The Man She Married (14 page)

It was the middle of the night and Clay was sound asleep, having a very nice dream. That ended abruptly when his cell blasted out the “William Tell Overture.”

“Hello?” he muttered, trying to clear his throat.

“Oh, Clay. Mama…Mama…she.” Maizie was either sobbing or hiccupping—he couldn’t decide which—and then the call was dropped. What in hell was happening?

He turned on the bedside light and looked at the display on his phone. His battery was dead.

Clay grabbed the hotel phone, dialed his home number and was immediately sent to voice mail.

“Maizie, I’m on my way. My phone’s dead but I’ll try to find a pay phone along the road. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before dumping everything else into his suitcase. The client would have to wait. He’d make amends for missing tomorrow’s meeting when he got home. The important thing was making sure Maizie was all right.

Clay made the three-hour trip in just over two
hours—and yep, he’d broken every traffic law on the books. The sun was starting to rise as he pulled into the drive.

The house hadn’t burned down—thank heavens. Maizie’s car was in the driveway—that was a positive sign. But why were there Coke cans all over the lawn? The scene was awfully similar to of one of his college frat parties.

At first glance, things seemed fairly normal—except for the kegger look. But that was before he noticed Zack’s cruiser parked across the street. Oh, crap. Why hadn’t he stayed home?

Clay was out of the car and in the back door like a shot.

“Mary Stuart Walker, where are you?”

Halfway up the stairs he encountered his brother-in-law and grabbed his arm.

“What happened?” Clay wanted answers and he wanted them immediately.

By that time, both Maizie and Liza had joined the men on the landing.

“Clay, what are you doing here?” His wife had the audacity to look puzzled.

He took a deep breath, as much to lower his blood pressure as to keep from screaming. “You called me last night hysterical about your mother. What did you expect me to do, roll over and go back to sleep?” Clay realized he was shouting but he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, sweetie,” Maizie said with a smile. “I wasn’t hysterical, I was laughing. You won’t believe what Mama and my aunts did last night.”

She thought it was funny that he’d almost killed
himself driving hell-bent-to-leather to come to her rescue? It was so amusing he’d almost had a coronary. It was so funny…forget it. His righteous indignation took a nosedive in the face of his exhaustion. Not to mention he was so hungry he could eat an elephant.

“I’m going to fix breakfast,” he grumped. “Who wants to join me?” It was more of a command than an invitation.

After a meal of strawberry waffles and hot coffee Clay wiped his mouth and glared at his wife. “What happened? And don’t leave out a thing.” She had to know he’d get any missing information from Zack.

After Maizie and Liza finished their narrative, periodically interrupting each other, Clay had a clear mental picture of what had gone down. While he had to admit that his mother-in-law’s participation was side-splitting—he hadn’t known she had it in her—the fact that someone almost got in the house made his blood run cold. Thank God they had an alarm.

Clay glanced at his brother-in-law the sheriff. He hadn’t contributed much to the story. “Who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know. The intruder was long gone before we arrived,” Zack said. “Maizie doesn’t have any enemies that we know of. Is there anyone who has it in for you?”

Clay was desperate for a shower and a couple hours’ sleep. “I can’t think of a soul who’d want to hurt us. Obviously we’re missing a piece of this puzzle. Now we have to figure out what it is.”

“I’m going to increase the number of patrols we do on this block, but just between us, I’d suggest you get
a gun. Not that I’m telling you to do anything rash. Now I’m going back to the station to put out some feelers. Maybe one of our neighboring jurisdictions has run into the same MO.” Zack turned to his wife. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll take you home.”

Liza didn’t resist. She had her bag in her hand. “I’m right behind you.”

Maizie hugged her sister. “Thanks for keeping me company.” She grinned. “You have to admit it was entertaining.”

“It certainly was.”

Clay and Maizie walked the Hendersons to the door and waved goodbye.

“I have to call Harvey and tell him I’m staying in town.” Although work was important, Clay didn’t intend to leave his wife’s side. One of his young engineers would have to take over the Savannah project, at least for the time being.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, at least not until we can make heads or tails of all this.”

“I’m scared.” That was the first time Maizie had admitted it out loud. “It’s the fear of the unknown that’s making me crazy.” She couldn’t quite verbalize what she was feeling. It almost felt as if the guy had the ability to disappear at will.

Maizie was a true crime junkie so she knew many women had faced this unbelievably terrifying situation. She simply never thought she’d be one of them.

Clay pulled Maizie close. “The guy’s a sicko. We’ll find him, I promise.”

