Carolina Heat

by Barth, Christi

  Annabelle squirmed a little. Just enough to brush her pelvis against his. She was gratified to hear him suck in a harsh, quick breath. The man wasn’t going to be able to ramble on about perfume much longer, but she’d play along until he threw in the proverbial towel. “Do you remember everything you research?” she murmured softly against his ear.

  “Bits and pieces. More if it’s a subject that speaks to me, but usually enough to be able to hold my own in any bar trivia contest. With the perfume book, in addition to the research, I helped with a bit of ghostwriting. Always helps it stick to the old brain cells.” He toyed with the end of her ponytail, and in a fluid move rolled so she lay beneath him on the swing. It rocked precariously, squeaking madly as it swung back and forth. Mark dropped a leg to the ground to steady them.

  “You know what I like best about perfume? All the interesting places you women like to dab it.” With his teeth he popped three of her buttons through the holes.

  “Yup.” He nuzzled gently at the crevice between her breasts. “This is the spot. Smells terrific, and you appreciate it more for having to work to get to it.”

  He shot her a look full of steam and seduction from under his eyebrows. Quickly the balance shifted. Annabelle moved her hands restlessly across his back. The time for playing games was over; she needed his hands on her, and realized she’d all but forgotten to breathe.

  He licked, very slowly, along the lacy edge of her bra. “Tastes wonderful, too. But I digress. I believe I’d begun to astound and amaze you with my knowledge of fragrance.” He rolled off her to sprawl cross-legged on the floor.

  Annabelle lay motionless, and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. The effect this man had on her was truly unbelievable. Her heart was thudding as though they’d run a marathon, and her skin tingled from the memory of his length pressed to hers. The way he made her feel, the way they shot from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, it was crazy. Magical, sexy as hell and frustrating. It was obvious he was worked- up too, but somehow he could step back from all this heat between them? How did that happen? No, there was no way he wasn’t as hot and bothered as she was.

  “I see you sitting there, calm and collected. But it’s nothing more than an act. You don’t have me fooled.”

  “A meaningful relationship’s about more than sex. Don’t you want to hear my stories about France?” he asked, in a butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth tone.

  “Who said I wanted a meaningful relationship? The prospect of a few days of hot, dirty sex looks pretty good to me.” Her gaze dropped. She reached down and grabbed at the impressive bulge in his pants. “And next time you try your holier-than-thou routine, remember it’s a lot more believable when you don’t have an erection the size of the Empire State Building holding up your shorts.”

  Shrugging, he ran his hands through his hair. “It’s been getting me in trouble for the past twenty years. Gives me away every time.”

  “What’s it going to be, Dering? Are we going to put this swing through its paces, or is there going to be a discourse on the delights of Provence?”

  The look on his face was one of pure hunger. It was all the answer she needed. Reaching out, she tugged on his curls to bring him within kissing distance. Their lips locked and Annabelle had the odd sensation again of the world slipping away.

  “One last, very important question. Are you coming up here, or am I joining you down on the floor?”

  Before he had a chance to answer, the phone inside the house blared an interruption. Mark made no move to stop kissing her. It rang again.

  “Mark, you’ve got to answer.”

  “Au contraire, ma cherie. The only thing I’ve got to do is keep kissing your amazingly talented lips.”

  Annabelle shook her head and pulled out of their embrace. “Think about it. As you pointed out, it’s after midnight. Whoever’s calling must have something important to say.”

  He dug for his keys as he rose to his feet. “Come on in. Nobody ever called me at midnight before you came along. I’ve a feeling you’re connected to this untimely interruption.”

  Annabelle trailed into the house behind him. “Why are you blaming this on me? You think the bad guys followed us to Richmond and back to the Haley’s B&B, figured out I’m staying here tonight, and called to hassle us?” She poked a teasing finger into his side. “I bet the word finally hit the street you’re back in town, and it’s a leggy blonde who wants to get her hooks into you.”

  “Too late. As of this week my taste runs exclusively to redheads.” He tossed his keys on the table and hit the button for the speakerphone.

