"I said scat!" Ms. Mencina hissed, as if she were talking to a stray tabby with a bad attitude. "All of you, get out. Mr. Lowe needed rest before you got here, and now he needs a heck of a lot more. I hope you're all proud of what you've done."
Kitty knew better than to fight back. Instead, she smiled at her father and gave him a wave as she turned toward the door. "Feel better, Martin. I'll see you soon," she promised.
Then she fled with Max right behind her before she could be crushed like the bug the nurse clearly thought she was.
As soon as she stepped into the hallway, the headache she'd forgotten in her anger came rushing back like a locomotive, nearly dropping her to her knees. She heard Max swear and felt his arm come around her to steady her. Gratitude flooded her until she wanted to weep with relief. God, it felt like her skull was being split in two, and she couldn't remember ever being this tired. Not even in college when she'd stayed up all night cramming for finals.
Leaning against his reassuring strength, she barely even noticed when Nadia pushed by them and marched toward the front door, her nose so high in the air, she'd have drowned if it started to rain. But Kitty wasn't too tired to notice the look of pure, malevolent hatred Drusilla shot her way as she followed her daughter out to the drive.
If Kitty had been capable of it, that look might actually have made her shudder.
"Come on," Max rumbled, urging her forward. "I can tell your headache is back. I brought your pain pills with us. You can take one as soon as we get to the car. There's a bottle of water in there, too."
Kitty didn't even bother to nod. She stopped trying to fight the exhaustion and let her eyes drift closed. The room seemed to be swaying around her and she'd hoped that closing her eyes would make the disconcerting sensation go away, but instead it just got worse. Maybe it was her swaying, not the room. Her eyes cracked open to confirm this.
Immediately, Max's angry expression vanished, crowded out by one of concern. "Come on, kitten. It's been a hell of a weekend for you, hasn't it?" He shifted his arm around her waist and tugged her to him, cradling her against his side. "I think we need to get you somewhere quiet where you can lay down for a while. You could use a nap."
He looked even more concerned when she didn't put up so much as a token protest. She just let him half-guide and half-carry her out to the car and buckle her carefully into the passenger seat before he hurried around the hood and slid behind the wheel.
"I'm going to fall asleep," she mumbled, her head lolling back against the leather headrest, her words slightly slurred. "Wake me when we get to the hotel. Don't want you carrying me through the lobby again. People stare."
The engine turned over smoothly, the powerful car purring around them. "Don't worry, kitten," he soothed, shifting into gear. "We aren't going back to the hotel. I know somewhere closer where you won't be disturbed."
Kitty didn't answer. She was too busy falling asleep.
DEAR GOD, WHAT EXACTLY HAD SHE HAD TO DRINK last night?
Waking up with a pounding headache worse than the only hangover she'd ever had, Kitty lifted a hand to her temple and moaned. Someone should just kill her. It would be more merciful.
Disturbingly, it was the thought of being killed that jogged her memory. Her hand flopped back onto her pillow, and she rolled over to bury her face alongside it.
How on earth had she gotten into this situation? For twenty-four years, Kitty had managed to live a peaceful life in which no one ever wanted to kill her. Now, in less than two days, she could think of at least three people who probably wanted to, one who'd threatened it, and at least two—depending on whether or not she'd been right about the guy in the SUV being the same one from the airport—who had actually attempted it.
"Dear Lord," she muttered into the fluffy down and silky soft cotton, "I swear on Your holy name that I will never again wish for more excitement in my life."
"Amen."
Lifting her head up, she looked back over her shoulder to see Max standing in the door of the bedroom. He had one shoulder propped up against the rough timber of the door frame, and he smiled as he watched her. The sleeves of his shirt had been unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms, and the tails has been untucked and left to hang loose over a pair of disreputable faded blue jeans she could have sworn he hadn't been wearing when they left the hotel this morning.
