With Her Last Breath (27 page)

Relaxed, friendly customers visited the different vineyards’ booths, each ready to sample. Michigan tourism promoters added to the colorful mix in the shopping mall. The five-dollar entrance fee provided customers with a wineglass, and those who were swallowing were cautioned to spit and rinse after tasting. Crackers and cheese were provided, and the day moved quickly, customers buying individual bottles as well as cases of fine Alessandro wines.

Was it possible that he loved Maggie already, that he wanted to share children with her?

His instinct was to hold her close and love her.

Time, Nick cautioned himself. Give her time to mourn her friend and close away the past. If he had to, he could manage to live without the secrets she kept.

When the customer she had been speaking to moved on, Maggie turned to Nick, her smile still warming her lips and eyes.

Between them, time hesitated and slowed, and her smile gave way to a softer, intimate one that squeezed his chest tightly.

The impact sucked his breath from him and swirled in tiny warm sparks around him.

Automatically, he reached to pour wine into a waiting customer’s glass. He filled it very full, to the top, just as full as his heart. “I love you,” he heard himself say quietly, deeply, still holding Maggie’s gaze.

I love you…It was the wrong time, and the wrong way.
Nick hadn’t meant to speak of his heart, but now his words hung in the noise, the wine-scented air.

Her smile stilled and froze, sliding away into a slight frown. Maggie turned from him abruptly and poured wine into a waiting glass. Her hand shook slightly, but that was the only indication that she’d heard him speak.

A movement to one side just across the room grabbed his attention, and hovering behind a father with a toddler propped on his shoulders, Nick found Ed. At another winemaker’s booth, the bartender hefted his case of wine, his hard eyes locked just a fraction too long with Nick’s. In that heartbeat, Nick sensed that Ed was controlling the temper that bristled across the heads of the crowd to him.

Ed’s eyes narrowed; his silent threat flew across the room before he turned away. Nick decided to have a friendly chat with Ed. If he had something planned for Maggie, it wasn’t happening…

Nick settled in to complete the day, taking shipping orders and talking with customers. Maggie’s glances at him were tentative and concerned; he met them with a blandness he did not feel. He wasn’t apologizing. Period. She’d have to deal with what she felt—he already knew his heart.

The drive back to Blanchefleur was quiet and tense.

It had been a mistake to let Maggie drive, her hand moving sensuously, competently on the stick shift. Every move of those strong sleek legs as she used the foot pedals sent a hard rap of desire through him, because he knew exactly how supple and fit Maggie’s body was—and how soft and warm and tight and…

Nick was torn between his anger that she’d ignored his statement, dropped it flat on the wine-splattered floor, and sexual desire. When her index finger circled the floor stick’s smooth black knob, sex won. “Pull over. I’m driving.”

Maggie started and looked at him as she negotiated a curve. “I’m not tired. You are. You spent time with Beth and me after Celeste. Eugene told me you got behind and you
had to work most of the night preparing for today. I don’t mind—”

If her hand touched that floor shift one more time…“Pull over.”

When Nick was in the driver’s seat, Maggie settled into the passenger side. She propped her wine-stained white tennis shoes on the dashboard. With her legs folded, Maggie settled in to relax after a hard day. Those long legs—right up to the curve of her bottom beneath her frayed cutoff shorts—gleamed in the light of the dashboard, and Nick shifted a little too quickly, the truck jerking forward.

He wouldn’t mention his love for her again—not to have it trampled like a used napkin.

“You’re sulking. Sales were good, weren’t they?”

“They were good. It’s just mostly paperwork now, and we’ll ship later. Thanks for helping today. It’s just been a long day.” He passed by the winery and slowed before approaching Maggie’s camper. She’d spent the week at Celeste’s with Beth, but as badly as he wanted her, Nick wouldn’t ask. If she wanted to stay in that tight little metal fort of hers, that was just fine. If she didn’t want to acknowledge that they had more than most people right now, then that was fine, too.

Maggie’s hand smoothed his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to hurt you today. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“You said plenty.” Her silence hadn’t been encouraging.

