You Dropped a Blonde on Me (35 page)
The bubble machines she’d rented and positioned at either end of the building hummed with a low vibration, spewing a soft cluster of milky bubbles every other minute. They floated off into oblivion with magical abandon. Huge white planters, antiqued with a light blue cast, held pink gladiolas, enormous heads of oyster white hydrangeas, and white freesia sprinkled throughout. They lined the path to the door, leaving behind a fresh fragrance mingled with the soft warm breeze of the evening.
Music floated in the wind, the strains of Doris Day’s “Secret Love” swirled in her ears. Each song she’d chosen had been carefully picked to meet the rise and fall of the evening, from an excitement-filled beginning to a slow and sentimental end.
Maxine paused for a long moment, holding a hand over her eyes to block the setting sun and soak in the swell of pride her work had produced.
A tall figure blocked her view of the front doors, where the seniors were arriving in droves.
Campbell.
That spark of excitement, coupled with the battalion of butterflies in her stomach, rooted her to the spot.
Campbell wore a suit, tailored, dark, insanely sexy. He’d slicked back his hair, and she was sure he didn’t realize how it played up his granite features and blue, blue eyes. He was looking out over the golf course to the right, smiling as each resident passed him, allowing her eyes time to gobble up every divine inch of him without scrutiny from his often intense gaze.
Something inside her shifted so far left, so sharp and powerful, Maxine almost stumbled when she tried to walk the last hundred or so feet to the doors.
And then Campbell turned, as if he knew it was her, leaving her tripping over herself like she hadn’t walked a hundred pageant run-ways in her lifetime.
His glance was cursory until he must have realized who she was, and then his eyes met hers, searching, surprised, gentle, powerful, and approving all in one gaze.
Those blue eyes were like a magnet, pulling her, coaxing her to attach herself to him.
The thrash of her heart pounded in her chest, her surprised gulp intrusive to her ears.
Thunderstruck.
It was the only word to describe how Campbell’s gaze affected her.
Thunderstruck.
Campbell was floored. For the first time in his life, a woman’s beauty, so simplified, so pure it radiated from head to toe, left him feeling something he had no identifying emotion for.
His heart crashed around in his chest like he was right back in chemistry class, making him tighten the muscles of his legs just to keep them from going soft.
When Maxine walked up that hill, the warm breeze twirling her blue skirt around her knees in caressing waves of shimmering fabric, the halter top accentuating her breasts with only a hint of their swell peeking through the keyhole at her cleavage, the shine of her hair grazing her lightly tanned shoulders in soft curls left him speechless.
Each step she took toward him, each thrust of her shapely calves ending in sexy high heels, left his mouth bone-dry.
Damn.
That moment, the one where he’d first glimpsed who she must have been once upon a time, made him want her all the more. Not because she was dressed to the nines, but because she’d worked so hard to get back to a semblance of who she once was all on her own.
This Max, the Max who strode along the sidewalk like she owned it, the one who stood two feet away with a hesitant smile, was the Max he wanted to drag to him, make her want him the way he wanted her. She was the Max he knew was hiding behind the neurotic fears and wild conclusion jumping. Seeing her like this made him forget why he was angry with her to begin with. If she only knew how little it would really take to wrap him around her little finger.
Bubbles floated in iridescent hues, picking up the blue and purple of the sky. She laughingly popped them with a painted pink fingernail, playful and easy.
And it held him captivated.
Holding out his hand, Campbell waited, hoping she’d take it again. He understood without knowing why the trust it signified when she let him wrap his fingers around hers. He could only hope she understood what it meant when he made the gesture.
With a flick of his wrist, he twirled Max around, giving him time to reorganize his thoughts. Earlier he’d thought holding out for just a little longer was appropriate. It wouldn’t be a lie to say he took just a little pleasure at seeing her squirm. The humiliation Lisa’d suffered had him angrier than he’d been in a long time. And that wasn’t even counting the kind of pissed off he’d endured at being labeled a lying cheat.
But he was finding the peachy floral scent of her perfume, the soft flow of her dress curving under her breasts, too damned hard to resist. “You look amazing, Max.”
She giggled when they stood face-to-face, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. “I guess this beats my yellow sweat suit and scrunchie. Oh, and thank you. So do you.”
There was nothing that pleased Campbell more than seeing her eyes so full of life, expectation. The only thing that just might top it was seeing her eyes lit up with a very different kind of pleasure when he was buried deep inside her. With the clench of his jaw, he had to jam a hand in his pocket to thwart his decadent thoughts. “I clean up all right.”
Her hand went to his tie to straighten the knot, striking him as intimate and so natural it was like she’d done it a thousand times before. “It’s the allure of bundt cake, isn’t it? Guaranteed to make a man put on a tie,” she teased.
“I’ll admit the bundt cake held a special appeal.” He swung his gaze around in appreciation of her efforts. “Everything looks pretty great. You really know how to get a big bang for your buck. Dad’ll be sorry he missed it. He loves big band music.”
