once upon a romance 08 - making a splash

by Laurie LeClair

  Last time he looked, it was after eight. There were no crime watcher signs in the area. The street was a quiet; however, it lent itself to a certain complacency. Criminals could easily slip in and steal something right under the homeowners’ noses.

  A few steps from the pit she was digging in now, Max held up a brown paper bag. “Hungry, Irish?”

  She squealed and whipped around, flinging a shovelful of dirt over him.

  It hit him square across his chest and sprayed in his face. He sputtered. “Thanks.”

  “Max! What are you doing here? How did you know? Where did you come from?”

  “Brought dinner. Gigi. My SUV.” Answered, all in order, too. Max wiped his mouth and brushed off his shirt, shaking one leg and then the other to get the grime off.

  “Why?” She drove the shovel in the ground, shucked her gloves off, and then swiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

  “A little violent, wouldn’t you say?” He nodded toward the weapon. “Was it me you were thinking about just then?”

  A hint of a smile coaxed up her lips. “Maybe.”

  “Want some?”

  “Of you?”

  “Dinner. Get your mind out of the gutter, Irish, all right?” Well, if she wanted to, he wouldn’t turn her down.

  “You are so full of yourself, Max Whitfield!” But she was laughing.

  “I’m not the one thinking naughty thoughts here.” Reaching out, he waited for her to take his hand.

  She hesitated.

  Max waved the bag back and forth. “There’s something something in here for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “And spoil it for you?”

  Reluctantly, she trudged out of the muck, ignoring his hand.

  “You’re stubborn.”

  “That’s my middle name. And I’m Irish.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, recalling her saying the very same thing to him last night. She joined him. “Our nightly ritual?” The mating kind?

  “In your dreams,” she murmured as she halted in front of him, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans. “I’m starving.”

  “And filthy.”

  “Oh, and I thought that was just your mouth.”

  “Touché. But I am the one holding your dinner.”

  “More donuts? Even that sounds good right about now.”

  “That fancy schmancy delicate flaky thing you gobbled down this morning. That’s your idea of a good dinner?”

  “I’m sorry I offended your sensibilities. Now, what’s in the bag?”

  “Hangry?”

  “It gets worse.”

  “Well, let’s not go there and say we did, all right? Do you want to clean up first or should I feed you?” That sounded tempting even to his own ears.

  She growled.

  He held up his hands. “Back, Irish, back!”

  Her giggle sent warmth through him and straight to his toes. Ah, the toes again!

  “After you,” he said, waving a hand to the back of her truck.

  Once there, she turned on the handle to the oversized water drum and quickly washed her hands and splashed her face. “Done. Now?”

  “Sit next to me.” He hopped up on the turned down tailgate and scooted over. “Dessert first?”

  “Is there any other way to have dinner?” She used two hands to jump up and slide back.

  He unfurled the large bag and stuck in his hand, pulling out the first thing he found. “Cupcake.”

  She groaned. “I take back all the mean and rotten things I thought about you.”

  His chuckle rumbled through his chest. “For two.” He pulled out the forks and cracked open the plastic lid.

  “What else do you have in there?” She tried to peer in the bag, but he snatched it away before she could.

  “No peeking.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “That’s me. Now, you go first and tell me what you think.”

  Annabelle didn’t wait for a second invitation. She sunk the plastic fork in the gooey chocolate frosting and tore off a chunk. “Mmm…” she murmured. “Oh, that’s so awesomely good. Is that melted chocolate in the middle?” She dug in for more.

  “Triple chocolate fudge cupcake.” He tried some and he puckered his mouth. “Super sweet.”

  “And rich. Perfection.”

  Leaning in, she brushed his arm with her ponytail. He shivered at the simple, erotic touch. She was so close now, closer than he thought he’d ever be to her again.

  “Where?”

  “A little place I know.” It was good to have friends who owned restaurants.

  “Not telling?”

