Water Witch (16 page)

“I like to buy things for you,” he said when she continued to argue.

They took a slow ride down the river on one of the small water taxis and enjoyed the lazy afternoon. When the sun began to sink behind the buildings of the city, Sam leaned down and whispered, “I think we need a bath.” Max looked startled and he laughed. “All I’ve been able to think about for the past two hours is you and me in that giant clam shell upstairs.”

She fought back giggles as he laced his fingers in hers and took off at a fast clip back toward the hotel. “Hold it, Sam,” she said, almost having to run to keep up with him. “My legs aren’t as long as yours. I’m out of breath.”

He stopped and looked down at her with a wry grin. “I am acting a little like a randy teenager. Sorry, it’s just that I can hardly wait to . . .” He bent to whisper in her ear, telling her exactly what he wanted to do to every part of her body.

A warm flush spread over her and stained her cheeks. Her knees went weak and her eyes closed as she sucked in a gulp of air. “All that?”

“And then some.” His grin broadened, his eyebrow lifted suggestively.

*    *    *

Max lay against the back of the tub, arms stretched out along the rim to support her, legs still locked around Sam’s waist. She couldn’t have moved if the building were on fire.

“I think I may die,” she said, the words a languid sigh.

“Me too.” He rested his head on her shoulder and nuzzled her chin with his nose. “But what a way to go. Do you think the maid will be shocked if she comes in and finds us like this?”

“I can hear the announcer now. ‘Couple croaks in giant clam shell. Details tonight at ten.’ “

They both started to laugh, and Sam reached behind him to grasp her ankles. Sliding back, he lifted one of her feet, then the other, planting kisses on the soles of each. “We’d better get out. Your toes are shriveling.” He gave one a noisy nibble, then hoisted himself up, pulling her after him.

After they had dried off, they wrapped themselves in the terry robes provided by the hotel and stretched out on the bed to nap before dinner.

*    *    *

It seemed only moments later that Max awoke with Sam tickling her nose with kisses. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said. “I’m starving.”

She stretched and blinked. “What time is it?”

“After eight, and my stomach sounds like a demolition derby is going on down there.”

“Poor baby.” She patted his tummy. “You want to call for room service?”

He shook his head. “I’ve made reservations at the restaurant upstairs. The food is excellent and they have a small orchestra. I thought you might enjoy it. Besides, I want to show you off.”

They dressed quickly, Sam in a gray suit, Max in her blue silk dress. She wound her hair into a loose coil atop her head and added the silver earrings he’d bought for her that afternoon. While he knotted a tie in the same shade of blue as her dress, she transferred her wallet and lipstick into the butterfly evening bag and slipped on sling-backed heels that matched her full skirted dress.

“I’m ready,” she announced.

Sam’s gaze slid over her like a caress, pausing where the delicate fabric crisscrossed over her breasts. “You look beautiful, Angel.” He ruffled the silver dangles of one earring. “These should be diamonds. Soon we’ll buy you diamonds.”

“I don’t need diamonds, Sam.”

“Humor me,” he said, and tucked her arm in his. “I want to give you beautiful things.” He barely took his eyes off her as they left the suite and rode upstairs to the elegant restaurant.

The maitre d’ met them with effusive greetings and whisked them to a quiet table by the window where wine was chilling in a silver bucket. The night seemed to be made of magic as they drank champagne by candleglow and gazed out over the lights of the city. Sam pointed out Hemisphere Plaza and the Tower of the Americas.

Max’s every sense was heightened as soft music played in the background. Never had Sam looked more handsome nor had his eyes been lit with such fire. The crystal seemed to sparkle like diamonds; the wine slipped down her throat like liquid gold. The veal in its delicate white sauce seemed to be the most delicious thing Max had ever tasted.