She slid close to him and nestled her head on his shoulder. The soft, feminine gesture surprised him. Maggie’s reserve was always there, her past with another man separating them. “This is like a date, a little, don’t you think?”

He snorted at that and despite himself, leaned his cheek against her hair, inhaling the fragrance. “No.”

“Thank you for being so sweet when Celeste—”

“No need to thank me, Maggie. I loved her, too.”

“You’re a good guy, Nick.”

“What I said today, I meant,” he stated grimly. “I’m not asking for a lie in return, something you don’t feel.”

“I know. And I do have feelings for you. I couldn’t make love with you if I didn’t…. Are you going to put your arm around me or not?”

“No, I’m not. You’d have to shift and I’m not going through that anymore.”

She looked at him blankly. “Going through what?”

He refused to answer, holding the last bit of his shredded pride intact. “Are you staying at the camper tonight?”

If she wanted to be alone tonight, either at the camper or at Celeste’s, he understood, but that didn’t dim his need for her.

“I’d like to sleep with you tonight, Nick. I need to be close to you. I missed you.”

It wasn’t a statement of love, but Nick would take it. Maggie needed him, and that was all that mattered.

Inside his house, Nick’s promise to be tender and slow shattered the moment she moved into his arms.

That fierce need to possess her drove him to gather her against him. In this way, she was his, completely, fully, hungrily.

Maggie’s soft mouth opened to his, the fine edge of her teeth sharp against his tongue. He dived into the scent, the softness, and the woman. She belonged to him, was a part of him.

In his mind, they were already making love, Maggie undulating against him, opening for him, tightening.

“Nick?” she whispered as his hands ran down her body, reassuring himself that she was in his arms.

“I’m not taking it back—what I said,” he said roughly against her throat and then pushed himself away.

“Fine. Don’t.” Her voice was husky, uneven.

What had he expected? Maggie to say she loved him?

Nick rubbed his chest, where the ache for Maggie had grown tight and painful. In the shadows past midnight, Maggie’s eyes were huge, her face pale, her hair tangled from his fingers. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come after you like that. I’ve missed you. You’ve been through a lot this last week and I—”

“Shh. We’re both tired.” Maggie slowly lifted her shirt away, tossing it to the washer. She kicked off her shoes and opened her cutoffs, letting them slide away with her briefs. She came to him softly, easing away his shirt, kissing his chest as her hands smoothed the tension in his body, sliding over his back. Maggie’s lips traveled over his skin, heating, and gently closed on his nipple, taking away his breath.

Her hands framed his face, fingers smoothing the hair at his temples as she looked up at him. “I feel so much, Nick. I’m just not certain about myself yet.”

“No one is ever certain, Maggie. Most of us just have to work our way through the good times and the bad and do what we can.”

She leaned her forehead against his chest, her hair silky and sweet beneath his chin. “I feel as if I’ve come so far. I’m working through so much. And I’m so tired. All I want to do now is to make love with you. I need you, Nick.”

Maggie eased away, turned slowly toward the bathroom, and looked at him over her shoulder. “Coming?”

“I’ll wait.” When he’d tried to shower with her previously, she’d been terrified; he couldn’t bear to see her fear now.

“I trust you, Nick. That isn’t something I give lightly.”

In the steamy shower, he was careful to give her as much room as possible. She moved into the streams of water like a lover, and the erotic, feminine sounds that he had heard before drew his body into a hard, tight knot.

Maggie turned slowly to him, her hair sleek against her head and shoulders, rivulets of water streaming down her body. She spoke as if discovering a precious, wonderful part of herself. “I can manage this. I can, Nick. I’m not afraid with you.”

“That’s good, Maggie—” But the words dried in Nick’s throat as she looked down at his aroused body.

Slowly the hand that had very competently shifted the truck reached for him, gloved him briefly. Her thumb slid over the delicate tip of him, caressing, and Nick fought the rough shudder of his body, the demand to fill her running hot
and rich inside him. “I think,” he managed unevenly, “that I am getting out of here now. I need a shave.”

