A Shadow on the Ground (21 page)

“—it sounds like Harlan was King of the Silver Foxes. Or King of The Little Blue Pill.” He laughed. “And judging from the dazed look on your face, this is a fact you did not know.”

“No. I didn’t know he and Peach were sleeping together.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much sleeping was involved, but they were definitely doing things together. Fun things, as it turns out. Until Peach decided that if Harlan wouldn’t let her move into his house and play house, she could at least make a tidy profit blackmailing him. Of course, in order for her to collect, he had to be dead first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seems Harlan was a little strapped for cash, so instead of paying Peach to keep her mouth shut about the fun things they were doing, and not blab the sordid details to the Cherokee Bluff Chamber of Commerce and the Higher Ground Baptist Church, where Harlan served as a deacon
and
a charter member of the ethics committee, he promised to change his will to include her.”

“I’ll bet that’s what she and Ethan were arguing about.”

“No doubt. Which brings me to the last voicemail sent the morning of his death.”

“From Opal.”

“Opal was a little more discreet than Peach, but I think she was benefitting from the old guy’s Viagra prescription, too.” He laughed again. “Close your mouth, honey, before a fly lands on your tongue.”

“I can’t believe it. Sean suspected their relationship had crossed the
friends
line. But not me. How naïve am I?”

“Geezer sex, and lots of it, is one of the best kept secrets of the Senior Citizen Brigade. One of the things I loved most about being a PI was all those fascinating secret lives I got to unearth.”

“What did Opal say? Exactly?”

“She said she’d been praying about it, and had decided to forgive Harlan for—and I quote—‘having relations with that slut I paid to take care of my husband.’ She also reminded him that he’d promised they would be together as soon as she was a widow, and even though he’d strayed with said slut, she expected him to honor that promise or she would make him damned sorry he didn’t. She also said she was bringing him his favorite cake.”

“Jam cake with caramel icing. It was on the kitchen counter.”

“Had he eaten any of it?”

“I don’t think so. It was still in the cake carrier. I recognized it has hers the minute I saw it. Sean and I wondered if she accidentally put something in the cake to make him hemorrhage?”

“Accidentally? Well, maybe. He was taking a blood thinner. All kinds of things can thin somebody’s blood: over-the-counter supplements, fish oil, alcohol. I don’t know what she could have slipped into the cake batter to make him hemorrhage that fast, though, do you?” Morgan stared at the bucket of apple pulp. “Morgan?”

She looked up. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the image of Opal and Harlan going at it like a couple of squirrels.”

“Squirrels?”

“Don’t ask.”

Gage laughed. “Well, all I can say is, hats off, Harlan! And thank God for glucosamine. I could have used some last night.” He lowered his head and smiled. “You do remember last night, don’t you?”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

“You mean the way you lured me into your bed? Nice trick—pulling Peach out of a burning building, then going into shock so I'd have to crawl in and warm you up.”

“You didn't crawl in my bed. You crawled
on
my bed.” Her eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Did you say I lured you? What the hell are you talking about?” She kicked an apple peel at him with the toe of her boot. “
Lured
you? You wish.”

“I do wish,” he said softly. He took the bucket out of her hand and placed it on the worktable. Then he slid one arm around her waist and pulled her to him, never letting his gaze waver from hers. “I wish it with all my heart.”

“Gage, I—”

“
Shhhh
,” he whispered, smoothing the dark waves back from her face. He pressed his lips against her forehead, kissed the side of her face, the top of her cheek. “I think it's time to use those lips of yours for something besides talking.”

“You want me to whistle?”

He captured her mouth with his. Exactly the same way she'd done to him the night before.

Morgan wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close. The sweet scent of apples permeated the air, clung to her clothes and skin. Her lips tasted of cider. “You've been sampling the goods.” he said, kissing her again. He could feel her lips curl into a smile.

“Damn straight,” she murmured, opening her mouth, letting him inside. Her eyes blinked, then opened halfway, watching him like a cat planning its next move. He backed her across the floor and leaned her against the plank worktable, then ran his hands down the side of her cotton shirt until he found the waistband of her jeans. He encircled it with his hands and, in one swift motion, lifted her up and deposited her, sitting, on the edge of the table. Her rear end hit the plywood with a
plop
. A low, rasping giggle burbled up from her throat.