  “My secret. Maybe you’ll agree to let me take you there sometime.”

  She sat back, licking her fork.

  Did she know how sexy that looked?

  “That’s okay.”

  “With Joey and Gigi, of course.” He decided to go the platonic route.

  “Maybe. Gigi would love it. Joey…” She held up her hand and tipped it back and forth. “He’s more a PB&J kinda guy.”

  “They do that there, too. Deep fried.”

  “Now that may just get a yes from me.”

  Was she teasing him? Growing up with three brothers didn’t give him a clue about women. Maybe he’d have to ask his future sister-in-law Paige.

  “Win me over.”

  He lost track of the conversation; she was so near him. His pulse jumped. “Huh?”

  Pointing to the bag, she said, “The rest of the story.”

  “One-track woman.”

  “Feed me.”

  “Or?”

  “I know my way around a shovel.” She lifted an eyebrow and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “And there’s this great big giant hole over there.”

  “Wow! You take your food very seriously.”

  “And my work. Give it up, Whitfield.”

  “You twisted my arm.” He dug in the bag, making it crinkle. “Oh, must have forgotten the rest.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Adding violent to the list.”

  “There’s a few more, if you’d care to see.”

  It sounded like a treat more than a threat, but he held back on that comment. “Ready?”

  “I’m dying here.”

  Max tugged out the wrapped meal. “Thanksgiving on a bun. Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, a touch of gravy, and bacon. The last one is my addition. Who doesn’t love bacon?”

  “But, how did you know? The turkey Thanksgiving thing?”

  His grin started at his mouth and spread through him. She liked it! “Gigi and I, well, we’re besties now.”

  She didn’t answer; she was too busy tearing into the ginormous sandwich. Annabelle’s soft moans did strange things to him.

  “I think that means you’re enamored of my hunter gathering skills.”

  “Uh huh. Whatever you say,” she mumbled, zeroing in on another rather large, unladylike bite.

  “Aw, I found the way to soothe the savage beast. Or stubborn Irish, whichever comes into play.”

  “Round whatever goes to Max. Now, quiet. I’m indulging here.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  He watched as she closed her eyes and chewed, savoring the flavors. Tingles tickled his spine, running up and down and flaring out.

  This has got to be a first. Getting turned on by a spunky, fierce redhead covered in grime who barely came up to his shoulder while she softly moaned as she ate the sandwich he’d provided for her.

  You are one sick man, Whitfield!

  Chapter 12

  After devouring the incredible meal, Annabelle forced herself back to work. Her full belly groaned when she moved and her legs were like lead. “Gotta get this part done.”

  “I’ll help.” He raced ahead of her. Okay, even a turtle could have beaten her at this point.

  “Really?” Was he serious? “It’s hard work.”

  “Like I don’t know what that is.”


  “You’re a what?” It eluded her what he did.

  “Law school.” His answer was quick and to the point. Something wasn’t right here.

  “And lifting all those heavy tomes qualifies you for this?”

  “The torts.” He shrugged, grinning widely.

  That breathtaking smile pierced through her staunchest defenses, peeling back the mortar and brick encasing her. In the back of her mind, she heard the cracking of her trusty armor. Don’t fail me now!

  “Just tell me what to do.” He grabbed the second shovel abandoned on the ground.

  In less than ten minutes, she’d showed him the plans, directed him, and dug beside him.

  He whistled as he worked.

  “If I forget to say it later, thanks, Max. For everything.” She choked up, recalling the way Joey lit up when Jay signed his football. Every little smile from her Joey was like a ray of sunshine. A sign of hope.

  “Sure thing.” He kept on digging and throwing dirt in the growing pile to his left.

  “I mean,” she said and stopped. “You’re good with my son.” It felt like she tore the words from her throat. Prideful should be added to his list.

  “Good kid.”

  “He’s backsliding at school,” she confessed, trying to hide the alarm at those same words his counselor spoke to her just a few days ago.

