Honey and Smoke (16 page)

She groaned in defeat and strained to see her house. The front door stood open. Two firemen trotted out, axes in hand. They shook their heads and motioned to the others to stay away.

“Did you see my cat?” she yelled to them.

The roar of the fire prevented them from hearing her. Betty waited for her neighbors to look away; when they did, she bolted past them. She didn’t get far. A large, hard hand clamped onto her forearm. She felt like a small puppy hitting the end of a strong leash. She swung about fiercely.

“Stop it! I’m going in the house!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Max ordered, scowling down at her. He’d tossed the raccoon cap. In the firelight his face was harsh and worried. He jabbed a finger downward. “Your life’s worth more than a cat’s. Stay here. I’ll go.”

A different kind of fear surged up in her chest. She grabbed his fringed leather shirt. “No! No! Max, I can call her! If she’s hiding downstairs, she’ll come to me! I don’t want you to go in there!”

He picked her up and shoved her into the grip of a burly old farmer and his equally burly wife. “Y’all hold her by the ears if you have to.”

“Now, Miss Betty, you just calm down, calm down—”

“Max! Don’t go in there! Max!” She struggled uselessly, her eyes never leaving Max as he ran through the haze of water, floodlights, and firelight. He ducked through the front door while a half-dozen firemen ran after him, shouting and waving their arms.

They followed him unhappily into the house. With a dull boom the upper story collapsed on itself. Sparks, smoke, and flames billowed in all directions. The house’s lower level trembled. The firemen immediately ran back outside. Max didn’t.

Betty clawed at the hands that held her. “Max! Come out! Max!” The second-story floor crumbled on one
side, dumping timbers into the kitchen below. The kitchen windows shattered and smoke poured out. Burning wood hissed ominously as the firemen hosed it down, sending clouds of mist into the air.

Betty’s throat hurt. She was screaming silently, watching what remained of her home begin to lurch to the right like a child’s doll house being flattened by a playful hand She didn’t think about the house. She didn’t think about Faux Paw. She thought about Max. There were several people holding her in place now, because she was struggling wildly to get free.

The house groaned as hundreds of nails ripped from the old boards. The lower level toppled sideways. The porch collapsed with a deafening whoosh. Its tin roof screamed.

Betty slid to the ground in a heap and buried her face in her hands.
Max, I love you. I love you
.

“Look!” someone bellowed. “There he is!”

She scrambled to her feet and nearly climbed the back of the man in front of her. Max staggered through the backyard. He swayed. Faux Paw was draped over his shoulder.

Everyone forgot Betty and ran toward him. Laughing, crying, she barely noticed when she fell down twice during her own mad rush to get to him.

He sank to the ground, holding Faux Paw around the haunches. The cat’s head hung down the front of his torso. She was limp. He slapped her on the back, and she began to cough. Betty pushed through the circle of people and tumbled to her knees in front of him.

She couldn’t speak. All she could do was laugh in a gulping, slightly hysterical way as she ran her hands over him and Faux Paw. He was covered in grime, and smoke rose from the black patches on his shirt and britches.

He was gasping for breath, but he finally managed to speak. “I smell … like bad … barbecue.”

“You smell
wonderful
.” She grasped his face between both hands and kissed him. Faux Paw coughed louder
and began shaking her head. Betty stroked the old cat anxiously. Faux Paw drew several deep breaths and started wiggling.

“Here.” Max pulled her from his shoulder. Betty sat cross-legged beside him and they stretched the cat across their laps. A fireman brought a bottle of oxygen and held the mask over Faux Paw’s muzzle. After a few seconds of heavy breathing she raised her head and hissed at the world in general.

“Alive and still sweet,” Max noted.

With one hand Betty caressed Faux Paw’s dirty, singed fur. She slid the other hand around Max’s waist, then leaned against him. He quickly put an arm around her shoulders and held her so tightly that she felt like asking for an oxygen mask herself. She didn’t mind a bit. “How did you get out of the house?”

“I didn’t spend twenty years in the marines for nothing,” he said solemnly. “I’m trained to use every resource in a dangerous situation. I react with finely honed skills in an emergency, not to mention superior intelligence and physical perfection.”

