by Amy Summers
He was walking back to say something. "I'm going to sign in under my name," he said, looking as though he expected a reaction from her.
She blinked at him, not certain what he was driving at. "Sure."
"I mean, I'm going to say we're married."
"Oh." She wanted to laugh. It was bubbling up her throat. Did he think she would object? Hardly. He was the one who ran from wedlock.
"Better warn the kids you're adopting them for the night," she said, her eyes dancing.
He nodded and stuck his head in the window. "I'm checking us into this motel as one family," he told them. "Just remember, if anyone asks you, your last name is Coronado. Okay?"
Jill giggled. Chris shrugged. Coronado, Alexiakis, Carrington, it was all the same to him.
But Madison said it out loud, rolling it around on her tongue. "Mr. and Mrs. David Coronado." Her smile was faint and didn't reflect the growing warmth she felt inside. "Gee, that sounds like fun."
His dark look was almost a glare. "You've got a funny idea of fun, lady."
Pretending mock horror, she put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, that's right. I forgot I was talking to Mr. Perpetual Bachelor."
"Damn right."
But he was grinning, too, as he went back to the open door of the car and bent to finish their job of pushing. She leaned her shoulder into the task again. In a few minutes they would be at the motel, and she would be able to shower and rest. And the two of them would have one more evening together. That was a cheering thought. Maybe this wouldn't turn out to be such a disaster after all.
Chapter 10
“I don't know, Madison," David said, looking back, as they maneuvered the little car right up to the entrance of the motel park. "Another black-and-white movie from the Fifties comes to mind, now that I really get a good look at the situation."
Madison stopped and looked toward where he was staring.
"What on earth... ?" She took a step nearer and gaped at the yard full of powerful, low-slung motorcycles. They were everywhere, brightly painted, gleaming with chrome.
Moving forward, she clutched his arm. "David, we've got to go someplace else. This motel has been taken over by a motorcycle gang."
He nodded, fascinated by the various machines assembled before them. "That's what it looks like."
She glanced at his face. He wasn't getting it. This wasn't good, this was bad. Biker types weren't the sort one wanted to fool around with. She'd seen all the movies, read all the thriller fiction. Motorcycle gangs were bad news.
"We've got to get out of here," she urged, tugging on his arm. "You know what these people do to lonely, stranded motorists? They eat them alive."
"You don't say, sweetheart," said a booming voice from just behind her. "It's a scandal, ain't it?"
Gasping, she whirled to find herself confronting a large woman in worn black leather with a large gold ring through her right nostril, standing with her arms akimbo, staring at them. At least, Madison thought the woman was staring at them. She was definitely staring somewhere in their general direction. With those huge reflector sunglasses on, and the sun beating down, it was hard to tell for sure just where.
"Uh, hi," Madison said weakly, backing up against the car.
"Hi, yourself," the large woman roared, stepping closer, looking large as a house. "Now what's this about our eating habits?"
David stepped between them, choking with laughter. "I'm David Coronado," he said, holding out his hand. "You'll have to forgive Madison. She doesn't get out much. And even worse, she believes what she sees on TV."
The large woman hesitated only a moment before taking his hand in her beefy version. "Pleased to meet you, David," she said. "I'm Marge. And I never watch TV."
"That's wise of you." He gestured toward the sea of motorcycles. "These are some great bikes. I see a couple of real vintage beauties in there." He pointed toward one sleek, black model. "I used to have a Hog a lot like that one in my younger, wilder days."
Marge laughed and slapped him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into the dust. "Honey, I may not be any younger, but I get wilder all the time. You should try it yourself."
Madison watched as they discussed sidecars and fuel tank shapes, and then the carburetor problems he was having with the car. She kept her breathing steady, watching for a chance to grab David so that they could escape from this place, and especially from this motorcycle mama. Madison had children to protect, for heaven's sake—two children who were staring out the window at Marge, fascinated by her bizarre appearance.