“Can’t it wait?” Maggie asked softly as she moved against him.

When she lay tangled against him later, Nick smoothed her still damp hair. It was enough for now, he told himself, and knew he would want more.

“I know you’re here, Celeste. I can feel you.”

Dressed only in Nick’s shirt and still warm from his body, Maggie moved into the cool fog, making her way down the sand to the lake.

She needed this first private time to reckon with her friend’s death. The lake was peaceful and black beneath the clouds, white foam from the waves seemed like lace upon the dark cold sand.

“I’m going to remember you as I saw you last, with a smile for everyone, not as you were when they found you. Beth is walking into her future even now, and she’ll never forget what you gave her—the strength to become herself. Why were you there that night? What made you dress in your favorite caftan and wear that scarf? How could you have known?” Maggie asked the night, and a slight breeze came to play in her hair, swirling the ends and lifting it away from her face. Maggie closed her eyes, remembering how Celeste would touch her hair, sweeping it back to look clear and straight into her eyes—perhaps into her soul, searching for what Maggie would share with no one.

Maggie thought she caught a sweeter scent than those of earth and water, that of lavender. “He’s going to want more. Maybe I’ve given everything I can to a marriage. Maybe I’m never going to be fully free of what happened to me. I don’t think it’s fair to burden Nick. And he’s still tied to Alyssa—every time he sees a motorcycle, he’s remembering.”

The moon slid round and full between the clouds, and a perfect silver trail cut across the black water to Maggie. “Celeste, please ask Alyssa to let him go. If there is some way,
please help my sister and Monique. I feel Monique stirring out on the lake, waiting. I feel Glenda’s darkness now more than ever. Give her ease, Celeste, and stay with me. I need you. I’m not ready to let you go.”

From a clump of grass, a drop hovered and slowly fell, chilling Maggie’s hand. The fog at her feet churned as though licked by a breeze that said, “Beware.”

Maggie inhaled and pulled the sensations into her, just as Celeste had said she had done. “You’re telling me that something is hungry for me, waiting. But what?”

The moon vanished as quickly as it appeared, and Maggie realized that she was standing in the froth and water, the sand sucking at her feet. “I love you, Celeste. Stay with me.”

A sound behind her turned Maggie. Nick stood at the top of the sandy knoll, watching her, waiting.

More than desire ran between them, and it was the
more
Maggie feared as she slowly made her way upward.

“I was talking to Celeste. I asked her to stay with me and to help Glenda, Alyssa, and Monique rest. Celeste has a way of helping troubled hearts—”

“So do you, honey. You give more than you know,” Nick said as he eased her into his arms.

The warmth of his body seeped into hers as she settled against him. “This is good.”

“Very good.” Nick nuzzled her hair, his heart safe and true beneath her cheek. “Alyssa said that Monique called to her. She felt that if she ever died before her natural time that she would have a friend waiting for her on the other side. Celeste has given you something, Maggie, maybe something to help ease you about Glenda.”

She decided not to tell Nick about Celeste’s concern about a stranger from her past. When Nick’s lips brushed hers, she forgot everything but the sweet tenderness, the gentleness that was Nick.

“S
top pushing, Nick.”

The big open hand at the small of Maggie’s back didn’t hurt, but applied enough pressure to still her. She looked over her shoulder to the man pressing her stomach down on the bed. Nick’s features were primitive and harsh in the morning light, the set of his mouth grim.

His other hand traveled lightly over her shoulders and back. His hands switched places and then the examination continued down to her ankles.

“I said, I want to know where you got those bruises.”

“That’s a demand, not a question.”

He flipped her over easily and bent to hold her wrists beside her head. “Maybe, just maybe, I’ve got the right to know.”

“Let me go.” Maggie trusted Nick to be gentle and safe, but this man, his wide shoulders taut and gleaming as he leaned over her, eyes flashing, cutting at her, was ready for revenge. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll ‘handle it.’ Why didn’t you tell me last night that
you were bruised? When I think of how I held you, how you must have hurt—”

He pushed away from her slightly and drew the sheet up to cover her nude body. She saw his self-torment, the pain in his expression. Nick was lashing out more at himself than at her.

