The Rocky Road to Romance (9 page)

“I'm glad we went on that roller coaster just before leaving,” she said. “It was great.”

“You're made of stern stuff.”

“Don't ever forget it.”

He looked in the rearview mirror to make sure Schmidt's headlights were still steady behind him. “You're made of sterner stuff than Schmidt.”

“I really felt sorry for him when he got sick on his shoe. Do you think he gets a bonus for that sort of thing? You know, hazardous duty?”

“It was his own fault. He ate nine hot dogs today.”

“It's hard to believe we're going back to a house that's been firebombed. It seems like it happened years ago.”

Steve reached over for her hand. “You have to be careful for a while.”

Good advice, she decided. She had to be careful about lots of things. Steve Crow was at the head of the list. He was a hard man to resist, especially when she didn't want to resist in the first place. The truth is, she'd like nothing better than to go home and crawl into his bed for the night. Unfortunately, her little brother was underfoot. He was at an impressionable age, and she had no intention of setting a bad example for him. Her parents were due home at the end of the week, and she was almost done with her thesis. If she could just hang on a little bit longer…

If she hadn't been so lost in thought, she might have seen the car pull alongside. As it was, the first collision came as a shock. She felt herself jerked against the seat belt, heard the impact against the passenger-side door. Her hands reached out to the dash. Her mouth opened to scream.

Beside her Steve swore and fought to keep the car from veering into the median guardrail. They were on Interstate 95, outside of Woodbridge, and traffic was moderate—enough cars that a driver had to be aware, not so many cars that it was impossible to get run off the road. The car came at them again, and Daisy could hear the throaty roar of the V-8 as it pulled alongside. It was an old Cadillac, bigger and heavier than the SUV, and she realized the driver was jockeying for another hit.

Daisy instinctively moved left to be away from the door, her heart beating a painful staccato in her chest, her lungs burning with each breath. She turned to see if Schmidt was still behind them, but panic blurred her vision.

“What the devil's going on?” Elsie said, coming awake.

The car rammed them again, this time forcing them into the cement abutment that divided the highway, and there was the sickening sound of metal being ripped away before Steve was able to regain control.

“You son of a dog!” Elsie shouted at the
Cadillac. “You got a lot of nerve waking me up.” The SUV reverberated with a blast from Elsie's forty-five. The side window shattered, and Elsie knocked the rest of the glass out with the barrel of the gun. “Don't lose him,” she said to Steve. “I might not have got him good enough with that one. I don't usually aim for cars.” She leaned out the window and blasted away.

The Cadillac took off, weaving across a lane of traffic. Schmidt was close behind with a portable flasher clipped to his roof.

“He'll never catch him,” Elsie said, settling back in her seat. “That guy's got a Caddie, just like mine. You can't beat them Cadillacs.”

Schmidt's replacement was waiting for them when they pulled into Steve's driveway. “Looks like you've been in the demolition derby,” he said to Steve.

“Had a little problem on the way home.”

The man nodded. “I just spoke to Schmidt. They lost the guy at the Route 1 exit.”

“I'm not surprised,” Elsie said. “He was driving a Cadillac.”

“It was probably stolen,” the detective said.
“We got a make on it. Belongs to someone named Elsie Hawkins.”

There was dead silence while everyone turned to look at the curb where Elsie's Cadillac had been parked.

“If that don't beat all,” Elsie said. “I've been shooting at my own car. I thought it looked familiar.”

Steve thought stealing Elsie's car to run Daisy off the road showed a certain amount of creativity and a definite flare for the dramatic. It was almost as if this guy wanted publicity.

“Well I'm pretty upset,” Elsie said. “I was real attached to that car. I'm gonna go make myself a cup of tea and try to calm down or I'm gonna need a blood pressure pill.”

Kevin followed her into the house. “I'm going to call Noogie Macon and Billy Searles. They're not going to believe this. This has been so awesome. They thought it was something when the house got bombed…wait'll I tell them I've been in a shoot-out. They're gonna be so-o-o-o impressed.”

Steve and Daisy exchanged glances. “I need a drink,” Steve said. “Not tea.”

He went to the sideboard in the dining room and poured brandy into two crystal goblets. He handed one to Daisy and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “I'm going to invite you into my room for an hour of television and conversation. We'll leave the door open so no one under the age of fifteen gets the wrong idea, and we'll get quietly snockered.”

Bob followed them up the stairs, and the three of them climbed onto Steve's bed. Steve zapped the television on with the remote and lifted his glass. “We need a toast. To a day well done.”

“To fun.”

“To soft ice cream.”

“To roller coasters in the dark.”

