Impossible Dreams (13 page)

The image of a golden Norse god kicking shoes as he writhed
in agony wouldn’t easily be erased.

She rubbed the tumbling infant in her abdomen. Her limited
insurance didn’t cover sonograms, so she had no clue whether she carried
a boy or girl, and it didn’t matter. Maybe she couldn’t provide her
child or Matty with an expensive room like this one — heck, right now she
couldn’t give them a roof over their heads — but she could give them love.
She had a lifetime of unexpressed love to offer. And she knew a whole lot more
about showing it than Axell Holm did.

Matty wandered in and plopped in front of the TV, examining
the knobs for the one that would make it work. With a smile, Maya picked up the
remote control and switched on the VCR that still contained the dragon tape.
Matty’s eyes grew wide with wonder, and he threw her one of those magical
looks she cherished.

“See, even the TV knows what you like.”

He beamed then and relaxed in happy fascination with the
movie. He was too easily satisfied to suffer from attention deficit,
she’d already decided. Maybe mild dyslexia. She should ask Social Services
about testing.

Maya wondered how well Axell was doing with his child. And
what plot the mayor schemed to destroy her dreams.

***

Talking into her cell phone, Selene paced the dusty pine
floor of the empty shop with the restless grace of a caged panther. Maya
admired her energy but conserved her own as she waited for Axell and the
building inspector to return with word on Cleo’s shop.

Selene clicked the phone closed and glanced around the empty
shell of Axell’s building with distaste. “Girl, you got your work
cut out for you.”

“I’ve got to do it.” Maya wiggled on the
high stool she’d found in the back. “Cleo will be home in a few
months. What’s the chance of anyone hiring her?”

“Zilch,” Selene said crudely. “You’d
better be praying hard. You got a plan for this place?”

That was a topic she could handle. Maya pointed out the
twelve-foot high barren walls. “I saw an artist at a local art show who
had the most amazing paintings. They practically glowed from within. Do you
think I could display large oils on that wall?”

“That’s not a plan,” Selene said with
disgust. “That’s a dream. Tell me how you’re going to make
money off those oils, and you’ve got a plan.”

“Selling oils
is
a plan,” Maya insisted.
“That space would be wasted otherwise. I could take them on consignment
so I don’t have to shell out money for inventory. I’m not entirely
stupid.”

“No, just a little batty.” Selene swung on her
heeled sandals to glare at the walls. “You need to paint them white and
add track lighting.”

“Sure and add a crystal chandelier and wine bar too.
I’m not
that
batty.”

Selene’s cell phone beeped as Axell strode through the
front door.

Maya’s fingernails dug into her palms, and she wrapped
her feet in the stool rungs as she anxiously watched Axell’s face for
some clue of the inspector’s decision. Not a smile, not a wink, not even
a frown indicated the results as he walked with lion grace across the bare
floor. He held her entire life in his hands, and he didn’t say a blamed
thing. The tension was killing her. Maybe killing
him
was an
alternative. She wanted her teapot back, dammit.

Calmly, Axell handed Maya a wad of official-looking papers.
She stared at them, her hands shaking.

“You’ve got permission to move your
things.”

Stunned, she just sat there staring at the papers that saved
her life, Cleo’s life, Matty’s future... Tears welled in her eyes
and joy spilled from her heart. Unable to jump and down and squeal with glee,
she did the next best thing.

She leaned forward, propped her hands on Axell’s
shoulders, and kissed him smack on his startled mouth.

Stunned, he stood like a store dummy with his hands at his
side.

His mouth woke quickly enough, though, and their lips melted
together with incredible ease. He tasted of coffee, and oddly enough,
vanilla — all hot and sugary and yummy.

Her turn to be startled, Maya hastily pushed away, flushed,
and wrapped her arms around herself instead of him. Axell eyed her warily, with
the heat still smoldering in his eyes. She hadn’t intended anything
sexual with her embrace, but sparks of something electric were suddenly
shooting all around them. Maybe the shop had faulty wiring.

The man definitely had a Scorpio moon.
Boy, can you pick
’em, Maya.

“I take it you appreciate the results,” Axell
said wryly, retreating a cautious pace.

