Angels on Zebras, (Forever Friends, Book 4 of 4)

by Webb, Peggy

“Tell me the beginning.”

  “You love this, don’t you? The romance, the grand gesture, the flowery speeches.”

  “As long as they come from your heart.”

  “They come straight from my heart, Maxie. That’s a promise.”

  He waltzed across the sawdust and through the opening in the tent. A full moon rode across the sky, and a million stars lit the pathway. Spring flowers perfumed the air. It was a night made for romance.

  Joe pulled Maxie underneath a giant magnolia, and leaning against the trunk, held her close.

  “The beginning was the first time I ever saw you, Maxie. You were dressed in white, an angel, even then, though the twinkle in your eyes gave away the imp inside you. You walked into that banquet hall with your sister and I was electrified. My heart knew, even then. It just took my mind a while to catch up.”

  He was everything Maxie had dreamed, saying wonderfully romantic things to her. But she had to remember that he was an expert with words. He made his living convincing people with his speeches. Was this just another level to the many games they had played, or was he playing for keeps?

  She’d made too many mistakes in the past; she couldn’t afford to make another. She stepped back in order to gain perspective.

  “You make a convincing case, Joe.”

  “But you’re not convinced.”

  “So, convince me.”

  o0o

  Once he’d made up his mind to woo Maxie for keeps, the first part of his plan had been easy, dazzle and persuade her with all the things she loved—zebras, carousels, exotic flowers, romantic gestures—all symbols of a happy, carefree life. But it was not enough. He’d known that from the beginning. To win Maxie would take more than smoke and mirrors, more than a dazzling show under the big top.

  The ring was in his pocket, a square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds. In the midst of a spring evening with a million stars as his witness, Joseph Patrick Beauregard dropped to his knees.

  “I love you, Maxine Elizabeth Corban...”

  Her smile was one of pure delight. “How did you know my name?”

  “Magic.” He took the ring from its box, and it looked like stars caught in the palm of his hand. “I don’t know everything there is to know about you, but I want to know. I want to spend the rest of my life solving the delightful puzzle of Maxie. Will you marry me?”

  “This means forever, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. This means forever. What will your answer be, Magic Maxie?”

  Her grin was impish. “My answer will be yes, on one condition.”

  “Is this negotiable?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me the condition.”

  “That I get to see that mole on your left hip. The other night in your wild-animal kingdom, I was too busy to look.”

  He slid the ring on her finger, then picked her up and spun her around. Inside the big top the band struck up “Hard Hearted Hannah”—the vamp of Savannah.

  “They’re playing our song, Maxie.”

  “You did that, too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She rained kisses over his face. “Joseph Patrick Beauregard, I love you to pieces.”

  He stood very still, and when she pressed her lips against his, he kissed her for a very long time.

  “This is the last dance, Maxie.”

  “I saved it for you.”

  He slid her to her feet, and they spun among the flowers.

  “You know where the last dance leads, don’t you?” he whispered.

  “Yes. Take me there.”

  o0o

  He’d left soft lights burning in his bedroom, and now he added candles, dozens of them, flickering like fireflies in a jungle.

  “Stand right where you are, Maxie.”

  Joseph knelt, took off her gold shoes, and kissed each toe. Then he put the shoes on a shelf he’d added to the wall beside the bed.

  “My trophy. What do you think, Maxie?”

  “It adds the right touch if you want to be daring and different.”

  He laughed with sheer joy. With Maxie he would always be challenged, always be surprised. He stalked her, eyes glowing.

  “Do you want to take off my pants and let me show you just how daring and different I can be?”

  “How can I resist?”

  It was her turn to kneel. His zipper made a soft click in the stillness.

  “Do I have to take them off right away?” Her hand was on him, doing magical things. And then her mouth.

  He was filled with such a wildness and sense of freedom that he wanted to race into the streets and shout it to the rooftops.