He patted Bob on the head. “To man's best friend.”

“To toasters, flush toilets, adhesive tape, and the electric light.”

They clinked glasses and sipped their brandy.

“I'm not much of a drinker,” Daisy said. “This stuff is scalding my stomach and making me feel very friendly.”

“It's supposed to relax you.”

“It's making the backs of my knees sweat.”

His gaze moved to the open door. He could have it closed and locked and be back on the bed in less than five seconds. If he ran downstairs to get more brandy, he could be back on the bed in fifteen seconds, twenty tops. He wondered if her knees would cool off in twenty seconds. Probably not. He watched her take another sip and knew he was going to leave the door open.

The first time they'd made love it was a groping match on the family room floor, the second time he'd hauled her onto the kitchen table. He wanted to do better for her. He wanted soft lights, lots of time, and he wanted to wake up next to her in the morning.

She moved closer, snuggling into the circle of his arms, and his heart ached with longing, not just to make love to her, but to care for her, share with her, to link his life permanently with hers. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, thinking that being in love was downright painful. And to make matters worse, someone was trying to kill Daisy.

Actually, he still wasn't completely convinced the man was trying to kill her. It seemed to Steve that the guy was trying to scare her and didn't mind hurting her, or anyone else, in the process. In his own mind he'd ruled out the Roach. The Roach was a businessman. He wasn't crazy, and he had nothing to gain by terrorizing Daisy. In fact, he had a lot to lose. His trial was coming up. The kind of press he was getting wasn't going to help his cause. He'd threatened Daisy in a moment of anger, but there was no good reason to carry out that threat.

Daisy turned to Steve and eyed him critically. He'd wandered off on her. He was holding her snug against himself, but he was lost in thought. “You want to share those thoughts?”

“I was thinking about the guy who's harassing you. Everyone automatically assumed it was the Roach or someone acting on his behalf, but I'm not so sure anymore.”

Daisy murmured agreement. “It would only compound his problems.”

“This seems like a dumb question, but do you have any enemies? Can you think of anyone
who'd use this as an excuse to victimize you?”

She shook her head. “I've been down this road, too. I have to admit I can be pretty aggressive when I want something, but I don't think I've ever stepped on anyone's toes hard enough to provoke mayhem.”

“How about your fan mail? You get hate letters from cat lovers? You get indecent proposals from weirdos?”

“Nothing that stands out in my mind. I keep all the letters on file. Maybe it would be worthwhile to go over them.”

“Anything like this ever happen to you before? Obscene phone calls?”

“Nope.”

They lapsed into silence.

“I had some other thoughts, too,” Steve finally said. “I was thinking about locking the door and having my way with you.”

“What stopped you?”

“Kevin, Elsie, the kitchen table.”

“The kitchen table?”

He grinned. “It gets complicated.”

“I know all about complicated. The harder I
try to get my life in order, the more jumbled it becomes.”

He traced a line along her lower lip with his fingertip. “I know a way to simplify things. I know how to take care of Kevin, Elsie, the kitchen table, and Aunt Zena. I can solve all of your financial problems and guarantee you a dramatic increase in fun time. And as a special bonus I'll even throw in a dog.”

She hoped he was talking about a raise, but panic in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. He was going to say the L word, maybe even the M word. She still wasn't ready for that part of the alphabet. She didn't even want to contemplate it. Being in love was one thing…being loved was another. “I don't think I'm ready for a dog.”

“Are you kidding? Dogs are terrific. You can count on a dog.”

“Yes, but I don't want to count on a dog, because if you count on a dog, then that dog counts on you, and I'm looking forward to a time when nothing counts on me. I need to think. I need to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“I can give you time,” Steve said. “I can give you security, comfort, companionship, great sex, walk-in closets, roll-over checking…”

“I don't need walk-in closets. I don't have many clothes.”

He ran his hand through his hair. This wasn't going well. “I can give you clothes, dammit. All the clothes you want.”

“I don't want clothes. I want—” She didn't know exactly what she wanted, she realized. She wanted everything. She wanted Steve and all of the things he'd offered her. And she wanted nothing. She wanted her life to be a big, blank, glorious void. She wanted to sleep, and stare off into space for hours at a time, without a thought in her head. “I'm not sure what I want,” she told him.

He let her long, silky hair sift through his fingers. “I know what I want. I want you.” He tilted her head up, compelling her to look at him. “I love you, Daisy. I want to marry you.”

She thought back to the lighthearted proposal he'd made after they'd made love on the family room floor. She'd been able to pass that one off with a giggle. This proposal
would require a serious answer, and the terrible truth was that she didn't want to get married. Marriage was commitment and responsibility. It was an investment of time and emotion. Marriage was planning what to have for supper 365 days a year. If she was married for forty years, that would be 14,600 meals. She almost lost consciousness at the thought of it.

