Slow Hands (12 page)

But no matter how late she worked, Alec was at her apartment when she got there. And he played dirty.

Tuesday, he used two-inch-thick pork chops, stuffed with apples, raisins, and bread crumbs, against her. Wednesday, he had fettucine Alfredo with grilled chicken breasts and fresh asparagus. It felt like she gained five pounds overnight.

By Thursday, Keira was ready to take her grandfather up on his offer to run Alec out of town. Too much of a good thing could be habit-forming. And Alec was a habit she couldn't afford to acquire.

Besides, Thursday was a special day—a sacred day.

Keira stopped by Franny's salon at four, just as it was closing. The place was deserted. "Mind if I clean up?"

"Avoiding Alec?" Franny asked.

She nodded.

"Go upstairs and shower, if you like," Franny said.

"No time. I want to get out there before it rains." Storms were predicted for later that evening.

Keira ducked into the rest room. When she came out, Franny was carrying a stack of magazines to the front reception counter.

"Don't look now, but Alec just rode by." Franny dropped the magazines and pressed her nose against the plate glass window, peering outside. "Yep, he spotted your truck. And he's doing a U-turn."

Keira started swearing. "Not today. Any day but today."

Franny nodded toward the back door. 'Take my car. Keys are in it. How much of a head start do you need?"

"Thirty minutes." Keira checked her watch. She still had to stop by the florist.

Franny waved her off. "I'll try and buy you forty. Go."

*
     
*
     
*

When Alec walked in, he found Franny singing along with the radio as she swept around one of the chairs. Her hair was deep red, with a few strands of the previous week's blond mixed in.

Franny had been changing her look weekly for as long as Alec could remember. And no matter what the color, what the style, she looked good.

She also dressed to kill. She had an hourglass figure and a wardrobe that fringed on theatrical, but always showcased her looks and revealed a mile of A-l, prime cleavage.

Unable to help himself, he smiled.

She smiled back, winked saucily. "Hello, handsome." Franny had also written the book on flirting.

"Hello yourself. The red looks hot."

Franny curtsied at the compliment. "What brings you here? Or should I guess?" She rolled her eyes toward the stairs leading to her apartment.

Alec had spotted Keira's truck out front, knew she was upstairs. Probably hiding. He'd wait her out.

He looked around, pretended interest. "Nice place." The salon was decorated in shiny chrome and bubble gum pink. "Barbie would feel right at home here. Maybe even Ken."

Franny giggled. "Darryl feels uncomfortable here, too. Says it's too froufrou. I'll tell you the same thing I tell him: Get over it."

Alec raised his hands. "Done."

"Good. Now tell me what you think of the rest of the downtown district?"

District?
A big word for a small town. He hesitated.

"It's changed." From what Alec had seen so far, much of the town had transformed.

"For the better?"

He nodded. "When did all the antique shops open?"

"Carrie Devlin, the mayor's wife, saw an article on a small town in Florida that transformed itself by adopting a specialty. She spearheaded a campaign and got the city to apply for federal grant money for revitalization, sent out notices to several large antique dealers, and
voila!
A few years ago
Southern Style
magazine listed Freedom as one of the top ten antique spots in the country. Tourists have poured in."

Franny set the broom aside and patted the styling chair. "But enough about Freedom. Let's talk about you. Have a seat, big boy."

Alec recognized a command when he heard one. As soon as he sat, Franny draped a flowered cape over him, fastening it at the neck. Then she lowered the pneumatic chair.

"So you're divorced," she began.

"Eight years."

"Kids?"

"None."

"Pets?"

"None."

"Steady girlfriend?"

Alec smiled. "None. Do I pass?"

"With flying colors. Now relax. I've been dying to get my hands on this hair of yours," Franny purred. She ran her fingers through his thick, black locks, digging into his scalp. "You don't mind, do you?"

Mind? Franny's fingers felt divine as she skillfully
massaged his head. "If I was a dog, my leg would be twitching."

Franny laughed, cracked her knuckles. 'This is your lucky day. I feel like showing off. Tip your head forward."

Alec obediently dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes as Franny's fingers dug rhythmically into his neck, forcing the tense muscles to liquefy. He groaned in near ecstasy.

"Lower," he begged. "Please."

Just before he slid bonelessly to the floor, Franny grasped his chin and brought his neck straight back, popping it. His joints creaked in satisfaction as tension released.

"Christ!" he said, moving his neck from side to side. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Trade secret. And you haven't seen anything yet."

She leaned forward, simultaneously tugging Alec back. She wedged his head squarely between her breasts as she started massaging the muscles on the front of his neck, just below his jaw.

His ears thought they'd died and gone to
ta-ta
heaven.

Franny tugged upward, straightening his neck again. More joints creaked. He hissed in gratitude.

"Will Keira be much longer?" he asked.

"Why? You thinking about leaving? I'm just getting warmed up. Besides, you're getting a haircut, whether you want one or not." Franny dug her hands into-his shoulder muscles. "And it's bad form to argue with the salon owner."

