Shipping Sharon Read online

  A slow smile stretched across Keller Chaney's weary features as he sat on his bed, removing his shoes and socks. The memory of Maisy lying passed out, right on this very spot, across his bed--all soft, and curvy, and luscious-looking--made him stiffen with desire. God, that woman was beautiful. The thought of her full, ripe bosom heaving as she lay semi-conscious certainly didn't do anything to thwart his burgeoning arousal. And, when the inebriated, blonde-haired, blue-eyed temptress threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into that succulent kiss, Keller was overcome with the urge to tear her clothes off and savor every square inch of her soft, creamy curves. That would have given Agatha an eyeful. He chuckled at the thought.

  "Maisy Morganfield, you drive me crazy," Keller said aloud, shaking his head and laughing. For the second time that day, sexist clichés forced their way into his thoughts. While his sister, Sharon, unfortunately left him little choice but to label her as a bitch and a bimbo, he found the classic term, dizzy blonde, creeping to the forefront of his thoughts where Maisy was concerned. But, he realized the term wasn't entirely apropos. There was so much more to Maisy than her screwy, unpredictable side. She was bright and intelligent, fun-loving, had a great sense of humor, and with her curvaceous figure and angelic face, she was the epitome of many a man's fantasies--Keller's fantasies to be sure. But then, there was that pesky, obstinate, stubborn streak of hers that always managed to surface when they were together. That irritating, aggravating, twisted female logic of hers that succeeded in setting a tight, throbbing band around his head, as if it were being squeezed for juice. Uttering a low growl, Keller snatched the tie from around his neck and whipped it across the room.

  "The woman's impossible. She's stubborn, bullheaded, incorrigible, inconsistent . . ." A slow, lingering smile crossed his lips as he unbuttoned his shirt and remembered holding her in his arms earlier that afternoon. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "Maisy Morganfield," he said, just above a whisper, "you drive me crazy--in more ways than one."

  ***

  "This was absolutely, beyond doubt, the worst, most heinous, humiliating afternoon of my entire life," Maisy said, scrunching down in the passenger seat of Norman's car and burying her head in her hands. "I will never, ever forgive you for this, Norman--ever!""How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't know he'd be there," Norman said, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. "Maisy, I swear on all that's holy that I had no idea. I swear on my Grandma Gert's grave--"

  "Arggghhh." Maisy threw her hands up. "Here we go again with the grandmother's grave. You probably never even had a Grandma Gert--she's probably just another one of your ten million elasticized truths." Maisy sank further down in the car seat and folded her arms across her chest.

  "Now that's cruel, Maisy," Norman said, looking pained. "When you say things like that, it's like a knife right through my heart."

  Shifting to a more upright position, Maisy shot Norman a noxious glare. "Believe me, Norman, if I had a knife on me, that's right where I'd plant it." Maisy wiped the angry spittle from her chin. "And then I'd twist it this way," she relished in a dramatic gesture, "and back again." She smiled for the first time they'd gotten in the car.

  Cringing, Norman shook his head and tsked. "You're becoming a bitter woman, Maisy. It's very unbecoming." Reaching into the back seat, he pulled a tissue from a box of Kleenex and handed it to Maisy. "Here. I think you're starting to foam at the mouth."

  "You're right! What I'm becoming is a foaming-at-the-mouth, polka-singing, hormone-driven, murderous drunk, thanks to you."

  "And, bitter. Don't forget bitter," Norman said, wagging a finger, as Maisy's glare seemed to bore a hole through his head. "But, you can't blame me for the hormone-driven part. After all, it's your fault, not mine that you've got the hots for Keller Chaney."

  Shooting bolt upright in her seat, Maisy whapped Norman on the arm. "I do not have the hots for him." Norman gave her one of those all-knowing, tongue-in-cheek smiles, which infuriated Maisy even more, because she knew Norman was right and she'd be damned if she was going to admit it to him. "It's your fault that I got smashed and threw myself at Keller like some kind of a wild nymphomaniac, Norman." She slapped her hand over her face, holding it there while she shook her head. "And then the man's mother comes into the room while I'm clawing at her son. Ugh! I've never been so mortified in all my life." Maisy shuddered.

  "Yeah." Norman chuckled. "I have to admit that was pretty funny."

  "Funny?" Bellowing the word, Maisy whipped her head in Norman's direction, transmitting a lethal look, causing him to grip the steering wheel tighter and wince.

  Slipping into his goosey, machine-gun laughter, Norman said, "Now, Maisy, I can fully understand why you're so upset, but you have to believe me when I tell you I was absolutely clueless about Keller showing up at the winery."

  "And don't forget his mother . . . and his sister. Oh, God." Sinking down in her seat, Maisy covered her face with her hands. "I could die. I could just die."

  "I know, honey, I know." Norman patted her head. "And you know that I would never purposefully do anything to cause you that kind of grief, right?"