“No!”
she said, jumping off the bed. “I don't want to get married. I'm too young. I'm too confused. I've just devoted five years of my life to something that depresses me. It's because I was in a formative stage when I decided to go to graduate school. And probably I'm still formative. At least a doctorate program is only five years…marriage is for a lifetime. It's irrevocable. It's like getting your ears pierced.”

Elsie appeared in the open door. She had her bathrobe on and a toothbrush in her hand. “What's all the shouting about in here? I was in the bathroom, and I heard someone yelling. You don't need me to go get my pocketbook, do you?”

“No,” Steve said. “I asked Daisy to marry me, and she got a little overwhelmed.”

“I'd get overwhelmed, too,” Elsie said. “You're a real catch.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Have you ever been married, Elsie?”

“Sure. I've been married lots of times. I was married to my first husband for thirty-seven years. He passed away, then I married Myron Fogel. He was a handsome devil, but he made noise at the breakfast table, so I divorced him. I know it was picky of me, but I couldn't take another minute of him slurping his cereal milk. After that there was Gus. He had a heart attack. It was Gus who left me the Caddie. I was engaged to a real live one in Vermont when I broke my hip. I came down here to be near my sister while I was in rehab, and Wilma Nelson wrote and told me that the old coot I was engaged to had been taking other women to the bingo game in Mt. Pleasant. I guess I know what that means, so I sent him his ring back. It never fit right anyway.”

“I'm sorry,” Daisy said.

“You don't have to be sorry,” Elsie told her.
“At my age you never expect to keep a man for long anyway. Men my age are dropping dead like flies.”

Daisy finished the last of her brandy and set the glass on the television. “I have to go,” she said. “I have to get up early tomorrow. I don't have the paper route anymore, but I still have to cross the children.”

Steve had coffee made and bacon frying when Daisy and Elsie came back from crossing the high school kids.

“I could eat a horse,” Elsie said. “That bacon smells great.”

Daisy poured herself a cup of coffee and poked at the bacon, while Steve cracked eggs into a second fry pan.

“I'm moving back to my town house,” Daisy said. “This house isn't any safer than my own now that everyone thinks I'm your live-in girlfriend.” She felt her voice waver when he glanced over at her. “It was very nice of you to let us stay here for a while.”

“It wasn't nice at all,” Steve said. “It was self-serving. I was ecstatic when that goon broke
your door and forced you to find another place to stay. I was completely besotted. I'd resorted to sleeping out in your parking lot, for crying out loud.”

“I don't get it,” Elsie said. “I thought you two were getting married.”

Steve dumped the scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Daisy wasn't enamored with the idea.”

Elsie shook her head and grunted. “What a ninny.”

“I have good reasons not to want to get married right now,” Daisy said.

“Like what?” Elsie asked her. “Don't you love him?”

Daisy sucked in a quick breath. She shot a look at Steve and found him smiling. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she uttered an oath under her breath. Damn him, she thought, if he'd looked at her like that two weeks ago, she'd have forgotten her name. As it was, she was only temporarily sexually excited. She pressed her lips together and concentrated on the bacon, placing it piece by piece onto paper towels. “There are lots of kinds of love,” she said. “Some love you can ignore better than other kinds of love.”

Elsie squinted at her. “What the devil's that supposed to mean?” She turned to Steve. “How about you? Do you know why she doesn't want to get married?”

“Something about pierced ears, I think. It's pretty complicated.”

Daisy topped off her coffee and sat at the table. “I simply said married was permanent…like pierced ears.”

“Mabel Schnaaf had pierced ears and they grew over. She never used to put earrings in, and the ears grew back together,” Elsie said, buttering a piece of toast. “Everyone told her it was gonna happen, but she wouldn't listen.”

Daisy helped herself to bacon and eggs. “The point is that
my
marriage is going to be permanent, and permanent is a long time, so I'm in no rush.”

“I don't know,” Elsie said. “You aren't getting any younger. You're starting to get little squint lines at the corners of your eyes. Once you get them squint lines, everything starts going to pot.”

Daisy bolted down some eggs. “I know what you're doing. You're trying to panic me into
marrying him, but it won't work. I like squint lines. I think they give a person character. Besides, I'm sure Steve wouldn't want me to marry him just because I was feeling over-the-hill and desperate.”

“Sure I would,” Steve told her. “Hell, I'll take you any way I can get you. Do you remember how you landed the job at the radio station?”