  “A phase?”

  “The superhero one? Not sure.”

  “Every kid needs to believe in something bigger and better than themselves. Adults do, too. No biggie.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “He did. Once.”

  “What’s that?” Thankfully, he didn't hear her, or just pretended not to.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “So I can dig here, too?”

  Before she could answer him, he struck a pipe. Clank! A second later, water burst out, splashing them.

  “Noooo!” She flung the shovel away and put her hands out, blocking the cold force against her palms as she dropped to her knees and moved closer to investigate. He’d hit the sprinkler system. “Shut the water off!” she yelled, sucking in a sharp breath as icy water doused her from head to knee.

  “Where?”

  “End of driveway. Lift the cover. Get the flashlight. Watch out for snakes.”

  “Snakes? I hate those slithery things.” He snatched up the light and hoofed it to the spot.

  She should have told him to grab one of her gloves. But at the moment, Annabelle had to contain this freezing cold shower before it flooded the area. Why hadn’t she mentioned the sprinkler system to Max and what the red X sprayed on it meant?

  Flashes of days wasted trying to get the ground dry spurt through her mind. Days, not hours! Right behind it was an image of her bank account siphoning out of one of those funnels.

  “It’s stuck,” Max shouted.

  “Try!”

  “I am!”

  “Try harder!” Water shot into her mouth and she nearly choked. She shifted the angle of her face, taking the brunt on her forehead. “Brain freeze!”

  “I think I got it!”

  “No you don’t,” she called, still getting drenched.

  Slowly, the squeak of the most likely rusty knob rent the air and the spray of water reduced to just a gurgle in the line.

  She sank back on her hunches, dripping wet and defeated.

  “You all right?” Max’s voice came from beside her.

  Annabelle shook her head, unable to speak.

  “That wasn’t in the plans.”

  His sarcasm brought a tight smile to her lips. “You think?” A puff of a chuckle came out.

  “Humor. Gotta love it!” He walked around in front of her, reached out, and then lifted her up and on her feet. “Should I call you Messy Bessie? Water baby? Or that mermaid chick?”

  “Messy who?” She nudged him away, but he held fast. His big hands stayed wrapped around her upper arms.

  He was close, too close for her to breathe. The light, playful mood shifted. Awareness tingled along her skin. He was tall, strong, and warm. Heat whooshed through her.

  “Irish.” He said her nickname like a caress.

  She shivered. “Max,” she whispered, looking up from his broad chest to his square jawline and then higher. Annabelle gulped hard when she met his gorgeous light brown eyes.

  “I like you,” he murmured. “Too much, I think.”

  “Is there such a thing?” Thank goodness he didn’t want this, either.

  “I wish it were as simple as turning a switch on and off.”

  His gaze mesmerized her, searching, questioning, and assessing the damage. “Once? That way we’ll know. Maybe you’re a lousy kisser.”

  Her boldness shocked her. Annabelle had it all years ago and shut herself off from ever wanting it again. But this driving need was a whole new breed of a concept to her.

  Annabelle sucked in a sharp breath at that realization. She needed to feel his lips, needed to know if she possessed that side of herself, a woman with needs and desires. He brought out this hidden part of her, one she’d never really known existed. Teenage love was giddy and silly. It didn’t compare to what she felt now. All-consuming. Heat. Sultry.

  “Me? More like you,” Max teased, his grin inching up the corner of his lips.

  “You can teach me.” Where had that come from?

  “Maybe this isn’t a good idea…”

  “Then again, it could be. Or are you chicken?” Drenched and with the cold seeping into her bones, Annabelle pressed against his chest. Whoosh!

  His soft moan sent a fluttering sensation to the pit of her stomach and out again. Max cupped the back of her head and neck in one hand now and lowered his mouth. A hairsbreadth away, he stilled. “Do me a favor. Don’t hold anything back, Irish.”

  Thrills danced down her spine.

