Spooning Daisy (17 page)

“
This
? This
what
? What am I making—”

“
This
,” he interrupted, the word melting into her mouth.

The two hundreds floated from her hand to the floor. Then her arms wrapped around Max’s neck, his body pressed hers, and Daisy was lost in a kiss she never expected to own.

Chapter Fourteen

“T
his
was unexpected.”

On so many levels
, Max thought, looking down on the meandering part in Daisy’s hair as she nestled against his bare chest. In the bed. Under the sheets. Naked.

If awkward had a moment, this would be it.

“Yep,” Max agreed. “
Very
unexpected.”

“But you know what’s really amazing . . . ?”

That we’re so good together?
He relived the frenzied intensity of two people who couldn’t take each other fast enough.

“. . . that I’m actually in these sheets.”

Max frowned.
That, too.
Twirling an auburn curl around his fingers, he took the opportunity to check his watch. He was wondering how to delicately move this moment along when . . .

“I suppose I should get going.” She lifted her face toward his.

Max was caught off guard by how inviting Daisy looked with her tousled curls and flushed cheeks and thinking eyes. Had it been any other woman—less complicated, less troublesome—he might’ve asked her to stay . . . for just a while longer. Of course, Daisy would want to vacate these sheets as soon as possible, maybe even shower. So instead, he nodded and said, “Yeah. You don’t want to miss Ketchikan.”

Thankfully, Daisy had a southbound ferry to catch, because an affair with Daisy Moon would not end well. And it would end. For however good they might be in bed, out of bed was a whole ’nother story. And Max was not in the market for a bad ending. It was better—
for both of them—
to let it go now.

“But I want you to know, Max,” she added, “this was the best
un-
apology I ever received.”

“It wasn’t an ap—”

Daisy gently pressed her fingers to his mouth. “I’m sure you know this, but—” She rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? Of course you know this, I mean, I’m not the first woman to say this, but, really, Max . . .
wow
.”

“It takes two.”

Shyly, as if doubting the compliment, she smiled. Then she reached for his lips with hers and left a soft remembrance of what he wouldn’t have again. Never. Ever. Unless he said something right then and there.

Silent seconds later, Daisy slid from the bed and demurely gathered her clothes on her way to the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway. “What are the five stars for?”

Max grinned. “I’m a five-star stud, baby.”

“Seriously.”

“Are you saying I’m not a five-star stud?”

“I’m saying you wouldn’t advertise it on your arm.”

“I might.”

She smiled as if she knew everything about him—for instance, he wouldn’t give her a straight answer—then she disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Max lay there for several indecisive heartbeats. Then he scrambled from the bed like it was on fire, jumped into his jeans, and jerked on his sweater. Pulse racing, he snatched his boots and splint. Hearing the bathroom door click, he hopped from the cabin on his good leg, slamming the door behind him.

“Max?” Daisy peered out from behind the bathroom door at an abandoned bed. She opened the door wider and looked around. “I guess he didn’t want to talk,” she said to Elizabeth, who was in the shower eating her tomato.

A little chagrined by his hasty departure, Daisy nonetheless felt sympathy for the man. What do you say after something like this; something that probably shouldn’t have happened.

Probably?

She and Max were so mismatched it was like fitting a round peg in a square hole.

Okay, bad comparison. Because the one thing that
did
fit together—

Stop it!
She should be grateful Max wasn’t there for that awkward after-the-lovin’, see-ya-later moment.

They’d have to talk about it eventually—
wouldn’t they?
—but this temporary separation at least gave them time to digest this . . . this . . . anomaly.

“And that’s all it is,” Daisy insisted, brushing through her curls. An anomaly that absolutely would not happen again.

Finished attending to herself, she attended to the bed. Grabbing one corner of the sheet, she pulled the cotton taut.

Charity was right. Max Kendall was not a man a woman risked her heart on, although her exact words were a little more succinct.
Don’t fall in love
. Not that Daisy was entertaining that. No, no,
no
! She was merely stating the obvious. For emphasis.