Of course, now that she took a look around, Kitty realized the bed she was in wasn't one she remembered from the hotel, either.
Bunching the pillow under her chest, she looked around her and frowned. She'd lay money on the fact that this room did not exist inside the Savannah Hotel and Casino. First off, it was way too small, almost a normal size by Kitty's standards. The king-sized bed she currently occupied took up most of the space, leaving just enough room around the perimeter for a walnut-colored dresser that owed its rich patina more to age than the designer staining, two small, equally aged nightstands, and enough room to make the bed without personal injury.
The bed itself was covered with luxurious cotton sheets softened by many washings and a hand-stitched quilt in a mariner's compass in warm, dark shades of burgundy and blue. The headboard had been pieced together from narrow slats of walnut, and that fitted into a top molding that looked as if it had been carved lovingly by hand.
The whole room looked lovingly assembled and decorated, from the tight-fitting logs that made up the walls to the furniture and even the small piece of braided rag rug she could see on the polished wooden floor. It was a room Kitty actually could imagine feeling comfortable in, at home in, and she frowned as she tried to remember how she'd gotten there.
"I thought we were going back to the hotel?" she said, puzzled.
Max shook his head. "I thought it might be a good idea for us to stick closer to your father's house for a little bit. Besides, you made me promise not to carry you into the hotel, so I carried you in here instead." His grin flashed through the dimness.
"Where's here?" she demanded. Then the dim light registered. The bedroom was nearly dark, the only light spilling in soft and golden from the other side of the open door. "What time is it?"
"It's after seven," he said easily. "You slept a good five hours, but I'm guessing you needed it. You nearly passed out before I got you into the car back at the house. And here is my cabin. It's on your father's land about ten or fifteen minutes' drive from the house."
"What are we doing here?"
"Like I said, it's closer to Martin in case there's any more trouble or in case you want to see him again, and it's a lot more private than the hotel. More comfortable, too, I think. I figured that after this morning and that run-in with Dru and the kids, you'd be happier staying where things are less… crowded."
"And complicated," she muttered.
"Exactly." Grinning, he strolled to the end of the bed and twitched the blankets over her feet. "Tonight, we're keeping it simple. Just the basic biological necessities satisfied. You slept; now we'll eat. Hungry?"
Right on cue, her stomach rumbled. Kitty blushed.
Max grinned. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on. Get out of bed and come join me for dinner."
She sat up and pushed her hair back, then threw back the covers with a grimace. "I'll be right behind you. Speaking of biological necessities, there's something else I need to take care of before we eat. Which way is the bathroom?"
He chuckled and pointed her in the right direction, then headed back toward the other room. "Don't take too long," he warned. "Food's getting cold."
Kitty hurried to the toilet and washed her hands, taking an extra second to splash water over her face. Maybe it would wash away the last of the sleep fog. Patting her face dry with a fluffy white hand towel, she stared into the mirror above the sink. She didn't look so different from a month ago, but no matter how hard she tried to deny it, already Kitty could feel something inside her shifting. She might wish otherwise, but she was no longer the same woman she'd been before that car accident, before the letter. Before
this trip.
Before Max.
Making a face, Kitty turned away from the mirror and tucked the towel back onto the rack. She had enough to deal with at the moment without letting her mind wander back to those kisses. Besides, he'd promised her dinner and, quite frankly, she was starving. Time enough to worry about her new surrealistic world later. After she'd eaten.
The cabin was cozy, not a hint of a draft creeping in from between the logs, but Kitty still found herself shivering and wrapped her arms around herself as she made her way through the bedroom and followed Max's trail out into the cabin.
She needn't have worried about getting lost.
