“Like a personality,” Max muttered.
“Say, Bruce, I’ve written a new poem.”
“Christ, shoot me now.”
“What’s that? You’d like to hear it?”
In the background, Lorna said something and clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Goodbye,” Max said.
“It’s something a bit unusual for me,” Nate persisted. “It’s about a detective of my acquaintance.”
“I’m warning you, Darling.”
“Max Galloway, Max Galloway. Your sour face is here to stay. While your dour disposition is such an imposition, and it seems this is related, that you’re sexually frustrated, methinks you’re such an angry pup, because you cannot get it—”
“Up until now,” Max interrupted, “I thought you were pretty funny.”
“Thanks, Bruce. Your good opinion means so much to me.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see you, either. Good-bye, Darling.”
As Max shoved the cell phone back inside his pocket, the passenger door opened and Evie slid in. Without a word, she fastened her seat belt, then turned away from him to study the distant clouds.
He didn’t understand a whole lot about women, but he could generally sense when something was wrong. Her cheeks were pale, her body posture stiff. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she pressed her knees tightly together and continued ignoring him. He’d taken Closed Body Positions 101; she was showing all the classic signs.
Obviously, the visit to her childhood home had depressed her more than he’d thought. Reaching across the seat, he touched her shoulder. She recoiled and shifted away from him until her body hugged the door.
What the hell? He yanked his hand back as though she’d just bitten it. “Want to talk about it?” he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.
“Nothing to talk about.”
Uh-oh. Releasing the brake, he pulled out into traffic and headed north. “Thinking about the next clue?”
“No.”
Okay. A few miles went by, then he decided to try again.
“Are you still upset about going back to your old house?”
“No.”
Perhaps he should try for questions that involved a more comprehensive reply, not just a simple yes or no.
“Tell me what you’re upset about.”
“No.”
Well, hell. Max punched the button on the CD player. Sultry jazz curled through the air, relaxing him a little but getting him no closer to answering his questions about what was bothering Evie.
They drove on in silence, while Max turned over the events of the day in his head. She needed rest, that was all. The day had been full of activity and surprises. Yes, she needed rest—and a man to make love to her. And he knew just the man for the job.
When they reached the secured lot, he parked and locked the car, while Evie headed down the dock to the new runabout. Without speaking to him, she sat, put on her life vest, then turned away from him to look out to sea. Twenty-five minutes later they were docked on Heyworth Island, and he’d had just about enough of the silent treatment.
Before she could take two steps off the dock, he grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.
“What is wrong?” He made each word its own sentence.
Her mouth flattened. Brushing her gloriously tangled hair off her face, she averted her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. What have I done?”
She lifted her chin. “What makes you think you’ve done anything?”
“I haven’t,” he snapped. “But you think I have. Out with it.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Grasping her shoulders, he forced her to look up at him. “What did I do?”
She scowled, then shook his hands free. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ah, so you do think I’ve done something.”
In a tight little voice, she said, “You can run your life any way you want. It’s none of my business. You can see whomever you wish. It’s no concern of mine.”
He closed one eye, tucked in his chin and frowned. What in the hell was she talking about? She’d been fine back at the gas station, but when she came out of the rest room, he’d just been finishing his conversation with Nate…
I can’t wait to see you, either. Good-bye, Darling. His own words rang like a gong inside his head. She’d heard him. She’d heard him, and she thought…
He looked into her accusing eyes and tried not to laugh.
Feigning anger, he said, “Did you eavesdrop on my phone call?”
Her beautiful mouth tightened into a rosebud and she looked away. “You might have mentioned you were involved with someone before I… before we…”
“Well, I’m not terribly involved,” he said in an offhanded way. “It’s what you’d call a new relationship, and it’s a little unsteady. I’d even call it competitive.”
“Whatever,” she said in a light, breezy tone.
He was having trouble keeping the laughter from his voice, but the look on her face, the glint in her eyes, the stance of her delectable body, fed his desire to play with her a little longer. He’d make it worth her while, though. He’d make it very worth her while.
“Listen,” he said with a shrug. “About that other relationship. We have never slept together, and I think it’s safe to say we never will. Totally not my type, sexually.” He grinned. “Evie. I love it that you’re jealous.”
Her head came up, her mouth opened, her eyes widened. “I am not jealous! I could not care less who you sleep with or don’t sleep with or—”
“Darling,” he said.
“Wh-What?”
“Darling. Detective Nate Darling. He’s my partner, Evie. That’s what you heard. But I love it that you thought—”
Before he could react, she doubled her fist and punched him in the stomach.
