Here Comes Trouble

by Leslie Kelly

  Damn. He really didn’t want the interference.

  He especially regretted it when he turned the intruder’s face toward Sabrina. The moonlight and other outside lights gave her a clear view and she gasped. “Peter.”

  A red, hazy cloud of rage filled his vision. “That’s it, you bastard, you’re dead.”

  He drew back his arm, ready to pound the guy through the floorboards, but Sabrina grabbed his fist. “Let him be arrested.”

  “Your feet,” he snapped, not even looking over his shoulder at her.

  Peter’s eyes bugged out, which was when Max finally jerked his head to look over his shoulder. Sabrina stood there, stark naked, the sheet bunched up on the deck floor beneath her, protecting her toes. But nothing protected the rest of her body.

  Bare skin and rage looked really good on this woman.

  But the fact that Peter was staring at her too made that red cloud come back, and Max crunched his knee down a little harder, until the man whimpered.

  “He’s not worth it. Let the police take care of it.”

  “She’s right,” a voice said.

  Looking up, he saw Allie standing on the end of the porch, obviously having come out the kitchen door. “We heard the noise.”

  Wonderful. His grandfather was right behind her, watching wide-eyed. He was practically bouncing on his toes, looking ready to leap right into the fight. Of course, Max would be willing to bet he had also snuck a peek or two at Sabrina. Max certainly would have, eighty or not.

  Man, I am gonna be him someday.

  Her sister slipped out of her bathrobe and tossed it over. Catching it in midair, Sabrina put it on and tied the sash tight around her waist. “Thanks.” Then she sneered at Peter. “Let the police take him and throw him in jail. It’s where he belongs.”

  The pig on the floor glared and sputtered. “You fucking bitch. You and your stupid cunt sister can go to hell.”

  Max ground his knee harder, that red cloud bursting into his brain again. “I’m gonna break your jaw for that.”

  Sabrina grabbed his arm again. “No. Breaking and entering. Attempted burglary. If he’s got any kind of weapon, that might even be considered home invasion, right?” she asked, her voice cold and steady as she stared hard at the man who’d messed with the wrong sisters.

  Peter stopped wriggling. Max lowered his fist.

  “Sure might,” Allie said, coming closer—though not too close. A gust of wind blew through the porch like a wind tunnel, causing Allie’s flowing nightgown to press hard against her big stomach. Peter, looking like a cowardly trapped animal, appeared completely unmoved by the image.

  “Not something any court of law would look kindly on in a custody case, I think,” Allie added.

  Max immediately got it. If he beat the shit out of this man, the charges against him might be muddied by his physical condition. And for Allie and Sabrina, having him charged—giving him a record—was the best thing that could possibly happen.

  He considered. Weighed the options. Knew what he would have done a few years ago. He also wondered what his brothers would do in this situation.

  Morgan probably would have gotten the guy to sign an agreement that he’d never bother the sisters, then turned him over to the police.

  Mike probably would have bashed his head in.

  Max, however, did the only thing he could. Slowly removing his knee, he grabbed Peter Prescott and jerked him to his feet, twisting his hands behind his back. He walked the man down the stairs to the lawn, directly toward the twirling blue lights of the car coming up the driveway. And when Chief Joe Bennigan stepped out of that car, he shoved Prescott right over.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “YOU’RE SURE you don’t mind missing the Founder’s Day festival?” Max asked Saturday morning.

  Sabrina tapped the tip of her finger on her cheek, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, mingling with maniacal old ladies, nudist inn-owners, gossipy waitresses and murderous hoteliers versus lying here in this bed with you, naked, having the best sex of my life?”

  “Life’s full of tough choices.”

  “But this is not one of them,” she said with a laugh. Wrapping her arms around Max’s neck, she drew him close for another deep, slow kiss, like the several they’d shared since returning to bed after seeing the others off this morning.

  They were in Max’s bed, in the high turret room of the house, alone and happy to have it that way. Mortimer and Allie had gone off just after breakfast to the town festival. Allie had been nearly out of her mind with excitement over the possibility of being named Miss Trouble. And Mortimer looked forward to strutting around the crowd amid the whispers of his ménage a trois with the Feeney sisters.

  Don’t go there.

  Definitely not. She’d much rather be here. Safe in Max’s strong arms—away from any prying eyes, which was why she and Allie had moved out of the tent yesterday.

  She’d slept in Max’s arms for the past two nights and couldn’t think of anyplace that would have felt more right. Including home.

  Unfortunately, however, home was where she had to go. Real life—in the form of her boss—had intruded yesterday. Nancy had called Friday afternoon, providing good news and bad.

  The bad news was that Sabrina was out of vacation time and had to get back on the job. Pronto. As in Monday.

  But she didn’t want to think about that right now.

  The good news had been a bit of a silver lining, at least. Grace Wellington was engaged. She’d reeled in a rich fish, one with a high-society family. Not wanting her in-laws to read stories about her participating in the kind of activities usually reserved for the pages of Penthouse, she’d demanded to buy back the rights to her book.

  That was good news on a lot of fronts. Mainly on the Max front. Because now she didn’t have to worry about him being publicly maligned in Grace’s sordid memoir. His life would not be affected by a spoiled woman’s embellishments and lies.

