Here Comes Trouble

by Leslie Kelly

  She nodded, then put her hands on his shoulder so he could help her down. He did, holding her around the waist, cursing himself for wanting her so much when he felt the slow slide of her body against his.

  “I’m quitting my job because I’m moving away. Somebody invited me to fly away with him to California, and that’s what I plan to do.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, yes, I most certainly do.”

  His jaw tightening, he said, “The guy who invited you doesn’t really exist, remember? You can’t possibly want to get in a little plane with a deviant.”

  She sucked her lips into her mouth and shook her head. Reaching up to brush her hand through his hair, she whispered, “I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Her voice was low, her expression so damn heartbroken he wanted to tug her into his arms, tell her he’d forgive her anything. He resisted, knowing this thing had to end here, now. He had to get this stupid idea of giving up her job and her home out of her head.

  “There’s nothing for you in California.”

  “Bullshit.” Her sadness disappeared, and she now looked merely determined. “Don’t play the martyr here, buddy. You think you’re the only one with things he regrets in his past?”

  “Those things sure seemed to matter to you when you read that book.”

  “Maybe they did. By themselves, through Grace’s eyes, I saw a man who intrigued me and repelled me at the same time.”

  “Oh, great, thanks.”

  “But now when I see that man from the past, he’s shadowy, his shape blurred by the man I know now. I can’t feel anything for that long-ago person because, in my heart, I know he doesn’t exist.” She slid her arms around his neck, somehow knowing he’d never be able to resist her. “I’m not stupid, Max. I know when all of that took place. I know what was driving you.”

  She thought she did.

  “I didn’t know those things when I first read the book.”

  He kept his hands at his sides, though his fingers had curled into fists as he tried to control his impulse to put his arms around her and hold her so tight she’d never leave.

  “You don’t know everything. I wasn’t just some kind of partying swinger, Sabrina. I was a drunk. I don’t remember being sober after dark once that year, and there were a whole lot of daylight hours when I wasn’t, either.”

  She twined her fingers in his hair, not reacting with surprise or disgust as he’d expected. “You think I haven’t figured that out? The man in the book always had a drink in his hand. I’ve never seen you glance at a bottle of beer. Besides, choirboy, you told me yourself you don’t drink, remember?”

  “Won’t drink.”

  “So much the better.”

  She stepped even closer, so the soft curves of her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “You’re not fighting fair.”

  “I’m not fighting at all,” she murmured, leaning up to press a kiss on his jaw. “Come fly with me.”

  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, unable to clear his head because the sweet smell of her skin and her hair completely surrounded him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” Her lips moved to his throat. “Who you’re asking.”

  “Of course I do,” she mumbled, continuing to kiss him while she played with his hair and swayed against him. “I’m asking the man who talked me through one of the most frightening moments of my life yesterday.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I think that guy was more scared than you were, especially when he saw that clock.”

  She ignored him. “The man who controlled his temper and didn’t do what he wanted to do to Peter the other night, because it was better for my sister that way.”

  Considering where Peter had ended up, he probably would have done the man a favor by breaking his jaw.

  “The man who said I should have invisible butter on my imaginary popcorn and who likes horror movies as much as I do and who looks fabulous naked and is trying so hard to fix this carousel.”

  He liked the naked part.

  “The man who saved his grandfather from those old ladies.”

  “Triumphing over old ladies, there’s white knight stuff.”

  She stopped kissing him. Tilting her head back so she could stare up into his face, she looked very serious, as if to make sure he heard this, even if he’d heard nothing else. “I don’t want a white knight. I don’t need a hero or a Prince Charming. I want a real flesh-and-blood man with depth and warmth and kindness. And even with scars.”

  Somehow, her words started to sink in.

  “I love you, Max.” She continued to hold him tight, not letting him look away, her blue eyes shining with honesty and emotion. “I love you. Knowing everything about you—the man you were, the things that made you that way. The man you are today.” She leaned up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his mouth. “I love you.”

  He closed his eyes for just a second, all his senses alive and in the moment. Her whispered words echoing in his mind, the smell of her filling his head, her soft body curved into every inch of his.

  And he finally allowed himself to believe.

  “I love you, too, Sabrina,” he whispered, before lowering his mouth to hers for a kiss.

  She tasted sweet—as always—but maybe even better now that there were no remaining secrets between them. No walls, no hidden objectives. Just this beautiful woman in his arms, kissing him with the mouth that had said she loved him.

  Holding her tightly in his arms, he leaned back against the engine wall of the carousel, wanting nothing more than to make love to her here, outside, in broad daylight. As his back hit the controls, he bumped the power switch, heard the old engine roll and rumble as it had earlier.

  But this time, it kept rolling and rumbling. Sabrina obviously heard, too, because her eyes flew open and she pulled out of his arms mid-kiss. “Max?”

  He shrugged, watching in wonder as the old machinery struggled back to life. The chugs and clangs of the engine were suddenly drowned out by the plaintive wail of the calliope crying out over their heads. He could have lived without getting that annoying part of the ride to work.

