by Webb, Peggy
“I love discovering secrets. Do you have more?”
“Yes.”
“You’re being cagey.”
“If you want to know my secrets, you have to pay for them, Maxie. Are you willing to pay?”
“That depends on the price.”
“Negotiable. For instance, I’ll tell you one secret, and you have to remove one item of clothing, your choice.”
With them it always came back to desire. Excitement sizzled through Maxie, and she shoved aside her covers.
“It’s a deal,” she said.
“Take something off, Maxie.... What did you remove?”
“My pajama top.”
“Do you sleep in a bra or are you naked underneath?”
“Naked.”
“That’s good, Maxie. I’m naked too. I fold my pajamas and leave them on a chair so Hazel won’t know, but I sleep naked.”
Telling him she already knew that secret would be a betrayal of Hazel. Maxie kept it to herself.
“Take something else off,” he commanded. “What was it this time?”
“Socks.” She giggled.
“Socks?”
“Sometimes my feet get cold, and I wear socks to bed.”
“If I were in your bed you wouldn’t need socks. I’d warm you up, Maxie.”
She got caught up in the image of Joseph spread across her bed. It was an old-fashioned iron bedstead, painted white, that had belonged to her grandmother. Big man that he was, Joe would crowd her in the bed. They’d have to sleep close. She loved the idea of sleeping close.
Before she’d discovered she had no talent for relationships, she used to imagine herself married and snuggled close, spoon fashion, a man’s arms around her, her back pressed close to his chest.
She sighed.
“Did you say something, Maxie?”
“I was just clearing my throat.... What you said does not qualify as a secret. I strip, you tell. That’s the bargain.”
“All right. Here it is: I have a mole on my left hip.”
“What kind? How is it shaped?”
Joseph chuckled. “I think I’ll save that secret for another time... perhaps when you’re in my bed and can see for yourself.”
“People in telephone relationships don’t get in each other’s beds. We agreed.”
He did the worst thing a man can do to a woman: He didn’t respond. There was a long maddening silence. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of pressing the issue.
“Maxie, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Here’s your secret: I’m superstitious about black cats. Are you ready for another?”
“Yes.”
“Then take something off. What will it be, Maxie?”
“My pajama bottoms.”
“Are you wearing anything underneath?”
“No.”
“Remove them slowly, Maxie. Let your hands glide along your skin as you peel them down your legs. Pretend they’re my hands.”
Heat flooded her. “I thought this game was about secrets.”
“It is, Maxie. Are you caressing your legs?”
“I am.” She made no attempt to disguise her breathlessness. After all, this was only a game.
“Tell me when they’re off.”
“Now.”
“Good. Now lie back on the pillows, Maxie, nice and easy.” She didn’t argue. “Spread your hair across the pillow. Is the pillowcase white?”
“Yes. With a lace edge.”
“Is the bedside lamp on?”
“How did you know?”
“You were reading. Now, Maxie, lie very still with the lamplight shining on your hair. Are you obeying me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then here’s my secret: I fantasize about you. I picture you lying just that way, your hair like flame, your legs parted. And then I picture myself bending down to taste you, my lips closing around you, my tongue delving inside. I imagine that you taste like some exotic fruit, passion fruit perhaps, with just a hint of cream.”
She clamped her lower lip between her teeth to bite back her sounds of pleasure, but there was no holding back, and no way to disguise them.
There was a long silence at the other end of the line. All Maxie could hear was the sound of heavy breathing. Limp, she lay against the covers, her eyes closed, her lips pressed close to the receiver. Finally Joe broke the silence.
“You do the same thing to me. ‘Night, Maxie.”
He’d hung up before she could muster up the energy to say good night. She traced a finger around the rim of the receiver.
“ ‘Night, Joe.”
She made kissing noises toward the receiver as she hung up. Then she lay back against her pillows and wondered why this telephone relationship felt different from the others, why it felt more intimate, more satisfying.
She switched off the light, then pulled the covers up to her chin.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Maxie,” she said.
o0o
Joe arrived at the farm thirty minutes early so he could be there when Maxie arrived. He had studiously avoided showing up at his house while she was still there working. Though not seeing each other was part of their bargain, he was foolishly excited about the prospect of seeing her tonight.
His brother was so excited about his newborn son that he didn’t even notice the time.
“Come on in here, Uncle, and see the finest little boy God ever put on this earth.” Crash proudly showed off his rosy-faced son sleeping in his crib. “Feel that little fist close around your finger? He’s strong as an ox.”
He’d never seen any creature so fragile-looking, but he didn’t contradict his brother.
“Here. Do you want to hold him?”
Without waiting for confirmation, Crash scooped the baby up and arranged him in Joe’s arms. Joe was terrified.
“What if he wakes up? What if I don’t hold him right? What if he gets hungry?”
Crash laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn about babies.”
“I don’t know that it’s necessary to learn.”
“Someday you’ll be having one of your own.”
