My Hero Page 7

  Peta simply couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Phoebe. We’re managing very well indeed.”

  “Good. Wish I could say the same.”

  She frowned. “What? What’s the matter?”

  Phoebe paced. “It’s that dratted Sandra Dean. That’s what’s the matter. I called her last night and told her to get her ass in early because she was going to have to open the office.”

  “And?” Max was resting on Peta’s table. Much too close to her for her own peace of mind.

  “And that annoying girl never showed up.” Phoebe frowned. “I got there and found the place dark as pitch. Had to do it all myself.”

  Peta wrinkled her brow. “Well, Phoebe, it was a miserable snowstorm...maybe her car’s stuck somewhere. Cut her a little slack, would you? She’s only been with us a month or so.”

  “Hmph.” Phoebe snorted eloquently. “If she thinks she’s going to make it to two months, she’d better shape up. Luckily, nothing too important came in, just these emails...” She passed a folder over to Peta.

  “Here you are dear. Max, you should go. Run your errands and stuff. But remember...” Phoebe hollered through the open doorway as he shrugged into his new jacket. “I expect that edit finished by the end of this week. No later. No excuses.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he grinned, poking his head in and waving. “I’ll be back, as the Terminator says.”

  Phoebe snickered. “Oh go away, Arnold.”

  Peta pasted a weak smile on her face and nodded at the door, where Max wasn’t any more. He’d sure taken off in a hurry.

  “So.” Phoebe settled her backside into a chair and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the carafe the two of them had been sharing. “You go to bed with him yet?”

  “Phoebe.” Peta’s mouth dropped.

  “Oh come on, dear. You’ve been hotter than the sidewalk in July for that man ever since he strode into our offices. And he’s been sizing you up pretty good for just about as long.”

  Peta was, for once, lost for words.

  “So it’s a natural assumption. Put two people in the same house, let ‘em get to sniffing around each other, and see what happens.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You set this up.” She stared at Phoebe in horror.

  “Did not. How could I possibly know you were going to do something as idiotic as drive that little peanut of yours off a bridge? And on the same night Max’s apartment collapsed? I’m good, honey. But I’m not that good.”

  Peta’s mind whirled. “But...but...”

  “Oh yeah, there’s that British confusion. No wonder you lost the war.”

  “What war?”

  “The one we won.” Phoebe grinned.

  Peta threw up her hands. “I give up.”

  “So did they.”

  “Phoebe...be serious.” Peta leaned across the table. “Did you deliberately move Max in here so that he could...that we could...well, you know...”

  The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just say I hate to see an opportunity to make two people happy slip by.”

  Peta chewed that over in her mind for a moment or so. “And you think it would make us happy?”

  “To judge by the URST in this room this morning, oh yeah.”

  “URST?”

  “Didn’t I teach you anything? You know, what we look for in a manuscript? Un-Resolved Sexual Tension?”

  “Oh right.” Peta’s mind tried to follow Phoebe’s conversation. “That.” There certainly was plenty of URST around the house today.

  “So if Sandra doesn’t show up, I’ll be there all day, I guess,” continued Phoebe, dismissing Peta’s sex life from the conversation and returning to her professional business. “I’m going to dinner with Struthers tonight, but nothing else is on the schedule.”

  “Struthers? Again?” Peta smiled, knowing how much Phoebe enjoyed her dinners with the town librarian. The fact that he was an elegant and still-attractive man in his late fifties didn’t hurt either.

  Peta liked him. He was erudite, very intelligent, and made her laugh. “Well, have a good time.”

  Phoebe grinned. “I intend to. Now. Let’s see what we have here.” She delved into the file folder and turned the conversation back to the efficient operation of Mayfield Masterpieces, even though its business was being conducted largely from a dining room table under the watchful gaze of Mr. Peebles.

  *~*~*~*

  While the two women explored the mysteries of the publishing world together, Max donned his sunglasses and took off for town. The bright sun was dazzling against the heavy snow, piled along the sides of the road by the plows that had finally caught up with the weather.