It looked like Max hadn't been speaking in understatement when he'd called the building a cabin. Aside from the bedroom with its attached bath, it looked as if the main room was the only other room in the dwelling. On her left, she saw a small, efficient kitchen area with a tiny dining table perfect for two and maybe big enough for four, providing everyone seated there was good friends. The outside door was straight ahead opposite the bedroom, and the living area stretched out to the right, just big enough for an oversized sofa, a battered armchair, an old wooden rocker, and a scarred coffee table. A fire roared in the fieldstone hearth, and Kitty moved toward it instinctively, drawn by the warmth.
"Cold?" Max asked, coming up behind her and closing his hands over the skin of her arms, bare beneath her T-shirt's short sleeves. "You're shivering. Stay right there."
Since she had no inclination to move away from the fire, Kitty obeyed, staring into the flames while Max went back into the bedroom. She heard drawers opening and closing; then he reemerged holding a huge flannel shirt so well-worn, the stripes in the plaid seemed to run together in a solid wash of blues and grays.
He returned to his place behind her, shaking out the garment and holding it open while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The thing was ridiculously big on her, the tails dangling to her knees and the shoulder seams hanging near her elbows, but the fabric felt soft and worn and blessedly insulating, enveloping her in a fuzzy cotton shield against the cold.
"Thanks." She smiled, busying herself with pulling up the cuffs and rolling them up until the tips of her fingers finally emerged from the cloth. "I was kind of chilly. That always seems to happen when I nap."
Max said nothing, just took her by the shoulders and gently turned her to face him. He tugged on the collar and tucked flaps into place, then slid his hands under her hair and pulled the long strands out from under the shirt to let them fall behind her back in a shining mantle.
Her fingers fumbled on the cuffs and she looked up, her eyes wide, taking in the sight of him, burnished in the firelight, his expression warm and almost tender as he smoothed her hair and tucked the sides carefully behind her ears.
"I think it looks better on you than it ever did on me," he murmured, letting his hands slide over her shoulders and down her arms in a caress that made Kitty's shivers return with a vengeance. Only this time, they had nothing to do with cold.
His tone told Kitty that whatever he was imagining, she didn't want to hear about it. Not if she wanted to retain the power of speech. And thought. And probably motion as well.
Nervously, she cleared her throat and blushed again when her stomach punctuated the quiet with another demanding rumble.
Max laughed. "Come on. I can hear where your priorities lie at the moment. Let me feed you before you fall over."
He held her chair for her and settled her at the table, then opened the door to the oven and pulled out two heavy stoneware plates piled with food.
Kitty felt her eyes go wide as he set one in front of her and took his own seat across the table. He'd prepared what looked like a perfectly grilled steak, so obviously juicy it made her mouth water just to look at it. Accompanying that, she found a buttery baked potato and bright, crisp green beans. Her fork was in her hand before she got over the first whiff of the tantalizing aromas. "Wow. You must stay here a lot to have the place so well supplied. I'm impressed."
Max shrugged and sliced a bite of steak. "Not as much as I'd like to, actually. This stuff is all basics. The steak and vegetables keep for a long time in the freezer, and things like potatoes and onions do pretty well in the root cellar." He grinned at her a touch wickedly. "If you find this impressive, I can't wait until you taste my omelets."
Kitty's gaze dropped to her plate. Having him make her breakfast was not something she felt comfortable contemplating right then. Instead, she sipped from the glass of red wine at the top of her plate and raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose this keeps for years in the wine cellar?"
"Actually, it's really just the root cellar, but yeah, it does okay."
He looked so smug and so pleased with himself that all Kitty could do was shake her head and apply herself to the delicious meal. When she pushed back from the table half an hour later, her stomach was pleasantly full of food and her head pleasantly fuzzed with wine. She wasn't drunk—she'd only had a little more than a glass—but she definitely felt a lot more relaxed than she had for at least twenty-four hours.
"That was delicious," she said, smiling at Max over the rim of her wineglass. "Thank you so much."
"It was my pleasure."
When he reached across the table to take her plate, Kitty smacked his hand. "Uh-uh. No touching."