Entranced by the wild flare in his eyes, Maya couldn’t
look away. The staid businessman in his pressed suit and conservative tie had
real live wires pumping somewhere beneath that deadly attire. The lion king
lived. He could roar.

A cough from behind them warned Selene’s call had
ended. Nervously, Maya glanced at the documents in her hands. At the same time,
Axell reached for them. An impromptu tug-o-war ensued until Maya gathered her
wits and released them.

“I’ve called a local mover who’s willing
to pack and transport everything,” he declared. “The building may
be safe, but I don’t think you should be doing that kind of work. And
I’ve got a cleaning crew coming in to wax the floors and dust your
inventory when it arrives. You’ll need to be here to tell them where everything
goes.”

Axell’s curt, businesslike tones restored the moment
to normal, and Maya breathed a sigh of relief. One of these days she hoped to
curb her impetuous behavior. She was about to become a mother; she had to grow
up.

She wished she had the papers back just so she had something
to do with her hands. “I can’t afford all that,” was all she
managed to whisper.

“We’re partners, remember? You’re the
labor, I’m the capital.” Axell neatly folded the stack of documents
and inserted them in an inside coat pocket.

“Hold up one minute.” Selene intruded, extending
her hand. “Partners? You’ve had an agreement drawn up? Does it
specify salary? Profit-sharing? Accountability? I’ve got a vested
interest in this woman too. I’ll not have her tied to this place for the
rest of her life.”

Maya bit back a grin as Axell stared at her friend as if
Selene had turned two shades of pink and purple right before his eyes.

“I’ll have my lawyer draw something up,”
he responded cautiously.

“I’ll have
my
lawyer go over it,”
Selene countered.

“I’ll just mosey on over and get my
clothes,” Maya murmured, still grinning as Axell and Selene glared at one
another like two gladiators in a ring. She slipped from the stool and edged
toward the door.

“You’ll damned well not go inside that building!”
Axell shouted, apparently recovering his senses as she reached for the knob.

“If it’s safe for the movers, it’s safe
for me,” she called sweetly, marching out without looking back.

Furious at his inability to control the capricious twit,
Axell stalked after her.

“She’s a Pisces,” Selene called after him.
“You might as well try to catch a fish with your bare hands!”

Axell shot her a glare of disbelief and strode out. Pisces,
his foot and eye. Someone just needed to put a rein and harness on her. And a
muzzle.

He found Maya ecstatically polishing her silly teapot and
cups and carefully packing them in paper into a box that looked as if it had
been carried through Donner Pass on mule back. Three times.

“The movers will bring packing boxes,” he reminded
her.

Rain clouds had moved in earlier that day, so no sunlight
danced through the prisms over her head. Still, her cascade of auburn curls
glowed with a light of their own as she shook her head.

“No one moves these but me,” she announced
firmly.

Since she seldom announced anything, much less acted on it
with such determination, Axell resisted arguing. Obviously, he didn’t
understand the attachment, but he recognized it for it was. “All right,
let me get you a stronger box. Why don’t you come over to the restaurant
with me and have some tea while I find one?”

She glanced at him mischievously. “You’re afraid
I’ll do something silly if you let me out of your sight. I’ve been
surviving on my own for a lot longer than you realize, you know.”

“Yeah, and a hell of a job you’ve done,
too,” he said dryly, extending his hand to help her rise from the floor.
“Humor an old man and come with me.”

Accepting his hand, she glanced at him curiously. “Old
man? Have I aged you that quickly?”

Her perceptive look nearly floored him, but Axell tugged her
toward the door without acknowledging it. Her kiss earlier had awakened his
awareness of their age differences. She was still young and full of enthusiasm.
He was jaded and beyond feeling much of anything, except testosterone surges
during mind-bending kisses. Like an alcoholic craving a drink, he wanted
another.

“Kids’ll do that to you,” he replied
evasively. She’d have him darting in and out of arguments like a minnow
before long.

“Constance seems happier after your talk with her. I
notice she even told you what shoes she wanted with her dress this
morning.”

Axell grimaced. “Yeah, the ones you painted dragons
on. Now, if she’d just learn to dress herself, we may have accomplished
something.”

