With a Southern Touch: AdamA Night in ParadiseGarden Cop

by Jennifer Blake

  “Damn.”

  The word came from behind her, startling her. She spun around, nearly tipping over in the chair. Max caught the chair before she could fall ignominiously to the floor. He righted it, and she leaped up. “Sorry, I just…couldn’t stop myself.”

  He sat in the chair she had just vacated and saved the document, then read through it quickly before standing again. “Finish her lines, then let me back in.”

  Aurora stared at him, then took her seat again. At first, with Max back in the room, she couldn’t so much as remember the character’s name. Then she began to write again. She finished the speech, then gave up the chair. Max took it and began to work with the same focused attention she’d been giving the work.

  Aurora quietly backed away. The pizza box was on the counter, and she realized she was famished. She helped herself to a piece. Mushrooms, green and red peppers.

  She ate her pizza, then drank a cup of coffee, but it didn’t really kick in. Max hadn’t moved from the keyboard. She curled up on the bed again, waiting. Maybe she’d paid enough of her debt for the evening. She could tell him that she needed to go home.

  She didn’t have her car, though, and she didn’t want to interrupt him.

  If the lights hadn’t been so bright, the moonlight would have been streaming in. The breeze was wafting through the room, though, and she could hear the surf, a soft, rhythmic pushing sound. She began to drift.

  She opened her eyes, aware that something had changed. The lights had been turned out. The moonlight was streaming in. Max was still at work, hunched over the computer, seeing by the greenish glow of the screen.

  She watched the dust motes ride the moonglow for a few minutes. Then she closed her eyes again.

  She awoke to a soft touch on her shoulder. He was hunkered down at her side, brushing tendrils of hair from her face. “You’ve paid your debt,” he said softly.

  She nodded, still half-asleep. His lips brushed her forehead, then her cheek, and then she was suddenly awake, her arms curling around him when he would have moved. She found his lips with her own before he could straighten. His weight eased down beside her, and the kiss was…

  Everything she could have imagined. Her clothes were disheveled. His fingers were brushing bare flesh. The breeze was cool, but she was burning. From the inside out. His touch was as exotic as the breeze, as compelling as the moon, as intimate as…

  He was braced on his arms, raised above her.

  “Your debt is paid,” he said softly. “We owe each other nothing.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But I’m known as a very giving person.”

  “You may not believe this, but so am I. An asshole, of course, but a very giving one.”

  “I have a proposition,” she said. If he moved, she thought she might just go ahead and die right there. “Tonight, let’s just give to each other. No payments, no debts. Just a night in Paradise.”

  She held her breath. He moved. She thought she might sink into the mattress, melt away.

  In moments his clothing was gone and she was suddenly next to him, her own clothing quickly following his to the floor. She was standing in the moonlight, and he was doing things to her body, high, low, in between. Where there had been fire, the breeze touched with exquisite coolness, until the liquid fire came again and again, until…

  Until she couldn’t stand up anymore.

  Then they were wound together on the bed, and she thought she must have died and gone to heaven.

  But it was only Paradise.

  Just a night in Paradise.

  Eight

  She slept late, since it had been close to 4:00 a.m. when he had brought her back to her car, then followed her home.

  She wouldn’t even have woken up when she did, except that Angie came in to tell her it was almost noon, and she was supposed to be ready for Max to come by in an hour—they had to finish the play.

  When he picked her up, he was all business again. They were going to take an hour to visit the newlyweds, then get started.

  Back in his hotel room, they got right to work.

  One cousin was determined that Rebecca go to trial for what she had done. The young police officer was falling in love with her. There was a great deal of money at stake, since the patriarch’s entire fortune had been left to her.

  Rebecca herself was ready to go to prison for what she had done. The young officer wanted her to fight, but she had reminded him that she had helped her grandfather go peacefully, gently.

  The play climaxed when the rest of the family slowly turned away from the vengeful cousin, swayed by the policeman’s passionate speech about the value of life lying in its quality, not its quantity.

  At the end, a courtroom scene, the wait for the verdict, and a moment between the police officer and Rebecca. The belief that there would be a future…

  “Is it done?” Aurora asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll do a little tweaking, but it’s probably the most amazing play I’ve ever written. No, I didn’t write it. We wrote it.”

  “I wrote a few speeches.”

  “Don’t downplay your contribution.”

  “I don’t. It’s still your play.”

  He shrugged again, looking at his watch. “It’s almost six.”

  She hesitated. “It’s all right. Angie is staying with a friend.”

  He frowned. “Not—”

  “Josh? No. He’s been calling like crazy, but she’s been hanging out with her friends. She even went to a club up in St. Augustine last night.”

  “Good for her.”

  He watched her.

  She expelled a long breath. “We finished the play. You were supposed to pick me up jubilantly and spin me around, and then you were supposed to ask me—beg me—to stay.”

  He smiled. The chair fell over as he got to his feet. He swept her up, spun her around, then set her down so slowly that she could feel every inch of him.

