Made in Heaven

by McGoldrick, May

  Annoyed at his doomsaying, Meg frowned. He turned his back on her and hopped into his ailing cab. He acted as if he were totally disinterested in her dilemma and in her.

  Pushing her stuff out of the driveway, Meg leaned against the cab and listened to him cursing under his breath as he fiddled beneath the dash.

  “So what happened?” she asked after a moment had passed. “After you dropped me, did you try to take off so fast that the engine ejected into the bay?”

  “It’s not funny!” He tried the ignition again, but only a continuous groaning sound rewarded his efforts. “I don’t know what the hell happened. I dropped you off, came around the circle, and the damn thing just died on me.”

  “I can smell the gas. You flooded it.”

  “I didn’t,” he turned and growled at her through the open door.

  “Have you checked the battery? It could be dead.”

  He flicked on the lights. “It’s not dead!”

  She looked around and saw the twin shafts of light cutting into the woods beyond the winding driveway. “They look pretty dim to me. Before you flooded it, were you nearly out of gas?”

  “No! And I didn’t flood it!”

  “Check the spark plug wires?”

  “Yes!”

  “Distributor cap? Sometimes they crack and moisture gets in there.”

  In the dark, she wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed, but she definitely had his attention.

  “I even checked that. What are you, a mechanic or something?”

  “No!” Meg didn’t really see the need to explain, but driving an old car and living on a tight budget had forced her long ago to learn the basics of auto care. Hey, listening to Click and Clack on the radio didn’t hurt, either. “Did you jiggle the wheel?”

  “No, that method completely slipped my mind.” Evan chuckled and she found the sound extremely pleasing. “And, you know, I haven’t prayed to my voodoo doll yet, either.”

  “I wouldn’t make light of it, if I were you. It always works for me.”

  “The doll or the jiggle?”

  She put on the pretense of her best frown. “Of course the jiggle! You just have to give it three small...”

  “Oh, please. Be my guest!” He got out of the car and stood up. “I think I should just stand back and watch a master mechanic at work. Why don’t you give it your magical touch and see how you make out?”

  He was standing holding the driver’s door open for her, and Meg felt a strong desire to wash the smirk off his handsome face. “Fine, since you obviously can’t handle it.”

  She ignored his condescending snort of amusement and hopped into the driver’s seat. Without thinking, she reached back for the seatbelt. She grimaced at the sound of his snicker.

  “You can never be too safe--especially in this car!” She sat forward and took hold of the wheel. Giving it a quick tug to the right, then to the left, and then to the right again, she turned the key in the ignition.

  The car roared to life.

  Meg didn’t have to turn to know that his jaw had hit the gravel, but she decided to save her tap dance for later. So, ever so dignified, she pressed the accelerator a couple of times to rev the engine, undid her seatbelt, and moved out from behind the wheel.

  “Any questions?”

  She thought his eyes had taken on a slightly murderous glint, but this only added to her amusement.

  “Think you can handle it from here?”

  “No!” he said suddenly. “I don’t think I can handle it from here.”

  Without another word, Evan yanked open the back door, threw her things in the back seat, and slammed the door. Then, handling her with no more gentleness, he took her by the elbow and pushed her toward the front seat.

  She dug in her heels and looked at him challengingly. “What are you doing? You want me to drive you to town?”

  “You live very dangerously,” he stated, putting a hand on top of her head and guiding her into the car.

  Grabbing hold of the wheel, she glared at him.

  “Move over,” he ordered.

  She couldn’t slide over to the passenger side fast enough as he started to climb in after her. She grabbed the door handle, though she really didn’t think escape was necessary.

  “What exactly do you mean, I live dangerously?”

  He slammed the door shut and turned to her. “I mean, here you are in a strange town, flirting with a total stranger in the middle of a dark parking lot.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I was not flirting with you! I was only trying to help you with your silly car. I don’t have to take this!” She opened her door, but he reached over and took hold of her arm.

  “Well, you should!” he huffed. “Not all the cab drivers in town are as understanding and open minded as I am.”

  She gaped at him in disbelief.

  “Shut the door.”

  Meg looked at him a moment longer, and then pulled the door shut.

  “You are a foul-tempered boor! I can’t believe you have the brass to call yourself understanding and...and...”

  “Open minded,” he repeated, starting the car down the drive.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You said you needed a cab--so here I am.”

  “The Inn already called for one. A different one.”

  He picked up his CB, and she listened as he ordered someone named Roberta on the other end to cancel the call. Meg crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the hack license, clipped to the overhead visor. Oh, just as well, she thought. She needed to get to town, and at least she knew that Evan Knight, Lic. No. 26712, was not likely to cut her up and use her for fish bait. Nonetheless, she let a few minutes pass in silence while she double-checked the road he was taking. She recognized it as the direct route back to town, and soon they were crossing Thames Street. The Yachting Center was lit up with activity, and a fair number of people were strolling along the brick and cobblestone sidewalks, enjoying the warm September evening.

  As they slowed for an elderly couple to cross, Meg turned to look at him. “So...what are my choices?”