Alec groaned again as Franny's hands moved down to the spot where his neck met his shoulders. Years of tension and stress seemed to melt beneath her agile hands.

"We need to talk anyway." Franny continued rubbing and stroking. "About Keira."

He sat forward, alert. "What about her?"

Franny yanked him back, her fingers clamping on to his ear. "You hurt her again, you'll be singing soprano. On crutches. With a broken nose."

Most men might have looked at Franny and laughed at the threat. Alec knew better.

"Yes, ma'am."

"The same applies if you let Ian Griggs get anywhere near her grandfather."

"Okay."

Franny released his ear. "Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business." She tugged his neck back between her boobs again and shimmied slightly, adjusting. "Loosen up. They don't bite. And believe it or not, it keeps the muscles warm."

Sometimes the better part of valor was surrender. Alec closed his eyes and leaned back.

He was unabashedly a breast man. And while he wasn't physically attracted to Franny—Keira was the only woman his libido was interested in—he could still appreciate the fact that Franny was a gorgeous, well-endowed woman.

"Of course, you breathe a word of this to anyone, and I'll stab you with my scissors," Franny said. "Then I'll dump your body in a bottomless pit."

"Funny. There's a lot of that going around."

Keira stared at the smooth, gray granite headstone. Willis Morgan Jr. and Mary Ellen Morgan. Her mother's date of birth was three years later than her father's, but the dates of death were identical.

Twenty-five years ago to the day, her parents had been killed when their small sightseeing plane crashed over Niagara Falls. It had been her parents' fifth wedding anniversary, and they were celebrating with a honeymoon they hadn't been able to afford when they first married.

Mary Ellen had just learned she was pregnant again and knew with a baby on the way it would be a while before she and her husband could get away.

Kneeling, Keira arranged the roses she'd brought. Yellow. Two dozen, specially ordered. Her grandfather claimed they were her mother's favorite.

A pot of white mums sat beside her roses. She glanced at a nearby headstone, seeing an identical pot of mums on her grandmother's grave. Her grandfather had no doubt been up earlier.

She heard a noise and stopped, but the sound didn't recur. She shrugged, brought a fragrant yellow bud to her nose.

This part of the cemetery was enclosed by an ancient wrought-iron fence that marked the Morgan family section. It was oddly peaceful there.

For as long as she could remember, she had been coming here on the anniversary of her parents' death. When she was younger, she and Willis had come together, often packing a lunch and spending the day.

He'd tell her stories about her father as a young boy. They'd visit other tombstones, and Willis would relate stories he'd been told by his grandfather, that had been told to him by
his
grandfather.

But for once the tranquility was imperfect. Seeing the graves made her worry about Willis, what Griggs might do to him. An eye for an eye.

She looked at the far-flung scattering of headstones where generations of Morgans were laid to rest.

Not the first blade of grass was untrimmed, thanks to her grandfather, who felt like the county's maintenance was inadequate. At least for his kin.

Keira knew at Willis's passing, the task of maintaining the family plot would fall to her. And at her passing ...

She dashed away a tear. For their losses. Past and future. Her grandfather frequently referred to the two of them as the last of the Mohicans. She would be the end of the line.

It was hard to believe that at one time she'd considered leaving it all behind to follow Alec.

Just as she'd always known she'd live and die on Fire Mountain, Alec had always known he'd leave Freedom. Keira knew he'd grown up listening to his mother bewail small-town life. As a young, single mother, she couldn't afford to leave. But as soon as Alec finished high school she'd packed up and taken off.

Keira could hardly blame her. Louise Dempsey couldn't find peace in Freedom. She'd been labeled a loose woman: first, for having a child out of wedlock; second, for rumors she was having a string of affairs with married men. In classic double-standard style, no one blamed the men.

After he graduated, Alec had moved to Hot Springs, returning every weekend to see Keira. She could remember how long the weeks felt back then. They couldn't afford long-distance telephone calls, so she lived for the weekend and spent every available minute with Alec, often sneaking out and meeting him again after her grandfather had gone to bed.

Keira knew Alec was counting the days until she could leave. They talked of it constantly. After she finished school, they were going to St. Louis, where an uncle of Alec's promised to get him on with the union. Keira, too.

The thought of leaving her grandfather, leaving Fire Mountain, nearly overwhelmed her. But she knew she couldn't live without Alec.

So she made her choice, made peace with leaving. She'd bid farewell to her parents' graves and talked to her grandfather—who was actually quite supportive.

She remembered thinking that once she and Alec were married and away, she would eventually convince him to return to Freedom, which made saying good-bye seem less final.

Of course, Alec never came back. So it had all been a moot point.

She shook her head. Maybe it was time to make peace with that past, too.
Bury it here and now. Forever.

A breeze ruffled the warm air, stirring up more strange noises. The iron fence squeaked in protest of the approaching storm.

She bent to rearrange the roses one last time.