  “Come to the circus,” she said, a huge smile creasing her face. “I love that sound. Especially because it’s the very sound that brought me here to you the day I arrived.”

  God bless the calliope.

  Unbelievably, the gears and pistons, which he’d greased and cleaned in case there ever came a day when the motor decided to run, did their job. The carousel began to move—slowly, very slowly—not so merrily, but definitely in motion.

  “I can’t believe you did it,” she said, still looking excited, like a kid at the fair.

  Unable to resist, he lifted her on to the platform, following her up. Fortunately, the thing didn’t stop under their weight. Spying the nearest intact animal—an oversize elephant with upraised trunk that was obviously meant to hold two, likely a parent and child—he lifted a brow and gestured toward it. “Care for a ride, young lady?”

  Nodding, she put her hand in his so he could help her up. Then, looking down, she said, “Want to join me?”

  “Absolutely.” He put his foot in the stirrup and slid up behind her on the dusty, peeling seat.

  Tucking in close behind her so the back of her body touched the entire front of his, he wrapped one arm around her waist and buried his face in her soft blond hair. Sabrina was holding on to the bar with one hand, and he covered it with one of his, squeezing, gripping. Not letting go. Not ever letting go.

  They continued to move slowly, the music playing its distorted tune, a soft summer breeze blowing beneath the canopy as they went round and round.

  After a long while, Max kissed the side of her face and murmured, “Sabrina?”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  “I think this is even better than flying.”

  IT WAS ALMOST EVENING by the time they left the park to return to the house. With her hand clasped in his, Sabrina couldn’t keep a f
ulfilled, happy smile off her face.

  They’d wiled away the afternoon riding the carousel…and making love. With Max holding her so tenderly from behind, Sabrina had been unable to resist taking his hand and lifting it to her breast. The lazy pleasure of their ride evolved into something else—a slow and easy hunger that neither of them could wait to assuage.

  Eventually, after he’d completely explored her body and she’d sagged back against him in a boneless heap, he’d helped her wiggle around to face him. Their clothes hitting the ground, she’d climbed onto his lap and taken him inside her. The relaxed up and down of the carousel and the long, languorous kisses had gone on. And on. And on.

  Max had been right. It was better than flying.

  “So how long do you need to settle things in Philadelphia?” he asked as they reached the back lawn, the tent coming into view. The brilliant orange and purple streaks of sunset created a magnificent backdrop.

  “I have to give two weeks’ notice. Then I’ll join you.”

  “You really think I’m going to let you out of my sight for two weeks and give you the chance to change your mind? No way. I’ll pack up your place while you’re at work and we’ll take off together on your very last day.”

  He was laughing, but she knew that deep inside, Max was still a bit unsure. She’d cure him of that one of these days. “I’m not going to change my mind, Max. You’ve got me for life.”

  “That sounds about right.” He brought her hand to his lips to kiss it. “Speaking of which, of all those cuckoo-bird eyes, which stones did you like the best—the diamonds? Rubies? Sapphires to go with those gorgeous baby blues?”

  She shivered a little, though the day was still warm. “Why do you want to know?”

  Never losing that nonchalant expression, he replied, “Just want to be sure I put a ring on your finger that you’re never going to want to take off.”

  She stopped walking, facing him. “Are you asking…?”

  “Well, goodness, ma’am, you don’t think I’m the type of guy who’d live in sin, do you?”

  Sabrina punched him in the shoulder.

  Laughing, Max dropped down to one knee, looking up at her with pure, heartfelt emotion. “I love you, Sabrina Cavanaugh. Will you make an honest man out of me and do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  She didn’t have to think, pause, hesitate or wait one second. “Oh, you bet I will.”

  Rising, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up so they were nose to nose. “Soon.”

  “Yes.” She kissed him quickly, then again and again, cupping his face in her hands. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening—that she’d found the love of her life, here, in this crazy little town which, if not for fate—and Grace’s horrid book—she’d never have come to in the first place.

  “If I hadn’t seen that with my own eyes, I never would have believed it happened.”

  At the sound of a strange man’s voice, Sabrina quickly turned her head. Max let her down, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like an obscenity.

  “Me, either,” another voice said. “Guess we both owe Grandfather a hundred bucks.”

  Oh, Lord. As Max dropped an arm over her shoulder and led her toward the porch—toward the two men watching every step they took—Sabrina realized exactly who had come for a visit.

  One of the men, broad shouldered but of leaner build than Max, was sitting on the top step, his elbows on his knees. His hair was the same light brown as her fiancé’s, though his face was shaped differently—broader, with deep-set eyes and a stronger nose. His expression was serious, but a smile lurked behind those tight lips, she could see it from several feet away.

  The other man stood on the porch, his hands shoved in the pockets of his tight, torn jeans. Leaning one shoulder against the column, he appeared serious, more tightly coiled and alert. His whole body looked tense. His hair was darker, too—almost jet black—and, while a bit shorter, he looked to be the most powerful of the three siblings.

  For she had no doubt that’s who she was looking at. “Those are your brothers, right?”