“So how’d you get out of the house?” a bystander asked eagerly.

“The back door was unlocked.”

People guffawed and applauded. Betty rested her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes. She felt his arm squeezing her, and she stroked his back with ragged, thankful little motions of her hand.

The fire chief broke through the crowd and knelt in front of her. She looked at him wearily. “Thank you. I know that you and your men did everything that you could.”

He nodded. “I sure am sorry. Looks like the fire started in the upstairs bedroom.”

“I left an electric floor heater turned on. But it was supposed to be one of the safest models on the market.”

“The wiring in your house was so old, no telling what happened. But it’s a good bet that the heater caused an overload.”

“But you have insurance, of course,” Max interjected.

Betty stared at the smoking remnants of what was to have been her dream home. It began to hit her—she’d just watched the destruction of a Quint family legacy. She was almost broke, and now her home was gone, along with most of her belongings.

“I just moved my furniture in last week,” she murmured.

“Babe? Your insurance?” Max repeated.

Betty looked at him grimly. “Never buy cheap homeowner’s insurance from a small company, Maximilian.”

“What are you saying?”

“My insurance company declared bankruptcy last month. I hadn’t gotten around to buying a new policy yet.”

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry.” Max shut his eyes. When he opened them, they were sympathetic, but puzzled. She could imagine what he wanted to ask. Why cheap insurance? Why delay in replacing it? And why hadn’t she begun remodeling, as she’d said she was planning to do?

The fire chief shook his head sadly and moved away. People drifted toward their vehicles. The firemen spat tobacco and chatted while they continued dousing the remnants of the fire.

Feeling shell-shocked, Betty stroked Faux Paw’s head and looked up at Max, communicating with him through haunted eyes. “Thank God you’re all right,” she whispered finally. “That’s all I really care about at the moment. I don’t Want to talk about the house just now.”

He cupped the back of her head and brought her close for a kiss. “Care to stay in my guest room for a few days? I’ve never had a beautiful, muddy, pink fairy as a house guest before. Or a mutant cat that is now gnawing on the hand that saved its life.”

Betty looked down. Faux Paw was chewing lightly on Max’s fingers. But then she gave them a loving swipe with her tongue and rubbed her head on his knee. “She’s crazy about you. She’ll probably follow you around from now on. I don’t think she can resist anymore.”

“You sound certain,” he said carefully.

Betty raised her head and met Max’s warm, searching green eyes. “Because I know exactly how she feels.”

Max glanced at a small digital clock on the mantel over the fireplace. Three
A.M
. He rubbed his forehead wearily, feeling the strain of the evening’s events—not the fire, but its effect on Betty. He had never felt so much anxiety or such tenderness before, and he’d spent the past few hours pouring all of his energy into making her feel better.

He wasn’t certain what he’d accomplished. She had eaten a sandwich at his insistence. She’d had a glass of cognac. She’d allowed herself to cry inside the comfort of his arms as he and she had sat on the couch in the dark. But she hadn’t wanted to talk, to answer the questions that he wanted to ask, that she must know he wanted answered.

When he’d mentioned that she ought to call her parents, she had shaken her head. They were in Europe. Her mother would overreact and her father would make scolding comments about the electric heater. Betty had told him, with a thin little smile, that her parents’ sympathy could be hard on the nerves.

So Max offered silent support. Inside himself he found something he thought he’d lost forever. He found a willingness to accept her silence, her mystery. He found a faith in her and because of her.

“Max?” Her soft voice came to him from the hallway. He turned swiftly and looked at her. She stood there with one of his large white bath towels in her hands. Her hair was still damp from her shower. It wisped around her face and neck in gleaming black strands, giving her a disheveled, vulnerable look.

Rings of fatigue circled her eyes, but she smiled as she glanced down at herself. She wore a set of his gray sweats. The shirt hung halfway to her knees, and the pants were so baggy and so long that they draped in
big folds around her ankles. “I’ve been swallowed. I could rent space in this for conventions.”

“I’ll call Norma and see if she can find—”

“No.” Her eyes moved over him with disarming affection. “I like wearing this. It’s fine.” Studying him further, she frowned. “You look exhausted. Go take a shower yourself.”

