Sugar and Spite (30 page)

“The world’s a safer place,” Savannah added.

Tammy just giggled.

Dirk blushed. “Bunch of friggin’ smart alecks,” he said, but he grinned broadly in spite of himself. The Dom Perignon bubbles had hit his bloodstream and lifted his spirits considerably. Savannah knew he would have choked on the champagne if he’d had any idea how much she had paid for it.

Oh well, this was a special occasion, and who needed to buy groceries or pay the electric bill?

They sat around the table, a much cozier, far less tense group than the last time they had assembled there. Half an hour before, they had all watched the evening news. And it had been spectacular! Quince Jeffries’s face, along with Norman Hillquist’s, had been on every station at eleven o’clock, and the headlines included a lot of tongue clucking that such promising careers were cut short in their prime. Along with the sordid and sensational details of the murders, it made great copy. Political intrigue with the Medieval Faire as a backdrop… Savannah had heard that several of the TV magazine shows were picking it up.

Norman Hillquist’s career was dog poop! And she couldn’t be more overjoyed!

“Seriously,” Dirk said after they had clicked glasses all the way around the table. “If it hadn’t been for you guys, I’d be sitting in jail right now, feeling miserably sorry for myself. You saved my life, and I won’t forget it. I’d much rather be sitting here, feeling miserable with you guys for the rest of my days.”

“And making us miserable with all your complaining and pessimism,” Savannah added.

He shrugged. “Hey, it’s my gift. I have to use it. But I just wanted you to know that, when all this was happening, I didn’t feel alone. I felt like… you know… like I had family. And it really helped. You all really helped.”

“Better watch it, Coulter,” Ryan said. “You’re starting to sound like a sensitive sorta guy. We can’t have that. Next thing we know, you’ll be asking to wear my blue tights.”

“Not on your life. The next time I’m going to one of those faire things, I’m wearing a corset. Why should Savannah get all the looks?”

Savannah refilled everyone’s glass and thought, as she passed from loved one to loved one, how very blessed she was. How many people in the world had this many friends they could truly count on? Wasn’t this what family was all about? Not only those who were related to you by birth, but those your heart chose to love and trust.

“Drink up,” she said, lifting her replenished glass. “Enjoy! Celebrate! Good friends, good drink! Life just doesn’t get any better than this!”

* * *

An hour later, everyone had left, except Dirk, who was fidgeting nervously, as though he had something on his mind. “Be back in a minute,” he said as he jumped up from the table and headed out her front door.

She heard his Buick door slam, and a moment later he returned, holding something behind his back and wearing a goofy sort of smile on his face.

“Come into the living room and sit down on the couch,” he said.

“Oka-a-a-ay. You wanna tell me why?” she asked, doing as he suggested.

“Nope. You’ll see in a minute. Close your eyes.”

“If I close my eyes, how am I going to see in a minute?”

She wanted to continue to tease him, just to watch the color mount in his face. He was genuinely embarrassed… a rare state of mind for this street-worn, cynical thug. But she shut her eyes tightly and extended her hands, palms up.

“Don’t you dare put something gross, wet, or slimy in my hand,” she said.

“Would I do that?”

“In a heartbeat.”

She felt the weight as he laid his object across her palms. About two pounds, she’d say from the heft… and from the mouthwatering, chocolate smell she’d conclude…

“Godiva! No way! I don’t believe it.” Her eyes snapped open. Yes! It was true! A gorgeous gold foil box with a dark red satin ribbon tied around it. Wonders never ceased.

“If you make one crack about me being cheap, I’m taking them back,” he said. “And I’m going to eat them, one by one, right in front of you.”

“No way. You’re not sinking your chompers into these beauties.” She untied the ribbon, opened the box and beheld culinary hedonism at its best. “These are mine… all mine.”

He laughed and plopped down beside her on the sofa. “You deserve ‘em, kiddo. You really bailed me out this time… literally and figuratively.”

She fished out a truffle, bit into it and groaned with orgasmic delight. “Consider the score even. Mmmm, these are exquisite.”

“Ah, speaking of scores”—he reached for the TV remote control that was lying on the coffee table—”there’s a heavyweight fight on tonight… on HBO. Would you mind if…?”

Lost in the oblivion of taste bud heaven, she easily agreed. “Whatever you want—just let me savor this experience in peace.”

He flipped on the fight and settled back to enjoy, the picture of contentment. Kicking off his sneakers, he propped his feet on the coffee table.

She opened her eyes incrementally. “Get your clodhoppers off my furniture. I’m not
that
far gone.” She nudged the box a little closer to him. “Have one.”

“Really? Naw, they’re yours. I bought them for—”

“I’m not going to offer again.”

He nabbed three and munched along with her for several minutes, watching the prefight commentary.

She had just bitten into a mocha cream-filled when she felt his huge hand engulf hers and squeeze gently as he laced his fingers between hers. “Does this mean you’re my Valentine?” he said, as shyly as a first grader giving a handmade, lace doily heart. “I mean, you’re eating my chocolate and we’re sitting here on your couch, watching the fight together.”

“If that don’t make me your Valentine, boy, nothing will,” she said, returning his affectionate squeeze.

He looked pleased as strawberry punch, then seemed to reconsider. “Don’t tell anybody,” he said. “You know… it ain’t none of their business that I bought you candy… expensive candy. It’ll ruin my reputation as a cheapskate and then everybody will expect me to start paying for stuff.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that. It’ll just be our little secret… along with the fact that we’re going to eat this entire box of sinfully rich chocolate before the tenth round.”

He snagged another truffle. “Mum’s the word.”