Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  From a stand nearby Birdie saw Phillip, standing next to Calvin Whetmore, wave a hand and turn back to the barman.

  Ozzie turned to Gran. “Shall we escort you to your box?”

  Gran shook her head. “I see my friends right over there. I’ll go up with them. Come up for lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he promised her. “We’ll place the bets and drop your tickets off.”

  “No need. Just collect my winnings for me.” With a smile, something that nearly shocked Birdie’s hat right off, Gran headed toward a couple Birdie remember seeing at the second wedding just a few weeks ago. Mr. and Mrs. Longley? She’d had so many names thrown at her that day she’d forgotten most of them. She’d been too upset with Ozzie that day as well. Seemed to be a theme going on.

  Ozzie headed off to place the bets, and she didn’t have time to think about anything other than remembering names as the crowd of Anne and Phillip’s friends she’d met the day before descended on them, everyone holding a glass of something alcoholic. Phillip handed her one—after a sip she noted it was the same sparkling wine as she’d had the day before—while Calvin handed out a few more to Anne and her friends, then went back for more.

  Birdie was laughing over a joke from Christina, the one who’d called her a baggage the day before, when a strong arm went around her waist. Fortunately she recognized Ozzie’s scent and grip before she flinched.

  “Bets all placed.” He held the tickets out for her to place in her purse as she had the day before.

  “Why don’t you hang on to them?”

  “No. The formula worked well yesterday. Why tempt Fate?”

  She glanced up from under the brim of her hat to see him smiling down at her. Oh damn. The hot smile.

  Anne came to the rescue. “Why tempt Fate indeed? Did Courtney win yesterday?”

  “Fifty pounds.” Ozzie turned his smile on Anne who blinked before recovering.

  So Birdie wasn’t the only one who reacted to that smile. She knew that, but it was nice having the reminder. A deeper sip of her drink was meant to buy her time to slow the racing beat of her heart even as she moved a tad closer to Ozzie’s warm body. The fit felt so right she wondered how she’d lived this long without him so close.

  “Well, fifty quid is nothing to sneeze at. I’ve not placed my bets yet, so tell me who you bet on today, and I’ll see if your luck is holding. Lord knows I never win at the races!” Anne said.

  The circle of friends laughed and added their own tales of bets lost in the past. It seemed a few of them had lost hundreds, and on occasion, a few thousand pounds on what was supposed to be a sure bet.

  Phillip pulled out his racing form. “Come on, tell us.”

  Birdie glanced up at Ozzie who shrugged. He consulted the tickets he still held, then told them what bets they’d placed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Phillip finally said after gaping at Birdie for nearly a full minute. “A couple of those are longest shots in their fields. Seriously?”

  Heat touched on Birdie’s cheeks. “I think I had beginner’s luck yesterday. I really, really don’t know what I’m doing here. I’ve never bet on a thing in my life.” With a shrug, she drank some more.

  “But you won,” Anne stressed. “How did you pick the winning horse yesterday?”

  “She picked two winners, but because the odds were so bad, she only bet a fiver on each one. And came out with fifty pounds total winnings.” Ozzie looked down at her, and she experienced a warm flush of pleasure at the approval glinting behind his glasses. “Beginner’s luck? Maybe. I’d be willing to splash down a coupl’a quid on that.”

  “So how did you choose today’s bets?” Phillip pressed.

  “Well, I just… This is going to sound completely stupid, but I just closed my eyes and…pointed.”

  At least eight faces gaped at her.

  Christina was the first one to burst out laughing. “Bloody brill! Sure beats my system.” She held up her cup in a toast. Birdie touched her cup to Christina’s before both women sipped. At this rate she’d finish her drink in minutes. Already a warm buzz teased the blood rushing around her body.

  “What’s your system?” Ozzie asked before Birdie could get the words out.

  “Alphabetically,” Christina answered without a touch of shame. “Depends on who is in the race, but the first one is any horse with a name starting with A, or B, or whatever letter comes up first. Second race is the next letter in the alphabet.”