“I know that up here.” She touched her head and then placed her hand over her heart. “But here, where it
counts, I’m scared. None of this makes any sense. Why would someone stalk us? We’re plain folks. Why would he be interested in us?”

Clay answered by tilting her chin and pressing his lips to hers. It was an erotic journey home. It started out soft and sweet, then quickly turned into a kiss of the soul, hot and carnal. It was a confirmation of love, friendship, commitment and everything that was wonderful about their relationship.

“Does this mean you’re moving back into our bedroom?” Maizie asked when they finally came up for air.

“What do you think?” Clay pulled her T-shirt over her head and discarded it on the living room floor. Then he traced his fingers up her back to pop open the clasp of her bra.

“I remember the first time you did that. Do you?”

“Uh-huh. Now hush.” Clay slid his hands to her midriff, and proceeded to gently massage her nipples. This was heaven. This was how it was supposed to be. This was perfect.

Slowly, inch by inch, kiss by sensual kiss, Maizie slid back on the couch cushions until Clay was leaning over her, murmuring sweet nothings and doing even sweeter things to her body.

Maizie was having a “whoa, mama” dream when she suddenly awoke. At first she was annoyed that she’d missed the punch line, but when she opened her eyes, she realized reality was better than any dream.

Clay was where he was supposed to be—right by her side. She thanked her lucky stars when he rolled over and gave her the same sexy smile she’d loved for nearly three decades.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Clay put his arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Clay and Maizie’s previous afternoon had segued from fantastic make-up loving, to an erotic dinner of strawberries and whipped cream, on to a stimulating shower, and then back to bed.

“Fantastic. I’d love to stay here all day.” She rubbed against him like an affectionate kitten.

“I would, too. Regrettably, we both have to go to work. You know, to make money. Pay the mortgage. Keep the kid in college. Stuff like that.”

“I know.” She couldn’t resist a sly grin. “We have
thirty minutes. What do you think we can get done in that time?”

“Debate the upcoming city council election?”

The silly man was begging for a smack. Instead she gave his chest hair a friendly tweak.

“That does it.” He rolled her over on her back for a replay of the previous evening.

And that’s how they spent the next thirty minutes.

M
AIZIE WAS ON HER
second waffle when Clay finally made it downstairs. He was showered, shaved and too handsome for words.

He sat down and pilfered a bite of her waffle. “I’m taking you to the boutique and then I have to run by the office for a while. We have some damage control to do on the Savannah project. I’m hoping that today we’ll get some good news about that infamous interchange.”

“Do you think everything’s going to be okay?” For Clay’s sake she prayed the situation would work out. If it didn’t, that would be all right, too. As long as they had their family, everything else was gravy.

“I hope so. We’re about to find out. I’ll come back to the Boudoir as soon as I can get away. Promise me you won’t go anywhere by yourself. This guy is getting gutsier by the day.”

Maizie twined her fingers through his. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in a public place and PJ will be there. If anything should go wrong I have Zack’s number on the speed dial. He promised he’d come running.”

“I know.” Clay chuckled. “Humor me. It’ll make me feel better.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t leave the shop unless you’re with me.”

C
LAY WAS IN THE MIDDLE
of a conference call when Janice, his receptionist, came in and signaled that he had another call.

“It’s important,” she mouthed. “Really important.”

Clay’s stomach flip-flopped. “I’m sorry,” he interrupted the speaker. “I have a family emergency. I have to leave this with you guys.” He hung up, hoping to God he was overreacting.

“What is it, Janice?”

“The sheriff’s on the phone. He said it was urgent.” Janice obviously wanted to stick around. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“No, that’s it. Thanks.”

“Oh, okay.” She reluctantly took her leave.

What was wrong now? Clay connected to Zack’s call. “What’s up?” He didn’t bother with any preliminaries.

“I have some news that you’re not going to like.”

“I
NEED TO GO TO
the post office. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or less, I promise,” PJ said, making an elaborate display of crossing her heart.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been alone in this shop thousands of times. I’m not afraid. Go.” Maizie made a shooing motion with her hands. Trip Fitzgerald came in as PJ was leaving.

“Hi, Trip. Are you shopping again? You certainly
have lucky relatives.” PJ held the door open for the tennis pro.

“Yep, it’s my sister’s birthday this time. Can you stick around to help me?”

PJ blushed to the roots of her curly do. “I would, but I have to get this in today’s mail.” She held up an envelope. “I’ll have to pay interest on my credit card if I don’t.” The smile she gave him was far too flirtatious for a married mother of two.