  He gave her a slow and meaningful side glance that made her toes curl.

  “I mean as far as available rooms,” she quickly added. “Inns, hotels, bed and breakfasts? Can you think of anyplace that might have a room available?”

  She watched him ponder the question as he drove. Robert had been correct in calling him handsome. He didn’t have classic, drop dead beauty like Robert, but his face had character--a hardness that spoke of experience. And a dangerous kind of charm, she added mentally, as he turned those eyes of his on her.

  “Well, there’s a place in Portsmouth--on the northern end of the island. Clean rooms, off the beaten track. The only bad thing is that it looks out over the sewage treatment plan. If you don’t mind the smell...”

  “Charming. Anywhere else?”

  “Hmm! One place I’m pretty sure has a room. A place in town--right on the water. It’s on Washington Street in the Point section. It looks out over the causeway and the bridge.”

  “I know that neighborhood. I’ve walked through there before. It’s pretty.”

  “Well, I know this guy who rents out...”

  “Now, wait a minute,” she broke in. “You’re not sending me to some flophouse, are you?”

  He cocked a brow and gave her a critical once over. “They gave up white slavery in Newport a couple hundred years ago.”

  She faked a violent shudder. “So recent?”

  He gave a low chuckle and turned his attention back to the road. “Do you want it or not? He has about half-dozen rooms that he rents out, and as of last night, all but one was filled.”

  Meg felt a case of the jitters start to set in. “Do you know this guy? I mean, is he registered as a business?”

  “Look, you’ll be safe!” he answered shortly. “Phil is listed with the Visitor’s Center, and he has a hundred ten year old Methuselah running the place. Believe me, she’s eve
n tougher than his Irish wolfhound.”

  She paused a minute and then decided. “Fine! I’ll be adventurous. Take me there.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, immediately swerving the cab into a parking spot on the tree lined street.

  Meg looked up at the street sign by an antique gas lamp. Washington Street. The overbearing rat! she thought. So much for making her own decisions. But then, with a quick glance at the well kept colonial and Victorian homes lining the quiet street, she grudgingly gave in.

  He was already out of the car and pulling her things from the back seat before she could say anything. So she got out the passenger side and waited on the slate sidewalk. A pretty little brownstone church at the next corner caught her eye, and she stopped to look at it, waiting for him to come around. Glancing over the cab, she saw him crossing the street with her things.

  “Hey!”

  “This is the place,” he called over his shoulder, heading toward a very large old home on the water side.

  She ran after him. “I think I should be able to handle it from here. I mean, I’ve already put you through enough trouble. I really appreciate all you’ve done.”

  “I like you better when you snap at me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Fine! Then just put my damn bags down, and tell me how much I owe you.”

  Evan stopped before a set of double doors with ornately etched glass. “Let’s call it even!” he said. “You started my car; I brought you here.”

  She paused as he rang the bell and then nodded. “Fine! But to tell the truth, I think you got the better part of this deal.”

  “Don’t push it,” he snapped as one of the doors opened and a tall, seventyish woman looked out at them.

  “Evan,” she said brightly. “Have you forgotten your...”

  “I have a new guest for you, Nan,” he interrupted. “They messed up her reservation at Castle Hill, and she is in dire need of a room.”

  “Well, we certainly can help you with that, dear,” she said to Meg, stepping back into the foyer and gesturing toward an open parlor.

  As she followed the woman toward a meticulously organized desk, Meg glanced around at the comfortable, Victorian furnishings, and at the open glass doors leading out onto a lit porch at the far end of the room.

  “So you’re all set?” Evan asked of the older woman, dropping the bags by Meg’s feet.

  “Yes, dear! And you’d better get some rest. You look like the walking dead.”

  “Thanks, Nan. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

  “Fresh thing!” Nan scolded. Her eyes twinkled, though, as she shook her head amiably at Meg.

  With that, Evan turned and headed up the wide stairs on the far side of the parlor. He did not even spare Meg a glance.

  As she sat down across from the older woman at the desk, Meg leaned forward. “Where is he going?”

  “Who? Evan?” Nan turned and gave her a sweet smile. “Why, my dear, didn’t he tell you? Evan lives here.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Meg smiled as she looked around the room. It was perfect.

  From the outside of the huge old building, she hadn’t been quite so sure, but she was now very happy with the way things were turning out.

  Granted, it wasn’t the Inn at Castle Hill. The room was a bit smaller, and the furnishings were not gleaming antiques like those she had come to know from her yearly trip there, but everything looked clean and comfortable. She let her eyes wander over the double bed with its cream-colored spread, the overstuffed chair with the wrought iron lamp beside it, the small wooden writing table with the Windsor chair.

  Moving to the three huge windows that sat side by side between built in bookcases, she looked out at the black waters of the harbor. Kneeling on the cushioned window seat, she lifted the sash of the middle window and let the salty smell of the warm September evening drift into the room. She could see the lights of a few yachts reflecting off the still water. To her left, she spotted the causeway leading out to Goat Island and the big hotel there. To her right, the building jutted out in an L-shape, and beyond the windows of other rooms, the lights of the huge suspension bridge spanned the bay.