  “Whoever this is, it better be important.”

  “Mark, it’s me.”

  “Ashby? If you’re calling to get me to knock back a few beers with you, this isn’t a good time.” He heard a muffled snort from the other end of the line.

  “Trust me, I know about bad timing. Not how I planned to spend my night, let me tell you.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Is Annabelle with you?”

  Mark sat down on the couch and pulled Annabelle onto his lap. “She’s right here.”

  “It’s about her brother.” Ashby took a deep breath, then forged ahead. “He’s in the hospital. The ambulance took him to Charleston Memorial. He’s in the ER right now, but he should have his own room by the time you get here.”

  “What happened? What’s wrong with him?” Annabelle almost shouted into the phone. Her fists were tense knots in her lap. The cool, collected, can-handle-whatever-life-throws-at-her reporter was gone. In her place was a panicked woman on the verge.

  “He was poisoned. And Mark, keep a close eye on her, ‘cause we’re pretty sure the poison was meant for you, Annabelle.”

  Mark’s addiction to reality television had taught him that emergency rooms were one of the few places in a city which became more crowded the later it got. Charleston Memorial was no exception. It took them three passes around the lot just to find a parking spot. Against all his pleas, Annabelle had insisted on driving. If you could call her ripping the car keys from his hands insisting.

  She nipped the convertible into a spot clearly earmarked by another car. The big black SUV had been sitting in the row before they’d turned in, with its blinker on.

  “Annabelle, you can’t do this. Back out and keep looking.”

  “There’s no time to waste circling the lot again, Mark. My brother could be dying!”

  Since basic parking lot etiquette escaped her, he tried reason. “Yea, well, so could whoever is related to the guy in the SUV.”

  “I can’t even pretend to care. Jonathan is all that matters right now.”

  Two steps out of the car they were confronted by a spluttering, swearing octogenarian. The sweet-looking old lady with the periwinkle-hair could cuss a blue streak. Brandishing a walking stick, she held her ground as she relentlessly chewed out Annabelle. It only took a few moments before the security guard came over to intervene.

  “Ma’am, you’ll have to move your car.”

  “Like hell I will!”

  Mark yanked at his hair in frustration. This was not the time to dig her heels in. Then he realized it was a defense mechanism. As much as she wanted to be with Jonathan, she had to be petrified. This ridiculous spat over a space was probably her subconscious method of stalling until she mustered enough strength to learn the worst. She was releasing all her pent up fear and frustration on a total stranger. There was no doubt the guard was on the side of the elderly woman so this could take a while.

  “I’m going to track down Ashby and Jillian.” Annabelle nodded him away.

  Mark thundered into the emergency entrance. The waiting room was standing room only, crammed with people of all ages, from all walks of life. It was hot, noisy, and filled with sounds of various levels of suffering. A quick sweep was all it took to find his friends. Mostly because Ashby was making such a ruckus he could hear him clear across the room.

  “Where is Ruth Haley?” A
shby demanded at the desk. A nurse with dreadlocks to her waist eyed him a bit askance.

  “Well, now slow down a minute. Who’s asking?”

  “Her son. But I could be the family poodle for all it matters. Tell me where she is!”

  Ashby’s hold on his temper was obviously long past frayed. Mark knew he’d have to take charge before Ashby and Annabelle alienated the entire hospital staff. It was slow going to fight his way through the crowded, bleeding sea of wounded to the admitting desk.

  The nurse tilted her head to peer over the tops of her reading glasses. “Honey, I got a waiting room full of sick people. I don’t see any blood on you, which drops you way down my priority list. You start throwing around attitude, you’ll drop down so far it could be days before I let you through these doors.”

  Jillian nudged him aside with her elbow. Her eyes darted to the woman’s nametag. “Miss Vivian, let me apologize for my friend. He’s had an extremely difficult day. It took him ten years to get up the courage to kiss me. Tonight was the big night, but just as he started his mama called and told him he had to rush down here. You can see why the polish has slipped off his manners.”