“Maizie will be glad to help you. See ya.” She threw him a cheeky three-finger wave.

Maizie listened to the banter between PJ and Trip.

“Hi, Trip,” she greeted him warmly. It was nice to see a friendly face. “I haven’t talked to you in ages.”

“I’m still at the country club. We’ve missed you at the lessons.” He grinned before getting serious. “I’ve heard what’s been happening. It’s terrible.”

“Things have been crazy around here lately,” Maizie admitted as she straightened the rack of blouses, arranging things according to size and color.

As much as she liked Trip, she didn’t think it was appropriate to spill her guts to him.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Somehow he’d managed to move much closer than Maizie expected, so she sidestepped, trying to get out of his way. Didn’t he understand the importance of personal space?

“I’m certain the sheriff will find the guy soon.” When she moved to the other side of the carousel, he followed, step for step. His behavior was giving her the creeps. Was she being too sensitive or was there really something off here?

Maizie plastered on her best shopkeeper smile. “So, what can I help you with today?”

He didn’t answer, but he did glance around as if he was looking for something, or someone. “Are you alone?”

On the surface the question seemed innocent. All the same, Maizie’s intuition went on high alert. PJ had said she’d back in fifteen minutes, but knowing her she’d make a side trip by the bookstore or the Dairy Queen or the nail salon.

Maizie couldn’t put her finger on what was making her nervous, but it was better to err on the side of caution. After all, she’d promised Clay. That meant she needed to keep Trip talking and distracted so she could get behind the counter to the phone.

“No. As a matter of fact Clay is unloading some boxes in the store room.”

Trip’s smile was worthy of a snake-oil salesman. Why hadn’t she noticed his smarminess before now?

Red flags were waving all over the place. Maizie eased the cordless off its base. Please God, she was being unreasonable. She’d much rather be embarrassed than dead. Could Trip Fitzgerald be her stalker?

She got her answer when he snatched the phone out of her hand.

“What are you doing?” Maizie squeaked. When the going got rough she always seemed to turn into Minnie Mouse.

“I don’t think you want to call anyone.”

Chills skittered up her spine. “Why are you here?”

“I told you. I’m shopping.” His voice was so cold it sent the temperature plunging.

“I don’t believe you.”

Why had she ever thought he had nice eyes? At the moment they seemed more reptilian than human. And then it hit her—no white knight was going to ride to her rescue, not even Clay. Maizie had never felt so alone.

Clay made it to Zack’s office in record time.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee.” Zack indicated the coffeemaker on his credenza.

It was a classic stall but Clay decided to play along, at least for a few minutes. “I’m not desperate enough to drink that stuff.” He shuddered. “What time did you make it?”

“Yesterday.”

“Enough said. So, what’s the information you found?” he asked, not willing to wait a second longer.

Zack leaned back in his leather chair. “I had one of my detectives check sex-offender registries all over the South. We didn’t find anything there, but when he did a statewide search on stalker cases, he came up with several that looked similar, and they were all attached to the same person. You’ll never believe who it was.”

As far as Clay was concerned, it didn’t matter who it was. As long as they had a name they could find him.

“I give up. Just tell me.”

“Trip Fitzgerald. It seems he’s been dismissed from several jobs for inappropriate actions. Plus he was sued
a couple of times, but the cases were all dismissed. Apparently, it became a he said/she said situation. In other words, he was hitting on the ladies, and when they didn’t reciprocate he started following them.”

“Got him!” Clay pumped a fist in the air. “What do we do next?”

“I’m calling the country club manager to see if they checked his references and to find out if they’ve had any complaints. We can’t pick him up without probable cause. As far as I can tell he’s kept his nose clean since he’s been in town. Unless he’s Maizie’s stalker, of course.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. I have to get back to the boutique. I won’t relax until I know she’s safe.”

“If you can wait a minute I’ll go with you. Let me call Liza and get her to tap into the rumor mill. You know how efficient that thing is. If he’s so much as swatted a butt she’ll find out. I’d bet my bottom dollar he hasn’t been a good boy. The recidivism rate on sexual offenders is incredibly high.”

“I
WANT YOU TO TAKE A
ride with me,” Trip said. Sure, it sounded like an invitation, but Maizie knew better.

“No!” she shrieked when he got a death grip on her wrist. “Let go of my arm!”

“I don’t think so.” It was said so casually you’d think they were discussing the weather. “You
are
going with me.”

Although he wasn’t a large man he was strong and very determined.