“I’m in no danger at the moment.”
The baby stirred and opened his eyes. It took him a while to focus, but when he did, he looked straight up at his uncle. Joe fell in love on the spot.
“Would you just look at that? He smiled at me.”
“See. Didn’t I tell you he’s a genius? Most babies that young don’t smile, but my son’s got them all beat.”
Enchanted, Joe bent close to his nephew’s tiny face and did what besotted grown-ups around the world do with babies: He began to croon baby talk.
“How’s my widdle wascal? Can you give me a widdle smile? Can you smile for Unca Joe?” He looked up, beaming. “He smiled at me again.”
“He’s smiling because his aunt Maxie is here.”
She entered the room like a parade, jangle bracelets tinkling, skirt swirling, eyes flashing, hair bouncing. Joe wasn’t prepared for her impact. When a man and woman have been intimate, even on the phone, they are connected in ways that defy description. Every cell in his body cried out for her, every bone, every sinew. His skin felt hot and tight, as if he’d grown too big for it.
Crash and the baby faded into the background, and all he could see was Maxie, vivid in red, crooning as she moved his way.
“There’s my little nephew. There’s my big boy. Can I hold him?”
“Be sure to support his head,” Joe said. “And hold him close so your body heat keeps him warm.”
“If you can do it, I can.”
When she took the baby, she made as little contact with Joe as possible, a mere brush of fingertips against his own, a slight swish of skirt against his trousers, a whisper touch of her long hair as she bent over the tiny bundle. She retreated quickly to the other side of the room.
“Maxie...”
She warned him with her eyes. Playing by the rules h
ad never been so hard.
“Don’t you gentlemen have something to do around the grill? Baby Joe and I are going to find his mommy.”
“She’s in the bedroom trying to find a skirt that will zip,” Crash said. “I’d tread lightly if I were you.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Without a backward glance, Maxie was gone.
“Whew,” Crash said. “Does it feel cooler in here to you?”
“At least ten degrees.” Joe was hardly one to judge. Every time he came near Maxie he heated up.
“Man, I’ve never seen her like that. What did you do to make her so mad, Joe?”
“Who, me?”
“Don’t give me that.”
“Give you what?”
“You always answer a question with another question when you’re being cagey.”
“I’m not being cagey. Who knows what makes any woman tick, especially one as unpredictable as Maxie Corban.”
“Look, Joe, I know you and she don’t see eye to eye about the baby’s party, but try to keep things as civil as possible tonight. I don’t want B.J. to be upset.”
“You don’t have a thing to worry about. I’ll be a perfect gentleman with Maxie.”
“What else would I expect from you? I don’t know why I even said anything. Nerves, I guess.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Let’s go to the grill. You be the gentleman and I’ll be the troublemaker, as usual.”
Outside Joseph could see Maxie silhouetted through the window. He thought of all the ways they’d been intimate via telephone, and suddenly the telephone relationship struck him as an act of cowardice. What if he had failed with Susan? That didn’t necessarily mean he was destined to fail with every woman.
Not that his track record lately was anything to brag about. He’d bored Letty stiff, and vice versa. The girl from the bank had chattered about nail polish and hairdos for two hours, and by the time he got home he’d had to take two aspirin for the pain. Only a phone call to Maxie saved his sanity.
Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to have a relationship. Maybe, after all, the telephone was his best bet.
Still, being a gentleman around Maxie this evening was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
o0o
“Who’s chasing you? The devil?” B. J. was trying to button a chambray skirt around her thickened waist.
“You might say that.” Holding her precious bundle close, Maxie negotiated her way across B. J.’s bedroom as if it were a minefield. When she got to the rocking chair, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good grief. I didn’t know having babies was so much work.”
“It’s only work if you’re terrified. Relax, Maxie. He’s just a little thing. He won’t bite.”
“What if he wets?”
“Then you’ll have the privilege of changing his diaper.”
Maxie rocked the baby and sang a lullaby she remembered from their childhood. Outside, Crash and Joe were laughing at something one of them had said. She could see them, two big, handsome men, swathed in aprons, pushing hamburgers around on the grill.
“B. J., what’s it like to be married?”
“Strawberry shortcake.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. You know how the first strawberries taste, fresh and juicy and full of a sweetness you can’t describe, and then you add a dollop of whipped cream and pile it all on top of a good hunk of yellow butter cake and you’ve got heaven.”
“I think I’m going to cry.”
“Here, use my handkerchief. I hardly ever need them anymore.” Maxie sniffed into her sister’s handkerchief. “What’s this all about, anyhow?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m jealous. Suddenly you have everything and my life seems so dull by comparison.”
“Pooh. You don’t have a jealous bone in your body.... This skirt’s not going to button.” B. J. pulled a loose jumper over her head, then took her baby. “Come on, punkin, dinnertime.” She sat on the edge of the bed with the baby cuddled close.
