Kasey Michaels: High Heels and Homicide

«Really?» he said as she slowly pulled the thing out of her mouth.

«Hey, addictions are addictions, and I'm addicted to these things. Hardly any calories, and they satisfy my chocolate cravings, as well as give me something to do with my hands, my mouth, now that I don't smoke anymore. I don't know, I guess I'm into oral gratification.»

«Many of us are,» Alex said quietly, and Maggie tried very hard not to look at him.

She aimed herself toward one of the couches, collapsing into the soft cushions before taking a big bite of the Popsicle, the better to disguise its form, she imagined. «Back to the Way-Bac. Didn't you ever watch any of those tapes I bought for Sterling? The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show? It's an American classic. One of the recurring skits is 'Improbable History,' with Professor Hector Peabody and his boy, Sherman. The professor is a dog, see, and he has a boy, and Peabody teaches Sherman about history using the Way-Bac Machine to time travel and—» She stopped, looking at Alex's impassive face. «I'm not getting through, am I?»

Alex shook his head. «Perhaps another time? If I applied myself?»

«No, never mind. You either get this kind of stuff or you don't. And you'd get it, I know you would, if you watched the tapes.»

«I'll put that on my to-do list. In the meantime, are you happy with the travel arrangements? I could have made the departure date Saturday, but that would mean only two days with your parents, and I wouldn't want it to appear that you were in a rush to be away.»

«Yeah, we don't want to appear in a rush,» Maggie said, then sucked on the Popsicle once more, wondering how she was going to get through three entire days playing Happy Families. Since the thought was depressing, she changed the subject. «So, Mr. Transportation Arranger, how long will we be in jolly old England?»

«I'm not quite sure,» Alex said, seating himself on the facing couch. «It's something called an open-ended ticket, I believe. We'll be arriving just after the featured players in the cast and the director, and departing just as the shooting begins, if I understood correctly.»

«Because they don't want the writer getting in the way.

This trip is just flipping me a fish, hoping I'll be dazzled and keep my mouth shut,» Maggie said, nodding. «Long ago I was told that if you sell your book to the movies, take the money and run—never look back. They change everything, and not for the better, either.»

She took one last, large bite, knowing she'd never eaten a Popsicle so quickly, and hoped she wouldn't get an ice cream headache. She just knew she didn't want to watch Alex watching her as she licked and sucked on the thing. Not for another second. «I still can't believe we're going.»

«And if the filming hadn't been so abruptly moved from California to England, we wouldn't be, not with your fear of an earthquake the moment the plane landed. I do agree that everything seems so suddenly rushed, but I look forward to returning to England.»

Maggie closed one eye and lowered her head as she looked at him. «You've never been to England, Alex. I've never been there, so you can't have been there. Until you and Sterling somehow made a break for it out of my imagination, you've never been anywhere.»

«Have you tried to pop us back in, Maggie?» Alex asked, his expression suddenly serious. «Lord knows, these past weeks have been difficult between us.»

Mentally, Maggie was in her bedroom, her head under her pillow. «I… I'm really not ready to discuss that, Alex.»

«And when would you be ready? I had no choice, Maggie. It was a matter of honor. I am obligated, as a gentleman, to protect my own.»

She hopped to her feet. «There you go again. Your own? Since when am I yours? Who asked you to protect me? You… what you did… you—oh, forget it.»

«The man had a choice.»

«The man didn't know he was up against a freaking Scarlet Pimpernel! And do you know what's the worst?

You're not sorry. You don't see that you did anything wrong. A man is dead , Alex.»

«A man who would have ordered you and Sterling and me dead, then gone out to supper with his cohorts. I know. The past is the past, and the incident over and done. Shall we just agree to disagree on this one?»

«We're not debating politics here, Alex. I want… I want you to understand that I made you, and that means I'm at least partially responsible for what you do, even if you are doing this evolving stuff you keep talking about.»

Alex stood up as well, fished his quizzing glass out of his slacks pocket, and slipped the black grosgrain ribbon over his head. «So, I am not responsible for you, but you are responsible for me?»

«Yes… no! Oh, hell, I don't know.» She touched his arm. «I just know I don't want to go on like this. Being so damn polite to each other, dancing around each other, but not really being friends anymore.»

«We were never friends, Maggie,» Alex said, his voice low, intimate. «We were very nearly lovers. What is it the Comte De Bussy-Rabutin said? Oh yes. 'Love comes from blindness, friendship from knowledge.' Perhaps it would be better if we were to become friends first.»

Maggie wet her lips, tried to ignore that her heart had skipped a beat. «Start over, you mean? I don't know… I guess we could try. I mean, you're here. You're definitely here. I don't know if you'll disappear one day, you and Sterling, but for now? You are here…»

«And I've missed you horribly,» Alex said, moving fractionally closer. He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. «I've missed your smiles, I've missed your laughter, I've missed our occasional forays into that something more we'd begun to explore in each other.»

He was doing it again. Oh, he was good. And, boy, she was easy. «Alex… please, you said we'd start over. This isn't exactly starting over. This is more starting in the middle, and much as I—oh, hell!»

Behind her, she could hear the loud buzz-buzz-buzz from the earpiece of her headset.

She recognized a lucky escape when she saw one, and took it, hurrying over to hit the Talk button on the phone, cutting off the off-the-hook warning.

«I guess I'm not connected anymore,» she said, trying to smile.

Alex smiled, too, and his smile hurt her. «No, we're not, are we? Well, if you'll excuse me, Maggie, I believe I should find my way to the bank, along with some other errands. I want to discuss something called traveling checks, for our trip. You understand.»

«Traveler's checks, Alex, not traveling checks, although, literally, that is what they are,» Maggie said automatically, reaching for the headset again, for the phone had begun to ring. «Takeout pizza for dinner?»

«I'm sure Sterling would enjoy that. I'll have him arrange an order for six o'clock. We could dine in our apartment, in front of the television machine, while I'm being educated in the matter of the Way-Bac Machine.»

«Perfect,» Maggie said, grabbing the headset, then turned her back on him as she hit the Talk button. «Hello? Oh, hi, Steve. Meet you for a late lunch? Ummm… I'm not sure. Where?»

She turned back, to see that Alex was still standing there. She grabbed the mouthpiece, squeezed her hand around it. «It's Steve,» she said, smiling as brightly as she could.

«My regards to the good Left- tenant,» Alex said, and bowed himself out of the apartment before Bernice Toland-James could ask a third time: «Maggie? Is that you?»

«I'm sorry, Bernie.» Maggie collapsed into her desk chair. «I don't know why I did that.»

«Did what? Oh, never mind. Look, I want to come over, okay? I've read the manuscript.»

«And?»

«And I'll bring lunch.»

Uh-oh. Instant panic, insecurity about talent being the curse of every writer. Had her talent disappeared? Had she ever really had any talent? Maybe she'd been faking it for years, and now it had finally caught up with her. «Bernie? What did you think of the book? You have a problem with the book? What's wrong with the book? Nothing's wrong with my book, Bernie. Is it?»