Terror was increasing her desperation, but neither
emotion was going to get her out of this mess. What Maizie wouldn’t give for a machete, or a howitzer or even a butter knife. Unfortunately, she couldn’t reach anything more lethal than a stapler.

“You really don’t want to do this.” She was trying to reason with him. Was she nuts? This lunatic wouldn’t respond to anything other than sheer brute force. And where did that leave her? Up the creek, that’s where.

“Yes, I do. I’m in love with you and we’re going to spend a romantic weekend together. I know you don’t love your husband. I’ve read all about it in the paper.”

When he smiled, her gag reflex kicked in.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read.” She returned his smile, trying to defuse the situation, but it didn’t work.

“Don’t screw with me.” He brought his face in close to hers. “You’re coming with me and I’m not terribly interested in your opinion.” Trip emphasized his command by grabbing a handful of Maizie’s hair. It was a show of domination that hurt like hell.

“Stop it!” She swatted at him, missing her mark by a mile.

“We don’t have all day. Your stupid assistant will be back soon.” He jerked Maizie’s hair again, forcing her out from behind the counter.

Think, girl, think! She didn’t have a weapon, so what did she have? Her brains—that was it. She’d have to outsmart him. She was
not
getting in a car with him.

She had to think self-defense. Talk to him. Get him to relax. Make him think she was his friend.

Deep breath. Get your brain in gear!

Other than a jewelry display, the only thing on the counter was a bottle of Ralph Lauren perfume. Maizie didn’t know how she could use it, but she was running out of options.

Trip pulled a shiny, pointed stiletto from his pocket. Holy crap! Maizie had come to a knife fight armed with a bottle of Ralph. Those were bad odds.

“Move it!” He pushed Maizie toward the door.

If she went with him, she wouldn’t be returning. Or if she did, it would be in a body bag. So for better or worse, she had to put up the fight of a lifetime.

When Maizie stumbled, he kicked her—and boy, that made her mad. The sadistic little bastard might win, but he was gonna find himself hurting.

Seconds later he managed to drag her to the back parking lot. The silver subcompact sitting next to her Mustang had to be his. It couldn’t be any bigger than a smart car. What kind of idiot came to a kidnapping in Marian the Librarian’s car? On TV the bad guys always used a nondescript white van—without windows. But this wasn’t
CSI,
it was life or death.

“Trip. Think about it. You don’t want to do this.”

He responded with a grunt—so much for reasoning. He was as crazy as a loon.

Maizie’s resolve strengthened, her spine stiffened and her calm returned with a vengeance. Trip Fitzgerald was going to wish he’d never met her. You didn’t mess with a Westerfield twin and come out unscathed.

He hit the electric door locks and shoved her toward the vehicle. Maizie had already decided she wasn’t going to get in his car, but when he popped the trunk her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

He could wave his stiletto all he wanted—it didn’t matter one bit. There was no way she’d fit in
that
trunk.

“Get in, right now!” He pushed her headfirst toward the gaping abyss. It couldn’t be any bigger than two-by-two, and wouldn’t hold a twenty-five-pound turkey. Even so it looked like a black hole, ready to suck her in.

Maizie was afraid she might faint but then her anger came back. If he wanted to stab her, so be it. She had righteous indignation and a ton of adrenaline on her side.

Maizie grabbed his ears and rammed her knee into his groin. To the casual observer it might have looked brutal, and yes, it probably was. Frankly, she hoped his gonads had taken up residence in his nasal cavity.

His scream was primal. His agony was apparent. And Maizie was happy as a clam. She slapped her hands together. It served him right.

C
LAY AND
Z
ACK PULLED INTO
the parking lot in time to get an up close and personal look at Maizie’s martial arts exhibition.

Zack winced as Trip collapsed on the pavement clutching his groin. “Ooh, that hurts.”

Clay frankly didn’t care two hoots about the bastard’s pain. He was too focused on getting to Maizie and reassuring himself that she was okay.

“Do you suppose she needs some help?” Zack’s question was clearly rhetorical. He hopped from the cruiser and jerked Trip off the ground. He slapped the cuffs on Mr. Fitzgerald with a certain amount of relish, read him his rights and tossed him in the back of the police car.

It was a darned good thing Zack was there, otherwise Clay would have been tempted to beat the crap out of the tennis pro. And Clay hadn’t been in a fight since the ninth grade. That was the time Poochie Benton gave him a black eye and Clay had learned a valuable lesson—watch out for the wiry guys.