  She slid his pants to the floor, then gave a whoop of joy.

  “Leopard print,” she said.

  “Jockeys, size thirty-four.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and backed her against the wall. “The jungle beast is hungry, Maxie. Feel him roar.”

  Her skirts billowed over his head as he took his fill. Soon that was not enough, he had to have more. He wrapped her legs around his waist. Their wild, primitive dance sent them reeling against the walls and tumbling over the floor.

  “You are incredible,” he said.

  “Only with you, my love, only with you.”

  He peeled her dress away, and his clothes fell in a heap on hers. The mattress sagged under their weight, and when she was spread upon his bed he made slow, exquisite love to her, to his magic Maxie, his dream, his love.

  There was nothing simple about the way they loved, nothing predictable or ordinary. Each touch thrilled, each thrust electrified, each kiss transported them to that realm where only true lovers go, that shining place beyond the stars.

  And when at last they lay in each other’s arms, Maxie brushed his hair tenderly back from his forehead.

  “I was so busy I forgot to see your mole.”

  “I love the way you stay busy, Maxie. Do you always stay busy like that?”

  “That depends on who I’m with.”

  “Minx. There’s only one person you’ll be with from now on and that’s me.”

  “In that case... indeed, counselor, I plan to stay busy like that for the rest of my life.”

  “Hmmm.” He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

  “Roll over, Joe.”

  He laughed, loving this playful side of her. “Now? Just when I was getting comfortable.”

  “Right this very minute.”

  He turned on his stomach, and she leaned close to inspect his left hip.

  “This is incredible,” she said. “I don’t believe it.” She traced his mole with the tips of her fingers. Shivers went all over him. “A lion! Are you sure this is real?”

  “It’s real, all right, Maxie. And it’s already roaring again.” He flipped over and pulled her down on top of him. Smiling, she began to rock and sway above him. “I’ve never refused to answer the call of the wild.”

  EPILOGUE

  Nine months later

  B.J. and Crash rushed down the corridor of the hospital toward room 413, carrying a huge stuffed animal.

  “I’ve never carried a zebra’s tail before,” he said. “Want to swap ends?”

  “Hush up and hang on to your end. Humility becomes you, my love.”

  A huge bouquet of balloons adorned the door, and from inside drifted the sound of a tape, playing softly. B. J. and Crash stood outside, shifting the gigantic stuffed zebra into an upright position.

  “Great Caesar’s pony cart. Is that song what I think it is?”

  B. J. grinned at her husband. “What did you expect. They even played it at their wedding, remember?”

  “How could I forget? Joe set Maxie on top of the table right by the wedding cake and she belted out “Hard Hearted Hannah” while you and Helen and Kathleen sang back up. It was the sexiest rendition I’ve ever heard.”

  “The Forever Friends are kind of great, aren’t we?”

  “Great? I’d say sensational, Philadelphia.”

  Sh
e stood on tiptoe and kissed him, and he almost forgot why he was at the hospital. “I hope Maxie will be as happy as we are.”

  “I’d say she and Joe are off to a roaring start.”

  “I thought they’d never make it to the altar.” B. J. sighed. “The best part of the wedding was when she tossed those gold shoes at Joe, and he served up the champagne in them.”

  “No,” he said softly. “The best part is waiting beyond this door.”

  Crash pushed it open, then wrapped his arm around his wife as memories washed over him. There was his brother, bending over the bed, and there was his brother’s wife, her red hair like flame on the pillow, gazing up at her husband with adoring eyes, a baby cradled against each breast.

  “Twins,” Maxie said. “Can you believe it?”

  “Of course I can.” B. J. handed the little girl to Crash and cradled the little boy in her arms. “You never did anything halfway in your life.”

  “She certainly doesn’t.” Joe kissed his wife in the way of a man deeply in love, then sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand. “I guess you two know what this means.”