  Her friends all laughed, but they started confessing their own systems for choosing. Phillip was the only one who studied the stats in agonizing detail. Granted, his win rate was a bit higher than most of them, but not by much. Patricia looked at the jockey arses. She bet by who had the tightest one. As they went around the circle, Calvin rejoined them.

  “What’re you all hooting about?” he asked. He held up a cup. “Anyone need a top off?”

  Birdie shook her head, and Phillip was the one to fill him in, although Calvin’s gaze was on her. He’d certainly made note of Ozzie’s strangely possessive hold.

  “You all are delusional,” Calvin announced. “The best way to bet is to flip a coin between the top two contenders.”

  Phillip scoffed. “Your way is no more reliable than anyone else’s.”

  “And yet, my thousand pound win yesterday puts you all to shame.” Calvin bowed at the laughter and applause that greeted his announcement.

  Anne had the last laugh. “Well, I’m not seeing any improvements here. However, I need to go place my bets. Meet up at the Panoramic in an hour?”

  “We’re meeting my Gran in her box. I don’t know how many people she’s invited,” Birdie said.

  “Oh, ain’t she posh!” Anne adopted a pose, one hand on a hip, another behind her head, nose in the air. “See how y’are?” She dropped the pose and giggled. “What the hell? It’s the best way to see the races, you know. Have to see what I can do about scratching up a box invite next year. For now, we’re slumming it with the general population and regular grand stand seating.”

  “How about we meet up after lunch?” Birdie suggested.

  “Aye.” Anne whipped out her phone. “Give me the digits, trollop.”

  They exchanged numbers, and Birdie tucked her phone away.

  Calvin leaned over and looked into her cup. “Looking a little low there, darling girl.” Without asking, he tipped several ounces into her half full cup.

  “Oh. Thank you.” She returned his salute, then sipped. More of the sparkling wine, but something about the way Calvin watched her was off-putting. Some warning about accepting drinks flitted across her mind. Phillip she trusted. Calvin she didn’t. Standing beside a flowering bush, she wondered if she could surreptitiously dump most of her drink without anyone being the wiser. A large pink bloom caught her eye, and she leaned a little to sniff it. Apparently she’d startled a bee because one shot right out of the center of the flower.

  Birdie flinched backward, but not before the thing landed on her neck and stung her.

  “Ow!”

  Oswald immediately spun her around to face him, her wine cup dropped into the bush, and several drops splashed on her foot and ankle. “What happened?” he demanded.

  “I…I think… I was just stung.” She blinked back tears as the site of the injury grew hot. “I’ve never been stung before.”

  He pulled her hand away from where she was instinctively trying to cover the wound. “You don’t know if you’re allergic?” One hand cupped her chin and gently twisted her so he could see.

  “No. I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone who was.”

  “Looks like it’s bloody painful,” Anne said, leaning in close to look. “Phillip, flag down someone to get a medic.”

  Birdie sensed the small crowd around her mobilizing, but she could only see Ozzie and the deep concern in his eyes. “Is it…?” She didn’t even know what to ask. Just the pain from it was making her dizzy.
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br />   “Let’s find a seat and some shade.” Ozzie looked up at Anne. “Can you find some water?”

  “On it,” one of the men said, and departed.

  Arm tight around her, Ozzie half carried her to a bench under a spreading tree. It felt wonderful to lean on him as she blinked back tears of pain.

  “This is silly,” she protested, not sure what she was protesting.

  “Just relax, Courtney,” his calm voice soothed her. “I don’t think you’re allergic, but we’ll have a medic check you out, anyway. If nothing else, he’ll get the stinger out and put something soothing on the welt.”

  “Something soothing sounds good.”

  “Let’s get rid of this. Where are the pins?” A moment later her hat was off, and he used it to fan her face.

  Shamelessly she leaned her head on his shoulder and allowed that the breeze on her neck felt pretty good.

  Phillip sat on the side of her injury. “I’ve got a credit card here. According to the web, it can scrape the stinger out if it’s there.”

  Ozzie held up a hand. “Can you see a stinger? Unless we know what kind of bee it was, it’s better to wait for a medic, don’t you think?”