“I nagged you. I was obnoxious. I wouldn't take no for an answer. I hounded you for months.”

“I can make all that look like amateur hour…if I have to. Of course, I doubt I'll have to.”

Daisy paused with her fork in midair. “Oh?”

“I have a secret weapon.”

“What is it?”

He ate a piece of bacon. “If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it?”

“Dumb,” Daisy said. “This is the dumbest conversation ever. I have to get to work.” She took her empty plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Elsie, I'll be ready in five minutes.”

“Okay. All I need is my pocketbook. What car are we taking?”

Daisy stopped at the kitchen door. “I forgot about the cars.”

“Take the black car,” Steve said. “I'm staying home for most of the day. There should be carpenters arriving any minute, I need to make arrangements to have new carpet put down, and I need to do something about getting the Ford SUV repaired.” He kicked back from the table and stacked the plates.

When Daisy came flying down the stairs he was waiting at the front door. He reached out for her as she skimmed past, spun her around, and pulled her to him with enough speed to make her breath catch in her throat. The kiss was long and deep, stirring the embers of desire until he was sure they were glowing hot, ready to flame. His hands gentled when he broke from the kiss.

“Be careful out there,” he said. He watched her sway for a moment, her eyes unfocused, and knew he'd accomplished his goal.

Daisy turned without a word. She left the house, got into the black car beside Elsie, and gripped the steering wheel, wondering how she was going to drive when her body was
humming in private places and her mind was filled with erotic thoughts of Steve Crow.

“You okay?” Elsie said. “You look kinda dopey.”

“I'm fine.” And she definitely wasn't dopey, she thought. In fact, she was pretty smart. She'd figured out Steve's secret weapon. Now all she had to do was figure out how to survive it.

 

It was five-thirty when Daisy and Elsie got back to the house. The windows had been replaced and the grounds repaired. Inside, two men were still laying new carpet.

“The police haven't found your car yet,” Steve told Elsie. “You're going to have to go down to the station and sign some forms. Tomorrow I'll ride with Daisy, and you can have the day off.”

Kevin ambled in from the kitchen. “This has been an utterly cool day,” he said to Daisy. “Bob and I made a cake. And then we ate it. If you're nice to me, I might give you the recipe for your next cookbook.”

“Maybe I'll call my next book
Bones for Bob
and Kevin.
Is that the extent of the coolness, or did something else awesome happen?”

“Mom called. Boy, are you in big trouble. She saw your picture on the evening news in Texas. They played the clip where they said you were the oil tycoon's live-in girlfriend.”

“Great. I hope you set her straight.”

“I tried, but it was tough, what with all the yelling going on.”

“I got a TV show I want to catch,” Elsie said. “One of them cable stations is running an Errol Flynn festival.”

“Is that the guy with the sword and the cheesy mustache?” Kevin said, following Elsie into the family room.

“There isn't anything cheesy about any part of Errol Flynn,” she told him. “He was what you call a swashbuckler. He could have grown any kind of mustache he wanted.”

“Hope you're hungry,” Steve said to Daisy. “I've been slaving over a hot stove all day making spaghetti sauce.”

Daisy looked in the pot. “I'm impressed. This smells terrific.”

“Of course. It's my specialty.” He slid his
arms around her waist and deposited a lingering kiss at the nape of her neck.

“Forget it,” she said. “I know what your secret weapon is, and it's not going to work.”

“That's because you haven't tasted it yet. No woman has been able to resist my secret weapon once they've sat down and feasted on it.”

Daisy's mouth dropped open. “That's…outrageous!”

“You're going to want to have seconds, and thirds, then when you wake up tomorrow you're going to have an insatiable craving to eat more for breakfast.”

“What an ego!”

His voice was silky. “It's all in the spices.”

“Wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

“My spaghetti sauce, of course. My secret weapon. Everyone always loves my spaghetti sauce.”

“Sure. I knew that.”

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Her gaze inadvertently slid below his waist.

“You thought that was my secret weapon?”

“Of course not. I knew it was the spaghetti sauce. You men are all alike. You think all it takes is a pot of hot tomatoes to turn us women into slavering idiots. I suppose you thought one look at your sauce would have me panting. Well, let me tell you something, buster, it takes more than spaghetti sauce to weaken my resolve.”

“Want to know what we're having for dessert?”

“No!”

He dumped spaghetti into boiling water and took a bowl of freshly grated cheese from the refrigerator. “As long as we're on the subject, I want to clear the air a little. I don't want to push you into a marriage you don't want.”

“No?”

“My intention is to hang around until you decide you're going to go nuts and start screaming and foaming at the mouth if you don't get…married.”