“You son of a bitch!” she huffed. “How dare you make me think… you bastard! And here I… and you didn’t… I felt like such a—”
He stopped her tirade with his mouth. Crushing her lips with his kiss, he thrust his tongue inside. Against his chest, her breasts tormented him. He wanted to rip open her blouse and take them in his hands, make love to her here, right here on the dock, revel in her body, listen to her cries, capture her heart for his own.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, holding her so very close, thankful for her existence, for the energy and vitality that was Evie. Beneath his hands, her muscles were firm and warm, and he felt giddy from the joy of holding her like this once more.
And then she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging to him, taking possession of him, telling him with her lips and her body that she was his, and more, that he belonged only to her. And, damn it if it wasn’t true. He did belong to her, and with sudden clarity he realized he liked that idea a lot.
Against his mouth she whispered, “I still think you’re a rotten son of a—”
He kissed her again, cutting off her damning words, holding her close until he felt her body convulse in repressed laughter. She pulled away an inch, licked and nibbled his bottom lip and murmured, “I am so going to make you pay.”
“Can we eat first? I need to keep my strength up.”
“And that’s not all,” she teased.
He took her hand and they walked off the dock and up the stone path leading to the mansion. All the lights were on, welcoming them home like prodigal wanderers. As they reached the front door, Evie tugged on Max’s arm.
“Hang on a minute,” she said. “I want to ask you something.”
Leaning back against the stone archway over the massive front door, he slipped his hands around her waist. “Anything.”
With her palms resting lightly on his forearms, she said, “If you were me, would you do the DNA test? I mean, without my mother’s DNA, we can’t prove whether Thomas was really my father, but if the results exclude him, then that’ll be more than I know now
.”
He considered her words, wondering what it must feel like to forever question where you came from. “Why now, Evie, after all these years?”
She laid her head on his shoulder and let her body go slack against his. “I guess it’s time. I guess I’m ready to know.”
“Well, that being the case, having the test would be one solution.” He waited for her reaction.
“One solution? There’s another?”
Max tipped her chin so their eyes met. No time like the present to throw somebody’s life into total chaos.
“Sure there is, Evie,” he said softly. “There always has been. You don’t really need a DNA test at all. The truth is right in front of you. If I can see it, I’m sure you can.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. If you search your heart, I think you’ll realize that you’ve known the truth all along. You know it now, right this minute. Don’t you, Scout?”
Chapter 22
Dear Diary:
Today I wore the moon necklace that used to be my mother’s. I showed if to Edmunds and he said if was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Then he said my red hair was just like Maggie’s. He always calls her that. He said she was beautiful and that she was a free spirit. I think that means she had lots of boyfriends. Then he asked me if I wanted some hot chocolate with marshmallows. I don’t want to make Thomas feel bad, so I've never told him how much I love Edmunds. He is truly a wonderful and gracious man.
Evangeline—age 13
Evie straightened and distanced herself from Max as much as his embrace would allow.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, her mouth gone completely dry. “If I knew the truth, why would I keep asking?”
“Evie,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to hurt you, hut I think you have to face the facts. Heyworth was not—”
“Yes he was,” she rushed. “I found proof, but he died before I could ask him about it.”
Max cocked his head, suspicious, apprehensive. “What kind of proof?”
She swallowed. “A couple of days before Thomas was killed, I was in his office going through the files. Mrs. Stanley had asked me to find the warrantee for the stove. Anyway, I found a piece of paper that had fallen between two hanging files. It was a copy of the second page of a letter Thomas had written.”
“Go on.”
“The letter asked for information about his… his daughter.”
“His daughter?” Releasing her, Max absently rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “Jesus.”
She nodded. “He’d had a brief affair with a maid on his staff, and he wanted to know if she had given birth to a child. If so, he wanted to bring her to Mayhem and acknowledge his heir.”
“How long ago was it written? Who was it addressed to?”
She lifted her shoulders. “That’s the problem. The first page was missing. No date, no addressee, only his signature on the second page. I looked through as many files as I could, but I never found it.”
“What did you do with the letter?”
“I didn’t think I should keep it. Thomas might have thought I’d been snooping around in his personal correspondence. So I put it in a folder and closed the cabinet, intending to broach the subject with him once and for all when he returned from his book tour. But the day he got back, he was murdered.”
“Did you tell anybody about the letter?”
“Yes,” she said. “I told the Port Henry police about it when they confiscated Thomas’s files, but when I asked them about it later, they said it wasn’t there.”
“Who had access to that cabinet?”
“Me, Lorna, Mrs. Stanley. Maybe others. This is an island, you know. We don’t get a lot of transients out here.”
“That would certainly provide motive for the attempts on your life,” Max murmured absently. He stared off into space for a moment, then said, “And you’re sure it was you he was referring to?”
Anger stabbed her belly. Why was he not getting this?
“My mother was a maid who left here and had a child,” she argued. “And Thomas sought me out and brought me to Mayhem to live with him. What more proof do you need, Max?”