"So you folks are planning to stay here?" Marge said at last. "Great. Tel! you what—" reaching out with her gloved hand, she took Madison's arm "—I'll take your lady in to the office and help her get signed up."
Madison shrank from her, looking quickly at David for salvation, making significant faces and shaking her head. "Oh no, I don't think..."
But David seemed to have gone blind and deaf. "That would be great," he was saying, grinning at her. "Thanks, Marge. I want to get this car parked somewhere I can work on it, and then I'll bring the kids on in."
"But, David—"
"Go with Marge. She'll take care of you."
That was just what she was afraid of. Before she had a chance to get another word in, she found herself being dragged toward the lobby, such as it was, sputtering but unable to get any sympathy from either party.
"Hey, Gertie," Marge yelled as they came in the door. "I got a customer for you. She needs a double, 'cuz she's got two kids with her."
Gertie was a wizened lady who looked as though she'd been baking her skin in the sun for so many years, she'd dried up like a twig. She shuffled out from a back room, looked Madison over and shook her head.
"Sorry. We're all booked up."
Relief spilled through Madison. "Oh, gee, that's really too bad. I…I guess I'd better go tell David."
She pulled out of Marge's grasp and started to turn for the door, but Marge grabbed her again, spinning her back.
"Hey, not so fast. Listen up, Gertie. You just go ahead and give these nice people the room me and Charlie've been in all week. They only need the place for one night. We can bunk with Mad Dog Crank. He's got plenty of room."
Madison paled. The concept of using Marge's room boggled her mind. The fact that there was a person staying in this motel going by the name of Mad Dog nearly did her in. "No, no, we couldn't..."
"Sure you could." Marge beamed. "Hell, we'd love to do it for you."
David came in just in time to second the motion. Madison was caught, and she tried to smile. Before she had a chance to take a stand, she found herself being dragged by Marge toward the rustic cabin where they were going to be spending the night.
"We're a motorcycle club, honey, not a gang," Marge told her sternly. "We're the Lancers, based north of San Francisco. We come down here every year for a little wienie roast. Know what I mean? This motel is our favorite. Always has been."
She threw open the door of the cabin, and Madison took a tentative step inside, then stopped. There was a man sitting in the gloom.
"Meet Charlie, my hubby." Marge bustled in, whipping off her sunglasses and revealing a pair of lovely violet eyes with the longest lashes Madison had ever seen. "This is Madison. She and her guy, David, they broke down and need a place to lay their heads for the night. So we're moving in with Mad Dog Crank."
Charlie looked up from his reading. He had large, kind eyes and a professorial beard. He nodded, rising from his chair. "How do you do?" be asked formally, shaking hands. "It's nice to meet you."
"I'll go tell Mad Dog," Marge said breezily. "You can get started moving in, honey." And she was out the door again.
Madison swallowed and smiled at Charlie. She was still reeling from the overpowering influence of the woman.
"You...you're married to Marge?" It was definitely hard to believe.
"I certainly am." He smiled and offered her a seat. She sat down on the edge, fidgeting.
"But yo
u don't seem like—" She stopped, embarrassed.
"Like I'm the sort to belong in a motorcycle club?" He smiled. "I'm not. And I don't. Marge belongs to the Lancers, not I. I teach philosophy to undergraduates at Amber University in Marin County."
Madison blinked. "Oh," she said in a very small voice.
He laughed at her obvious confusion. "Marge and I have been married for fourteen years. We have two boys at home. We only do this once a year, coming down to Mexico with her friends. It's great fun. It's a change of scene from the university library and those boring faculty meetings."
Madison shook her head. He seemed like such a nice man, the sort she might have met at a benefit for the opera or at an alumni meeting. "I've heard of opposites attracting, but this is—" She shrugged.
"Ridiculous?" He smiled. "But it's not, you see. Though we do have definite differences, they only add spice and interest to a relationship based on very similar values and goals in life. I'd venture to say we have more to talk about with each other than most couples our age. And she does a great job keeping our cars in tune."