“And you think your cooking is good enough to do that, huh?”

“Do you want a serious answer, or do you want to flirt some more?”

“Serious answer,” she said.

“There's always been a physical attraction between us that borders on the frightening. I'd be a fool not to use it to my advantage. But I'd be an even bigger fool if I thought that was enough to sustain a marriage.”

“We haven't known each other for very long.”

“We haven't been best friends and lovers for very long, but we've known each other for almost a year.”

It was true, Daisy thought. Knowing him wasn't the problem. Loving him wasn't the problem either. The love grew stronger every day. The problem was with timing. It was the wrong time.

“I don't have the emotional strength to make a life decision right now.”

“I understand that, but I'm not going to let my soul mate slip through my fingers just because I fell in love with her at the wrong time.”

“So where does that leave us?” Daisy asked.

He nudged against her, his mouth caressing the rim of her ear when he spoke. “I suppose it brings us back to my secret weapon.”

“Spaghetti sauce?”

“Spaghetti sauce is only the beginning.” His hand snaked under her shirt as he kissed her neck and lowered his mouth to her collarbone. “Wait until you taste my brownies.”

She shivered. “Oh Lord,” she whispered, “I love brownies.” She felt him stir against her and hazily thought his ultimate secret weapon was in the process of losing its secret status. “We shouldn't be doing this in the kitchen,” she said. “Elsie and Kevin…”

He sighed and pushed her to arm's length. “You're right. Besides, I think the spaghetti is done.”

When the table was set, they called everyone in from the TV room. Bob was the first one to the table. He bounded in and took a seat, thumping his two front paws on either side of a place setting. His ears were perked, his eyes were bright. “Woof!” he said, smiling and panting.

Elsie took a seat across from him. “Didn't anybody ever tell him he was a dog?”

“Get down,” Steve said to Bob. “Dogs don't eat at the table.”

Bob didn't budge.

Steve reached out to snag Bob's collar and Bob growled low in his throat.

“Maybe he thinks eating on the floor is unsanitary,” Elsie said. “I wouldn't want to eat on the floor.”

Kevin pulled an extra chair up next to Bob and got himself another place setting. “I think Bob's a real cool dude. I bet he's not actually a dog at all. He was probably some yuppie out jogging and aliens got hold of him and turned him into a dog.” He piled spaghetti and sauce on Bob's plate. “You want cheese?”

“Woof!”

“Kinda cute,” Elsie said. “In a bizarre sort of way.”

Daisy giggled. “All he needs is a tie.”

That clinched it for Steve. Anything that could elicit a giggle from Daisy was okay by him. He gave Bob a piece of garlic bread and passed the bread basket to Daisy. “I got a chance to listen to a few of your traffic reports today. They sounded very professional.”

She beamed at the compliment. “It's getting easier.”

“Did Schmidt stick with you?”

“Like glue.”

“Any more attempts on your life? Any more messages from the maniac? You accidentally thwart any crimes?”

“No,” she said. “It was a perfectly boring day. Thwarting was at an all-time low.”

One of the workmen laying carpet came into the dining room. “There been a death in the family?” he asked. “You expecting a visit from the president?”

“No,” Steve said. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“There's a black limo parking in front of your house. It's about a half mile long, and I think it's being driven by Antonio Banderas.”

Steve grinned. “It's only a wild guess, but I'd say my mother's been talking to Aunt Zena.”

Before Steve had a chance to leave the table, Schmidt appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I need to clear some visitors. They say they're your parents?”

“Is the man tall and inscrutable? Did he try to bribe you?” Steve asked.

“He's tall and inscrutable,” Schmidt said. “He hasn't tried to bribe me yet.”

“Well, if he does, take the money. He's my father.”

There was a short commotion in the hall, and Daisy felt a flutter of nerves when Steve rose to greet his parents. The woman was slim and elegant, from the tips of her freshly manicured nails to the shining mane of thick, black hair. She was small-boned, with a classically beautiful face. Her eyes were large and dark, and it was easy to imagine them smoldering with passion. Steve had his mother's eyes, Daisy thought. The rest of him was Crow. With the exception of the deep lines etched into his father's face and a few extra pounds, they were almost mirror images.

“There's a dog sitting at your table,” Steve's mother said. “And he's eating spaghetti.”

“That's Bob,” Steve told her. “And this is Kevin Adams, Daisy Adams, and Elsie Hawkins. Can you stay for supper? I have plenty of spaghetti.”

“Of course I'll stay for supper,” his mother said. “It isn't every day I get to eat with a dog.” She pulled a chair up next to Elsie. “Maria Crow,” she said, extending her hand. “Are you related to Daisy?”