Maxie blew her nose. How was she ever going to have a baby if she couldn’t even let a man get close?
“One thing’s for sure,” she said. “I can’t do it over the telephone.”
“Do what?”
“Get pregnant.”
“Maxie, you are in a mood. Have you met somebody I don’t know about?”
“No.”
It was the truth. B. J. knew Joe almost as well as she knew her own husband. After all, they were family.
“Do you know something, B. J. I’m not very hungry tonight. I think I’ll just go on home. I’m starting a new job next week, and I need to work on the plans.”
“Maxie, I don’t know what’s going on, and it looks like you’re not planning to tell me, but we’re your family. If something’s troubling you, the best thing to do is stay for dinner. If anybody can cheer you up, it’s Crash.”
B. J. didn’t try to manipulate her with guilt, but Maxie felt guilty anyway.
“I’m selfish to the bone.” She sat on the edge of the bed and watched as her nephew wrapped his tiny hand around her finger. “This is your big night, and here I am acting like a baby. I’m staying.”
“I’m glad.”
o0o
B. J. and Crash were obviously in love. They sat close, leaning toward each other frequently for a touch, a secret smile, a kiss. Joseph wondered how this brother of his, in love with long distances and a Harley, had managed to make the giant leap required to settle into marriage and fatherhood. Joseph had always been the Beauregard considered most likely to domesticate, the one who would settle into marriage early and present a child destined to carry out the Beauregard tradition of being a lawyer.
He wasn’t even close to marriage, let alone fatherhood. And at the rate he was going, that would never happen. As he reached for the ketchup his arm brushed against Maxie’s.
“Excuse me,” he said, withdrawing quickly, electrified.
“Certainly.”
She leaned over the table to retrieve the mustard, and the hem of her skirt touched his thigh. Was she naked underneath? At that moment he’d give everything he owned for the right to slide his hand under her skirt and discover the truth for himself.
When she sank back into her chair, her leg brushed against his.
“Pardon me,” she said.
“Of course.”
Crash and B. J. exchanged a knowing look. Joseph wasn’t about to do anything that would trigger a later cross-examination by his brother. One thing was certain: He couldn’t spend the rest of the evening pretending that Maxie was nothing more to him than a mere acquaintance.
He glanced at his watch. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I have to get back to the office.”
“Do you really have to leave so early?”
“Sorry, B. J. Big case in court tomorrow.”
“Crash... Maxie... Can’t you do something?”
“You’re going to miss dessert,” Crash said. “Strawberry shortcake.”
“Sorry, bro. Gotta go.”
Joseph stood up. He was already headed toward the door when Maxie’s voice stopped him.
“You’re going to miss my famous tale.”
His arousal was instant. Turning slowly, he smiled at her.
“Maxie, there’s nothing I’d like better than to partake of your famous tail.”
Heck, he thought, as he walked back to the table. Let Crash question him. He was a master of evasion.
He sat down at the table once more, deliberately pulling his chair too close to Maxie’s. She sucked in a sharp breath when he pressed his knee against hers.
“Now,” he said, leaning close and smiling directly into her eyes. “Where is that famous tail you’re so hot to share with me?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maxie often regretted words spoken in haste. This was no exception. Joseph Beauregard had been in full retreat. Pure insanity had made her call him back. All her other motives were impure, every last one of them.
Propping her elbows on the table, she leaned toward her brother-in-law.
“Did I ever tell you how Magic Maxie’s came into being?”
“Not that I recall.”
B. J. put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Darling, if you had heard this story, you’d recall it. Believe me. Tell it, Maxie.”
“It all started in Atlanta.” Tingling all over, she was vividly aware of Joseph’s intent regard. “I met Claude when I started work for Werner’s Designs. He was extraordinarily talented, witty, and perfectly miserable, married to a girl named Betty, trying to be something he was not.”
Joseph shifted, his leg pressed closer. Maxie felt faint.
“Werner’s was a terrible place to work. The boss was a jerk, the clients were snobs, and political correctness was just beginning to rear its ugly head in the workplace.”
Joe was making her so hot that Maxie had to take a long drink of iced tea to cool off. She lifted the cool glass toward the front of her blouse when she caught Joe’s eye.
Her hand stopped in midair, and ice cubes clinked against glass as she set it back on the table.
“Politically correct policies were adopted right and left. I broke every rule.”
“I would expect nothing less of you, Maxie,” Joseph said. “You like nothing better than breaking the rules.”
“How do you know?” She was still striving to preserve their image as casual acquaintances.
“B. J. tells me so.”
He reached under the table and ran his hand down the length of her leg. Smiling across the table at Crash and B. J., she nudged his hand away. He put it right back, this time underneath her skirt.
Crash and B. J. were watching her expectantly. Smiling at them, she nudged Joe’s hand. He didn’t budge. There was nothing to do except finish her story. Fast.
“At first Claude put notes in my box, cheering me on, then one day he joined in my insurrection. Big time.”