  He blessed Phoebe’s all-wheel-drive, and wondered if he might swap his own two-wheel drive SUV for something with this kind of traction.

  He hadn’t considered it up to now, since it was unlikely he’d be around Mayfield for more than a few months, but something was changing. Something was starting to whisper quietly to him that this might not be a bad place to stay for a while. Time unspecified.

  It was unsettling, and he fidgeted, jumping at the blast of a horn from behind him as he lingered a second too long at an intersection. Damned impatient drivers.

  He drove past the small police station and noticed an unusual amount of activity outside the normally tranquil building.

  There were even a couple of state police vehicles parked there, along with a large black van. He frowned, then passed by, looking for a spot near the insurance company. It was time to check in with them and figure out what the hell he was going to do about his stuff. The stuff that had probably been completely ruined by the plaster which had crushed it and the snow that must have fallen on it through the gaping hole in the roof.

  Once again he blessed his lucky stars that he’d had such a narrow escape. And also that he’d had the foresight to take out a small personal items policy. It was part of his nature to be financially cautious, and this time it was certainly going to pay off.

  As he emerged from the office some forty-five minutes later, he’d discovered that it wasn’t going to pay off very well.

  Max sighed and headed for the bank.

  Fortunately, his Internet “interests” provided a nice income, although Jasmine must have gotten the surprise of her life when she saw herself featured prominently on a porn site.

  He couldn’t resist a little chuckle. Served the bitch right. She owed him big time for fucking him, and then firing him without a word. And he was quite happy collecting. Whatever scruples he had didn’t extend to hardhearted bitches who seemed to think that the world existed solely for their own pleasure, and fuck everyone else who got in their way.

  And speaking of bitches...

  “Hello, darling. Not playing nursemaid today?”

  Christ, he must have been distracted. Diana Stiles had crept up on him without his even knowing it.

  “Good morning, Diana. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  She laughed, a seductive sound promising wicked things. “Dear God. Max Wolfe talking about the weather. What has this world come to?” She glanced down at his pants. “With the operative word being come.”

  He felt his temper rise. Suddenly, Diana’s blatant intentions seemed...sordid. “I’m sure you’re busy. If you’ll excuse me, I have errands to run.”

  She hung on. “For her, I suppose, hmm? Fetching pillows? Bandages? Tea?” There was an edge to her voice that Max couldn’t miss.

  “Yes. Thanks for reminding me.”

  He detached himself from the clinginh arm and stepped over a convenient pile of snow. Her skirt was way too tight to allow her to do the same, and she pouted. “You have my number, darling. Call me anytime you want some real fun. I won’t even ask you to make tea...” Her lips curled in what was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a snarl.

  Max managed a thin smile and put even more room between them. She was practically turning his stomach. He wondered what had ever possessed him to find her attractive? Christ,
he’d fucked her. What had he been thinking of? Or, more to the point, what had he been thinking with?

  He shook his head. God, how things had changed. How he had changed. A year ago he’d have gone along with her naughty little ménage. But come that Christmas party, he hadn’t been able to. When the other guy had shown up, Max had left. Whoever he was, he was welcome to her. He knew, even then, that it wouldn’t be worth it. And if Peta had ever found out...well, perhaps that was what had held him back.

  A cheery voice hailed him, dragging him from his thoughts.

  “Hallooo Max...”

  Okay. There were some drawbacks to small town life. And one of them was crossing the street towards him, hand extended.

  Edward Sharp.

  With the wide, gleaming smile of men who are used to public interaction, Edward strode carelessly through the snow, and shook Max’s hand. Clasping both of his around it, Edward managed to convey the impression that his day was complete thanks to the happy chance that had brought them together.

  He looked and acted like just what he was. A politician.

  Max restrained the urge to vomit.

  “Good to see you, Max, good to see you. So how are you today? How are you?”

  He also had a bad habit of repeating himself, in case one missed the pearls of wisdom first time around. Or ignored them. Which, reflected Max as he withdrew his hand from Edward’s grasp, probably happened a lot.

