Disturbing the Peace (Sunday Cove)

by Webb, Peggy

  She stood up and dropped the pipe into the drawer of the bedside table. As the drawer clicked shut, she felt a small sense of relief.

  “Getting rid of the shrine?”

  She whirled around at the sound of Aunt Syl’s voice. She had been so immersed in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed the typing had stopped.

  “Just putting away the pipe,” she said.

  “I’m glad. Now if you’ll just put away some of those pale, lifeless watercolors, we can get on with more productive things.”

  Amy chose to ignore the remark about her husband’s work. She’d done all the self-analysis and delving into the past she wanted for one day. “As a matter of fact, I do have a new invention in mind.”

  “Good. You’ve done nothing but mope and putter since Tim’s death. It’s about time this apartment was turned upside down by one of your wonderful schemes.”

  Amy laughed. It did feel good to have an invention begging to be tried. “Just wait till I’ve finished. Aunt Syl.” She walked across the room and put her arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “You’ll love it. It’s a perpetual popcorn popper, one designed so that the popcorn addict has an endless supply of freshly popped corn without the bother of having to get up to make a new batch.”

  Aunt Syl loved popcorn. She was so excited, she nearly swallowed one of the feathers from her billowing white boa. Amy slapped her on the back as she coughed up the feather.

  “What a team we’ll make,” Aunt Syl said. “You with your new invention and me with my fabulous new book. We’ll go on tour together—Hollywood, Paris, Rome, London, New Jersey.”

  “New Jersey?”

  “Yes. I’ve never been to New Jersey. I just thought I’d throw that in.”

  “Aunt Syl, have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “You have, dear, but a body never tires of hearing it.” She flung the boa grandly over one shoulder and turned toward her room. “I must get back to that cad, Clyde.”

  “Has he thrown his wife out the window yet?”

  “Dear me, yes. He’s now hatching a plot to do in his second wife.”

  Amy was filled with joy as she turned her attention to Herman. Life hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time. After she had finished making minor repairs to her robot, she plunged into her new invention. She was so intensely involved with her work that she completely forgot about her laundry.

  The apartment was soon strewn with mysterious gadgets and filled with the smell of popping corn. Amy was barefoot and whistling while she worked. Occasionally Aunt Syl came out to sample the popcorn. They did more sampling and giggling than work. After two hours they both had butter smeared on their chins, and Aunt Syl declared that she had grown to the size of the Goodyear blimp.

  In the midst of all the hilarity, the doorbell pealed.

  “I’ll get it,” Aunt Syl said. “You get on with your remarkable invention.” She flung open the door and peered out from under her Marie Antoinette wig at their unexpected guest. Her eyes sparkled with glee as she recognized Todd Cunningham, holding Amy’s laundry and looking every inch the movie star idol. “It’s the rambunctiously gorgeous judge,” she called.

  Amy dropped a screwdriver on her toe. “Ouch!”

  Grinning, Todd leaned down and planted a kiss on Aunt Syl’s cheek. “How’s my favorite mystery writer today?”

  “Full of devilment. Why don’t you go over there and put some more roses in my niece’s cheeks?” She winked at Todd. “And don’t let her pretend she’s busy. What this house needs is sex.” Having made her outrageous speech, Aunt Syl flung her boa across her shoulders and made a grand exit.

  Todd didn’t try to hide his chuckle. It grew and grew until it was a full-fledged boom of mirth.

  “Please, don’t encourage her.” Amy said. “She’s already incorrigible.”

  “She’s like a brisk sea breeze. Invigorating.” Todd picked his way through the scattered parts of Amy’s latest invention. When he was so close she could see a tiny scar on his chin, he sat down beside her, laundry basket and all.

  “There’s butter on your chin,” he said, and he reached up to wipe it off with his thumbs. His hands lingered to caress her cheeks. “Hmm, nice.”

  It was nice. Amy thought. So nice that she wanted just to sit there in the late afternoon sunshine and bask in the good feel of his touch. So nice that she wanted to shut her eyes and purr. So nice that she wanted to hug him. But of course she did none of those things. Instead, she inched away and asked a perfectly dangerous question. At least, she thought in retrospect that it was dangerous, for it led to all sorts of unsettling conversation.

  “What are you doing with my laundry?” she asked.

  “For starters, I folded it.” He picked up the item on top of the basket, which just happened to be her black lace bikinis.

  “Those are my panties.”

  “Undoubtedly.” He looked at the label and grinned. “Size five. I’d call that just about perfect.”

  “I’d call that sneaky.” She jerked the panties from his hand and stuffed them into the bottom of the basket. “I don’t go around looking at your labels.”

  “Do you want to see? I don’t mind.”

  “Has everybody gone crazy? It must be this horrible weather. It’s fried your brain.”

  “Rescue me. Take me sailing.”

  “1 don’t have a washtub.”

  “But I do.” He picked his way back through her scattered invention, reached into the hall and dragged in a huge zinc tub. A red union suit was attached in rakish splendor to a mop handle.

  Amy stared at the unlikely object for a full minute before she burst out laughing.

  “How can I resist such an invitation?” she said.