He laughed and Madison laughed right along with him, not sure if her head had stopped spinning yet. "I'm sorry, but I just can't imagine what your faculty dinners must be like."
"Marge doesn't wear the nose ring, or her leathers, but otherwise, she's pretty much herself. And once people get to know Marge, they usually love her."
Madison nodded. She was just beginning to realize that. This strange couple was giving her a whole new perspective. "I can hardly wait until David meets you," she said suddenly, biting her lip, her eyes sparkling. "Promise me you'll tell him all the things you've told me."
Marge and Charlie moved out cheerfully, and Madison and the children moved in. The cabin was roomier and homier than she'd expected, with a bedroom and a couch in the living room that pulled out into a bed, and a sink, burner and small refrigerator. Jill picked some wildflowers and put them in a vase, and Madison opened all the windows to let the afternoon sun in. As she worked to make things cozy, she indulged herself in a casual fantasy about what it would be like to keep house for David.
"Hey, this isn't half bad," he commented when he came in to clean up from working on the car.
A simple comment, but it warmed Madison's heart.
Mad Dog, it turned out, was a marvelous mechanic. He found the problem with the carburetor and the men were well on the way to fixing what could be taken care of without parts. Meanwhile, Jill and Chris were making friends with some of the bikers' children, and having a wonderful time in the courtyard, sitting on the motorcycles and making engine noises.
Madison watched and laughed. Marge introduced her to some of the other women, and soon what had begun as a disaster turned into a pleasant holiday. But Madison found her gaze constantly straying to where David was leaning over the engine of the car. For some reason she enjoyed looking at him, at the way his hair fell over his forehead, the way his hands moved gracefully as they worked, the look of complete concentration on his handsome face, the bulge of his biceps as they swelled beneath the sleeves of the T-shirt. And every time she looked at him, her heart beat a little faster, and prickles of wariness scattered across her skin. Was she getting in too deep? Only time would tell.
As evening approached, David came into the cabin and took a long, hot shower and cleaned off every bit of grease he could find. The car was virtually ready. They could leave tonight, if he pushed it. But he didn't want to. He'd feel better if they left in the morning—in case anything happened again. He'd hate to be stranded with the kids out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night.
He towel dried his hair and dressed in fresh clothes, taking his time. He could hear Madison humming in the next room as she puttered about, and he smiled. She even hummed sexy.
This would be their last night together.
His smile faded. He didn't want to think about that. He opened the door and stepped out into the room, and Madison turned and smiled.
"Marge just stopped by and invited us to their campfire dinner tonight," she told him. "I guess they all get together and barbecue food. I said we'd love to come, since I don't see any sign of a restaurant anywhere near here. So I guess it's either that or starve."
"That's fine." He glanced from one room to the other. "One bed and a couch?" he asked.
"Yes." She looked at him steadily, her blue eyes dark. "How shall we set up the sleeping arrangements?" she asked in a quiet voice.
He looked at her, hesitating, his eyes questioning hers, searching for cues. "I don't know. What do you think?"
Her gaze clung to his, electric with possibilities. "Two beds," she said with absolutely no inflection. "Four people."
He looked at the double bed and swallowed. He could already feel the cool sheets, feel her warm body against his. But he turned and muttered, "I don't know. I guess we could do the same thing we've been doing—you and the kids in the bed, me on the couch." He looted the question at her again.
She smiled, her eyes luminous. "It opens up into a bed," she said softly. "There's plenty of room for two."
His heart was beating lite a piston in an engine and he took a step toward her, ready to take her in his arms right now. But he couldn't do that. Stopping, he took a deep breath and turned toward the doorway.
He looked back at her over his shoulder, not sure why he was so reluctant to come right out and say what he wanted, what he knew they both wanted. "Whatever you think," he muttered, and then he was out the door, escaping decisions.