  B. J. pretended surprise. “Surely you’re not going to ask us to be the godparents.”

  “Of course he is,” Crash said. “Remember what he said at Joey’s christening party. Joseph always keeps his promises.”

  “He certainly does.” Maxie caressed her husband’s face.

  Just then the door burst open, and in came Claude, carrying another enormous stuffed zebra. He set the zebra beside the one B. J. and Crash had brought, then took both babies in his arms.

  “Well, I guess you two little darlings expect old Uncle Claude to get out his clown suit and do that live zebra bit all over again, don’t you?”

  “Of course they do,” the babies’ parents and aunt and uncle chorused.

  Claude blustered and carried on, but his chest was puffed out with pride.

  “Do you have any idea how mean those little devils can be? One of them kept trying to bite me on the butt and the other left an odious trail. If I hadn’t done some fancy footwork, my clown shoes would be ruined.” He kissed each baby on the forehead. “Now you two little rascals expect me to do all that again?”

  “No one but you could possibly do it, Claude.” Maxie reached for his hand. He placed the babies in her arms, then sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding her hand.

  “Anything for Magic Maxie,” he said.

  o0o

  Later, when the guests had gone and the babies were tucked into their cribs fast asleep, Joe bent over his wife.

  “Anything for my magic Maxie,” he whispered.

  “Is the lion roaring?” she said.

  He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “Always, my love. Always.”

  -o0o-

  Coming July 30, 2013, The Sweetest Hallelujah by Peggy Webb writing as Elaine Hussey. In 1955, two courageous women cross color lines to save a child. Excerpt, details and pre-ordering info at www.elainehussey.com. Review: “If you can buy only one book this year, make it The Sweetest Hallelujah.”

  o0o

  If you enjoyed The Donovans of the Delta series, you’ll also enjoy The Mississippi McGills, another romantic comedy series.

  Excerpt from Valley of Fire

  (The Mississippi McGills, Book 1 of 4)

  Author’s Note: Rick McGill, the lovable hero of Valley of Fire, first appeared as a secondary character in Higher Than Eagles, book five of the Donovans of the Delta Series. I’m delighted to bring him back in this first book of the Mississippi McGills Series.

  Prologue

  “Martha Ann! Where are you?”

  “I’m in the basement, roller-skating. Come on down, Evelyn.”

  Martha Ann stuck out her arms for balance and tried to stop. It didn’t work. The skates kept on rolling. She probably would have rolled straight through the wall if she hadn’t run into the sofa. She banged her shins against the sofa frame and landed bottom up on the cushions.

  That’s how her sister found her when she came down the basement stairs.

  “For goodness sakes, Martha Ann. What in the world are you up to now?”

  Martha Ann righted herself, smoothing down her dark hair and her white shorts at the same time.

  “I’m learning to roller-skate. I never did get the hang of it when we were kids.” She patted the seat beside her. “Come sit down.”

  Heaving a great sigh, Evelyn sat beside her older sister. “Next thing I know you’ll be taking up something dangerous, like race car driving.”

  “Not yet. But I’m only thirty-seven. There’s still plenty of time.”

  Evelyn let out another big sigh. It wasn’t lost on Martha Ann. She’d watched Evelyn struggle through four years of a nightmare married to a man who gambled away every penny they had, working like a Trojan at her little clothing store in Pontotoc, trying to pay the rent and keep food on the table. And now Evelyn was pregnant.

  The Riley girls never did have any sense when it came to men.

  Martha Ann leaned down and took off her roller skates. Putting variety into her life could wait. Her sister needed her. “Tell me about it, Evelyn.”

  “Lucky’s gone again. I found this note when I got up this morning.”

  She held a small scrap of paper toward her sister. “Sweetie Pie,” it said, “I hear the big one calling my name. Be back when I win a pot full.”

  Martha Ann folded the note and handed it back to her sister.

  “Where do you think he’s gone this time?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is that I love him.”

