hues, picking up the blue and purple of the sky. She laughingly popped them with a painted pink fingernail, playful and easy.
And it held him captivated.
Holding out his hand, Campbell waited, hoping she’d take it again. He understood without knowing why the trust it signified when she let him wrap his fingers around hers. He could only hope she understood what it meant when he made the gesture.
With a flick of his wrist, he twirled Max around, giving him time to reorganize his thoughts. Earlier he’d thought holding out for just a little longer was appropriate. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he took just a little pleasure at seeing her squirm. The humiliation Lisa’d suffered had him angrier than he’d been in a long time. And that wasn’t even counting the kind of pissed off he’d endured at being labeled a lying cheat.
But he was finding the peachy floral scent of her perfume, the soft flow of her dress curving under her breasts, too damned hard to resist. “You look amazing, Max.”
She giggled when they stood face-to-face, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. “I guess this beats my yellow sweat suit and scrunchie. Oh, and thank you. So do you.”
There was nothing that pleased Campbell more than seeing her eyes so full of life, expectation. The only thing that just might top it was seeing her eyes lit up with a very different kind of pleasure when he was buried deep inside her. With the clench of his jaw, he had to jam a hand in his pocket to thwart his decadent thoughts. “I clean up all right.”
Her hand went to his tie to straighten the knot, striking him as intimate and so natural it was like she’d done it a thousand times before. “It’s the allure of bundt cake, isn’t it? Guaranteed to make a man put on a tie,” she teased.
“I’ll admit the bundt cake held a special appeal.” He swung his gaze around in appreciation of her efforts. “Everything looks pretty great. You really know how to get a big bang for your buck. Dad’ll be sorry he missed it. He loves big band music.”
“Garner’s not here?”
“Nope. He’s with your latest victim in the city, seeing his heart doctor,” he teased, testing the sensitive water.
She winced her regret, but her feathers remained unruffled. “I called Lisa earlier today to apologize. Is everything okay with your father?”
“Just a regular checkup. If everything’s a go, he’ll be able to do a little work around the village part time.” Campbell paused, catching a question in her eyes. “I’ll still be here to help until he’s on his feet.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, that was relief lining her glowing features. “So this looks like it’s going to be some party.”
Max beamed up at him. “If there’s something I get, it’s how to plan a party. And before you say it, yes, I applied to several event planners before I begged and scraped at the Cluck-Cluck, but it turns out the economy isn’t something anyone wants to celebrate.”
Mesmerized by the light pink gloss of her lips, he shook his head to lift the haze of lust and admiration he was harboring for her right now. “You ready to go in and enjoy the fruits of your labor?”
“I think so,” was her soft, breathless reply. One that made all sorts of crazy things inside him jump around.
Campbell gave her his arm, unable to deny the strange possessive sensation jerking his heart when she clung to his side. That her ex-husband had thrown her away still astounded him. There had been so many things she’d done right in her marriage, he still couldn’t comprehend how her skill as a wife had left Finley wanting.
Stepping through those doors into the lighted, flowered, crystallized world Max created for the seniors brought a surge of pride on her behalf.
Eat your heart out, Finley Cambridge.
“Wow,” he murmured as he let his eyes inspect her handiwork. Her attention to detail, the care she’d put into creating something magical, was evident in every corner. This was no longer where everyone gathered to play bingo, but a scene right out of a movie.
Round, white papered lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dance floor in the center with a dewy, romantic glow. Each table was adorned with a moss green tablecloth, flowing to the floor in graceful folds. In the middle there were centerpieces overflowing with short arrangements of big white flowers and something green in bundles he was sure he’d seen on the Bon Appetit channel with that guy his father liked to watch, Mitch in the Kitchen.
Max must have caught the question in his eyes. “Hydrangeas and, of all things, rosemary. I got it in bulk at a huge discount at the farmers market.”
“Not only creative but frugal,” he said with more of that pride. Watching her see her conception come to life held a pleasure all its own.
Max’s chuckle was nervous when she peeked at him with that modest glance, the one uncomfortable accepting compliments. “You like it? Do you think the seniors will?”
He grinned with a nod. “I like it and I’m not really an aesthetics kind of guy. It’s perfect. Like right out of a movie perfect. You remember the ones where everyone knew how to do the waltz and women wore heels and pearls even in the kitchen?”
“Are you kidding? I ate movies like those for breakfast when I was a kid, and thank you. It means a lot to me . . . that you . . . came. I’m glad you did.”
Nice. She’d finally said it. Now was his chance to hone her sentiment, woo this warm fuzzy they both knew they were sharing. “Me, too, Max. Me, too,” he husked, letting her relax into him, leaning toward her to place a kiss on lips that tempted him beyond reason.
A crash of tin and glass screeching to the floor broke them apart
.
Flushed once again, Max was instantly in high gear. “That came from the kitchen, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Damn whoever was trashing his friggin’ moment.
“That can’t be good,” she said. “I’d better go check and see if Mrs. Lipknicki’s okay. Do me a favor though, would you?”
At this moment, in this captivating setting, he wouldn’t be contrary to doing most anything for her. “If you ask me to dance with Mrs. Fogarty, I’m out. She’s mean and cranky.”
Her head fell back on her shoulders when she laughed with abandon, the column of her throat sexy and supple. When she recovered, her eyes captured his with a dreamy glaze to them. “Save a dance for me, okay?”
“You bet,” was all he could manage around the curious lump in his throat.
“Hey, lovebirds, quit mooning over each other. We have mayhem in the kitchen,” Mary chided from behind them.
Max escaped through the gathering crowd, but not before she trailed her hand along his arm, giving it one final squeeze.
Campbell had always had a thing for Max Henderson. As far back as he could remember, and it had reignited when he’d seen her for the first time again in the Cluck-Cluck Palace parking lot.
However, he hadn’t always understood what that “thing” was. What it encompassed, why it existed beyond her obvious physical beauty, what it meant.
So who would have thought a gesture as simple as her hand reaching for his would turn that once mysterious “thing” into what he was surer than ever was love?
The corners of his mouth lifted when he caught sight of her flitting through the kitchen, hands flapping, eyes twinkling.
Yep.
Love.
“This is really beautiful, Maxine,” Gail said, popping another mini-quiche in her mouth as she swayed to “In the Mood.” “That Gilda never put on anything like this. You were lucky if you saw a weenie in a blanket if you got here ten minutes after the doors opened.”
You Dropped a Blonde on Me Page 24