Page 18 of Strangers She Knows

It hadn’t worked very well. She was still very, very warm.

She stared into his eyes, his warm, beautiful brown eyes, and thought…nothing much at all. Except that as hard as he was breathing, he might come in for another pass. She would like that. She licked her bottom lip—

Rae said, “That’s enough, please. I guess you are married pretty good.”

Max and Kellen both flinched, a reaction to the interruption, and predictably Max found his focus first. Carefully he stood Kellen on her feet. In a mellow tone, he said, “Right, Rae. We are married pretty good. We, um, should go in and meet our cook, Olympia. She’s been here for two weeks, using the Conkles as a cleaning crew and preparing for our arrival. Let’s hope that she especially got the kitchen ready to go. Rae’s hungry.”

“And you?”

“Sohungry.” As he slid his hands away from Kellen, it was clear he wasn’t talking about food.

They walked together, not touching, the rest of the way toward the house, and when Kellen slid a glance toward him, he wore a smug, lopsided smile.

She looked hastily away. If Rae wasn’t right there with them, she’d demand to know what he thought he was doing. What happened to his self-restraint? What happened to being all worried about the effects of unbridled passion onKellen’s Brain? She had been frankly irked at his restraint, but now, after so long…

The story in the military was that six months without sex made you a virgin again. Maybe true. She rubbed her palms on her jeans. Her hands were sweating.

At the house, Dylan had unloaded the bags, then carried them inside.

Kellen turned to Max. “What did you do with the, um, special bag?”

It had been the middle of the night when they picked up the helicopter from Max’s cousin, Jason Di Luca. He stashed their luggage inside, helped Max get a half-asleep Rae on board, and indicated the long canvas bag behind the seats. In a low voice, he had told them, “Firearms. A bolt-action 30-06 and a Remington 308 with scope. A Ruger 9 mil semiautomatic and a couple of compact handguns. Probably overkill, but better prepared for anything than not.” He shook hands with them both, pressed a kiss on Rae’s forehead, and sent them on their way.

The bag hadn’t come out with the rest of the luggage, and now Max said, “The bag’s in the helicopter. I don’t want Rae to see it and think…anything, so I’ll bring it in when no one’s around to ask questions.”

“Where are you going to store them?”

“Gerard Morgade seems like the kind of guy to be a big game hunter. I’ll bet a big, important guy like him had a gun safe.”

“A gun safe would be good.”

The housekeeper must have heard the helicopter, or Dylan warned her that they had arrived, for the front door slammed open and she stepped out onto the wide veranda.

OLYMPIA PAOLERGIO:

FEMALE, CAUCASIAN ANCESTRY (RUSSIAN? GERMANIC? SLAVIC?) LATE 40s, 5'5", 130LBS, BUILT STRONG AND TOUGH. COOL BROWN EYES, WELL-CUT HAIR, SUSPICIOUSLY AUBURN WITH HIGHLIGHTS, WELL-APPLIED COSMETICS, CRISP, IRONED CLOTHING, IMMACULATE, POLISHED NAILS. PROOF POSITIVE THAT ALL GOOD GROOMING IS NULL WHEN CANCELED BY THE APPEARANCE OF A FAINT, DARK MUSTACHE ACROSS THE UPPER LIP.

“Welcome to Morgade Hall.” Olympia’s gaze swept the little group, and lingered on Luna. “I’m glad the dog managed to find someone to pet it. I was tired of her importuning me. Come in. The house is large and difficult to navigate. I’ll perform a tour.” She held the door for them.

“Not necessary,” Max said. “I’ve been here before.”

Olympia swept him a freezing glance, then began the tour anyway. “The house is a magnificent reimagining of a French chateau, with a wide, sweeping stairway that leads up to a gallery above. There old-world paintings line the walls. Carvings enliven the woodwork and antique furniture creates a classic environment.”

Kellen followed Olympia and agreed with all her assessments, but she also noted that a closer look showed the wear of many years. The carpets were shabby, and rectangles of brighter paint gave testimony that long-vanished paintings had once hung on the walls.

Olympia guided them briskly through the first floor. “The main ballroom is here.”

“The main ballroom? How many are there?” Rae asked.

“Several,” Olympia answered. “This is the largest. One imagines it alive with light and music.”

Kellen was surprised to hear Olympia had an imagination. “Oh, look. There’s a piano. Goodie.”

Rae giggled.

Olympia was oblivious to their teasing. “The piano has been tuned. Follow me. The library is here. There’s a door onto the porch, a fireplace which you will seldom use, and I believe the chairs to be comfortable.”

“Look at all the books!” Rae wandered in and stared in awe at the walls of shelves lined with leather-bound books, pieces of glowing art glass, framed paintings and photographs. “So many stories. It’s like inBeauty and the Beast.”

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