Hot and Irresistible (22 page)

“Even after we had that big fight today?”

His dark eyes got darker still. “Especially because we had the fight and we did make up and this is an extension of that.” He put his arm around her. “I have to say these squares are a lot nicer when you’re not trying to get somewhere.”

She gazed up at him and smiled wickedly. “I’d say you’re trying mighty hard to get somewhere, Mr. McCabe. In fact I’d say you have designs on my virtue.”

“And you have mighty fine virtue and a lot of other fine parts that I intend to pay particular attention to.” The carriage meandered under the massive oaks, the moss so close she could reach out and touch it as it drifted in the night breeze. Lamplight cast a warm glow over the city, the whole place moving at an even slower pace than it did at daytime.

“I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“I did it a bit for me, too. I love seeing you happy and with what’s going on between us I don’t see you that way very often. It’s the job. It robs us of being human. We deal with the ugly so often we forget there’s more, better, that life can be fun.” The carriage drew to a stop.

“The Planters Inn? It’s spring in Savannah with garden parties and garden tours. There’s not a vacant hotel room within fifty miles.”

“Yankees can be very persuasive. This is home for tonight. I’ve left word nowhere, called no one, turned off my cell, and you left yours in the apartment. If something happens tonight it’ll damn well have to get solved without us.”

He helped her down like a true Southern gentleman, the way she’d seen other men treat their ladies. “It must be close to midnight. I feel like a princess. Except for the clothes. I don’t have princess clothes.” She pointed to the carriage. “What about all my flowers?”

“Verge here will take them back to your apartment.”

She smiled up at Verge and grabbed two armfuls of roses and buried her nose in the heavenly bouquets. “I never got flowers before, except from the blood sisters when I made detective. I never got flowers from a man.” She could feel herself blush. “And you’ve made up for so many nevers all in one night that started out to be a real sucky night.”

They walked across the little iron footbridge bedecked with white flower boxes. “Here we are.” They stopped next to a white door with a brass knocker and lit by an old coach lamp flickering in the night. Donovan took a brass key from his pocket…a real key and not one of those so unromantic plastic door card things…and let them into a room overlooking the Savannah River and more flowers, yellow roses this time, and a linen-draped table with pink candles and dotted with white Chinese-food cartons and a silver champagne bucket.

In the room beyond, a gentle fire crackled in the hearth beside a canopy bed with white eyelet topping and matching comforter. “I always wanted to see the rooms here. Thought about telling the innkeeper there was a disturbance and as a cop I needed to get inside. And now I’m here inside and with you and the last thing I want is a disturbance.”

She laid the roses across the bed and took Donovan’s face between her palms. “You are a most remarkable man.”

She could see him blush. He did that a lot for a big rough Yankee detective.

“You are a most remarkable woman, and whatever happens with Ray and the necklace and warrants that’s never going to change.”

They sat at the little table by the window, the river rolling lazily along, lights from tugboats and the docks casting wavy lines across the ink-black water. Bebe bit into an egg roll, declaring it delicious, then offering Donovan a bite. He fed her a dumpling and she shared her glass of champagne because it was a night for two people sharing. Just two, no more.

Donovan kissed her, the taste of the champagne lingering on his lips making her dizzy drunk even though she had but one glass. Then he carried her to bed, their bed, drenched with the red roses, and undressed her as if they had all night, because they did. One night, one perfect as can be night just for lovers.

They did make love, then again, and again. He held her close, the only sound the beating of his heart mixing with the final sputters of the dying fire in the hearth, a hint of morning transforming the world from the magic of night to the reality of day. They didn’t talk; there wasn’t anything to say. They had this time together, and it was special beyond words. She fell asleep, her hand on Donovan’s chest, their bodies entwined, and when she woke he was gone, one red rose on the white lace pillow where he’d slept beside her.

Maybe she was still dreaming. Then again, no dream had ever been as wonderful as this one night with Donovan.

Morning sun drifted in and out of the trees as Brie stood at the Patterson-Wright House on East York with the judge and Aldeen. Aldeen checked her watch for the millionth time and all but tapped her foot. “That realtor is late and wasn’t Beau supposed to be picking her up? And here we are pacing the sidewalk. The only things we’re missing is a monkey in a red vest and a tin cup.”

“But Mama,” Brie gushed. “Don’t you agree this is a most exquisite house, the finest Georgian east of Atlanta, and we’re facing Wright Square, one of the original squares. What could be better? There simply isn’t anything.”

“I suppose it is a fine enough place here on the outside, but who knows what it looks like inside. It could very well be a termite-infested dungeon for all we know…because we can’t get ourselves inside because the precious realtor and your fiancé are late just like you and Beau were late for dinner. You’d think that when a man goes asking—”

“Telling,” the judge added. “Not asking at all, but telling us that the two of you were getting yourselves married and we had no say in the matter.”

“And it was
us
doing the telling,” Brie added, “not just Beau, so you can’t go holding that against him any more than you can hold it against me, and if you choose to do so—which I sincerely hope you do not—but if you’re of that mind-set, then it can’t be helped. But you are not ruining my happiness, you both need to understand that. All you’ll be doing is ruining it for yourselves.”

“Well here they come at last,” groused Aldeen.

“’Morning, Mrs. Montgomery, Judge,” Beau offered looking nervous as a cat on hot coals. “I apologize for us being late, but—”

“Hi, sugar.” Brie swung her arms around Beau’s neck and kissed him on the cheek, a completely proper public greeting between a fiancée and her beau even her mama couldn’t throw a hissy over.