“It’s nothing,” she said and knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied.

He stood abruptly, naked and tall and powerful, his anger ricocheting in the room. “Yes, it is. It means you still don’t trust me, no matter what runs between us.”

“I trust you—”

“On one level. The other is questionable. You’re holding part of yourself away from me.”

“I can handle this, Nick. I didn’t want you bothered.”

“Dammit. Tell me. Did Ed send someone else—?”

Maggie sat up and drew her knees to her chin. “It’s Lorna. We…have a problem.”

“‘A problem!’ That bruise on your shoulder is three inches across, and there’s another one on your butt that’s no sweetheart, either. What did she do?”

Maggie didn’t trust the tone of his voice, the anger in it. “If you promise to calm down, I’ll tell you.”

Nick’s hands went to his hips. “I don’t feel like bargaining, Maggie—”

“You’re going to have to. If you do anything to Lorna—”

He leaned forward. “You’ll what? Threats, Maggie, dear? You’ll tell me now.”

She patted the bed. “You’ll have to lie down beside me and be a good boy.”

Nick sat abruptly, his weight shaking the bed. His flat “What” wasn’t a question.

“Lie down beside me.”

“Great. You’ve been hurt and you’re protecting Lorna. This isn’t about some dumb promise, is it? Because I’m not promising anything.” Nick eased down beside her, his arms behind his head. “Talk.”

Turning onto her stomach, Maggie smoothed the wide expanse of his chest, toying with the triangle of hair there, and finger-walked down the line to his navel. When Nick captured her hand, she said, “I said that Lorna and I have a problem. It’s you.”

“So what else is new? She’s made it clear to me that she wants you out of Blanchefleur.”

Maggie tugged the hair on his chest. “And you kept that to yourself, didn’t you? See? I’m not angry. Two women, one man. It equates to a little bit of trouble.”

He stared at the ceiling and then slowly one of his hands came down to smooth her back. “Those bruises say it’s not a little bit.”

“I can’t decide if the look on your face is a smirk or a snit.” Maggie took her time easing over him. She traced his eyebrow with her fingertip and then his lips. Her hips nestled against his, found what she’d been seeking and allowed just that first blunt bit of enticing intrusion.

Nick nipped gently at her finger, his eyes closing for a moment as their intimacy grew and her body accepted more. “You’ve got my attention.”

“That’s what Lorna doesn’t like. Celeste loved her, and that gives me reason to try to understand Lorna. I think I do. She survived a terrible childhood by being aggressive and fighting for whatever goal would please her father. It wasn’t so much the goal, but the need to battle for attention. Her good points weren’t reinforced as a child, and that’s important. I had that—she didn’t. I’d say that has a lot to do with whomever she’s seeing now, with why it is such a secret. Or maybe it’s got a lot to do with him, and how he feels. But she does have a good heart as Celeste said—I know it. Things just get twisted. You’re just a prize, Nick. Not someone that she really wants in the long run.”

“Now that hurts.” The uneven rise and fall of his chest, the caress of his hand on her breasts and back, said that she had his full attention.

Maggie rose slowly, keeping him within her, her knees bent to lift and lower her body. Her hands smoothed his chest. “This is nice, don’t you think?”

His hands roamed over her, cupping her bottom, skimming the backs of her thighs. “Just how did you get those bruises?”

“Lorna and I had a little discussion. It got physical. When I reached down to help her up, I wasn’t expecting her to flip me. I should have known better. And she should have known better than to come after me. She’s really good. Good technique.”

Nick stared up at her blankly, then he cursed. “You admire her technique?”

“It takes a lot of hours and hard work to get as good as she is. We have a tiny bet and I’d appreciate you keeping your nose out of it. Will you?”

“No. I don’t want you hurt. What’s the bet?”

Maggie nuzzled Nick’s throat, settling closely upon him. “Oh, you, and a few other things.”