  “My last night in Paradise. I’m begging you to stay.”

  He dropped her off at her house at ten the next morning, saying he had some business matters to take care of for Mike before he left. She reminded him that it was Sunday, and he assured her that he knew that, but the things he had to do could be done on a Sunday.

  At twelve she attended the nondenominational service at the home with Mary. At one, she had lunch with her grandmother and Mike.

  At four, one hour before he had to leave for the airport, Max arrived. She offered to drive him to the airport, but he declined, saying that he had to return the rental car.

  He said goodbye in the rec room, being incredibly circumspect, given that they had an audience of seniors.

  Aurora awkwardly shook his hand.

  “Kiss her, you fool,” a throaty voice called out.

  Aurora turned, astonished. Mr. Hollenbeck had spoken.

  “Thanks,” Max called. “I will.”

  Mary and Mike look astonished as he matched his actions to his words.

  The rest of the room applauded, but then Max was gone, and she was alone.

  In the days that followed, she discovered that Paradise was just a place. The moon continued to ride the night sky. The breezes blew by. The surf pounded the white sands of the beach.

  But it had only come close to heaven when Max had been there.

  She was busy, though. She had to help Mike and Mary get ready to move. She had to make her final choices of plays, cast and crew for the coming season. Angie needed help, as well, as she finished her summer classes and prepared for her last tests.

  Life went on.

  Alone in the theater with Jon one day, she found herself asking him just what her splurge with Max had accomplished.

  “Happiness,” he told her.

  “Great. And now he’s back in New York. Forgetting all about me.”

  Jon sighed. “Aurora, Aurora. No one is eternally happy. But we only get to go around once. So we reach out for things that we want, and we savor them while we’ve got t
hem. And sometimes…well, think about it. Mike and Mary are older, they know they don’t have all that much time left, so they’re going to make the most of what they do have. That’s how we should all live.”

  She frowned. “Jon, that didn’t help me any.”

  “Ask yourself this, were the moments you had with him worth it?”

  “I don’t know. Because…”

  “Because…?”

  “I think I fell in love with him. And now…”

  “Now…?”

  “I didn’t know that I was lonely before. I didn’t know that I…needed someone.”

  Jon didn’t have an answer for that one. He stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “Think of it this way. You’re going to be a better, stronger person. You’ll probably even be a better writer.”

  That night, she was working on the theater’s budget when Angie came rushing in from her bedroom. She’d been watching television in her room, but had come out to turn on the set in the living room.

  Max was on one of the entertainment channels, answering questions about his upcoming show. There had been a preproduction party at Sardi’s. Max was pictured with one of the most stunning young women Aurora had ever seen. Jena Ronson. His actress.

  The piece was over almost as soon as it had begun.

  “Well, there goes Max,” Aurora murmured.

  “There goes Max.” Angie said. “Mom, you missed the beginning. He said he had a co-writer on the play. He said it was you!”

  “That was very…decent of him.”

  “Mom, I bet you’re going to get some bucks for this.”

  “Good. We can always use bucks.”

  “You should call him right now and thank him.”

  Aurora hesitated. “I will.”

  She didn’t call him, though. After all, he hadn’t called her. She just retired to her room, telling Angie that she was exhausted and trying to remember all the good advice she had ever given her daughter. There was no reason for her to be so hung up on Josh, because there were lots of other men in the world. She was young, with life stretching before her. She was a beautiful woman with a compassionate heart. The world was hers.

  Okay, so Aurora wasn’t exactly young herself. But neither was she old. She had a life. The world was still there to be conquered.

  But that night, she indulged in a fit of tears that might have rivaled her daughter’s.

  The days marched on.

  She went out with a very handsome professor from the community college. There wasn’t a thing wrong with the man. She just wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. She even avoided a good-night kiss.

  She almost asked Angie for advice.

  Two weeks after Max had left, she sat cross-legged on the stage of the Paradise Playhouse, the moment of reckoning before her. Plays, plays…plays.

  “One Shakespeare. We always need one Shakespeare,” Jon insisted.

  “Macbeth this year,” she said.

  “My favorite,” Jon agreed.

  The door opened. Aurora shielded her eyes from the stage lights and looked down the aisle, then jumped awkwardly to her feet.

  Max.

  She was in cutoffs and an old production T-shirt. He was in perfectly pressed chinos and a polo shirt, his jacket tossed over his shoulder.

  “Max,” she murmured. “What are you doing here? I saw you on TV. I should have thanked you for the mention.”

  “You could have called, you know.” He didn’t sound happy. He paused and stared up at her as he reached the stage.

  “I think I left my…my…oh, hell, I didn’t leave anything backstage, but I’m getting out of here,” Jon said.

  Aurora looked at him with a scowl, but he walked away anyway.

  “You could have called me, too,” she said.

  “The hell with that. I have a proposal for you. A proposition.”

  “Oh?” she said carefully.

  He nodded, looking at the stage. “You’re making your final choices for the season now, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forget one of them. You’re doing my comedy.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, and you’re starring in it.”