  Suddenly, a thought of Robert struck her, and she sighed.

  “And now for something completely different,” she murmured, wondering where he was...and what he was up to. She hadn’t heard from him since the cab ride from the station. Remembering his comment back in the train--about being down here on other business--she wondered how much of what he’d said was the truth and how much of it had been said for the sake of saving her from herself, as he so often in the past had put it.

  Too many people worried about her, Meg thought, looking down at her watch. Nine-thirty already. She took out her cell phone out of the bag and called Rebekah in Boston.

  There were four rings and then the answering machine played back her friend’s cheery voice. Meg decided to leave a quick message. “Hi! It’s me. Change of plan. I am staying at a new place in Newport...”

  “Wait! Wait a minute!” Rebekah’s laughing voice cut in through the line. “Meg! What did you say?”

  “You were there all the time, you rat! What are you doing? Screening your calls?”

  “Yeah! You might say that.”

  “You aren’t alone, are you!” Meg teased, hearing a whisper in the background.

  “What did you say? I didn’t hear you!”

  “Rat’s ass, you didn’t. Who is he?”

  “Wait a minute!”

  Meg heard her friend put a hand over the receiver, and had a mental image of Rebekah ordering the poor man around. It took a moment before she got back on the line. “Okay, the natives were restless. So what is this about staying in a new place? You’re not changing on me now, are you Meg?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t give me that. What’s cooking with you?”

  “Nothing, really! The Inn just screwed up my reservation and didn’t have any room for me.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? So where are you?”

  From where she sat, Meg could see the lights of Jamestown twinkling across the water. She didn’t think Rebekah would think that was much of an answer.

  “I’m at a little bed and breakfast...well, not so little, really. And not exactly a bed and breakfast, either. But it’s right on the harbor...”

  “Wait just a minute. Are you trying to tell me that Little Miss I’m-Not-Going-Anywhere-Without-A-Triptik is staying in a ‘maybe it is, maybe it isn’t’ B & B? Right! Tell me, does it rent rooms by the hour?”

  “Very funny. No, it’s really very nice,” she said, running her fingers over the bedspread.

  “And just how did you find this joint...ask a sailor?”

  “No! Evan suggested it.”

  “Evan?”

  “Well, yeah. Evan Knight, the cab driver who brought me in from the station. He lives here, too.”

  There was a long pause at the other end of the phone, and Meg muffled her giggle. It felt good to be doing the ribbing for a change.

  “Let me get this straight,” Rebekah said finally. “You are staying in a flophouse with a total stranger who drives a cab?”

  “No, he’s not a stranger!”

  “Oh? He’s an old friend.”

  “Well, no. But we practically had a baby together,” Meg took the phone away from her face for a moment and washed the amusement out of her voice. “I mean, delivered a baby. Well, we would have if he hadn’t gotten us to the hospital in time.”

  “Excuse me. Is this my Meg Murphy?”

  “Yes, Bekah!”

  “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Well, Evan is friends with Ted and Ted’s daughter Jada.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Evan is the cabby you’re living with.”

  “I’m not living with him! Excuse me, Rebekah.” Meg muttered some gibberish to a non-existent visitor. “He has his own ap
artment in this house, and...”

  “You mean Ted and Jada’s house.”

  “No! Ted and Jada don’t live here.”

  “Wait a minute. Put this guy on the line!” her friend ordered seriously from the other end. “I can’t get a straight answer out of you.”

  “But he can’t. He...he isn’t decent.”

  “You’re shitting me! I know you are! You, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes! With a man? I don’t think so.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Going away with your dead husband’s ghost on your yearly virginal retreat and hitting on a man the first day? Taking him to bed? No way! Nice try, but I don’t think so.”

  Meg let out a deep sigh. “Well, you can believe what you want, but I’ve got to go. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Meg! Meg!”

  She held on to the phone a few seconds longer and then spoke. “Yes, Bekah?”

  “Meg, tell me you’re a bald-faced liar. Tell me. Please? Otherwise, order in the universe is in jeopardy. Come on.”

  “Hmm! Okay, I’m a liar! Feel better? But now I really have to go.”

  “Wait! I don’t believe you. Put him on line right now, Meg Murphy!” She could hear a hint of mild panic in Rebekah’s voice. “Listen, Meg, things are a lot different now than the last time you screwed a man. Have you ever even seen a condom? Meg?”

  Meg ended the call and smiled.

  Boy, that felt good!

  ****

  He never messed around with married women.

  Never, Evan reminded himself as he stepped out of the shower and into the large tiled bathroom. So what the hell was wrong with him now? Living and working, even under a pretense of a cab driver, in a resort town like this, he had his pick of the crop when it came to available women. So why was he getting so hung up over a pair of brown eyes and a mouth so soft-looking that it cried out to be kissed?

  He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, no matter how short a time it might be. Already, he could see she was a woman with time on her hands. And she wasn’t the type that would be looking for a one night stand. Hell, she was made for slow seduction and passionate lovemaking. A relationship with her would be the kind that could go for weeks before anyone even thought of surfacing for air.