  Mark almost stumbled in surprise. Talk about an unexpected development. He couldn’t begin to imagine what would’ve pushed Ashby to make a move on Jilly, but he sure wanted to know. He stayed a few steps to the side, unsure if Ashby would clam up at his arrival.

  Ashby blanched beneath his tan. “Jillian, you don’t need to tell the entire city about us!”

  The nurse chuckled. “Maybe I was wrong. Son, you might very well be more miserable than every single person in this room.”

  “You have no idea,” he griped. That earned him a hoot of laughter.

  “I’ll give you one more chance. But I can tell you right off the top we don’t have any patients registered under the name Ruth Haley. Looks like your girl embarrassed you prematurely.”

  Jillian shook her head. “No, no, Ashby ran in here half-cocked and confusing everything.”

  “Honey, it’s the way men are made! Not one of them can handle a crisis half as good as a female. They aren’t used to dealing with emotions. When something like this hits, they don’t know what to do with themselves.”

  “I completely agree!”

  Mark could feel impatience rolling off Ashby in waves. Jilly’s time to make nice with the nurse was at an end. He shouldered up next to Ashby.

  “Let me clarify. His mother, Ruth Haley, came in with a patient. We think he’s listed as Jonathan Carlyle. Probably arrived in the last few minutes.”

  Jillian leaned in and gave him a quick squeeze around the waist while Vivian thumbed through a fresh stack of papers.

  “Well, that makes all the difference. Wish you’d been here at the start of this conversation, young man. You’ve got a lot more sense than your friend here.” She jerked her chin at Ashby. “Mr. Carlyle hasn’t been processed yet. But we’ve got him.”

  “Where is he?” Ashby snapped.

  “It’s obvious you aren’t family. For Pete’s sake, you aren’t even sure of the man’s name. Why should I let you back there?”

  “We’re very good friends with his sister. She’s parking the car. Please, Miss Vivian, let us see him.” Mark held his breath until the woman grudgingly nodded and waved a thumb toward the doors.

  “Head on back. Fourth room on your right. But if you cause any trouble, I will personally kick you out by the seat of your pants!”

  “Fair enough,” Ashby said, as they hurried through the doors. They immediately spotted Ashby’s mother. She bustled forward into her son’s embrace.

  “Oh Ashby, it was so horrible!” Her voice quavered, and it was clear she was on edge.

  “Hush now, Mama, you’re fine.” Ashby shot Mark and Jillian a look of pure helplessness.

  She eased Mrs. Haley down into a chair and knelt beside it. Ashby crouched on the opposite side and took his mother’s hand. Mark stayed standing, on the lookout for Annabelle.

  “Mrs. Haley, I’m going to go and find you some sweet tea in a few minutes. Should settle you down nicely.” Jillian patted her arm. “Sugar always helps after a shock. But first, you need to tell us what’s going on.”

  “It was late. I couldn’t sleep, not with George away, so I was reading my book in the sitting room.” Her voice steadied as she fell into the telling of the tale. “I heard a crash from Miss Annabelle’s room. Turns out it was one of my Depression glass dessert plates breaking. Right after there was a big thumping noise. Now, I knew she wasn’t back from Richmond, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what made the noise. So I grabbed one of your father’s golf clubs.”

  “Did you call the police?” Ashby interjected.

  “Of course not! I’m an innkeeper. It means I tend to my guests, not call the police at the drop of a hat. Strange things go on all the time. Your father and I don’t tell you about them because we know you worry.”

  “Makes me feel so much better,” he muttered.

  “I went upstairs and knocked on the door. There was a thrashing noise again, and moaning. I went in, and saw a man on the ground, clutching at his stomach.”

  “Then did you call the police?” Mark asked.

  “No, dear. The man was obviously in a great deal of distress. He wasn’t any threat to me.”

  “You and Dad and I are going to sit down when he gets back and have a talk about security.”

  “Ashby, for goodness sake, let your mother finish.” said Jillian. She patted Mrs. Haley on the back to encourage her to finish.