And when Sam led her onto the small dance floor, she melted against him. They moved together in perfect unison, as if they had been practicing for years. He was remarkably graceful for his size, and his lead was strong and sure. The smell of him was more heady than the fine champagne. They didn’t talk as they glided across the floor. There was no need. At that moment there was only the two of them in a world of slow music and soft lights.

When the set ended, Sam gave her a little squeeze and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Want to go for a walk along the river?”

She nodded and he signed the check while she went to the ladies’ room and repaired her lipstick. Sam was waiting for her outside the door. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“About a dozen times, but tell me again.” She smiled. “I love to hear it.”

Tucking her arm in his, he led her from the restaurant, stopping along the way to assure the maitre d’ that everything was excellent.

Outside, they strolled along the river and laughed at a group of teenagers who were clowning around with gaudy tourist sombreros and maracas and singing “La Bamba” at the tops of their lungs and slightly off-key. They stood on one of the bridges spanning the river and watched the play of lights on the slow moving water.

Suddenly, someone jostled Max and she slammed against the stone rail. Sam grabbed her. “Are you all right?”

“My purse!” She looked around and saw a dark figure running off the bridge. “Sam, he got my purse!” Panic almost overwhelmed her. “My beautiful purse. And my wallet’s in it.”

Sam took off after the thief, his long legs eating up the distance between the short, dark figure and himself. Not to be outdone, Max ran after them, but her high heels slowed her down. She took her shoes off as she ran, hopping on one foot, then the other until she held them in her hands.

“Stop, thief!” she yelled as they ran along the river, dodging startled people and weaving through sidewalk tables.

The man knocked over a waiter with a tray of drinks as he dashed through one outdoor restaurant, and glasses crashed onto the concrete. Sam hurdled the mess and roared for the thief to stop. Max ran around the broken glass and cursed as she felt runs pop and slither up her legs.

But Sam was gaining on the thief. He made a swipe with his long arm and grabbed a handful of shirt as they ran close to the edge of the river. Sam jerked the bag from the young man’s grasp as they struggled. Then the shirt ripped and Sam fell with a splash into the murky water as the thief slipped away into the night.

Max pushed through the crowd that had gathered and screamed for Sam. He came up sputtering in the waist-deep water. His suit was soaked, his tie askew, and his auburn hair was dripping rivulets down his face.

“Sam, are you all right?”

He held up the sopping remnants of a dark shirt. “He got away.” Then he grinned and raised the other hand to display a soggy jeweled butterfly. “But I got your purse.”

She laughed and the onlookers applauded as Sam waded to the edge. A couple of men helped him to the riverbank and slapped him on the back. Trailing puddles and shoes squishing, he walked over to her and executed a deep bow. His eyes crinkled with humor, he dangled the bag by its silver chain.

“I rescued this for you, fair lady.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. Never had she loved Sam Garrett more than at that moment.

Early the next afternoon, Max was in the kitchen kneading dough under Loma’s careful direction. The plump little housekeeper was wearing her new silver earrings and chattering away about her grandchildren when Sam came in with his suit in a damp bundle.

“What mischief are you two lovely ladies plotting against Manuel and me?” he asked, laying his bundle on the kitchen counter.

Loma ducked her head and giggled. “Oh, Senor Sam.”

Max winked at him and grinned. “Loma is teaching me how to make her famous cinnamon rolls. If you’re very nice, I may let you have some for breakfast in the morning.”

“I’m always nice,” he said, returning her grin. “You’ve got flour on your nose.” He brushed it away. “I’m going into town to see if the cleaners can salvage my soggy armor. Want to come along?”

She shook her head. “I want to finish these. Do you mind?”

“Whatever makes you happy, Angel. I won’t be gone long. Do you want to do anything special tonight? We could go two-stepping at Lonesome Joe’s. I do a mean two-step.” To prove his words, he grabbed Max and made a few spirited strides around the kitchen, singing in a nasal twang.

“You idiot,” she said, laughing as she held her flour-covered hands away.