She was thawing.

He could feel it.

Since she'd let him in her bed for a convenient blast of body heat, an easiness had developed between them. He could hear it in her voice when she teased him, see it in the suggestive gleam in her eyes. The banter between them had become effortless and exciting. Her wit kept him on his toes. He’d never had to work so hard to keep up his end of a conversation, or had so much fun doing it. Believing she had let down her guard enough to be comfortable with him melted his heart. It gave him hope. And it had been a long time since his heart had dared to hope for much of anything.

Morgan pulled her mouth from his and tilted her head back. He took it as a cue to nuzzle the tender spot below her ear, then slowly trail kisses down her throat. First on one side then the other. She groaned and arched her back.

In Gage’s opinion, men who ignored a woman's neck were in too big of a hurry to hit pay dirt. He couldn't say it was his favorite body part, but after his divorce, when he’d sampled as many different women as he could, searching for the one who could turn his brain into a blank slate, all of them, except the one freaked out by vampires, loved having their necks kissed. Spending a few extra minutes kissing a girl’s throat could raise the heat level ten-fold.

Buttons were a different animal. He'd never been adept at managing them. His hands were too big, and when he could see second base slide into focus, nerves and impatience always got the better of him. He usually regressed into a skinny, hormone powered teenager who could shoot the moon just by looking at a bra, much less going spelunking for one. He fumbled with her shirt buttons and let his mouth slide across hers to distract her from his clumsiness. He slid open her collar and let his thumbs skim their way down the placket, across the flesh colored lace, to the soft swell of her breasts.

God, they were exquisite—white and creamy and yielding. Just as he'd remembered, only more voluptuous. A delicate sprinkling of freckles formed a subtle V at the base of her throat where her collar had spent the summer curled back, open to the sun. He raked his lips along the tops of her breasts and fought the urge to bury his face in them. He longed to release them, feel their weight in his hands as he stroked them, feel her nipples harden against his fingertips. Instead, he said, “You know that fifteen pounds you said you gained?”

“Yes.” She froze in his arms. Her hands loosened their grip on his shoulders.

“Well, don't ever lose them. You are the most beautiful, the most perfect—”

“Don't say anymore. You’re throwing ice water on a fire.”

“It's true. Even if you never let me near you again, it's still true.”

“You’re making me crazy,” she murmured before her lips found his again. “Gage, we’re in a barn. This isn’t a good place to....”

“
Dad!”
Jeremy shrieked.
“Dad, hurry!”

Gage spun around. Morgan grabbed the plastic bucket and held it in front of her chest.

“What's wrong?” Gage asked. “What’s happened?”

“It's Uncle Bert,” Jeremy cried. “Two guys are trying to beat the shit out of him.”

Chapter 13

The orchard looked like a scene from
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
.

Sean held Mendoza against the front grille of the pickup like a young Clint Eastwood, calmly listening to him spew obscenities in two languages. Finch lay sprawled on the ground beside Bert. The two Hispanic pickers stood over them, hands poised to hold them back if they went at each other again.

Finch wiped his bloody nose and scrambled to his feet. “Get out of my way,” he snarled, pushing one of the pickers aside.

“
Owww
,” Bert sniveled. “I think you broke my hand.”

“Get up, you fat slob, and fight like a man,” Finch shouted. “You owe me money.
Big
money. And I'm not leaving here until you give it to me.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Bert said. “You've botched job after job for me, so you can forget about getting paid.”

“We had a deal!” Finch said. “I need that money.”

“Nothing is in writing,” Bert said. “There were no witnesses. The terms we discussed will be my word against yours. You're not getting another red cent from me. Ever
.”

Finch paused. He squinted briefly at the sun, flicked an apple leaf off his dirt-streaked jacket, and shot his muddy cuffs. Then he let out a bloodcurdling scream and ran at Bert as if he were storming a castle. The pickers grabbed him midflight. “Let go of me!” Finch cried. “I want my money!”

“It's time for you and your friend to leave,” Gage said. “Unless you want me to have you arrested for assault and fraud. I can do that. I would
love
to do that.”

Finch pointed to Bert. “He's the fraud.”

“Can it,” Bert said.