  “He grabbed at my hand and told me who he was. Then he moaned again and his eyes rolled back in his head. His arms and legs started jerking. No, that’s not right,” she corrected herself with a brisk nod. “The paramedic called it convulsions. Whatever you call it, the poor man was in such pain. It was horrible to watch.”

  Mark needed more details, but waited for Jillian to administer a few soothing pats on the back first. The whole experience clearly traumatized the older woman. The last thing he needed to deal with was one more person with borderline hysteria. “Mrs. Haley, I know you’ve had an awful shock. But we’re here now to help, and I’m sure Jonathan’s getting excellent care.”

  “When the paramedics came some of the other guests woke up. I barely had time to explain anything before I got in the ambulance.”

  Ashby interrupted yet again. “Why did you come in the ambulance? It’s not like you to leave your guests in an uproar.”

  “He’s Miss Annabelle’s brother, isn’t he? I couldn’t very well leave him all alone. It wouldn’t be right. But now you’ve come, I really should be getting back.”

  Jillian held up a restraining hand. “Not until we get at least one cup of tea in you. You won’t do your guests any good if you’re this upset. By now they’re probably back in bed, anyway. If your cinnamon rolls are on the table in the morning, all will be forgiven. Just a bit of excitement to cap their travel stories.” She stood and pulled the older woman to her feet.

  “Mrs. Haley?” A man in scrubs came out of the trauma room. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Oh yes, thank you, Dr. Robison. Such a fuss over nothing.” A red flush spread across her cheeks.

  “What do you mean? Is something wrong with my mother, too?” Ashby demanded of the doctor.

  “She’ll be fine. Quite the trooper. Held Mr. Carlyle’s hand the whole way here in the ambulance, and refused to let go even when we started working on him. Well, until we started pumping his stomach. Little too much for you to watch, wasn’t it, Mrs. Haley?” While he spoke to Ashby, the doctor took her wrist and checked her pulse. “Have you contacted Mr. Carlyle’s family yet?”

  Mark nodded. “His sister should be here any minute. Is Jonathan all right?”

  “He will be.” The doctor gave him a long, measuring look. “I can’t say any more until you’ve spoken to the police.” He jerked his chin toward the lanky man across the hall listening intently to their conversatio
n. He stepped forward and nodded at Mrs. Haley. And Mark kicked himself for not being more aware.

  “Ma’am, I’m Detective Larimer. If you’re feeling better now, I have some questions I’d like to ask. But I’d prefer to do it back at your establishment. The forensics team is already there.”

  Ashby put an arm around of his mother. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Perhaps you misunderstand. I’m not taking her into custody. I merely have a few questions.”

  “You can ask them right here in front of me, or you can wait for us to contact our family lawyer.”

  “Now, Ashby, I know you mean well, but…” Mrs. Haley protested.

  “If Dad was here he’d say the same thing. Hell, call him and check. Someone has to look out for you.”

  Mark shook his head and widened his stance, firmly planting himself in the hospital corridor. “We’re not doing anything until Detective Larimer fills us in. Or the doctor. I don’t give a damn who does the talking, but I’m tired of being in the dark. What the hell happened to Jonathan? And why are the police involved?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mark, Ashby and Jillian met her at the door. Instinctively she grabbed for Mark’s hand, and was steadied by his firm grasp.

  “Annabelle, I’m so sorry,” said Jillian. She gave her a quick hug. “Jonathan’s right down the hall.”

  “He’s safe. The police are here,” Ashby added, as he too gave her a squeeze.

  Mark’s eyes were solemn. “Mrs. Haley just left. She told us he was pretty out of it while the doctors were working on him, but I think he’s starting to come round.”

  “I can go rustle up his doctor for you,” Ashby offered.

  She knew they were trying to be reassuring, but none of this explained what was wrong with Jonathan. “How is he?” Annabelle could barely get the words out, she was so petrified.

  “They won’t tell us anything. Now that you’re here, we should be able to get some answers.”

  “The crowd of doctors left his room a few minutes ago, so that has to mean he’s stable now, doesn’t it?” Jillian’s voice held a hopeful tone.