“Or had you rather do the polka?” He switched to a loud and lusty version of “The Beer Barrel Polka” and whirled her around a few times.

“You’re crazy, do you know that?”

“Crazy about you.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and Loma giggled.

“Could we save the two-stepping for another night? I need to get to bed early. We start drilling at sunup tomorrow.”

Sam started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. “Fine with me. I’ll be back before you know it. We can go for a swim when I get home.” He lifted her chin and gave her another kiss.

When he had gone, Max went back to kneading the dough, humming “Guadalupe-Green.”

“I’ve never seen Senor Sam so happy,” Loma said. “I think he loves you very much. And I think you love him, too,” she added with a knowing smile. “Soon I think there will be a wedding and little ninos in the house.”

“Maybe,” Max said, giving the dough a final pat.

While the rolls were rising, Max washed up and took her guitar out to the patio to play and watch for Sam. Dowser had come running when he heard the sounds of her strumming. After she’d given him a hug and a few pats, he settled at her feet to doze in the warm sun.

She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had felt so marvelous. Even the big Doberman was more content here. It was becoming almost impossible to imagine days and nights without Sam. Love made the difference. All the ugly shadows from her early years seemed far away now, as if they’d happened to someone else instead of her. Inside she felt as clear and bubbly as a cool spring rising from the rocks of the earth. She had new strength, a new purpose. Right now she felt as if she could stand toe to toe with Dracula and not even flinch.

Tomorrow she and Goose would hit that vein of water, and she could close the books on her old life. She could pay off her debts and she and Sam could start fresh. Oh, she knew she had only to ask and Sam would give her any amount of money she wanted. He’d made that very plain. But strangely enough, she wanted to prove something to him as well as herself. She didn’t want him to think of her as a whining, helpless female who had to have a man to bail her out of trouble. It had been embarrassing to have him see her fall apart over the “monster” at the cottage. She wanted Sam’s respect.

At the sound of a car coming, Max looked up expecting to see Sam’s maroon Jag rounding the bend. Instead she saw her blue pickup spewing a plume of dust in its wake. Shading her eyes with her hand, she frowned in puzzlement, then felt a sickening dread spread over her as she recognized the driver. She clutched the neck of her guitar with white-knuckled fingers as she watched Sam get out of the cab and slam the door. Fury had twisted his face into an angry mask. It was obvious that he knew she had lied about leaving the truck with a mechanic. Lord, how she hated confrontations, and she knew they were about to have a lulu.

Laying aside the guitar, she stood and took a deep breath as Sam strode toward her. The tendons in his neck were standing out, and she could practically see steam coming out of his ears.

“How the hell do you explain that?” he roared, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the truck.

Guilt overwhelmed her. She could almost feel herself shrink to the size of a kindergartner under Sam’s livid glare, and Dowser whined and scooted under the chaise. She desperately wished that a giant hand would swoop down from the sky and whisk her away. She’d screwed up again.

“I’m waiting.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth. “And it had damned well better be good.”

“I sold it.”

“Hell, I know you sold it. I found it sitting on a used car lot. I bought it back from Jerry Bob Bossart.” His eyes flashed with green rage. “I want to know why in God’s name you sold something you loved as much as you loved that truck. And I want to know why the devil you told me a bald-faced lie about it.”

“I needed the money, Sam. For my business.”

“Your business?” He gave a derisive snort. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Hell, you didn’t have to sell your truck. For once you could have swallowed that stiff-necked pride of yours and come to me. If you’re so all-fired determined to go through with this idiotic venture of yours, I’ve told you a dozen times that I’d give you all the money you need to drill a hundred dry holes on that godforsaken pile of rocks.”

Max felt her own anger begin to rise. How dare he stand there like some puffed-up toad and yell at her, make her feel like scum? He was beginning to sound exactly like her father. Her spine stiffened, her eyes narrowed to thin slits, and her chin lifted.