"Kitten, it's empty," he pointed out, clearly amused. "If you're still hungry, I'll have to see what else I can find for you, but you won't be eating it off this plate. Let me have it."
She scowled at him playfully. "I'm stuffed, if you must know, but you are not going to clean up after me. House rules: he who cooks doesn't do dishes. I'll take care of it."
"I think you're forgetting something, kitten."
"What?"
He stood and leaned over until his breath tickled her skin when he spoke. "This is my house," he murmured, his eyes glinting. "I get to make the rules."
Then he brushed a kiss over her parted lips and whisked her plate away while she was still trying to get her head to stop spinning.
Oh, Lord, she was in such serious trouble. Her reaction to him only got worse and worse every time he came within three feet of her. At this rate, she'd be tripping him and beating him to the floor before another day went by.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Max looked up from where he stacked dishes in the sink and smiled at her. Wickedly.
Kitty narrowed her eyes. "Not a thing. You must have been mistaken."
"Hmm. I guess." But he winked at her as he filled the sink with water and dish soap.
Whose brilliant idea had it been to unleash that man on an unsuspecting female populace? Kitty wondered, pushing back her chair and neatening the table just to give herself something to do. Other than stare at Max's very appealing behind as he industriously soaped and rinsed.
When the crumbs had been deposited in the trash and the salt- and pepper shakers were lined up like little ceramic soldiers—which took all of about twenty seconds—Kitty gave up and joined him at the sink, picking up the clean dish towel she spotted sitting folded on top of the microwave. She plucked a handful of silverware out of the drying rack and set to work.
Max glanced at her and shook his head. "You don't have to do that. There isn't much here. I grilled the steaks outside, and the potatoes baked in the oven right in their skins. This will only take me a few minutes. Why don't you take your wine into the living room and relax for a bit?"
"If I get any more relaxed, I'm going to fall asleep again."
"Good. I find the sound of your snoring very soothing." He plucked the utensils out of her hand and snapped the end of the dish towel against her bottom. "Now, scat."
"I do not snore," Kitty grumbled, but she took her wine and did as she was told.
She quickly discovered that the sofa was just as comfortable as it looked. The overstuffed arms and the soft, plush fabric of the cushions beckoned invitingly and she stretched out on her side with her sock-clad feet pointed toward the fire.
A few minutes of staring into the flames and she found herself beginning to drift into a contented doze just as she'd predicted.
Dishes clinked and silverware clattered softly in the background as Max finished cleaning up after their meal. The sound provided a homely accompaniment to the crackle of the logs in the hearth, emphasizing the impression she'd had in the bedroom that this cabin was a place she could really feel at ease in. Unlike the luxurious hotel room and her father's sprawling designer mansion, she could imagine this little cabin tucked up in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains back home. She could imagine herself being content in a place like this, a cozy, simple little cabin perfect for sharing with a lover.
The wine, the sofa, and the fire conspired to send her into a peaceful trancelike state where nothing could possibly disturb her. She wasn't asleep. She could still hear Max moving around, the fire spitting, and the wind moving around the outside of the windows, but her eyes had drifted shut and she couldn't think of a single good reason to open them.
When the cushion behind her dipped and she felt Max settle onto the sofa beside her, she also couldn't think of a good reason to protest. He gathered her up in his arms and lifted her, stretching out where she'd been lying and depositing her in his lap. She found herself oddly disinclined to protest and simply let her head rest against his chest as he cuddled her close with one arm and sipped his wine from the other hand.
"I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were going to fall back to sleep," he teased a minute later, his breath ruffling her hair.
"Told you so." She forced her eyes open and looked into the fire, her mind still just a little too hazy for her to remember why she ought to be protesting this closeness. "I had an exhausting day, if you'll recall."
"I do." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Kitty felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I wore myself out just watching. I don't know many girls who can get hit by a car in the morning and then hold their own against a pride of nasty she-cats in the afternoon."
Walk on the Wild Side Page 18