Suspiciously, he watched Maya bite her lower lip as they
progressed slowly through the sprinkling mist toward the restaurant. He
recognized that look.

“What?” he demanded. “What are you not
telling me now?”

An impish dimple appeared and disappeared at the corner of
her mouth as she slanted him a sidelong look. A man could imagine all sorts of
things in a look like that. It was a damned good thing she was pregnant so he
knew where he stood.

“Well-l-l,” she drew out the word thoughtfully.
“You’ll not like it if I tell you.”

“I already figured that,” he said resignedly.
“I’ve noticed I seldom like anything you tell me.” He bit
back a groan as he watched his mother-in-law emerge from the restaurant with
all her battle armor in place. “You’d better hurry up and say it
because this may be the last time you see me alive.”

Startled, Maya followed his glance and giggled. Giggled.
Axell could scarcely believe his ears. No one giggled at Sandra in full battle
mode. Southern ladies might be all sweet and creamy on the outside, but a
Southern man knew the sugar concealed one hell of a tough pecan beneath.

“The hair looks like a helmet, don’t you think?
Does she carry a sword?”

“What do you think that ring is on her finger? She can
cut a man’s throat with that thing.”

Maya’s gurgle of laughter almost had him grinning.
He’d never grinned in Sandra’s company before.

“The designer suit is full battle regalia,
right?” she whispered as Sandra apparently saw them and waited
impatiently, tapping her elegantly shod toe.

“The pearls are her magic shield. They’re
supposed to blind the enemy with her wealth and protect her from all who
couldn’t possibly afford them.”

“Ooo, you’re good.” Maya shot him an
admiring glance. “I might need you in storytelling class.”

Since they were within earshot of Sandra, Axell didn’t
respond to that remark. He hadn’t failed to notice Maya had avoided his
earlier question about Constance’s dressing habits. He would have to
learn to keep the conversation focused around this slippery little fish. Fish!
He swung his attention to Constance’s grandmother.

“Good morning, Sandra. Have you met Miss Alyssum,
Constance’s teacher? Maya, Constance’s grandmother, Sandra
Matthews.” He no longer had to introduce her as mother-in-law, Axell
realized with an odd feeling of relief. Sandra was nothing to him anymore.

Sandra glared venomously at Maya. “I believe we have
something to discuss in
private
, Axell.”

“I can’t imagine what, Sandra.” Skillfully
appropriating Maya’s elbow with one hand and opening the restaurant door
with the other, he nodded for Sandra to precede them. He’d be damned if
he let the old biddy walk all over a tenderfoot like Maya. The schoolteacher
didn’t have the social daggers to protect herself.

“I’m talking to the judge this afternoon,”
Sandra ground out, apparently through her neatly capped teeth.

“Tell him hello for me,” Axell replied
insouciantly, although his insides were clenched as tightly as Sandra’s
teeth as he led the way to a table. Stoicism had its price.

“I’ve tried to be polite about this,
Axell,” she said, refusing his gesture toward a booth. “But
you’ve gone out of your way to flaunt your improprieties in public. I
won’t have an impressionable child like Constance living under the same
roof as this...this...” Words apparently failed her.

Words had never failed Maya, Axell realized with a groan as
she flashed one of her brilliant go-to-hell-happily smiles. Curiosity prevented
his stopping her.

“Nine-months-pregnant schoolteacher?” she
supplied cheerfully. “And you will note, won’t you, that I arrived
here seven months ago? So Axell has nothing whatsoever to do with
my...‘interesting condition.’ And if you think there’s
anything else between us but his old-fashioned solicitude and generosity, then
you have bacon where your brains should be. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
I’m after a box from the kitchen.”

She swam away, out of the conflagration she’d fueled.
Axell could only admire her dexterity as she swept from the room. He’d
hate to see how swift she was without the burden of pregnancy holding her back.
Like the Cheshire cat, she’d probably leave her smile still spinning in
the air behind her.

Popping the top from a water bottle, he leaned against the
bar. “Give Judge Tony my regards, will you? And tell him if he wants to
make a political case out of this, I’ll take it all the way to the
Supreme Court. That should thrill him. Constance is mine.”