“Garner’s not here?”
“Nope. He’s with your latest victim in the city, seeing his heart doctor,” he teased, testing the sensitive water.
She winced her regret, but her feathers remained unruffled. “I called Lisa earlier today to apologize. Is everything okay with your father?”
“Just a regular checkup. If everything’s a go, he’ll be able to do a little work around the village part time.” Campbell paused, catching a question in her eyes. “I’ll still be here to help until he’s on his feet.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, that was relief lining her glowing features. “So this looks like it’s going to be some party.”
Max beamed up at him. “If there’s something I get, it’s how to plan a party. And before you say it, yes, I applied to several event planners before I begged and scraped at the Cluck-Cluck, but it turns out the economy isn’t something anyone wants to celebrate.”
Mesmerized by the light pink gloss of her lips, he shook his head to lift the haze of lust and admiration he was harboring for her right now. “You ready to go in and enjoy the fruits of your labor?”
“I think so,” was her soft, breathless reply. One that made all sorts of crazy things inside him jump around.
Campbell gave her his arm, unable to deny the strange possessive sensation jerking his heart when she clung to his side. That her ex-husband had thrown her away still astounded him. There had been so many things she’d done right in her marriage, he still couldn’t comprehend how her skill as a wife had left Finley wanting.
Stepping through those doors into the lighted, flowered, crystallized world Max created for the seniors brought a surge of pride on her behalf.
Eat your heart out, Finley Cambridge.
“Wow,” he murmured as he let his eyes inspect her handiwork. Her attention to detail, the care she’d put into creating something magical, was evident in every corner. This was no longer where everyone gathered to play bingo, but a scene right out of a movie.
Round, white papered lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dance floor in the center with a dewy, romantic glow. Each table was adorned with a moss green tablecloth, flowing to the floor in graceful folds. In the middle there were centerpieces overflowing with short arrangements of big white flowers and something green in bundles he was sure he’d seen on the Bon Appetit channel with that guy his father liked to watch,
Mitch in the Kitchen.
Mitch in the Kitchen.
Max must have caught the question in his eyes. “Hydrangeas and, of all things, rosemary. I got it in bulk at a huge discount at the farmers market.”
“Not only creative but frugal,” he said with more of that pride. Watching her see her conception come to life held a pleasure all its own.
Max’s chuckle was nervous when she peeked at him with that modest glance, the one uncomfortable accepting compliments. “You like it? Do you think the seniors will?”
He grinned with a nod. “I like it and I’m not really an aesthetics kind of guy. It’s perfect. Like right out of a movie perfect. You remember the ones where everyone knew how to do the waltz and women wore heels and pearls even in the kitchen?”
“Are you kidding? I ate movies like those for breakfast when I was a kid, and thank you. It means a lot to me . . . that you . . . came. I’m glad you did.”
Nice. She’d finally said it. Now was his chance to hone her sentiment, woo this warm fuzzy they both knew they were sharing. “Me, too, Max. Me, too,” he husked, letting her relax into him, leaning toward her to place a kiss on lips that tempted him beyond reason.
A crash of tin and glass screeching to the floor broke them apart.
Flushed once again, Max was instantly in high gear. “That came from the kitchen, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Damn whoever was trashing his friggin’ moment.
“That can’t be good,” she said. “I’d better go check and see if Mrs. Lipknicki’s okay. Do me a favor though, would you?”
At this moment, in this captivating setting, he wouldn’t be contrary to doing most anything for her. “If you ask me to dance with Mrs. Fogarty, I’m out. She’s mean and cranky.”
Her head fell back on her shoulders when she laughed with abandon, the column of her throat sexy and supple. When she recovered, her eyes captured his with a dreamy glaze to them. “Save a dance for me, okay?”
“You bet,” was all he could manage around the curious lump in his throat.
“Hey, lovebirds, quit mooning over each other. We have mayhem in the kitchen,” Mary chided from behind them.
Max escaped through the gathering crowd, but not before she trailed her hand along his arm, giving it one final squeeze.
Campbell had always had a thing for Max Henderson. As far back as he could remember, and it had reignited when he’d seen her for the first time again in the Cluck-Cluck Palace parking lot.
However, he hadn’t always understood what that “thing” was. What it encompassed, why it existed beyond her obvious physical beauty, what it meant.
So who would have thought a gesture as simple as her hand reaching for his would turn that once mysterious “thing” into what he was surer than ever was love?
The corners of his mouth lifted when he caught sight of her flitting through the kitchen, hands flapping, eyes twinkling.
Yep.
Love.
“This is really beautiful, Maxine,” Gail said, popping another mini-quiche in her mouth as she swayed to “In the Mood.” “That Gilda never put on anything like this. You were lucky if you saw a weenie in a blanket if you got here ten minutes after the doors opened.”
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