He lifted her slightly and began to smooth his open mouth across her breasts. “Like what?”

She closed her eyes as Nick’s lips closed over her nipple, and the trembling within her began too quickly. “You talk too much…”

Nick paused at the winery door and inhaled the fresh air, admiring the green lines of the vineyard. If the weather continued and the frost waited, the grapes would be full and rich and sweet, holding the summer’s sun and rain.

His mind swung to another harvest, the long, slow lovemaking of last night. At least Maggie had spent the night in his bed, and if Nick could manage, he’d check the inventory and return to their bed before she woke up.

Breakfast in bed should be a good way of making his point—she should move in with him.

Nick tucked his briefcase under his arm, smiling briefly at all the good contacts and orders it contained.

He unlocked the heavy winery door and pushed it open.
Because of the wine festival, Eugene had yesterday off. This morning Nick wasn’t expecting to see the old man who had been trying to put the moves on Dee Dee. Apparently, Eugene mourned Celeste, but he figured she’d given him something, too. And he intended to use it.

The new orders from the wine festival needed attention before Nick returned to Maggie. He intended to get to the bottom of the bet she had with Lorna, one way or the other. Maggie had a way of distracting him…rather, Maggie could refocus him completely.

The too-strong smell of wine hit him. Nick flipped on the overhead lights and stopped. The entire showroom had been savaged, the display wines and cases toppled onto the floor, glass broken. “Eugene?” Nick asked cautiously.

The showroom was too still, and a sense of trouble slammed against Nick. He noted several bottles of wine missing, from the slots on the wall. “Eugene?” Nick called as he tossed his briefcase aside. Then he said softy, “Engene, I really hope you are at Dee Dee’s.”

He righted a display table on his way to his office. Papers had been pulled and tossed from his desk, file cabinet drawers emptied, the contents strewn everywhere. Hurrying down the stairway, Nick checked Eugene’s apartment; the old man’s bed was neatly made, and his coffee pot hadn’t been perked this morning. His telephone messages—including Nick’s—hadn’t been retrieved, and Eugene was methodical about using “that silly machine,” fearing it would overflow and he’d miss Dee Dee’s call. Nick punched the button, and a nonstop flow of Celeste’s sexy “Big Boy, you are so hot” and “stud-muffin” phone talk purred into the room; apparently Eugene had deleted all messages but those.

Nick punched in Dee Dee’s number, taken from the pad beside the telephone, the sheet filled with heart-shaped doodles. Dee Dee answered briskly, and said that Eugene wasn’t there. To keep her from worrying, Nick fed her a white lie that he just saw Eugene outside the window.

Nick moved quickly to the cellar doorway and turned on
the cellar lights. The yawning cool silence terrified him—and the stronger smell of wine. “Eugene?”

A faint rattling echoed from deep inside the cool interior. Nick picked up a two-by-four scrap board and held it as he slowly descended the stairs. The rattling noise didn’t stop as he noted the bung holes opened on the wine barrels. The tanks had been emptied, wine covering the floor. Nick moved down the battered cases of wine, soaked now with their contents. Bottles had been smashed everywhere, glass glittering in the ruined wine.

The noise became a rhythmic pounding that echoed from the back of the cellar, and Nick rounded the toppled cases of reserve wine to find Eugene sprawled on the damp floor. Nick crouched beside the old man, lifting his head gently.

Blood mixed with wine on Eugene’s forehead as he sighed. He dropped the hammer he had been using on the empty metal barrel next to him. The old man’s voice was uneven and raspy. “I’m tired, Nick. Been down here awhile. Came down here to see about the noise and got clobbered. Didn’t see who. My leg is hurting bad. I been in and out, but Nick—Nick, I had to drink something. I crawled over to the cases of Alyssa and found a bottle. The rest has been smashed to smithereens. I heard the forklift run by me and managed to roll against the wall, playing dead.”

“You’ll be fine, Eugene. I’ll get help. Just hold still.”

Eugene caught his arm. “But, Nick. All those bottles of Alyssa—gone. That wine was special to you—”

“Eugene, stop. It’s just glass and wine, not your life, and not a woman.”