  Martha Ann stood up and began to pace. “Well, gambling’s not legal in Mississippi, so that means he’s either found an illegal game or he’s out of the state. The last time he went to Florida. Of course, the racing season is over, but still there’s the lottery and jai alai.” She stopped pacing and looked down at her sister. “How much money did he take?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to check.”

  “You can do that this afternoon, and while you’re at it, see if he called any travel agencies.”

  Evelyn pushed off the sofa, using the arm for support. Folding her hands over her protruding abdomen, she faced her sister.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked Martha Ann.

  “I’m going to find that husband of yours. Then I’m going to bring him back and hog-tie him to his bed. He’s going to be around when he becomes a father, and furthermore, he’s going to enroll in Gamblers Anonymous.”

  For the first time that day, Evelyn smiled. Martha Ann knew her sister thought she was brilliant and intrepid and resourceful. And although sleuthing was about as far from teaching history at a junior college as you could get, her sister’s faith in her never wavered. Evelyn trusted her to find Lucky and bring him home.

  The Riley girls had one thing in common—they never gave up.

  “What about school, Martha Ann?”

  “I have two weeks before I start teaching the summer session. Don’t worry.”

  “But I do. I can’t help myself.” Evelyn snapped open her purse and took out her car keys. “Tell me one thing before I go. How do you propose to find my husband?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  Chapter One

  Rick McGill leaned back in his cane-bottomed swivel chair, propped his feet on his scarred desk, and sipped warm orange soda straight from the bottle. His feet sent an untidy pile of papers skittering across his desk, but he didn’t bother to pick them up. It was too hot. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and dampened the front of his open-neck shirt. The ancient air conditioner in the corner of his office did its best, but it was no match for the heat.

  Outside his window he could see heat waves radiating from the streets of Tupelo. Not even the mellow voices of the Lennon Sisters crooning over station WOLD could take his mind off the heat. The weatherman had said it was ninety-five degrees, and that had been at eight o’clock in the morning. H
e’d bet it was a hundred and five by now.

  He tipped up the bottle and took another swig of soda. Just as he was taking the bottle from his lips, a limousine rolled down Broadway and stopped in front of his office. A uniformed driver got out of the car and opened the back door. Out stepped the most stunning woman Rick had ever seen. She was wearing a white suit cut in the style of the forties. The tight skirt set off the finest pair of legs he’d seen since he’d met that cancan dancer out in Oklahoma, and the flirty peplum bounced around hips that could make a man give up orange pop. She was wearing a hat too—an honest-to-goodness hat with a sassy little veil that didn’t quite hide the bow- shaped mouth and the glossy black hair.

  And she was coming up his sidewalk. Fate was smiling on him today.

  He set the soda bottle on the desk and watched his front door. When she came through, she stood a moment, one hand on her fine hips, the other draped artfully on the door frame.

  By George, she was posing. Rick leaned further back in his chair and drawled, Humphrey Bogart style, “Anything I can do for you, sweetheart?” He loved games. If she wanted to be Betty, he’d be Bogey.

  When she smiled, he noticed the beauty spot just above her lips. It looked real, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “I’m looking for a man.” The woman left the doorway and walked dramatically into the room.

  She smelled like money: The rich smell of Italian leather, the clean smell of real silk, the elegant smell of expensive perfume. She looked like money too. She wore a square-cut diamond ring on her left hand and a bracelet of baguettes on her right wrist, the real McCoys if he wasn’t mistaken—and he rarely was.

  “Then you’ve come to the right place.” He moved his feet off the desk, taking his time. “I’m the best private investigator in Tupelo.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Martha Ann Riley folded her hands in her lap so the rented diamonds would catch the sun coming through the window and shine in his eyes. She held her back straight and tried not to sweat on the borrowed silk suit. Then she crossed her legs and began to swing the left one, delicately, as she figured a lady of class and distinction would, the toe of the Italian leather high heels pointing straight at him.