Honey and Smoke Read Online Free PDF Page B

desperate, like the mood that had overwhelmed them.
    The hearty applause from the parlor doorway broke the spell. Max drew his head up, frowning, and saw Scarlett, Rhett, all their friends, and Norma. Norma rolled her eyes as if she’d caught a pair of children playing a naughty game.
    Betty Quint, who lay helpless inside his arms with her knees buckled and her body draped over one of his legs, regained her control with a breathless groan of disbelief. Jerking her arms from around his neck, she shoved him hard and twisted violently at the same time.
    Max was just starting to lift her. The end result was that she slipped from his arms and plopped on her rump, half-sitting on the toes of his black boots. Her sweater bunched under her arms during the trip down. Max studied her bare midriff and bent over to help her straighten the sweater. She scooted away from him, her eyes flashing, her face as red as a sourwood leaf.
    There were cheers from the audience. Max frowned harder and motioned to Norma to close the doors as he extended a hand to Betty. But Betty scrambled to her feet, jerked her sweater into place, and said low enough that only he could hear, “Set one foot in my restaurant and I’ll come after you with a carving knife.”
    “You’re overreacting.”
    “You aren’t in the marines anymore. I’m not some military objective you have to take at all costs. I’m not interested in a man who thinks he can have what he wants no matter what the consequences. Go play cute with someone else.”
    “I wasn’t playing cute. Smooth your feathers and have a seat. Let’s talk. Something is happening between us, and it’s shaking me up too—”
    “The Braselton’s are here early,” Norma called from the door. “You have to help me get the suit of armor out.”
    Betty laughed wearily and shook her head. “Stay here and talk to you? I’d have to be desperate or crazy. And I’m not either one.”
    Max rocked on his heels and eyed her with challenge. “From the way you kissed me, you were desperate for something.”
    “Not for you.” She pivoted gracefully and strode from the parlor. Scarlett and Rhett stopped holding hands just long enough for her to pass between them.
    She might have to suffer for a while, but eventually the old Quint place was going to be a terrific home. She was certain. If she could only keep the possum from creeping into her bedroom at night.
    Betty peeked over the electric blanket. In the dim glow of a night-light the possum scuttled along one wall. It was a funny-ugly animal, and it hurried as if embarrassed to be in her boudoir. From a spot at the foot of the bed, Faux Paw craned her head slightly, fur rising as she watched the intruder.
    Having been defanged, declawed, and neutered by her previous owner—the same one who had dumped her on the doorstep of the Atlanta Humane Society with an injured hind foot—Faux Paw was a rather nonchalant predator. After the possum disappeared into the hallway she yawned.
    Betty settled back on big pillows encased in white silk and listened to the brisk October wind whisper around the eaves. The house creaked, and it smelled of old wood and the pungent pine fire she’d built in the downstairs fireplace after supper. An electric heater hummed in one corner of her bedroom. The smells and sounds were all cozy, and when she shut her eyes, she could picture the place when the remodeling was done.
    There wouldn’t be sawhorses and paint cans in the upstairs hallway or muddy two-by-sixes covering a hole in the front porch. The big living room downstairs would be filled with Early American antiques, and the big kitchen would be a gourmet’s playground instead of an empty shell lined with cracked linoleum and peeling wallpaper. The possum wouldn’t have his secret passageways into her bedroom.
    Trading her pleasant condominium in Atlanta for this place had been an impulsive decision. Her father had criticized her for putting whimsy ahead of logic, and her