  Phillip held up his phone. “This site says if it was a regular honey bee, it takes a few minutes for the venom sack to empty. Better to get it out as quickly as possible.”

  “But if the stinger isn’t there, you’re just hurting her,” Ozzie pointed out. “Look, here comes a medic now. Move out of his way, Hammond.”

  By then they had a small, very polite, crowd around them.

  “Hammond, shoo everyone along,” Ozzie ordered.

  The medic bent over her and examined the site. “No trouble breathing?”

  “Just a little dizzy,” she answered. “Oh, and it hurts. A lot.”

  “Stings do at that,” he said cheerfully. “Looks like a honey bee stinger in there. We’ll get that out, some cream on it, and see if we can’t get an antihistamine in you.”

  With Ozzie’s strong arm still around her, she rested her head where his neck and shoulder met. The medic talked, but she concentrated on Ozzie. The warm, spicy sweet smell of his skin. Like cinnamon and lemon, or lime. A note of bay leaf. Whatever it was, he smelled good.

  “She’s looking a mite woozy there, mate,” the man treating her said. “But her blood pressure is good, and she’s breathing well; I don’t think she’s allergic. Have you got seats in the shade?”

  “We’re headed for a box.”

  “Best idea. Get her someplace shady and somewhat quiet. Not that there’s a quiet seat to be had around here.”

  Birdie opened her eyes and caught the young man’s grin.

  “You’ll be all right, luv,” he said and patted her arm. “I’ve put a loose plaster over it. It will hurt for a couple days, but the swelling should go down and any hydrocortisone cream will ease the itch.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. For some reason she was feeling sleepy and didn’t want to move.

  “Up, Courtney,” Ozzie said. “Let’s get up to the box and park you in a comfortable seat.”

  “Sounds like a great idea.” The medic snapped his case shut. “What box will you be in? If you notice any signs of wheezing, just give us a call and we’ll be right up.”

  Ozzie told him, shook the man’s hand, then stood and pulled Birdie up, keeping his arm solidly around her waist.

  Someone pushed an opened bottle of water into her hand. “There you go, Birdie. Drink up, you’ll feel better soon.”

  She sipped at the cool water, accepted an antihistamine tablet from the medic, and swallowed it down with more water.

  “Oh, and take this.” The medic smacked a plastic pack against the bench, then shook it before handing it over. “Cold pack. Helps reduce the swelling about as well as an antihistamine.”

  Birdie straightened up enough to notice he had dark hair and a cute beard and mustache. Maybe a few years older than her. But definitely cute over all. “Thank you,” she said. She handed the water bottle to Ozzie so she could hang on to him and hold the icepack.

  As Ozzie steered her toward the grand stand and a bank of elevators, she wobbled a little on her heels. They weren’t so high, or the heels so narrow that she should feel so unstable on them. Anne showed up on her other side and took her by the elbow.

  “Nasty little sting there. You all right, strumpet?”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t understand why I’m so shaky, though.”

  “The shock,” Anne said. “And probably that horrid wine Calvin used to top off your cup. Smart of you to dump it in the bush like that. When I stooped to grab your cup, I used the opportunity to dump mine as well. Don’t ever trust that bugger. I never drink anything he gives me.”

  Birdie sensed rather than saw Ozzie’s head turn Anne’s way. “He’s been known to slip a mickey?”

  “Only suspected a time or two. Haven’t ever actually caught him in the act.” Anne shrugged. “Meant to tell you before you got that sip in. Then the bee attacked. Think it’s a good idea to park you in the grandmother’s box for the day. I’ll look you up in the next day or two and see how you’re doing. Friday night we usually go dancing and I think you’ll like our usual spot, okay?”

  “Sounds fun,” Birdie said. “I’d like that. Haven’t been out clubbing since I got here.”

  “Well, now that’s a true crime! Just for that we won’t invite Oswald,” Anne said. “Here we are now, at the lifts. Oswald will get you settled, or he’ll answer to me!”

  “Thank you, Anne. I’ve got her from here,” Ozzie casually dismissed Birdie’s new friend.