He enveloped his wife in a bear hug. “Oh, baby. I was so scared.” He wasn’t quite sure his heart would ever recover.

“Clay. Clay!” She hit him on the chest, trying to pull away.

“What?”

“I can’t breathe.”

“Oh.” He reluctantly loosened his grip. He couldn’t help feeling overwrought. It wasn’t every day he had to watch his best girl take down a kidnapper.

“Sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the flowery scent of her hair. “I almost had a coronary when we drove up and I realized what was happening.”

Maizie made a muffled sound he couldn’t quite understand so he squeezed her a little tighter. It wasn’t until she whacked him that he realized he was smothering her again.

“Sorry.” Clay pushed back just far enough to make a thorough inspection. No blood. No visible bruises. That was a relief. Her hair was all messed up, but it merely looked as if she’d been running her hands through it.

“What exactly happened?”

It was a simple question. But if her sputtering was any indication, it wasn’t one she could answer. Mary Stuart Walker had been silenced by shock and possibly
some version of post-traumatic stress disorder. Clay didn’t think it would last long.

By that time so many people were converging on the premises you’d think it was a tourist attraction. Zack had obviously called his wife, so naturally the entire family had heard about the fiasco. Mama was the first to arrive, quickly followed by Kenni and Liza.

“May I take Maizie home?” Clay asked Zack.

“Give me a second to disperse the mob. I need to ask her some questions and get a statement first.” The sheriff turned to the crowd and made an announcement. “The excitement’s over so everyone without a badge can head on out.” When the gawkers left, Zack turned to his wife. “Liza, why don’t you and your mother go inside and wait for me?”

“Okay,” Liza replied steering Mama toward the door.

Maizie burrowed her head into Clay’s chest. He could tell from the way she was shaking that she was close to hysteria.

Clay disentangled himself and led Maizie inside. “Where’s PJ?” he asked.

“She went to the post office.” Maizie wiped her nose on her sleeve. “She should be back in a few minutes.”

Right on cue there was a ruckus at the front door. “Bubba Carter, you dolt, let me in!”

“The cavalry has arrived,” Maizie said with the hint of a smile.

“Maizie, what happened?” PJ almost bowled her boss over with a huge hug. “There are cops and EMTs and your family. Can’t I leave for five minutes without you getting into trouble?” She ended her tirade with a flood of tears.

“I’m okay,” Maizie reassured her friend. “Trip Fitzgerald tried to kidnap me but I fought him off.”

“The tennis pro tried to kidnap you!” PJ shouted.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Ohmigod! What’s happening to this town? A girl’s not safe anywhere.”

To forestall another diatribe, Maizie asked, “Would you mind closing up while I talk to Zack? Clay’s going to take me home when that’s done.”

“Of course.” PJ put her hands on her hips and spoke to Clay. “You pamper her, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clay said with a mock salute.

M
AIZIE WAS IN HEAVEN
. What more could a girl want than a steamy bath and a cold glass of bubbly? The end of cellulite or world peace might be nice, but that was way outside her ability.

The water was cooling and she was starting to look like a California raisin so it was probably time to get back to the real world. She’d just wrapped herself in a towel when Clay strolled in and refilled her champagne flute.

“How are you feeling?” He ran his hands up her arms and caressed her shoulders.

“Better.” Maizie wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s good, really good,” Clay muttered, keeping his eyes on her lips. He went for a soft exploratory kiss that quickly deepened until they were both having a hard time catching their breath. The old magic was back, and it was better than ever.

For what seemed like hours, although it was probably only minutes, Clay feasted on her body. She felt
like a delectable treat, but that wasn’t enough. Even in love, turnabout was fair play. Without regard for buttons, she ripped open his shirt, running her fingers through his chest hair.

“I love this.” Maizie lowered her hands to massage his butt.

“And I love doing this.” He leaned down to take her nipple into his mouth, sending shock waves through her.

That was the last of the conversation. Their lovemaking was a wonderful combination of youthful lust and mature passion. It was a reaffirmation of a marriage that had endured for more than two decades. Exhausted, Maizie and Clay were spooned prior to drifting off to sleep.

“I was terrified something horrible had happened to you,” Clay murmured.

“I got a few gray hairs on that one, too,” Maizie said with a giggle.

Clay kissed the side of her neck. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t have to find out, isn’t it? I’m not going anywhere. And for what it’s worth I’m really sorry I started this whole thing by wanting to make you jealous. It was silly and immature.”

“Don’t worry. It’s kind of funny now.” So their marriage was back on its foundation—the ability to find humor in almost any situation.