Honey and Smoke by Deborah Smith Page A

Maximilian. Always full of surprises.”
    “I can be Incredibly good. Better than your wildest dreams.”
    “And so humble.”
    “See you tomorrow. At six.”
    After he strolled out, she got her hypnotized muscles in gear and followed quickly to the veranda’s screened door, so that she could watch him. He descended the steps and went down the walkway without looking back, but when he reached the street, where he’d parked his Jeep, he turned and saw her in the doorway.
    “You’re beautiful in lace and denim,” he called gruffly.
    She touched the curtain hanging across her breasts.By the time he drove away, she’d succumbed to a long, yearning sigh, and wished desperately that she had stayed to dance with him at the chamber of commerce party, where it might have been safe to indulge a little.
    Max paced the small foyer outside the wedding parlor, his long black coat shoved back behind his hands which he’d sunk into his trouser pockets. Norma came out of the parlor, unfastening the buttons of the white sweater she’d donned over her considerable bosom and blue dress. She considered the dress, with a tiny heart embroidered beneath its lace collar, her work uniform.
    “It was chilly in the parlor. I turned up the furnace so the old folks won’t get the shivers,” she noted, eyeing Max curiously. “What’s wrong with you, son?”
    “I’m just wondering where the barbecue queen is. It’s six-fifteen. How can she set up food for twenty people by seven o’clock?”
    “It’s not like you to fidget.”
    He halted and frowned in thought. “I know. Dammit, I’m acting like a fool.”
    “Are you worried about the food or Betty?”
    “I’m not
worried
about her, I’m—”
    “I heard she’s set on finding a husband and thinks you and your bachelor ways are bad news.”
    Exasperated, he coyly wagged a finger at Norma. “It’s not nice to listen to gossip. Especially when it’s true.”
    “What are you goin’ to do about that truth?”
    “Change her mind.”
    Norma crossed her arms over her chest. “Sweet talk the lady? Even if she’s off limits?”
    “She’s not off limits.”
    “If she’s the marrying kind and you’re not, you ought to let her alone. Or overhaul your ideas about marriage, so you won’t end up like your daddy.”
    “Pa never needed a marriage license to be happy.”
    “He wasn’t happy. He put on a big show whenever you were visitin’, telling you how many lady friends hehad, but he was lonely a lot of the time, and he told me more than once that he envied old folks who had a wife or husband. And he wished he had more children, and grandchildren too.”
    Max stared at her in disbelief. “No. He could have remarried if he’d felt that way.”
    Norma shook her head. “He waited too long. Nobody’d have him. His reputation was too scary. See, lots of ladies invited the old tomcat home for a little caterwauling, but none of them wanted to keep him.”
    Max studied the blunt honesty in her serious brown eyes, and his astonishment gave way to dull sorrow on his father’s behalf. So Pa hadn’t been as carefree as he’d wanted everyone to think. Max gritted his teeth. That still didn’t mean he would have been happier married.
    “I’m not my father. I’m going to have someone important in my life, someone I love and who loves me. But I’m not going to pledge all the impossible promises in a marriage vow to another human being. Two people shouldn’t have to promise the world to each other. That only leads to disappointment.”
    “You won’t have much of a ‘someone’ then. And you sure won’t have Miss Betty Quint, because from what I’ve heard, she wouldn’t put up with second best.”
    Max knew when he’d lost a debate with Norma. He bit back his frustration and released it on the foyer’s flowery carpet and wallpaper. “Dammit! This room is so old looking, dinosaurs must have squatted in it. I’m going to have it redone.”
    “You forgettin’, Maximilian?