  Birdie gave her a small wave as the doors closed. The sting site on her neck felt about five inches wide, hot, and it throbbed.

  “Put the cold pack over it,” Ozzie ordered.

  “What happened, luv?” one of their fellow passengers asked, a short, round woman with two other women. The three of them were dressed in matching hot pink dresses and hats.

  “Bee sting,” Ozzie answered for her. “Mind the flowering bushes when you’re about.”

  “Oh dear,” another woman said. “That’s an awful thing to happen, especially so early in the day.”

  The lift stopped and the trio filtered out, each one passing on their regards.

  The door slid shut and the two of them were alone. Ozzie turned her to face him, using one hand to cup her cheek and lift her face. Serious icy blue eyes stared deeply into hers.

  “You look a little off, love, and I don’t mean the site on your neck. Your eyes are a little glazed.”

  “Pain.”

  “Maybe. Hold on, we’re almost there. Just another couple levels.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m worried about you. Not like you asked the bee to sting you. And now I’m concerned you got a sip of something pharmaceutical slipped in your drink. Add that to the tablet the medic gave you and I think it best if you stick to water or tea the rest of the day.”

  “Yeah, I feel a little drunk, now that you mention it.” Which made her frown because she hadn’t had more than a teaspoon of wine once her cup had been refilled. The half cup beforehand wasn’t enough to make her tipsy. “You think Calvin…?” The lift stopped and doors opened, interrupting her thought.

  Ozzie secured her against his side once more. “I wouldn’t trust Whetmore any further than I could throw him.” He glanced at the half empty water bottle in his hand with a frown.

  “Hmm. Funny Drew having a friend like that.”

  “There’s one in every crowd, love. The trick is figuring out who it is and then keeping a respectable distance from them. Never accept a drink from him again.”

  “I won’t.”

  * * * *

  The instant they entered the box suite, Oswald knew Courtney’s grandmother was no fool. Mrs. Robinson pushed her friends aside and met them not five feet into the room.

  “What’s wrong
with her?” The tone was sharp, but the eyes said the older woman was worried. Intent blue eyes zeroed in on the cold pack Courtney was barely able to hold to her neck. The fact was, he was very worried.

  “Bee shting, Gran.”

  Oswald looked down at her. Her speech was slurred far beyond what he’d expected. How concentrated was the dose of roofies she’d been fed? Had she had more than a teaspoon? Had it been in the drink before Whetmore had poured more in? If indeed that had been in her drink. His fingers tightened around the water bottle Whetmore had fetched for Courtney. Had he opened the bottle just before handing it over, or had he opened it much earlier? Oswald couldn’t remember.

  “Indeed. Are you allergic? Your mother never said a word.” Mrs. Robinson took Courtney’s other arm. “Let’s get her into one of the outside seats.” Then she stopped walking and looked up at him. “Unless we should be heading for hospital?”

  Oswald frowned. The same thought had just been rushing through his head. “I’m not sure. The medic who treated the sting said if she had trouble breathing to call down right away, but she’s not wheezing.”

  “Then what else is wrong?”

  “It’s possible she’s been exposed to a tiny dose of a date rape drug,” he reluctantly admitted. “She didn’t have more than a sip of a refill when the bee stung her. The rest got dropped into the bushes. But she’d had a few ounces of wine before that.” He tried to remember the sequence of events. Hammond had given her the initial cup of wine. Whetmore had added at least a few ounces after she’d already had some. There was no way to know if both men had tampered with her drink, or only one. Then there was the water bottle in his hand. No point in over-alarming Mrs. Robinson, he decided not to mention it now. He would hand it over at the hospital for testing.

  “So no proof from the container.” The older woman pursed her lips. “Well, I’m not willing to take the risk. Call those medics, Oswald. Have them get an ambulance on standby.”

  “Let’s get her comfortable first.” A glance at the gathered guests showed them all focused on the trio.

  “Right.” Mrs. Robinson considered her guests. “Marlow, call the medics. Everyone else clear the way. We’re setting her down by the rail. Oswald. You’re in charge of making sure she doesn’t fall over and hurt herself.”