  “Here? In Paradise?”

  “Here, in Paradise. Fifty-fifty creative control.”

  “And what do I get?”

  “You get a Max Wulfson play.”

  “And that’s…all that I have to do? Schedule the production and act in it?”

  He leaped up on the stage and walked over to her. “No.”

  “What else?”

  “You have to have sex. Lots of it.”

  “With whom?”

  He sighed, throwing his jacket down. “Me, of course. Well?”

  “I have to think.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re still a Yankee.”

  “Right. And we won the war. And though I’ll grant you the beauty and grace of the South, I want you to learn that the North can be an incredible and vibrant place, as well. Maybe not Paradise, but…”

  “Max,” she said, backing away slightly. “There’s still a lot to think about. We live in separate worlds. And you…well, you have a glamorous, sophisticated and…beautiful actress-filled life. This isn’t as easy as you think. I want more…. I…” He was dogging her footsteps, coming closer even as she backed away. “Max, there are some serious issues here. We barely know each other. And there’s the distance factor to consider—”

  She broke off. He had backed her into the wings.

  “Shut up, Aurora,” he said. “Because this—” he kissed her, then finished the sentence against her lips “—is all that matters.”

  Epilogue

  “There is nothing as beautiful as a sunset like this. Unless it’s you,” Max Wulfson said to the woman at his side.

  Aurora smiled. “Great line. Where’d you learn it?”

  Max grinned. “From Mike.”

  “Ah.”

  “He told me it was how he snared Mary.”

  “I see. So are you snaring me?”

  “I rather thought I already had you snared.”

  “Aren’t you the confident one.”

  He rolled over on the sand, staring up at the sky. “I am confident.” He propped himself on one elbow, looking down at her where she lay on the beach blanket. “I can conquer the world—when I’m with you.”

  “Another great line. Mike’s?”

  He smiled. “My own.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes?” he asked with a frown.

  “I’ll marry you.”

  “I haven’t asked yet.”

  “Then you can tell me yes. Since you’ve given me all this confidence, I’ll just go ahead and ask you,” Aurora said.

  “You didn’t get down on your knees. Whoops, never mind, you’re lying down. I think I like that better.”

  “You’re supposed to do the knee thing.”

  “Yes, I know. Mike told me that, too, though he wasn’t able to do it himself, because of the wheelchair and all.”

  “Well?”

  He lifted his brows, rose smoothly, then got down on one knee. “Marry me, Aurora.”

  She got up on her knees to face him. “Really?”

  “Of course, really. A true proposal.”

  To his surprise, she frowned slightly. “Max, you’ve done everything in the world for me. Life really is wonderful. I opened a smash hit at the Paradise Playhouse.”

  “Don’t forget, you gave me my real dream. I opened a play with creative control.”

  “And the Playhouse prospered for it. I’ve never been happier than I am with you, but you don’t owe me.”

  “Aurora, I’m not asking you to marry me because I think I owe you.”

  “Then…?”

  “I’m asking you for the only reason why two people should ever marry.”

  “And that’s—”

  “Because I love you. Because I believe you love me. I need you. And can’t imagine life with
out you. I want to wake up every morning with you. I want to sleep with you, be with you—love you.”

  “Mike’s line?” she asked in a whisper.

  “A line as old as time, because it’s simple, and true.”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly.

  “Because?”

  “I love you.”

  “We’ll have to spend time in New York. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course. Because we can always come home to Paradise.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “You’ve put a lot of Deep South in me, you know.”

  “And that means?”

  “Paradise will be wherever we are when we’re together. But for right now, I’m glad we’re here in the real town of Paradise.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s where we own a private beach.”

  “Oh,” she said simply.

  “No argument?”

  She leaned back, shaking her head. “Well, actually, we don’t own the house. You bought it. I love it, of course. I’ll be delighted to move into it—”

  “Aurora.”

  “What?”

  “Shut up.”

  He then kissed her.

  Garden Cop

  Diana Palmer

  One

  The woman was brazen. She couldn’t have picked a more public spot to grow those marijuana plants. They were right on the main street in the small north Georgia town, right on a leg of the state highway. It was as if she were daring the police to do something about them.

  Little did she know, of course, that Curtis Russell, FBI agent, was visiting his mother right across the street from this brazen woman and her illegal substance. Just because he was on vacation, that pert little blonde shouldn’t expect him to look the other way when the law was being broken. He was just off a high-profile murder case in San Antonio, and newly a member of the FBI. He could hardly wait for his first real case.

  His dark eyes narrowed as he stared out his mother’s picture window across the street, where Marijuana Mary was busily fertilizing her bumper crop. He had to admit, she did look good in those beige shorts and top. She had nicely browned skin, and prettily rounded arms. She lived alone in a small rental house, and drove one of those new VW Beetles, pea-green with a sunroof. He wondered what she did for a living. She’d just moved in three months ago, according to his mother. Just in time to plant marijuana and get it almost to harvest. It was planted in a neat row beside an equally neat row of tall red flowers.