Daisy moved to the opposite corner. Speaking of sheets, Max absolutely knew what to do between them. Charity would say she had gotten lucky. But Daisy didn’t feel all that lucky. There was too much going on in her life. The last thing she needed was an impossible relationship. Even if nothing was going on in her life, the last thing she needed was an impossible relationship. Too bad she didn’t think of that before she ended up naked between the sheets with Max Kendall,
5-star stud
.

She smoothed Max’s pillowcase. Pausing, she lifted the pillow to her face. And breathed in.

It amazed her that all men smelled like men and yet each was unique and distinct. Not that she went around sniffing men. But there were a few . . .

Her father smelled of Old Spice and crisp cotton and expensive suits. Her first love, Bobby, smelled like Ivory soap and dirt. Of course, he was twelve at the time. Mark smelled like new books and old money—he was British. Alex smelled like leather and lanolin, bourbon and cigarettes. Roberto smelled of freshly baked bread, basil, oregano, and nutmeg. He was Italian, a chef, and absolutely yummy. And Jason drowned his natural scent with pricey cologne, which should’ve been her first clue. As for Max . . .

He smelled rugged, like the wilderness outside her cabin window. Sunny and clean, with pinches of cedar and wood smoke and musk and all of it carried by a refreshing mountain breeze with a hint of...

Another whiff.

. . . vanilla and honeysuckle?

She pulled an auburn spiral across her nose, breathed it in, then sighed it out. Before she knew it, they’d be finishing each other’s sentences.

You’re much too pragmatic.

“That’s why I’m inhaling his pillow,” Daisy challenged an imaginary Charity. She plopped the pillow in its place, followed suit with the other one, and pulled the top sheet over them both. A little smoothing, a little tucking, the bedspread on top, and she was finished.

Checking her watch, she shifted into gear. Wrangling her suitcase into the closet—just to be safe—she checked on Elizabeth still in the shower. After glancing in the mirror one more time, she grabbed her purse, found the two hundred-dollar bills she’d dropped on the floor, put Max Kendall on the back burner, used all her willpower to ignore a wrinkle in the bedspread, then smoothed it, and dashed out of the cabin in search of a manila envelope.

Chapter Fifteen

“P
laytime over,” Inga lilted, as only a buxom, blond Swedish au pair with cherry lips and an allover tan could. She rolled toward Max and plopped her chin on his chest as the ship’s call reverberated through the cabin. Golden afternoon seeped around the closed curtains into the grainy dimness of the cabin.

With the second of two long baritone blasts, the M/V
Columbia
again summoned her passengers. Although she had the ship in sight, Daisy stepped up her pace. Soon she funneled into a boarding queue along with other northbound travelers.

“You have beautiful chest, Max. Very manly.” Inga stroked the hairs with her fingers. “First time I see you I think
here is very beautiful man
.”

“Ditto.”

Inga lifted her chin from his chest. “What is ditto?”

Max looked into crystal-blue eyes that belied an innocence sharply contrasting with Inga’s expertise under the covers. “
Ditto
means you have a beautiful chest, too.”

Inga giggled. “You funny, Max. Maybe tomorrow we play again?
Ja
?”

“Maybe,” he answered, surprisingly ambivalent. What the hell was wrong with him? This was exactly the kind of situation that suited him. Eager blonde. Fun sex. Light conversation. No commitment. Easy, simple, uncomplicated. So why was he about to pass on a second helping?

“Depends on my orders,” he added solemnly. “I’ll probably be working.”

Inga frowned. “CIA is tough boss,
ja
?”

“
Ja
.” Max spiraled a blond strand around one finger.

“Shoot leg and make you work. Not good boss.”

“Well, in fairness, the CIA didn’t shoot my knee. It was a Mexican drug lord.” He released the strand; the curl fizzled.

“Max beautiful
and
brave. Five stars not enough.” She pecked him on the lips. “Inga must go. Boss needs me.” Tossing off the covers, she bounced from the bed as only a buoyant, buxom, blond Swedish au pair could. She blew him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.