  It amazed her that she could have believed them—had honestly believed he was the man Grace had made him out to be.

  Now, she knew better. The man who, Thursday night, had put aside his own rage and fury to do what was best for Allie…the man who’d made such sweet love to her in the tent…who’d shared his most painful memories in order to help Sabrina deal with her own pain—well, he was not the man Grace had invented.

  The whole incident had left Sabrina feeling slightly uncomfortable—dirty almost. She’d been a part of something that could have ruined the reputation of the man she now knew she loved.

  It truly made her rethink what she had done. And made her anxious to go out to the tent, get the copy of the manuscript from her briefcase and put a match to the whole thing.

  With Grace’s book not being published, Sabrina knew her chances of a possible promotion at Liberty Books had diminished. But since Allie had steamed full speed ahead in taking responsibility for her own life, it just didn’t seem to matter as much.

  Though still saddened by her sister’s decision, Sabrina had to admit to feeling a certain pride in Allie. She’d already officially agreed to become an employee of Max’s grandfather’s corporation, complete with benefits, like health insurance.

  She’d also agreed it was time to stop acting like a scared kid and try once more to reach out to their mother. Though they hadn’t been able to get her on the phone yesterday, they’d left her a message, each telling her how much they loved her and how they hoped someday to see her again.

  That was all they could do. It was in Mom’s hands now.

  “What are you thinking?” Max asked as he twirled her hair around his fingers.

  Oh, what she was thinking. About her regrets…her sorrow…her fears. She regretted having to leave him. She was sorry—so very sorry—for deceiving him. And she greatly feared she would never in her lifetime love anyone the way she loved Max Taylor.

  Loving, she knew, meant more than great sex and laughter and magnificent plane rides. If anything, talking A
llie into reaching out to their mother had taught Sabrina one thing: you couldn’t hide from the people you loved. You had to take chances, to count on them to understand—forgive. Reach back. That love was worth the risk of having your heart broken.

  Max had had his heart broken. Sabrina did not want to be the one to do it to him again.

  But she had to be honest with him. Completely honest. Then, if she made him understand—could make him see how genuinely sorry she was about having deceived him—perhaps she could also make him believe that she loved him. And that they could have a future together.

  She didn’t know how, considering she’d told Nancy she’d be back at work on Monday. But she had to try. “I need to talk to you about something,” she said, wondering how to find the words.

  “About how many times you came last night? I’m sorry. I know it was only twice,” he said, cupping her waist possessively. “I’ll do better next time.”

  “No,” she said with a giggle. “I’m serious.”

  “I don’t want to be serious. Thursday night was about as serious as I want to get.”

  She had to agree. “Have you heard anything more about him?”

  “As of last night he was cooling his heels in the town jail on breaking and entering and attempted burglary charges.” His smile was devoid of humor. “Seems there’s only one lawyer in Trouble and he declined to take Mr. Prescott’s case.”

  She could just imagine why.

  “So it might be a while before he can get out. They have to bring in a public defender from Weldon.”

  “Excellent.”

  “In the meantime,” he added, “we’ve got that one lawyer in Trouble working on getting a restraining order to keep Peter off this property and away from you, Allie or her baby.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “He won’t bother you again, I promise.”

  There was no logical way Max could keep that promise, but somehow, she knew he would. He would not let anything happen to harm Allie or the baby any more than he’d let anyone get close enough to hurt Mortimer again. Not even the Feeney sisters.

  “Thank you, Max.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “But I have to talk to you about something else.”

  He nibbled her neck, as always the touch of his mouth on her skin making her brain fuzzy and her muscles weak. “Tell me how much you want me.”

  More than anything.

  “Tell me you’re dying for me.”

  No doubt about it.

  “Tell me you’ll come to California with me next week.”

  She froze. She couldn’t have heard that, right? Max hadn’t just made some kind of suggestion that they continue their relationship past this crazy, wild vacation in Trouble, had he?

  “What are you…?”

  “Come with me, Sabrina,” he whispered. “Come fly with me.”

  Fly with him. Oh, God, she wanted to. And if it were really that simple—if she’d been the normal, honest person she’d presented herself to be, she would have leaped upon the man, kissing every inch of his face and telling him she’d never let him out of her sight.

  She wasn’t that woman.

  “Max, I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think,” he ordered, pinning her tight. He kissed her neck and her jaw, nibbled his way down her collarbone, then began to tickle her bare middle.

  She giggled, unable to help it. “Stop.”

  “Say you’ll come.” He tickled some more.

  “Max, I mean it,” she said, her voice so weak she knew he couldn’t possibly believe her. Hell, she didn’t believe herself.

  “I’ll talk you into it if I have to. I’m very persuasive.”

  Oh, no doubt of that.

  “Did I tell you I have a beautiful house on the beach? Perfect place for a writer—you can sit on the patio looking at the ocean and write to your heart’s content.”

  Oh, it sounded amazing. Perfect. If she’d really been in the position to do it, she’d have said yes in a heartbeat.

