Part 5 (2/2)

The large woman said h.e.l.lo to everyone, including Maggie, who she insisted upon calling Little Mary Suns.h.i.+ne-which wasn't a compliment. ”Same thing you're doing, Reds, I suppose. Soaking up Christmas spirit. Did you read the ma.n.u.script yet?”

”Well, um, actually, I've been really busy. You know, still cleaning up loose ends, taking the reins ...”

Maggie decided to rescue her friend before she dug a hole none of them would get out of without an extension ladder. This was so unlike Bernie, who could probably stare down a charging rhino. But she turned to marshmallow when it came to J.P. Boxer. ”She gave it to me to read, J.P., because she's so busy. It's my fault I haven't gotten to it yet. I've been out of the country,” she ended, thinking, wow, that sounds impressive. Out of the country.

”You're reading it, girlfriend?” J.P. repeated, verbally promoting Maggie from naive little girl to girlfriend. ”I suppose that's okay. I've picked up a couple of your Saint Just novels, you know, gave them the once-over. Not too shabby, actually.”

”Gee, thanks, I can die happy now,” Maggie muttered quietly through a rather painful smile. What had she gotten herself into? And all because she'd been snarky with Bernie about her booze book and figured she owed her a favor. ”Well, we've got lots to see, so we'll be on our way. Have a great holiday, J.P., and a marvelous New-”

”I'll be over tomorrow,” the lawyer interrupted with all the delicacy of a charging rhino. ”To hear how you liked the ma.n.u.script. Say around three?”

Oh, great. Maggie looked around for help. Now who was going to save her? ”I ... um, that is ... I-”

”What Maggie's trying to say,” Alex broke in smoothly, ”is that we'd be delighted to see you, J.P., but we'll be out of town for the weekend. Most unfortunate. Tuesday, however, would be fine. Wouldn't it, Maggie?”

”You picked a h.e.l.l of a time to open your mouth, after standing there like a statue for five minutes. And I was looking at you so you'd rescue me, not set up a playdate with J.P. Cripes. You couldn't have said after Christmas? After the New Year?” Maggie told Alex after J.P. had checked her date book and decided she'd deign to visit them at one o'clock on Tuesday and then walked away before Maggie could untangle her tongue to disagree. ”How am I supposed to read her ma.n.u.script before Tuesday? I don't even have the darn thing, for crying out loud.”

”I'll have it messengered over first thing tomorrow morning,” Bernie said helpfully, hanging on Alex's arm as they continued their stroll and Maggie continued her stomp. ”You're such a good friend, Maggie. I owe you one. Oh, and let her down easy, all right? I don't want to have her mad, and overcharging me.”

”I hope she sends you a bill for a million dollars,” Maggie said in all sincerity. ”How does this happen? We go out for a nice evening. A hot dog, some shopping-and bam. Let's all sock it to Maggie.”

”Now, now, my dear. As I recall, you did volunteer,” Alex soothed, not bothering to hide his smile. ”And one never knows when one will require the services of an attorney, does one? With that in mind, as Bernice suggested-be kind.”

”She's a criminal attorney, Alex. Why would I need her, if that's what you're saying?”

”Yes, exactly. One never knows, does one?”

”One never knows, does one,” Maggie singsonged, making a face at him. ”I'm ... I have to find a ladies room.”

And she was off before anyone could follow her. It wasn't a subtle exit, but she really needed to put some s.p.a.ce between herself and her friends. Between herself and Alex.

He made her so mad. And he did it deliberately, she was sure of it. She knew what he was doing. He was paying her back for bringing him here, for planning to desert him here, for-wait a minute. How would he know that?

He'd hinted, back at the condo. Saying that business about not being able to lose her in the crowd. But that had only been something he'd said to goad her into changing, that's all. He couldn't know, could he?

”Of course he does,” she told herself as she scooted past a couple pus.h.i.+ng a stroller and ducked behind one of the striped tents and into the dark. ”I know he's sticking to me, and he knows I know and want to get away from him because I know-ah, h.e.l.l, I don't know anything.”

”Got a dollar, lady? Betcha got more'an a dollar, huh?”

”Ah, cripes, this just keeps getting better and better,” Maggie said on a groan, turning around to see a fairly tall, cadaverous man who'd come up directly behind her. ”No-no, this isn't going to happen. You're not going to try to rob me, Alex is not going to come out of nowhere to rescue me, flouris.h.i.+ng that d.a.m.n sword cane of his and playing the hero. Not this time. I'm sick and tired of playing Penelope Tied to the Railroad Tracks, you hear me, buster? Now get the h.e.l.l out of here before I do something you're going to regret.”

The b.u.m looked at her purse, which she'd raised over her head as if ready to bash it into his skull, and backed up two steps. ”Jeez, lady, I just wanted a dollar. Don't go all premenstrual on me.”

”And you're two seconds from being pre-concussed. Move it!”

”Wait a moment, sir, please. Don't rush off,” she heard Alex say from behind her, and she whirled about in a fury, just to have him neatly remove the purse from her grip. ”I do believe the lady could be overreacting.” He tucked his package under his arm, and then fished in his pocket and came out with a twenty-dollar bill. ”Here you go, my good man. Have a nice holiday.”