What man wouldn’t need her?
Max thought about the gentleman he’d seen with Inga. Poor guy was probably wrapped around her little Swedish pinky. Which probably explained the Chanel veil draping Inga. When it came to gifts, men were pathetically unimaginative and traditional. How many bottles of Chanel had his own mother accumulated from his dad, who figured anything with a name and a price had to be good?

It was probably the same with Inga’s boss. The way she’d fawned over him, Max figured he and Inga were an item. Who would’ve guessed she was nanny to his kid? And where was that kid? Max wondered. Probably with its young mommy while Daddy played with the even younger nanny.

A scream jolted Max from his thoughts; he shot off the bed and collided with Inga, bolting from the bathroom.

“Big bug in shower!” She threw her arms around Max.

“Is that all?”

“No,” Inga said, her eyes wide. “BIG bug. Max protect Inga!”

Max unhooked her arms from around his neck. “Yes, okay. I’ll take care of it.” A few steps into the bathroom and he grabbed a wad of toilet paper to nab the spider he was sure to find. He looked inside the shower, jerked at the surprise, then started laughing.

“Inga, this isn’t a bug—”

“Ms. Moon!”

Nearing the stairway that led to her deck, Daisy turned.

“Ms. Moon!”

Searching the faces of the passengers who meandered past, she saw Deputy SO Keller—all spit-’n’-polish in his uniform—waving at her.

“I was just coming to your cabin when I saw you.” He guided her to the side of the corridor, away from the traffic. “How did you like Ketchikan?”

“Charming,” was the first word that came to Daisy’s mind.

“And you did a little shopping.” A nod to Daisy’s paper sack.

“Only postcards. I found a few bucks in my jeans pocket,” she lied, answering his unspoken question.

“Lucky.”

“Real luck would be if I got my Lexus back and new credit cards.”

“In that case, Ms. Moon, consider yourself
half
lucky.”

Daisy listened to Keller, feeling strangely ambivalent about the $1000 and a credit card from her Seattle bank, waiting for her in the ship’s safe.

This meant, of course, that she no longer needed Max or his shiny red pickup. She could fly out of Haines, since she had no vehicle to transport, and with a few more connections, get to Otter Bite. She could forgo the five-day drive and possibly spend a day or two in Anchorage replacing some of her stolen belongings. This was very good news. She should be elated. Ecstatic. Turning cartwheels.

“Well, this certainly is good news, yes indeed,” Daisy said with forced enthusiasm. “And I don’t know how to thank you. Really.”

“The captain and Chief Stone really deserve the credit. Once they realized how determined you were, they pushed hard to get things squared away.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“After the tough time you’ve had, you deserve a break.”

“Yes, I do,” Daisy agreed, wondering why she couldn’t get one.

“So . . . would you like to get your money and credit card now?”

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d just as soon get it in the morning. I’m pretty tired and I’d like to think about my travel plans . . . now that I have some options.”

“Of course. To help you—”

Please, don’t help me anymore
.

“—we have a number of brochures with flight information. All these ports have air service. I’m assuming, of course, you will be
flying
out of Haines.”

“That certainly seems the prudent thing.”

“If we can be of further assistance, let us know.” A tip of his hat and Keller left her.

Daisy looked up the stairs that loomed like Everest. Should she tell Max the good news or keep it to herself a wee bit longer? Or should she forget to mention it altogether? After all, it wasn’t any of his business . . .

Even as she thought it, she knew that excuse was wearing thin.

Then again, maybe Max would ask her to come with him in spite of her other travel options. She could share the driving and the expenses and they might have a really good time.
Or...

Not.

The speed at which Max had left the cabin after their
whatever
you wanted to call what happened in bed . . . probably indicated how uncomfortable he was. She was uncomfortable, too. But not in a bad way. More of a confused, uncertain, butterflies-in-the-stomach, wondering-what’s-next kind of way.

Maybe Max was right—they were two ships passing. So why not enjoy each other for the moment and when it was over, just say good-bye and walk away. She could do that. Sure, she could. She could.

I can
, Daisy insisted.