  Popping her head up, Maisy huffed a mirthless laugh. "Do you really expect me to believe you? Norman, I know you, remember? You set this whole thing up because you're convinced that Keller and I belong together. Well, I hope you're satisfied--I've never been more humiliated in my entire life." Maisy slid further down in her seat, dropped her head into her hands and expelled a pained groan. "And if all that weren't enough, now my head is throbbing so bad that only smashing it against a brick wall could feel worse--and I'm not even too sure about that."

  "Welcome to the world of hangovers, honey." Norman reached over and rubbed her back. "Look, Maisy, I don't know what else I can say to convince you." Huffing an exasperated stream of air, he continued, "Aw, what's the use--you're just going to believe what you want anyway." Murmuring a string of expletives, Norman reached over, popped in a Beatles CD, and cranked up the volume.

  After several minutes of silence had passed between them, Maisy uttered a monumental groan of capitulation as they sat, waiting for a freight train to pass. "Okay, I guess I believe you."

  "Thanks." Norman patted Maisy's hand. "Believe me, I feel just as bad about what happened as you. If it's any consolation, I don't think Agatha thought poorly of you. She seemed very nice. I'm sure she understood."

  "Hah! Understood what? That the woman who was once married to her daughter's dead husband is a drunkard who's now trying to snare her son?" Maisy emitted a low cry. "Eeew, and can you just imagine what Sharon must have told Agatha about me?"

  "Actually," Norman said, shifting into gear and crossing the tracks after the last train car crept by, "Agatha struck me as a pretty sharp woman." Offering Maisy a reassuring wink, Norman nodded and continued, "I suspect that she's well aware of the kind of person her daughter is, and takes everything Sharon says with a grain of salt. As for Sharon," Norman huffed, "well, let's just say that she certainly is everything you said she was. Whew, what a snippy, ill-tempered, caustic little witch." He shuddered.

  "And Keller . . ." Maisy turned towards the window and chewed on a fingertip. "Good grief, Norman, if he thought I was an idiot before, then I can only imagine what he must think of me now."

  "Not that you give a damn, of course," Norman said, tongue in cheek.

  Quickly twisting in her seat, Maisy made successive jabs at Norman's arm with an outstretched finger. "Oh, no you don't, Norman. Stop trying to bait me, you hear? When are you going to get it through that thick, meddlesome noggin of yours that, to me, the mere thought of Keller Chaney playing any part in my future is utterly revolting and completely infeasible?"

  Norman slanted Maisy a pondering look. "You really feel that strongly about it, hmmm?"

  "Definitely. Norman, the man is utterly incorrigible. We have absolutely nothing in common--except, of course, for the fact that we both have the distinct misfortune of knowing his sister. And t
hen there's that giant ego of his . . . ugh." Maisy shuddered. "To tell you the truth, I don't give two hoots what Keller Chaney thinks of me."

  "You don't, huh?"

  "Nope, it doesn't matter to me in the least. Why should I care when I never want to see him again anyway, right?" Maisy took in a deep breath, broadcasting a wide grin as she exhaled. "Ah, now I feel much better. I guess I really needed to get that off my chest. Norman, I want you to make me a promise that after today, you won't ever mention Keller's name to me again. You owe me at least that much--promise?"

  As Norman pulled the car into Persimmon's parking lot, he gave an innocent shrug. "Sure. As a matter of fact, I've been giving it a lot of thought during the drive, and I think you're absolutely right."

  "You do?" Maisy slanted him an astonished, drop-jawed expression.

  "Without a doubt. I realize now that you're not Keller's type at all--not even remotely."

  "I'm not?"

  Rolling his eyes, Norman waved his hand and laughed. "Good heaven's, no. You and Keller would never work. I see that so clearly now. Obviously, my psychic flashes were dead wrong where you and him are concerned. I'm sorry, Maisy," Norman shrugged, "you were right and I was wrong--it's as simple as that. From now on, the subject of Keller Chaney is a dead issue as far as I'm concerned--guaranteed."

  "Oh . . . well, good. That settles that." Maisy gave a triumphant nod.

  Norman put the car in park and unfastened his seat-belt, but before he could get out, Maisy grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "What's the matter?" Norman asked. Her mouth hanging open for a moment, Maisy heaved a sigh and clamped it shut.

  "Well?" Norman pointedly looked down to where Maisy was still clutching his sleeve.

  "Oh, nothing . . . never mind." Maisy released her grip.

  "Good, then let's go, I'm beat," Norman opened the door to the car, only to have Maisy grab his arm again. Expelling an impatient sigh, Norman said, "Yes?"

  With an uneasy grin on her face, Maisy shrugged slowly, turning her attention to her nails as she polished them against her coat. "It's . . . well, I was just wondering what you meant when you said that I wasn't Keller's type. Why? I mean, what makes you so sure we wouldn't be right for each other? Not that it really matters, of course," she held up her hand defiantly. "I couldn't care less. I'm just curious."