  Finally, he feathered delicate kisses along her lips, drawing out a delicious moan from her. Soft, yet firm. Strong, yet gentle. How could he know just what she longed for?

  “Appetizer?” she asked when he pulled back slightly, hoping for more.

  “So you’re all right with this?”

  His raspy breath did strange things to her, but it was that layer of concern for her that grabbed her and shook her down to her core.

  Once, she thought someone had her best interests at heart, protecting her from harm. She’d trusted with everything in her. And look where that had gotten her. Mentally, she shook free of the past and concentrated on the here and now.

  “Max, could you please shut up and kiss me?” The grin in her voice could not be mistaken. However, her wanton demand stunned her.

  “Sassy.” He returned with more pressure and heat, if that were possible.

  Annabelle answered his every demand, giving as much as receiving. She grew bolder and opened her mouth, licking his bottom lip. When he groaned, rocking her, she found his tongue with hers, twirling in a dance of desire that made her body ache and her head spin.

  He was the first to ease back, grabbing her by the shoulders and setting her away from him. “Somehow that didn’t go as I expected it.” His heaving breathing matched hers.

  “Disappointed?” She blinked, trying to get her bearings again. Yes, your feet are still on the ground.

  “The complete opposite.” He sighed, and then shivered. “Did you know you were that good and forget to tell me?”

  A silly grin lifted the corners of her mouth. Tiny thrills of delight sparked in her chest. He liked it! “Of course,” she said offhandedly. “I’m good at everything I do.”

  He laughed. The big hearty sound sent jolts through her and wrapped around her as if he’d given her a giant bear hug. “Like the puddle thing?” Max pointed to the hole in the ground behind her now soaked with a layer of water.

  Turning to it, she got her first glimpse of the disaster. Her heart sank. “This isn’t a leak. This is a small pond!”

  “That was the general idea, right?”

  “Not in the ground. In the water feature.
” She threw up her hands, somewhat grateful for the distraction from the kiss that still made her lips throb and pulse. “It’s all your fault. Again. First splashing me with the puddle and now practically flooding the yard.” Exasperation laced her words. But the wisps of longing still tugged at the edges.

  “I asked.”

  “How was I supposed to know you couldn’t see the red spray? As in, don’t go there. The sprinkler system is ancient and nowhere in my budget to fix.”

  “The Irish is coming out,” he said.

  She hissed.

  “Yep, can’t hide that for long.”

  Her giggle erupted of its own accord. “Have you always deflected?” Annabelle moved gingerly, her boots sucked into the muddy ground.

  “With humor? With three brothers, someone has to be the peacemaker in the family.”

  “Makes for an interesting life, doesn’t it? Always in the middle, refereeing.” She bent down and searched for her tools, extracting them from the mud and the muck. Tossing them to the side, she began to make a pile.

  Max jumped in to help, splashing her with mud. Splat!

  “Hey! No fair.” She leaned down and clutched a handful, and then rubbed it down the back of his shirt.

  “Oh, no you didn’t.” He turned and smeared some on her cheek.

  “Mud fight!” she declared, reaching down and scooping up more.

  “Thank goodness you didn’t say mud pies.”

  She flung some at his head. He ducked.

  His arm went back and he tossed some at her. It hit with deadly precision. The front of her shirt, now covered in mud, clung to her like a second skin.

  Her breath stuck in her throat. “Your turn!” She dropped to her knees and got a big pile and thrust it at him. Unfortunately, it landed somewhere around his belt and downward.

  “Icy,” he said, standing stock-still. “Is this your version of a cold shower?”

  Her laughter rang out. Tackling him at the knees, she forced him down and proceeded to smear him with dirt.

  “Mud wrestling?” he joked as he got in some of his own shots at her even on his back.

  Half against him, Annabelle giggled with delight. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages, if ever. She stilled, aware she pressed into him.

  “Mud angels?” he asked, gently lifting her off him and to his side. “Irish?”