  “Fine, thanks, Edward. And you?”

  “Well, run off my feet of course with this damned snowstorm. Had to roust the entire Town Works Department out of bed to clear it. Damned snowstorm.”

  Edward looked personally affronted, as if Mother Nature had deliberately set out to piss him off with her “damned snowstorm”.

  “I can imagine.”

  “Heard about Peta’s accident. How’s she doing, do you know? Nasty thing, that, eh? She still in hospital? And you too, building collapsed on you, huh? I told Mrs. Lee to get that darned place inspected. But noooo...damn fool woman. We’ve got the finest building inspector here in Mayfield...” He waved his hand around with pride. “But does she take advantage? Nooo. Damn fool woman.”

  Max swallowed. No wonder Edward managed to continually get himself re-elected as Senior Town Councilman. No one else could get a word in edgewise.

  He fell into step beside Max, seeming quite content to go wherever he was going. “You know, old chap, been meaning to ask you...”

  Max cocked an eyebrow, having learned not to interrupt Edward when he was in full swing.

  “The election’s coming up soon. I know I can count on your support—“ He grinned in an I-know-you’d-never-consider-voting-for-anyone-else kind of way. “But the thing is, you see, the damn campaign is costing a bloody fortune.”

  He frowned, allowing a wrinkle to appear between his nicely-tended eyebrows. “A bloody fortune.”

  “It is?” Max gazed at the man next to him. He figured Edward for about forty or so, well-built, dark hair without a touch of gray in it, and extremely well-dressed. Rumor had it that he got a manicure and a facial weekly, but went out of town to do it. Vanity—thy name is Candidate.

  “Oh absolutely, absolutely.” Edward paused by a snow bank, and Max realized he’d stopped too. Damn. He really hated this kind of thing.

  “Now I know it might be a bit forward for me to suggest this, but I’d welcome campaign contributions from anyone at this point.” He raised a pair of dark brown eyes to Max’s face and gave him a very nice imitation of a rather sad cocker spaniel. “Anyone.”

  “I see.”

  He began walking again, and Edward hurried alongside. “So if you wanted to get involved in something meaningful, something that will deepen your attachment to this lovely town of ours, won’t you give it at thought? Something meaningful, you know.”

  “Yes, I see.” Max was noncommittal and repeated himself. Shit. It must be catching.

  “I can tell you’re a man of the world.” Edward’s friendly grin and nudge offered the conclusion that this was something that Edward felt himself to be also. “With all those ladies buzzing around you like bees. Bees, they are. And nice ones too. Of course, being a married man I wouldn’t know about that...” The grin changed to more of a leer.

  Max curled his lip. “Quite.” God, now he was picking up Peta’s phrases. That had been too Brit for words. “And how is Mrs. Sharp?”

  “Oh good. Good. She’s in Florida. Be back in time for the election of course. My wife is my staunchest supporter.” Edward assumed the expression of a man who is staunchly supported by his wife.

  “Well, anyway, think about it, would you Max? It’s a great chance to get involved in the affairs of Mayfield. Such a fine place, don’t you think? Such a fine place.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.” About two microseconds worth.

  They had arrived at Phoebe’s SUV and Max pulled out his keys.

  Edward shrugged. “Well, I’ll let you go on then. I expect you have lots to do. Where you staying? You got a roof over your head, have you?”

  “Indeed I have. For the time being I’m staying with Ms. Matthews. It’s worked out well since she needs some help and I need a room.”

  “Really?” Edward’s eyebrows flew up towards his elegantly coiffed hair. “Well, how about that? How about that?”

  “How about what?” Max’s control was growing weaker by the minute. He wondered if burying a politician headfirst in a snowbank was a Federal offense.

  “Well, you and Peta. Peta and you. In the same house too. Fancy that. In the same house. Lovely girl, handsome man...you’re a sly one aren’t you?”