The old man’s eyes drifted closed. “You’ve moved on. I knew Maggie would be good for you…”

Nick’s eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of Ed’s tavern. With Eugene in the clinic, Nick had given the police chief, his cousin Lorenzo, the basics, and had arranged to answer in-depth questions later.

A crime-scene truck had been ordered with a team of ex
perts Blanchefleur did not have, and there was enough yellow tape around Nick’s winery to stretch to China. Police cars studded the parking lot, and the state of Michigan would be involved; Nick’s wine had been bonded, making certain the state got its cut.

Dante and Maggie, both worried about Eugene, were at the clinic. And right now, after checking on the old man, Nick had an appointment with Ed; he wanted to get to the tavern owner before anyone else.

Seedy, old, and layered with brawls, under-the-table deals, and sex, Ed’s Place served as a hangout for locals and fascinated tourists. Ed had been known to arrange private parties, such as the one for Maggie, and known prostitutes favored the bar. In the early afternoon, the tavern was closed and vibrating with country music. Stacking glasses behind the bar, the bartender had his back to Nick, his head bobbing to the beat of the music.

Shirley, a barmaid who catered to male tourists, and Ed’s longtime, on-and-off girlfriend—when he wasn’t busy with another woman—stood facing the door and laughing up at Ed. Beneath her hard makeup and mass of overteased hair, her eyes widened fearfully when she recognized Nick. She slid along the bar and hurried into the back room.

When Nick pulled the plug on the jukebox, Ed looked into the bar’s mirror and found him. His body tensed, his expression one of surprise before he pulled on his insolent mask.

“Hello, Ed,” Nick said quietly as he slid onto a bar stool. He smiled, belying the anger running inside him. He picked up a quarter lying on the bar and flipped it. It gave him something to do when he really wanted to haul Ed across the bar. “I thought I’d drop in and see how your inventory of wine is doing.”

“You’re not making me buy any.” Ed poured himself a whiskey neat and drank it quickly. “The Alessandros are big in this town, related to everyone. But I’ve got some mob connections and you’d better not start anything with me.”

“I’m not happy, Ed. You want to know why?”

“No, I just want you out of here. You Alessandros are nothing but trouble.”

Nick flipped the coin high and caught it. “Heads, you tell me why you hurt Eugene. Tails, you tell me why you hit an old man. We’ll get into the rest of it later.”

Ed stared at him blankly. Then something moved in his expression, just a tiny jerk that Nick intended to pursue. Ed quickly downed another drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Eugene is at the clinic with a concussion and a broken leg. I was at a wine festival yesterday. I saw you there, so you
knew
I was there. The winery was closed, and Eugene had the day off. He got back in the afternoon to a real mess. Someone broke into my winery, destroyed what they couldn’t contaminate, pretty much ruined a complete inventory, and took a case or so of my best wines. But that is secondary to why anyone would hurt that old man.”

“I never touched him.” Ed’s hand shook as he took a third drink.

With a violence that surprised himself, Nick picked up Ed’s glass and hurled it against the mirror. Ed jumped back as the mirror cracked, shards of the whiskey shot glass spraying onto the bartender. “I don’t know nothing!”

Nick reached across the bar to haul Ed up to his face. “I’m not feeling very gentle now, Ed. Where were you yesterday after you got back from the wine festival?”

“Came right back here. Shirley’s sister was sick and she couldn’t bartend. I was here, closed the place, and spent the night at JoAnn Armand’s. We been doing it since Beth ran off. Just ask Shirley—she’s been at me enough for playing around. She’s been mad as hell at me since I took in Beth. I get tired of Shirley’s griping, so I move around with women, but Beth was special, and she knew it. She’s not happy about JoAnn, and you can call her if you want to,” he repeated.

“I’m going to check on that, Ed.”

“You do that.” Ed shook loose and straightened his shirt
gingerly. He scribbled on a bar napkin. “Here’s JoAnn’s number. Point the law at me, I don’t care. I wasn’t anywhere near your place.”