  Chapter 5

  By the time Amy and Todd boarded his sloop, the late afternoon sun had turned the sails to rainbow colors.

  “It’s magnificent,” Amy said.

  “Wait till you feel the wind in your face.” Todd cast off from the dock and they headed out into the Gulf where he let out the sails so the sloop could run with the wind.

  When the sails billowed and the boat surged, Amy felt an excitement that had been missing from her life since her husband died. Except for a few sea gulls and some sailboats in the distance, they had the water to themselves. A sense of peace settled over her as she looked out across the water. Being this close to nature seemed to put everything else in perspective. How could you hold onto anxiety in the midst of all this beauty and order?

  “Have you sailed before, Amy?”

  “Twice. Some friends of ours had a sailboat. Not as large as this one, though, and Pickwick Lake and the Ross Barnett Reservoir seem pale compared to the Mississippi Sound.”

  “Everything seems pale compared to the Gulf, except, of course, Chesapeake Bay.”

  She laughed. “Is that an unbiased opinion?”

  “No. Totally prejudiced. When a man grows up with something that magnificent, I guess he naturally feels as though it’s partially his.”

  Amy saw the fierce, protective pride in his face. It was another facet of the complex man, a man who was impartial judge, fun-loving prankster, and ardent pursuer. “You speak with such intensity,” she said. “Do you feel this strongly about everything you consider yours?”

  “Yes. Our rivers and gulfs are threatened by pollution. It’s a tremendous heritage that I want to see passed on to my children and grandchildren. I’m actively involved in a group to save the Gulf. Why don’t you join us?”

  Amy wondered if the invitation was as casual as it sounded. Probably not. Or was she simply reading meaning into everything he said? As she looked at him, dark hair tousled by the wind and blue eyes squinting into the sun, she suddenly knew the meaning of lust. She was so shocked by her reaction that she stood up too fast and nearly fell overboard.

  Todd grabbed her and pulled her hard against his chest, an action that set off all kinds of fantasies. What was more, she suddenly smelled such a strong, sweet fr
agrance she could hardly catch her breath.

  “Do you smell that?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What is it? Some kind of aftershave you’re wearing?”

  “No, I thought it was your perfume.”

  “I’m not wearing any.”

  He leaned down to bury his face in her hair, and she felt electrified.

  “I thought it might be your shampoo,” he murmured, and she’d swear the fragrance grew stronger.

  “No. It’s just ordinary shampoo.” His face was still in her hair and it seemed that all the colors of the sunset suddenly exploded in her heart, kaleidoscopic and brilliant. Amy felt frozen in the moment. For a small eternity, she fantasized that she was a willing captive and he was a sexy pirate. As her bare legs brushed against his, she could feel the texture of his skin, slightly abrasive and intensely masculine, and she longed for every intimacy it promised.

  Todd’s fantasies were somewhat more explicit.

  He thought about lowering her to the deck and covering her slight body with his. He imagined the way she would look in the sunset as they made love.

  He stood boldly in the boat, grateful for every wave that swayed his body against hers.

  The sunset painted them red-gold as their separate fantasies held them captive. Only Amy’s strongly expressed desire for no involvement kept Todd from taking full advantage of the moment. As much as he wanted her, as much as he could sense that she wanted him, he would not go beyond the bounds she had set.

  He loosened his hold and lowered her to a seat. “You’ll get used to it.” He made his way back to the tiller.

  “Used to what?” All of a sudden she felt sweaty and out of sorts.

  “Used to standing up in a sailboat. Sometimes it can be tricky.” What was even trickier, he thought, was getting his emotions back under control.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m an excellent swimmer.” She brushed her windswept hair off her forehead. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. Just because he had kissed her in the soap, he wasn’t going to seize every opportunity to touch her. Was she snappish because she thought he would or because she thought he wouldn’t? She didn’t seem to know anything anymore. Particularly how to make her heart behave.

  “Good swimmers make good sailors,” he said. “By the end of the summer you’ll be an old pro.”

  That sounded mighty like future plans to Amy. Although remembering took a great effort, she forced herself to do it. From somewhere in the back of her mind she dragged out her resolve to avoid involvement. She would stick to that resolve even if it killed her. Even if she did feel rather lusty. Or was that lustful? She imagined her face was as pink as her halter from her frustration.

  “Don’t count on making a sailor of me,” she said. “I’ll be far too busy this summer.”

  “Doing what?”

  Running from you, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Inventing.”

  “You’ll have time for the antipollution group, I hope. You never did give me an answer on that.”

  “Goodness, no. I can’t control the pollution in my own apartment. How do you expect me to help control the pollution in the Gulf?”

  Todd grinned. “Is this a brush-off, Amy Logan? If it is, be forewarned. I have the tenacity of a bulldog.”

  She decided a verbal diversionary tactic was the only safe way to deal with that remark.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself! Raised in Poe’s burial place and using such a tired old cliche. He’s probably rolling in his grave.”

  “Look who’s talking cliche.”

  “Aunt Syl would disown me for that one.” This was much better than talk of involvement and brush-offs.

  “I doubt that. Who would want to disown a beautiful woman with roses in her cheeks?”