  But she couldn’t, not without making the biggest admission of her life. An admission that could cost her the one thing she wanted most in her life: him.

  Knowing she needed some physical distance, she wriggled out from under him, rolling away. And promptly fell to the floor. “Ow,” she yelped.

  He immediately shot out of bed to help her. “You okay?”

  She wasn’t sure. The wind had definitely been knocked out of her when she landed on the hard wood. Not to mention she was lying here on her stomach, bare-ass naked, beside a man with whom she really needed the upper hand right now. Not easy considering he was kneeling right beside her, also naked. Deliciously—accessibly—naked, his thick, glorious sex just about level with her face. He must have seen her eyeing him, because his body began to react in a way that made her mouth water and her body dampen.

  But even as she reached out to play with some of that oh-so-accessible male yumminess, something under the bed caught her eye. It glistened, winked. A sparkle of light flashing quickly and then disappearing. “There’s something under here,” she said, blinking and staring under the old-fashioned double bed.

  “Why don’t you crawl under and I’ll watch your back for you?” he asked, his tone absolutely lascivious.

  She really didn’t care about the sparkle, but she did like the naughty tone in his voice. Max was so incredibly playful—in bed and out of it. And Sabrina had discovered she really liked to play.

  Chuckling, she shimmied under the bed, reaching for the little sparkle. Max’s hand immediately moved to her butt, caressing, stroking, driving her wild. When he moved it around so he could playfully cup her cheek, then slide his fingers between her legs to toy with her, she nearly said to heck with it and backed out from under the bed so she could take him right now. “You’re distracting me,” she said with a groan, seeing the sparkle again, about a foot away from her fingertips.

  “Good. Don’t give up. Keep looking. I’ll handle things…back here.”

  She closed her eyes while he stroked and caressed her, moaning deep in her throat at how good his hands were. He thoroughly massaged her, gently squeezing her backside, kneading the muscles in her legs, all the way down to the soles of her feet. And she just remained there in a boneless heap, half her body stuck under a bed, loving every minute of it.

  When he began working his way back up her legs, she finally opened her eyes. The shiny object—so stark on the broad, pitted expanse of the wooden floorboards—remained slightly out of reach, but she’d obviously writhed a bit closer during Max’s erotic massage.

  She strained a bit more, her fingers finally reaching it. But when Max’s mouth replaced his hand on that delicate bit of skin where the back of her thigh met her bottom, she gasped and twisted, watching as the thing skittered an inch farther.

  “You are so evil.”

  “You so don’t want me to stop, though,” he murmured, his mouth moving between her legs, covering her from this amazingly sexy, wicked angle.

  She didn’t. Oh, no, she didn’t. Instead, she gave herself over to the incredible sensations. His hands on her hips, he tilted her up to gain access to her hot, wet core, and made thorough love to her with his tongue. Shaking and moaning, Sabrina quickly felt tremors of delight rolling through her. Reaching her climax quickly, she jerked and gasped. When she could breathe again, she realized the sparkly thing she’d been looking for was now between her fingers.

  Catching it, she slid backward—Max’s hands on her legs to help her, then between them to arouse her all over again. Once out from under the bed, she saw that he’d already taken care of protection. She crawled onto his lap right there on the floor, taking him into her body with one hard thrust.

  “Thanks for watching my back,” she muttered through choppy breaths.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  They stopped talking, able only to pound and writhe. Max took hold of her legs, wrapping them around his waist, then stood up and leaned her back against the wall. He drove into her so deep Sabr
ina could only scream at the pleasure of it, her fingers digging tightly into his shoulders as she hung on for the ride.

  Soon crying out his own release, he turned back to the bed and lowered them both onto it, careful to roll to his side to avoid crushing her. They panted heavily for a few moments, Sabrina wondering how on earth she was ever going to survive without him once she left here.

  “I think you drew blood with those nails,” he said with a shaky laugh.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry!” She sat up to peer over his shoulder, tugging him toward her so she could examine his back. He seemed to like the position, judging by the way he immediately covered her nipple with his mouth and lazily sucked it.

  “Mmm,” she moaned. Then she carefully touched the small red scratch on his back—just one, and not a bad one at all. But at the end of it, something shiny was stuck into his skin. “Not from my nails.” She plucked the object free. “It’s the sparkly thing from under the bed.”

  He sighed and tugged her back into his arms, her head tucked under his chin. “What is it, a straight pin?”

  Sabrina looked at the object, at first thinking it was a piece of broken glass. But as she brought it closer and shifted it to catch the brilliant sunlight coming in through the front window, she saw dozens of flashes of light dancing around the room.

  “What the hell?” he asked, immediately pulling away so he could see better. “Is that…”

  “Yes,” she murmured, knowing what the pea-size, faceted thing she held in her hands truly was. “It’s a diamond.”

  For a brief second, her heart stopped and wonder coursed through her mind—was Max proposing?

  No. It was too soon—he’d never even told her how he felt about her, at least not with words.

  Besides, if the thing had been set in a ring, she could see him doing something playful and sexy like luring her under a bed so he could have his wicked way with her. But it was loose—and a little dusty. Like it had been there a long time.

  “Do you have any idea how this got here?” she asked.