  He nodded.

  “I wonder how long they’ve been here.”

  “Hope they didn’t come looking for us down the hill.”

  She groaned. “I thought that was never going to happen to us again.”

  “You keep taking advantage of me out in broad daylight, Sabrina, and somebody’s bound to see.”

  She kicked his ankle, but still manage to keep a smile on her face. “Come on. Introduce me to your brothers, you jerk.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he muttered, shaking his head and glaring at them as they reached the porch. “You bastards finally decide to show up now that the excitement’s over?”

  Sabrina looked up at him, seeing the good humor in his eyes and knowing it was in hers, too. “Are you saying the excitement’s all over, Max Taylor?”

  He shook his head, grinned at his brothers, then tugged her into his arms. “Hell, no, sweetheart.” Not caring that they had an audience, he lowered his mouth to hers, whispering, “This is only the beginning.”

  EPILOGUE

  “HAVE I TOLD YOU, old friend, how happy I am that you’ve finally decided to join me here?” Mortimer asked as he sat in his living room, in his padded leather chair, sipping his cognac.

  “How could I resist, sir?” Roderick said, sarcasm dripping off his words.

  Mortimer settled himself more comfortably in the chair, glad it had arrived yesterday. He’d held out with the old furniture for a while, though it pained his back. But once the main decorating theme of the house—the clocks—had been removed, there didn’t seem much point in not doing the place over. Which was why he was currently living in a construction zone—with a few nice, new pieces of furniture in the rooms already finished.

  With the double pay he was offering for early completion of the job, he sincerely hoped the whole place would be done by Christmas. The house would be magnificent at Christmas-time. Beautiful, bright, and filled with laughing, joyful people.

  Oh, it had been a long time since that had happened. The boys tried to come home for the holidays, but they seldom all managed it the same year. Maybe in the future it would be easier, now that Max had a partner in his airline business to take up some of the heavy workload.

  And for this year, at least, they’d definitely all be under one roof, not just for Christmas, but to celebrate Max’s nuptials, scheduled for the twenty-sixth.

  “It certainly took you long enough,” Mortimer said, returning his attention to Roderick. “Showing up on Halloween night like that. I figured you for an intruder—you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you like I shot that assassin who snuck into my hotel room in Shanghai.”

  Roderick finished refilling the crystal decanter on the bar, pouring himself a glass of cognac, as well. “Well, now that you’ve rid yourself of those wretched clocks and have decided to stay in this dreary little backwater, I assumed there was no further point in resisting.”

  “Damn shame you missed all the fun over the summer.”

  “Forgive me, but I don’t think I’d describe being drugged and kidnapped by those maniacal sisters as fun.”

  Shrugging, Mortimer murmured, “Younger one does have nice legs, though.”

  Roderick merely sniffed.

  “Come now, admit it, you like it here. All this fresh country air.”

  “Soon to be awash with the smoke of that factory you insist on reopening.”

  “Peace and quiet.”

  “Except for the squalls of your secretary’s baby.”

  Mortimer smiled. “Cute little thing, isn’t he? Like his mother.” He only wished Allie and her baby boy were around more, but since she’d moved out of the house into her own place in town, he only saw her from nine to five. Of course, with the wedding, there’d be lots of time to associate with all the Cavanaughs. Including the rest of his soon-to-be granddaughter-in-law’s family.

  “I still can’t i
magine why on earth Maxwell would decide to get married here,” Roderick said, shaking his head as he returned to his task of addressing invitations, his penmanship fine and precise as always, which was why he’d taken over the task from a much-less-careful Allie. “Of all places to have a wedding…”

  Mortimer understood. “They met here. Fell in love here. Why wouldn’t they come back here to marry?” He could hardly wait.

  “Besides, California was too far for Sabrina’s mother to go.”

  Mortimer was glad the girls’ mother had finally reached out to her daughters, promising to come to Trouble for the wedding and bring the younger children with her. From the sounds of it, the woman was taking some serious steps toward independence, having moved out of her father’s house and gotten herself a job.

  He wondered if she had any experience managing movie theaters—he’d like to have more family in Trouble.

  “Well, I suppose now that the town seems to be coming back to life with the return of the funds from their treasury, it won’t be such a hideous place to visit.”

  Roderick. Such a pessimist. “Trouble’s doing fine.”

  “Especially since you sold back all their public buildings for less than you paid for them.”

  “Kept the private ones, though,” he pointed out. Mortimer might have a generous heart, but he wasn’t stupid. He planned to turn a profit out of this investment one of these days.

  “An astute business move, as always, sir.”

  Frowning at the curmudgeonly tone of his friend, Mortimer lowered his glass to the table with a loud thunk. “Roderick, we’ve fought together in battle. Shared foxholes. Split a quart of water across one hundred miles of desert.”

  Roderick didn’t even look up from his writing. “Yes, sir.”

  He continued. “We’ve explored lost pyramids and battled bandits and stolen an entire harem right off the ship of the slave-dealer who’d kidnapped them.”