”You did that on purpose, d.a.m.n it,” she told him as she grabbed back her purse and they both watched the b.u.m shuffle off. ”I was handling it. Now all of a sudden I'm Scrooge and you're Santa Claus. Why does stuff like this always happen to me? Why does-oh, h.e.l.l.” She stepped closer and allowed her forehead to drop against his strong chest. ”I'm such a mess. Nothing ever goes right for me. I need a cigarette. I need to lose ten pounds. Eight, I mean eight. I've got a kick me sign on me, Alex, and I'm the only one who can't see it. My clothes are too tight, J.P. is going to sit on me on Tuesday, you can just bet on that one. You keep kissing me, my dad has a chippie. I don't want to go home for Christmas, even in my dreams. And the worst, the very worst. I can't believe that you ... that you've ... oh, G.o.d, I'm falling apart. I nearly attacked that man! And my mother says I'm not sensitive? I should probably be on some kind of medication, huh?”

”Shhh, sweetings, it's all right,” Alex said, stroking her back. ”Sterling told me what he said to you this afternoon while I was gone. I understand why you're a trifle out of sorts. It must have come as something of a shock.”

”p.u.b.erty,” Maggie muttered into his coat, at last giving in to what had been upsetting her ever since she'd heard the word. ”You've been around since p.u.b.erty. I didn't know, you didn't tell me.” She looked up into his face. His handsome face. The face she'd made. The man she'd made. The perfect hero she'd somehow conjured, the vision she'd nurtured, fed, molded and remolded until he'd been just that-perfect for her. Her perfect hero. And here he was with her, the imperfect heroine. ”Why didn't you tell me?”

”Would you have believed me?”

”You're standing here, aren't you? I believe that. It hasn't been easy, but I believe it. Oh, Alex, what am I going to do with you?”

His smile nearly undid her. ”You could enjoy me, I suppose.”

She touched a gloved hand to his cheek. ”I suppose. But you're not perfect, you know. I thought you were, but you're not. You're terrific as a Regency hero, but you're arrogant, and sometimes sarcastic, and a bit of a sn.o.b-and people keep getting murdered around you. You have noticed that, haven't you?”

”I solve crimes, Maggie. I save the heroine. I right wrongs. It's what heroes do.”

”Yeah, sure,” she said, pulling away from him before she could do something dumb, like let him kiss her. Like kissing him back. ”I just didn't know I was fantasizing about Superman with a quizzing gla.s.s and sword cane. That's pretty embarra.s.sing.”

”Got more where that come from, mister? We bet you do.”

Maggie felt Alex's arm tighten around her for an instant, and then she was semi-flying through the air, saved from a tumble into the snow only by falling into a low, snow-covered evergreen, which wasn't much better, actually.

By the time she'd caught her breath and was able to lever herself upright enough to see what was going on, two dark shapes were sprawled in the snow and a third was upright, but not looking too good as Alex pressed the tip of his unsheathed sword cane to the man's Adam's apple. ”Alex, don't!”

”I wouldn't think of it, my dear. Unless the gentleman moves, that is. You aren't going to sneeze, are you, my good fellow? That would probably be most unfortunate for you. Now, if you promise to remain very, very still, I will lower my weapon. Agreed?”

The ”gentleman” made some rather strangled sounds that must have indicated his agreement, for Alex lowered the sword cane, using it to indicate the two groaning shapes on the snow. ”So very obedient. What an intelligent felon you are. However, if I might suggest that you a.s.sist your cronies to their feet and then take yourselves off before I lose this most astonis.h.i.+ngly and laudable grip on my usual good humor?”

Maggie recognized the fairly snazzy, sophisticated but sarcastic line, of course. She'd written it for the Viscount Saint Just about three books ago. The trio of hapless muggers took off at a run and Alex neatly slid the thin sword back inside the cane before a.s.sisting her to her feet. ”Oh, Alex. You just can't help yourself, can you?”

”I suppose not,” he said, and then bent to retrieve his package. Naturally, the vase was still intact, as he'd aimed it at a pile of still soft, untouched snow-which was very different from where he'd aimed her. She was just about to point that out to him when she heard a noise behind her and tensed, only to relax when she heard Sterling's voice.

”Saint Just, there you are! Oh, and Maggie, too. I was so worried we might have lost her and you wouldn't have liked that above half would you.” Sterling shut his mouth, grimacing, then looked imploringly at Saint Just. ”I'm sorry. Spilled the broth there, didn't I?”

Maggie's sympathy for her creation-along with a variety of rather intriguing feelings she would examine later-disappeared with Sterling's words. ”Yeah, Alex, you wouldn't have liked that above half, would you? Gotta keep her in sight at all times, right? Why, Alex? Hmmm?”

Alex tucked the vase under his arm once more, leaving both hands free to adjust Maggie's collar. ”The woman is nearly a.s.saulted by lowlife felons, and she dares ask such a question?”

”I wasn't in danger of being a.s.saulted by lowlife felons in my apartment all day,” she pointed out as the three of them picked their way back to the path, lights, and the crush of people stepping around Bernie, who stood blocking the middle of the path, a large something-or-other wrapped in brown paper propped against her, nearly toppling her. ”But I'll get back to you on that. What the h.e.l.l is Bernie holding up? It's bigger than she is.”

”A portrait of her ancestors, actually,” Sterling told her, taking charge of the package that must be four feet wide and six feet high. ”Isn't it exciting that she found them? Right back there, in that tent.”

”Yeah, exciting,” Maggie said as Jose ran up to them, clearly summoned by cell phone, and a.s.sisted Sterling in carrying the portrait to the limousine, Alex parting the way for them, Bernie and Maggie following in their wake. ”You were adopted, right, Bernie?”

”Yes, sweetie. And now I've adopted ancestors. They'll look great over the fireplace, don't you think? Well, you haven't seen them yet, but believe me, they'll be perfect. I think there's even a dog. I'm going to name them all. Even the dog. Especially the dog.”

”Bernie, honey, you have to stop this,” Maggie said, broaching a subject she had been hoping to avoid. ”You're trading one addiction for another.”

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