“Morgan, don't you and Sean understand?” Finch pleaded. “
I'm
not the bad guy here. Bert’s been planning this for months. He wants to steal your land. He wants to plant a vineyard on the north slope and grow Chambourcin grapes. He thinks he can make millions.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Morgan said. “You need to grind your axe with Bert on his property. Go to the winery and fight him. Just leave us alone. You know, Larry, in some twisted way, I admire you. You've got a giant pair of brass balls showing up at our farm like this. But I’d say the chances of you collecting money from a man who tried to cheat his neighbors out of land that's been in their family for four generations are slim to none. In the future, you might want to choose your employers more carefully.”

Finch glared at her. Then he nodded to Mendoza, and Sean let him go. “I've always liked you, Miss Maguire.” He smiled, showing a row of tiny yellowed teeth. “Not only are you easy on the eyes, especially in a bathrobe, but you’re a cut above the other hicks in this town. Up until now, I’ve been nice. But I’m through being nice.” He smiled again. “I'm going to let you in on a little secret.” His triumphant gaze shifted to Bert. “Harlan Spannagel was not the good friend you thought he was.”

“Stop right there,” Sean said. “I won't have you talking trash about a man who—”

“Who what?” Finch scoffed. “Lied to you? Tried to destroy your business?”

“That's not true,” Sean said. “Harlan was like a father to me. He was my grandfather’s best friend. He cared about our family. He would never have done anything to hurt us.” He looked at Morgan. The sorrow on his face broke her heart. Maybe it was the twin-thing connecting her to his wavelength, but she was sure he was thinking of the day he'd found the two sets of accounts for Maguire Orchard beside Harlan's computer.

Finch looked at Bert cowering on the ground. “Tell them, you sniveling bag of muck. Tell them how much Harlan cared about them. They’re going to find out anyway. Tell them or I'll break your other hand.”

Bert pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. “Harlan was working for me, too. I was paying him to miss loan payments for the orchard, to siphon off capital, to let things slide into bankruptcy. To run your business into the ground. I’m begging you to forgive me, Gage. All I want is for you and Jeremy to come back and—”

“Get out,” Gage said. The knot in his jaw tightened. His fists clinched, and for a moment, Morgan thought he was going to smash them into Bert’s face. “You ruin lives, Bert. You tried to ruin mine, and my father’s, and the Maguire’s. But you are not going to ruin my son’s life. That is something you are not going to do.”

“No, Dad!” Jeremy cried. “Don't make him go! He didn't mean it. Please, Dad, let him stay. He's sorry. Aren't you, Uncle Bert? Aren't you sorry?”

Bert gazed at the boy sadly. “Yes, I am, Jeremy. I'm very sorry. But sometimes being sorry doesn't quite cut it. Right, Gage?”

Gage took Jeremy's hand.

“Dad, no!” Jeremy tried pull away. “Let me go. I hate you! I want to go back to Uncle Bert’s. Let go of me!
I hate you!
”

Without a word, Gage led the boy through the orchard gate and back up the hill.

Finch bunched a handful of Bert’s sleeve. “I meant what I said, old man. This isn't over.”

“It is for me,” Bert said.

Bert waited until Gage and Jeremy disappeared behind the house, then turned to Morgan. “Why aren’t you going after my nephew? He wants you. He's always wanted you. I’m sure you’re the reason he divorced Suzanne. If it hadn’t been for you, he might have made that girl happy. Then she wouldn’t have gone off the deep end. Then she’d still be alive.”

“Why are you blaming me?” Morgan asked. “Gage and I only spent one day together.”

“But you made one hell of an impression,” Bert sneered. “You thought you could trap him into marriage. But the funny part was he’d already been trapped by Suzanne, and didn't know it. Suzanne beat you to the punch. That girl was a go-getter.”

“What are you saying? That you admired Suzanne because she got pregnant first?”

“Don’t feel bad. I heard you got somebody else to marry you a week later.” He laughed harshly. “I knew you'd survive without getting your claws into my nephew. I knew it that night in the boathouse, and I know it now. Women like you always survive.”

“
Enough!
” Sean shouted. “I'm not a violent man, Mr. Kirkland, but if I ever hear you speak to my sister like that—or any woman—I will find you, and I will make an exception.”