  Her hands flew to her face. “Roses?”

  “Yes. Remember? Your aunt invited me to put them there.”

  She lowered her hands and carefully folded them in her lap. “I believe I’ve come sailing with an egotistical man. You didn’t put them there, the wind did.”

  “Try telling that to your Aunt Syl.”

  “Pay her no mind. She is an incorrigible romantic.”

  “So am I.” He turned the boat so it was facing directly into the wind, and it stopped. He crossed to where Amy was sitting, then took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “You make me feel like a kid again, Amy. Only this time I’m not in a wash-tub boat and the princess is real.”

  She attempted to lighten the situation with humor. “You’re doing better. Poe would approve.” So much for failed attempts, she thought. Her hand tingled all the way up to her heart.

  Todd turned her hand over and planted a lingering kiss on her palm. “Now I know why southern women are described as having an iron fist in a velvet glove. You’re a strong-willed woman, Amy Logan.”

  When he released her, Amy was sorry. And that was something she’d have to think about later. Right now, the major problem was getting back to shore without revealing her ever-increasing passion.

  “Thank you, Judge Cunningham. Nobody’s ever called me strong-willed before. I guess I always considered myself to be quite malleable in Tim—” She stopped. She had almost said, in Tim’s hands. It seemed wrong, somehow, to be discussing her husband while she was sailing through the sunset with another man, almost as if she were betraying his memory.

  A slight clenching of his jaw was the only indication Todd gave that he noticed her reference to the past. He stood abruptly and trimmed the sails to head back toward shore.

  “You’re strong, Amy. Don’t ever forget that.” He wanted to add that she was strong enough to forget the past, strong enough to handle a new relationship, but he didn’t. As much as he wanted to force the issue, he decided that he’d pushed enough for one day. It was odd, but he’d never thought of impatience as being a part of his character. No wonder he’d remained a bachelor for so long. Women made you do strange things.

  Taking the tiller, he set a course into the wind.

  o0o

  Todd didn’t know how he had survived the sailing trip with his sanity still intact, but he must have. He was leaving Amy at her apartment with nothing more than a safe kiss on the cheek. After she had closed the door, he rammed his fists into his pockets so hard he almost ripped the seams. To make matters worse, he could hear her inside, humming “Red Sails in the Sunset.” As he stalked down the stairs to his apartment he decided there ought to be a law against women with China blue eyes wearing pink halter tops. Furthermore, shapely suntanned legs should be banned from Sunday Cove. Contributing to the delinquency of a judge. That was what Amy Logan had been doing.

  He banged into his apartment with unnecessary vigor.

  “Is that you, sir?” Justin appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve prepared beef tips marinated in wine.”

  “I would have preferred halter tips marinated in sunset.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind me, Justin. I’m suffering from an overdose of sun.”

  “The heat is getting to us all, sir.”

  Todd sat in his favorite chair by a window overlooking the Gulf. He could have found the chair with his eyes closed. It was always stationed precisely beside that window, turned just so to afford the best possible view. He was still for a moment, looking in the direction of the now-darkened water, imagining the peaceful scene that he knew was there.

  “Justin, tomorrow go up to Miss Logan’s apartment and bring down that washtub.”

  If Todd had turned around, he would have seen Justin struggling to keep from laughing aloud.

  “Is this something new you’re adding to the decor, sir?”

  “No. It’s just something I borrowed found in that unique hardware store next to Hoot Sims barbershop.”

  “Shall I serve dinner now?”

  Todd, who was usually punctual to a fault, did the unprecedented; he postponed his meal. “In a while. I
have to think about ...” He hesitated before doing something else completely foreign to his nature: he was not concise and articulate. “Things,” he finished.

  He would have been astounded if he had seen Justin shaking with laughter once he reached the safety of the kitchen. The butler laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. He did a gleeful jig as he put the beef tips under the warmer.

  “It’s about time cupid paid us a visit,” he said.

  o0o

  Upstairs in her apartment, Amy was undergoing the same struggle as Todd. She had come to her senses midway through “Red Sails in the Sunset.”

  “Too much sea air,” she muttered.

  “Hello Dolly! It’s love,” squawked Hortense.

  Startled, Amy glanced toward the chandelier. The gaudy bird was not there.

  “Love!” Hortense continued. “Love makes the world go ‘round. Awk! Go, Bulldogs.”

  Amy followed the sound of the parrot’s voice. Hortense was hiding behind the plastic dome of the perpetual popcorn popper.

  “Come out from there, you naughty bird.” Amy shooed Hortense away. “Why don’t you ever stay in your cage? Love, indeed! Everybody around here thinks he’s an expert on the subject.”

  “Talking to the bird again, dear?” Aunt Syl emerged from her room. “My, my. You must have had a lovely sail with that gorgeous judge. Just look at the roses in your cheeks.”

  “It’s the wind.” But it wasn’t the wind at all, and she knew it. It was the touch of a man’s hand, the feel of his lips on hers. She hurried toward her invention so that she could pretend to be hard at work and not have to carry on this conversation. On her way across the cluttered room she stubbed her toe on a wrench and fell backward into the laundry basket.