“Positive proof,” he said calmly. “But I’m not the one who needs it. You do. Sure, he brought you here, but he never submitted to any paternity tests, and more importantly, he never admitted he was your father. It doesn’t add up.”
She toyed with the crescent moon dangling at her throat. “I thought maybe, once he’d seen me, he’d just known I was his. I don’t know why he never told me. But my father was not some faceless, nameless sailor my mother couldn’t even remember! He wasn’t!”
Still angry at Max for being so dense, Evie slipped into her nightgown and tried to turn her thoughts to the game.
It was Monday night. Time was getting short, and so, apparently, was her temper. She knew she shouldn’t have been so defensive with him earlier, and had reacted to his comments without thinking things through.
Closing the armoire, she rested her forehead against the wood and groaned at her own stupidity. She’d have to find a way to apologize…
Tapping. At her door. Her heart gave a little jump.
She and Max were alone in the house. Edmunds and Madame Grovda, Dabney and Lorna, had still not returned. The Stanleys must have left hours ago.
At the mere thought of Max standing outside her door, her heart rate increased, her skin became sensitive, her breasts tightened. Her body knew what it wanted, craved, expected to get. She was utterly exhausted, but the thought of lying in Max’s arms tonight sent a wash of adrenaline through her system that made every nerve in her body come alive.
“Tired, Scout?” he said as she opened the door to him. His hair was disheveled in a very sexy way. He needed a shave, and his shirt collar was open, revealing his strong neck. She wanted to put her mouth there.
She nodded. “I could use some sleep… eventually.”
He let his gaze travel down her body. “You still mad at me?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Good,” he said, grinning in that sly way he had that drove her nuts with desire. “Come with me, and bring your quilt.”
Evie went to the bed and gathered the patchwork quilt into her arms. When she turned to face him, she expected him to kiss her, so when his warm hand clasped hers, she was surprised.
“Follow me,” he said softly as he guided her out the bedroom door. He slipped his arm around her waist as they strolled toward the atrium, the quilt bundled in her arms.
“Where are we going?” Evie asked as they moved through the garden.
“To a romantic spot where I can make love to you tonight.”
“I’m still mad at you, remember?” she said in a flirty way.
“But you want to kiss-and-make-up, right?” he said as he ran his finger down her cleavage. “And makeup sex is the hottest sex there is.”
Evie’s blood simmered up another couple of degrees as he led her along one of the winding paths through the palm trees and orchids to the waterfall. He took the quilt from her arms and moved away from her.
She stilled for a moment, watching as moonlight bounced and glimmered off the ribbons of water splashing down the rough edges of the rocks. Trying to quiet her thundering heart, she focused on the rhythm of the water, watching as a fat drop plopped onto a broad green leaf and shattered like bits of glass.
While she inhaled the mingled scents of roses and wild flowers, Max spread the quilt over the thick carpet of grass, stained silver by the floating moon. Straightening, he pulled off his shirt and kicked off his boots.
Moonlight loved him, caressed him as she wanted to do. His broad shoulders and muscled chest moved with each breath he took. His face seemed carved by light and shadow, the high cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the sensual line of his upper lip.
He came to her, not saying a word. She felt his fingertips under her chin as he raised her face for hi
s kiss. The tip of his tongue licked her lips, slid inside.
Her breathing came hard now, and so did his. She felt the pulse of his breath against her open mouth, until he lowered his head, closing the gap, sealing their mouths together in a heated blast of sensation.
In the back of her throat she felt a moan, a dull sound that vibrated through them both. He broke the kiss.
She felt his fingers on her waist, his hands under her gown, his palms on her breasts. In one swift movement he tugged her nightgown up and off.
“Evie,” he whispered as he looked at her in the moonlight. “Your body was made for lovemaking. For my hands on you, my mouth…”
He bent and kissed her collarbone, then ran his tongue across her skin and down one breast until he reached her peaked nipple. He suckled it until she wanted to scream.
She eased her hands over his hard chest and down until she reached the top button on his jeans. Popping it open, she let her hands move inside, shoving the fabric along as she went. Reaching around, she rubbed her hands over his butt, grasping the firm flesh, pulling his hips into hers. He groaned into her mouth.
In another moment he was naked. He went down on his knees, taking her with him onto the quilt. She parted her thighs, and he set himself between them as though they had done this a thousand times, as though he knew her body perfectly, as though she knew the moves he would make before he made them.
Arching over her, he bent his head and kissed her, making love to her mouth the way she knew he would make love to her body. Against her belly, she felt his erection, and it excited her to know she could make him respond to her so… enthusiastically.
Slipping her hands downward, she grasped him, curling her fingers around him. He choked her name, his hips rolling wildly as she stroked him.
“Have to slow down,” he panted. “You make me crazy.”
Pulling back, he fumbled for his jeans pocket. She heard him tear open the packet.
“Here,” she said, taking it from him. “Let me.”
Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie Page 22