The realtor pulled out the key and they followed her up the walk while she said, “Mr. Cleveland’s already signed the papers, so you just take your time and look around and get acquainted.” She turned to Brie. “I must say you are indeed a lucky lady to have not only this fine Savannah house to start your married life but a fine Southern gentleman for a husband and remarkable father-in-law who is responsible for saving much of our fair city. Being a Realtor of fine homes here in Savannah I appreciate him every single day.”

Mama scoffed under her breath as Southern women are known to do when irritated and they know they have no real reason to be.

The realtor opened the double doors to the wide foyer. “The chandelier is from the DeSoto Hotel before those money-grubbing scalawags razed it all those years ago. The Chinese-style wallpaper in the parlor was reproduced from fragments found in the wall when the house was restored to its original grandeur. There is original random-width pine flooring throughout the house except where there’s Italian marble brought over special when the house was built. The master suite has a mahogany-and-brass bed used in India during the British campaign in the 1800s that Mr. Cleveland purchased with the house. A special wedding present to the bride and groom. Now I will leave you to enjoy your treasure and it truly is that.”

Brie did a slow twirl, taking in the grand staircase and row of windows facing east to capture the morning sun and avoid the scorching heat of the afternoon. She went into the living room, her father wandering behind her, their footsteps echoing in the emptiness. “I can see the Christmas tree here in front of the windows, all our friends singing carols and you and Mama sitting by the fire and Elgin sleeping peacefully by the hearth.”

“Elgin?”

“Our golden retriever, of course, and the cradle will be right beside him with little Montgomery sleeping there all nice and peaceful. Montgomery Cleveland is a fine name. We’ll call him Monty and maybe he’ll be a judge like his grandfather. I want my name—” she looked at her daddy “—your name to be passed on to the boys. And then we’ll have Beauregard Montgomery Cleveland. We could call him BM but that just won’t work at all.” She laughed and threw her arms around her daddy. “Be happy for me.”

“Your husband may have other ideas about what to name your children.”

Beau came into the room and kissed her cheek. “If my darling wife wants Monty, that is fine with me, and if law school is in the cards, then that’s fine, too.” He gazed at her the way every wife dreams of being appreciated.

“Such silly talk,” Aldeen huffed. “You’d think two people never got married before.”

“And I think our marriage should be next month.”

“Lordy!” Aldeen puffed out a disapproving sigh. “That is much too soon for a proper wedding. How could you even think such a thing.”

“It will be a proper wedding, Mama. I booked the Telfair and St. John’s for a Sunday-afternoon affair.”

“It should be a Saturday night wedding and you are well aware of that.”

“I’m aware I have a fiancé I want to marry and the afternoon will give us a wonderful wedding picture with all the flowers in bloom and guests will be thrilled to not have yet another Saturday wedding on their schedule.”

“There is that, I suppose.”

The judge checked his watch. “I have to get to court.”

Aldeen followed him to the front door. “And I have a meeting at the museum and I don’t know if you heard the latest,” she said to Brie. “But Lamont Laskin has taken up with that LulaJean person who sings jazz at the Blue Note of all places. Not only is she older than him, she is also of questionable parentage.”

And so am I
, Brie considered adding, but that would upset Mama and truth be told Brie had always thought of herself as a Montgomery through and through.

“LulaJean’s a great kisser,” Beau added absently while looking out the window to the garden. “Uh, so I’ve heard…that she’s a great kisser and—”

“And they are going to a medical convention…the one Lamont asked BrieAnn to,” Mama threw in with a tsk. “I declare, the medical profession will never be the same.”

She hustled out the front door without looking back and the judge left right behind her. Beau circled his arm around Brie from the front door as they watched them leave. “I don’t think they were impressed.”

“And I don’t think I give two hoots in hell if they are or not. This is our house.” She looked up at him and fluttered her eyes then added in a very Southern voice, “Why, Mr. Cleveland, I hear you have a big old bed upstairs in this fine house. Whatever do men such as yourself do in such fine beds? It sounds most sinful for an innocent like me.”

“Innocent?” He laughed. “This from the girl who thought up Frisky?”

He scooped her into his arms and kicked the door closed. His hand maneuvered under her dress, his warm palm resting very nicely against her bottom, his fingers creeping under the thin strap of lace panties right to her skin. “And I’ll just show you what men do to women in such fine beds.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” She giggled as Beau took the curved stairs two at a time and found the master suite. Unceremoniously, he tossed her in the middle and grinned devilishly. “I’m getting to like this house more all the time. I’ve heard they crack champagne bottles over a ship to christen it, but I’m thinking this is a very fine way to christen a house.”

He undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, the material falling open to such a fine firm chest. His dropped pants exposed all his delicious fine firm stuff there, and it tickled BrieAnn to no end knowing she’d be seeing that very fine stuff every day for the rest of their lives.

“And now about that innocent part.” He sat on the bed and flipped up her dress. “Those are not the underpants of an innocent. Damn, girl. You have the best underwear.”

“My sweet man, at these prices they call it lingerie.”

“I’d rather just call it not necessary.” He slid her panties down, slowly. “And there it is, that little patch of heaven all for me.”

“And a nice big do-da all for me.” She giggled. But as he slid into her, giggles melted to sighs, then gasps, then sheer happiness. She’d waited for and wanted Beau and finally made a stand for the man she loved and then at long last BrieAnn Montgomery was home.

At noon Bebe parked the PT in front of the morgue, the reality of murders and mayhem crowding out memories of carriage rides, soft beds, and very fine lovemaking. When she slammed her fist against the dash, the car turned off. Why this worked she had no idea, but it solved the problem and it helped to relieve a lot of pent-up frustration.

Vincent swaggered out the front door in perfectly pressed jeans and button-down shirt. No one swaggered quite like Vincent. “I am in my work clothes from the Gap. Very reasonably priced. Do you think we will truly find the missing necklace today?”