Page 8 of Red Mountain Burning
“Last year.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “If I don’t hear back in the next couple of days, I’ll fly down.”
Margot felt a sudden fear rise at the idea of Remi going down to San Francisco to do more reconnecting—this time, with his old life, his daughter and ex-wife.
“This whole thing is really messing me up,” he admitted. “It’s funny what a seventeen-year-old can do to your psyche.”
“Don’t I know,” Margot agreed, trying not to think of Remi falling back in love with his ex. Margot would readily admit he’d given no reason for her to be suspicious or worried, but she couldn’t help having the feelings.
Speaking of seventeen-year-olds, though, her son, Jasper, had been nothing if not perfect all his life. She couldn’t wait for him to come home for the summer, but the glass-half-empty in her was terrified he’d call soon to say he was staying in Boston. Though she’d support his decision, Margot wasn’t sure she could handle the news.
Moving on, Margot said, “So, as you know, I’m jumping into a major diet soon. Like the craziest ever. Probably in the next couple of days.”
Remi inclined his head and studied her. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
“Thank you. And I almost believe you. But you’ve seen my dress. It’s expecting big things from me—or, I mean, little things. And I plan on delivering.”
Remi held an open hand toward her. “I support you either way.”
“That’s why I love you,” Margot admitted. “But this means something to me, to give us the skinny Margot.”
“Now, hold on. I like your curves. Stop saying you’re overweight, or you’ll make me start worrying about myself.” He patted his adorable belly. “I could stand to lose a few.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”
He smiled, flashing his gorgeous white teeth. “If you don’t stop talking about your body, I’ll be forced to undress and examine you myself.”
Margot’s legs quivered. She put her hand on his waist and pulled him close. “I welcome that, Mr. Valentine, though I’m also open to taking this to the Airstream.”
Remi glanced up the hill and then back at her. He made a long effort, looking her up and down. Then he reached for the buttons of her shirt, undoing the first one. In a low whisper that sent shivers up her spine, he asked, “How about a peek at those curves?”
Margot undid the next two buttons for him and pulled her shirt open. He sure knew how to make her feel comfortable.
He ran a finger from her clavicle down. In an even deeper voice, imitating a man of great authority, a police officer, he said, “I’d like to investigate further, ma’am. Will you please step inside my vehicle while I run your tags?”
“Is that what you call these?” she asked.
Continuing his game, he spoke into the fake microphone pinned to his sleeve. “Whiskey, Tango, we have a beautiful blonde who appears to be armed and dangerous and carrying weapons of mass distraction. Permission to investigate further. I’m recommending a strip search.” Ignoring her laughter, he paused with a serious face to listen to an imaginary operator. “Roger. I’ll be very thorough. Over and out.”
Putting his eyes back on her, he grinned, and Margot beamed with the thought of marrying this man. She undid the last of her buttons and let her shirt fall to the sides. For a woman often uncomfortable with her body, Remi could extinguish even the most powerful insecurity.
He swallowed and touched her breasts, those big hands, fingers light as feathers.
Margot loved how playful he could be. Tapping into her theater roots, she put on her best dazed-blonde persona. “My boots don’t come off very easily, officer.”
Remi wrapped his hand around her lower back and forcefully pulled her to him. “You can leave them on. But the rest has to go.” He kissed her neck. “Now let’s get moving before I have to take you downtown.”
“Yes, sir!”
Remi escorted her toward his RV. As he pulled open the door and she climbed the steps, Margot’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a wave of reservations, that familiar fear of things too good to be true. There was a time when she’d felt this same exact thirst for her ex, Rory, the man who’d ultimately decided his career and secretary’s open mouth were more important than Margot. She wanted to believe in love that lasted a lifetime, love that was meant to be, and so much of her knew that she’d found the perfect man. But something was telling her Remi was still hiding skeletons in his closet that would need outing before she officially said, “I do.”