He nodded, loving her concern, trying gruffly not to let her see how much he wished that they’d taken a shower together. He rose and went to her. They walked down the hall, and he followed her into the guest room, where Faux Paw lay snoring in the center of the bed.

Max didn’t want to think about sleeping in his own room alone, but he wasn’t sure how Betty would react if he suggested otherwise. He doubted that she’d believe him if he said that comfort and closeness were uppermost in his mind.

He brushed his lips over her forehead, then stepped back brusquely. “Good night, babe. Sleep well.”

She started to say something, caught herself, and simply nodded. Max couldn’t decipher the mysterious gleam in her eyes, but it was too provocative for his current emotional state, so he gave her a friendly wink and left the room.

Thirty minutes later he dragged himself from a shower that he’d alternately run hot and cold, trying to relax at the same time that every thought and impulse begged for Betty. He would have been satisfied with just holding her, an attitude that he analyzed with surprise, hardly believing it himself.

Toweling his hair, his body feeling cool and exhausted inside blue pajama bottoms and a thick blue robe, he walked down the hall and entered his bedroom. He halted in the darkness, staring at the bed, wondering for a second if the shadowy light from the hallway was playing tricks on him.

Betty was asleep on his futon, curled up on her side with his burgundy quilt and sheet pulled over her, and both hands curled under her chin. Max dropped his
towel and padded quietly to her side. The futon was cushioned by a mattress and also sat atop a mahogany platform he’d built for it; still, it was low to the floor.

He knelt by it and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers.
There won’t be any reprieve the next time
, he’d warned. But now he said gently, “Betty Belle. You may be in the wrong bed. It depends on why you’re here.”

She struggled awake, smiled at him groggily, then reached out and stroked her fingers along his jaw. “I know you’re exhausted, but would you mind if I slept with you? I really want to stay close to you.”

After a moment he cleared his throat. “No problem.” He suppressed an urge to smile broadly and grab her in a hug. Max tossed his robe and climbed into bed behind her.

She turned to face him and gently laid her palms on his chest. “I’m so tired. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Me either.”

Max felt serenity slip through him at her touch; a peaceful brand of arousal let him settle his head on the pillow and pull her to him without hurry, knowing that he’d never shared such perfect friendship and comfort. The insistent hardness against his belly lost its urgency. He would never be too tired to want her, but for now the anticipation was sweet satisfaction in itself.

She nuzzled her face into the center of his chest. With the ease of complete trust they arranged themselves in a snug, comfortable embrace, legs entwined, arms draped loosely over each other’s sides, faces burrowed together above the quilt’s edge.

“Oh, Max,” she whispered, her voice fading but filled with contentment. “You were wonderful tonight. I’ll never forget it.”

He chuckled against her hair. “I won’t let you.”

Betty tiptoed back into the bedroom after checking on Faux Paw. She stopped by a Window only a few feet
from the big futon and let her eyes adjust to the starlight. The slightest hint of dawn lightened the patch of sky between the valance and the bottom panels of the window’s simple white curtains. She anxiously watched Max sleep.

She’d been so groggy, so ready to fall asleep as soon as his arms were around her, that only now did she realize how she’d taken advantage of him. She recalled everything about his body, including the hard ridge of his arousal brushing against her thigh as she had snuggled mindlessly against him, using him for her own comfort.

He had needed more. She had expected him to say so. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d sighed so happily that she’d fallen asleep in a blissful dream. This man was incredibly special. He was honest with her, and she’d be honest with herself. She belonged to him in a way that she would never belong to any other man.

Max, who lay on his back, seemed to realize that she was gone from bed. He stirred and sleepily stretched a hand out, searching for her. Tenderness and desire heated her blood. Smiling, she stripped off the bulky sweat suit. She went to the futon and slipped under the covers.

She nestled close to him without letting her body touch his. Slowly she placed her hands on his bare shoulders. A soft, half-awake sound of pleasure rumbled from his throat. Betty quivered with anticipation and pulled herself near enough to brush kisses across his parted lips. He sleepily wrapped his arms around her and dragged her against him.