The Lancers were already gathering for their nightly campfire, and he mingled, talking about bites with one person after another. But when Madison came out of the cabin in a white dress Marge had borrowed for her from one of the other women, he was suddenly very thirsty and had to get himself a beer and drink it down. Lord, she was beautiful, with the white fabric swishing about her knees and the pink flower pinned to hold back her silver hair. He could feel the stir going through the other men as she came among them and they got a look at her. But her eyes were looking through the crowd, searching for him. He pulled himself to his feet so she could see him, and he saw the way her face lit up when she caught sight of where he was. She smiled, and something swelled inside him, part pride, part anguish. She was his—for tonight.
The food was great—barbecued ribs and baked potatoes. David sat with Madison to eat, with Jill and Chris at their feet, but soon they were separated again as the crowd milled about them. He felt an elbow in his ribs and looked around to find Marge grinning at him.
"Here's my advice to you, kiddo. Marry the gal."
"Marry her?"
"Sure. She was a little stiff at first, but once you get to know her, she's all right. And you can see by the way she looks at you, she's head over heels."
"No." He shook his head, ready to contradict her. Didn't she see the problem here?
But Marge was not easily contradicted. "Sure," she insisted. "She's crazy about ya."
David grinned, shaking his head. Marge was obviously a romantic biker. "How did you know we weren't married already?"
She grunted. "Nobody who's married makes cow eyes like the two of you do. You can't fool old Marge, honey." She sobered, frowning at him. "But listen. I really mean it. Don't let this one slip away. When you find that one in the world for you, you better grab on while you have the chance."
David's smile faded and he looked at the woman, wondering if she might really have the answers. "But what's the use if you know it won't work out?"
Marge shrugged grandly. “Anything can work out if you really want it to. If you're willing to go halfway, she'll go the other. Take my word for it." She slapped him on the back. "Look at me and Charlie." She laughed, then sobered and told him seriously, "And if you're not prepared to take the chance, then you don't deserve love, anyway."
She gave him another of her signature back slaps and moved on, shouting orders to the women who were bringing out the cake and ice cream. David watched her go. He
r advice was probably good for some people, but she didn't know all the facts. There was more to love than just grabbing something because it was good. There were consequences to think about and guard against. He knew that only too well.
After the food had been consumed, they sat around the fire and sang old songs. Madison sat beside him, her long hair like spun gold in the campfire light. They laughed together at the silly jokes, and her slender hand slid into his. Holding hands in the dark. He felt like a teenager again, shy and confident at the same time.
Charlie brought out his guitar, another man had a harmonica, and the group launched into a retrospective of every folk song ever produced. The adults were having a ball, but the children were drooping. David was joining in the chorus of an old spiritual when Chris wandered over and sank into his lap. So naturally, his arms went around the little boy. He held him close without a second thought as he continued singing. The young head rested against his chest, and in moments, Chris was sound asleep.
David looked down, amazed at the protective feeling that overwhelmed him, amazed at how good it felt to hold a child. Chris was so young and so trusting. He wanted to hold him tightly, to make sure nothing ever hurt him.
Looking up, he met Madison's eyes and found them brimming with tears. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, then turned away to wipe her eyes. He waited for the trapped feeling to rise in his chest, but it didn't come. And when Jill arrived a few minutes later, looking for a place to settle, he made room for her on the other side of his lap. Then he held them both and felt as though he were drowning in an emotion he couldn't name or tum away from, and he didn't dare look at Madison at all.
"We'd better put them down," Madison whispered at last.
He nodded, though he was strangely reluctant to give them up. Madison took Chris from him and they said goodnight to the others before carrying the two children into the cabin.
Madison had already made up the couch into a double bed. She laid Chris down and turned to help David settle Jill under the covers. Neither of them came right out and said it, but they both knew what the plan was, and when Madison turned and went into the bedroom, David followed her.