  That pretty much did it. Max opened the car door and turned with a frown.

  “Edward, Ms. Matthews has suffered a nasty injury to her ankle. It’s my pleasure to be able to help out in any way I can. The present situation has worked out well for us both. That’s all there is to it.”

  Edward prudently stepped back a little, obviously sensing the fury that Max knew was boiling right behind his eyes.

  “Umm, of course. Of course. Wouldn’t dream of suggesting anything else, Max. Good Lord. Good Lord. I mean Peta...well, it goes without saying, doesn’t it? She’s charming, but let’s face it, not your sort of woman at all, is she?”

  “Goodbye, Edward.” Max slammed the car door shut on Edward with a sense of relief, and drove off, not caring very much whether the tires accidentally sprayed a little slush up onto the perfect crease of Edward’s pants.

  He was fucking furious. He hated being hit up for money, disliked politicians on principle, and was blindingly mad at Edward’s assumption that Peta wasn’t his kind of woman.

  No wonder the world was screwed up. Politicians were so fucking stupid. And so fucking wrong.

  Chapter Nine

  Edward’s eyes narrowed and the public smile he’d perfected in front of his mirror disappeared from his face as he watched Max Wolfe’s taillights disappear down Main Street.

  He bent to brush the spattered slush off his pants. Fucking asshole.

  He turned and re-traced his steps down the sidewalk to ‘Diana’s Den’, the small knick-knack store owned and operated by Diana Stiles. It was usually quiet over the winter months, but in the summer did a land-office business selling junk to tourists who wanted to be reminded of their vacation by useless pieces of clutter.

  The bell dinged softly as he walked in, and seeing Diana with a customer, he dug up his best aren’t-I-charming grin.

  “Well, well, good morning Mrs. Hendricks. Finding some new treasures, are we? Finding some new treasures?”

  The woman at the counter blushed and smiled back. “Hello, Mr. Sharp. Fine job your boys did on the roads. I’d have hated to miss out on this little piece here. Thanks to you I could come over and pick it up.”

  Edward stared at the amazingly ugly gnome that was glaring at him from the counter as Diana rang up the sale.

  “Well, good show. Good show. Glad you’re happy with the way the t
own’s run. I’m sure I can count on you next month?” He held out his hand and Mrs. Hendricks blushed and giggled as she put hers into it.

  “Oh, Mr. Sharp. Of course. You bet. Chuck and I would never consider anyone else.” She accepted her package from Diana with a word of thanks and tittered her way out the door, making the bell chime once more.

  “Stupid cow,” grumbled Edward.

  “Didn’t get any contributions this morning, Edward?” Diana’s cool voice cut through the silence in the store.

  “Not a fucking penny.”

  “Aw, darling. You sound upset.” She crossed the store, turned the sign in the window from Open to Closed and latched the door. “It’s almost lunchtime. Would you care to join me...for a bite?”

  Edward’s eyes met hers.

  Diana Stiles was one hot piece of ass. Her blue eyes gleamed, and she licked her full lips as she tugged a couple of pins free and let her blonde hair fall over her shoulders.

  “In the back?”

  “Well, certainly not in front of the window,” she laughed. “Although if the rest of the town knew what a great fuck you are, it might help your campaign chest...”

  Edward growled as she took his hand and led him through the small opening into her back room.

  Pushing him down on the old sofa, she tugged him free of his shearling jacket. He smiled as her hands fell to his belt and he watched her eagerly shoving his pants down around his ankles. He was already hard, waiting, willing to go along with whatever happened next.

  It would be good, he knew that. Diana’s cunt was always hot, wet and ready.

  She stepped back and licked her lips. “Oooh, Edward. So nice and hard. You really have a great cock, you know that?”

  Edward’s chest swelled. “Yeah, yeah. I do, I do,” he agreed.

  Diana’s hands pulled her skirt up, and revealed her pantyhose. She kicked off her clogs and let the front of her skirt fall back down, hiding her body as she shimmied the hose down her legs in a little seductive striptease.