  "Oh, sure. Just curious." Norman shrugged as he offered a matter of fact nod. "Whew, where do I begin?" Slapping his hand to his cheek, he adopted a contemplative expression. "There's tons of reasons why you two wouldn't work as a couple."

  "Tons?"

  "Oh, yeah." Norman nodded assuredly. "Keller's far too slick and aggressive for you for one thing--he'd be better off with someone more unbridled, carefree, and adventurous. No, you're more the cozy, homebody, housewifey, milk and cookies type, Maisy." Seeing Maisy's jaw drop in surprise, Norman continued. "And a well-traveled, cosmopolitan man like Keller Chaney needs a worldly, sophisticated woman--one who can keep pace with him, mentally as well as physically."

  "But I--"

  "He needs someone," Norman continued, "who'd be comfortable mixing and mingling in the same whirlwind social circle. And besides, Maisy, Keller is brash, egotistical, and . . . well, he can be just plain obnoxious."

  "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that he's--"

  "No doubt about it, Maisy." Norman reached over and patted Maisy's shoulder. "The man's an animal--evidenced by the way he took advantage of your delicate, inebriated condition and pawed at you this afternoon--and you're better off without him." Out of the corner of his eye, Norman caught a glimpse of Maisy's shoulders slumping. "After the abominable, shameful way Keller treated you today, I can see why you don't have any use for him. He lacks patience, sympathy or understanding." Clasping Maisy's hands, Norman shook his head negatively as Maisy stared up at him with saucer-wide eyes.

  "Wow," Maisy said in a deflated tone.

  "Thank goodness you found out what a jerk that man really is." Swiping at the non-existent sweat on his brow, Norman said, "Whew, the last thing I want is for you to be stuck with another John Morganfield. Now, come on, let's get out of this car before these old bones of mine get too stiff." Again, Norman started to open the car door, and again, Maisy tugged at his sleeve. Expelling a sigh of exasperation, Norman plopped down hard against the back of the seat and telegraphed an impatient gaze in Maisy's direction.

  "This is getting real tiresome, Maisy. Can we please go inside?"

  "You know," Maisy said thoughtfully as she traced her finger over the gear-shift, "I may have been housewifey at one time, when I was married to John and he forced me into that role, but that's not really how I see myself today. Actually, I . . . I think of myself as being rather carefree and adventurous--even unbridled, now and then." She gave a self-conscious laugh. "And, I really wouldn't go so far as to say that Keller's obnoxious . . . or that he's a jerk--or an animal." Maisy glimpsed a quick, docile peek at Norman. "And, Lord knows he's nothing at all like John. Don't you think you're coming down on Keller just a bit too harsh, Norman?"

  This time, Norman swung the car door fully open and exited, with Maisy following suit. "No, Maisy, you were right all along." Norman quickened his pace. "It's just like you said, he's a Chaney--he's tainted with the same genes as that miserable, bitchy, little sister of his. It's better you wash your hands of him now--he's no good. Besides, he'd just be a constant, thorny reminder of Sharon."

  Maisy sprinted alongside Norman's bold strides to keep up. "Okay, I know I made that wisecrack about the Chaney gene pool being tainted and all, but I was just being stubborn and stupid--you as much as told me so, remember?"

  "Bah," Norman said, waiving his hand and walking even faster, "I should learn to keep my mouth shut and quit interfering in stuff I know nothing about. I was the one being stubborn and stupid, Maisy, not you."

  "But, you don't know Keller like I do, Norman." Maisy said, taking two steps to every one of Norman's so she could keep up. "He's not like Sharon at all. Keller's kind and caring and sweet and funny. And, as far as what happened today, well, it's possible that I may have over reacted--just a little bit." She laughed. "I seem to have a habit of doing that."

  "You don't have to come in, Maisy," Norman said. "You can just go home--we're covered here. You're going to need to take some aspirin and put an ice-bag on your head."

  Ignoring Norman's suggestion, Maisy trotted alongside him. As they reached the travel agency's door, she paused to catch her breath and continued babbling after she and Norman went inside. "I mean, let's face it, it wasn't poor Keller's fault that I got smashed and passed out at his place of business, was it?" She trailed along as Norman went about his business, greeting the evening staff and the customers they were attending. "And, when I threw myself at Keller," Maisy continued to babble as they turned the corner to enter Norman's office, "well, not on purpose, of course--but, because I thought I was dreaming when I opened my eyes and saw him looking down at me--anyway, he was really rather gallant. Well, at least he was until I started throwing all those awful, nasty accusations at him--you know, those awful things I said about Keller manhandling me and trying to take advantage of me." Maisy cringed at the memory. "Sure, Keller and I do tend to get on each other's nerves a lot, but, when you come right down to it, I think we could really be great together. As a matter of fact, I . . . I think I'm very much Keller Chaney's type." Maisy planted her fists on her hips and nodded with aplomb.

  Letting his heavy hand drop to his desk with a thud, Norman spun around towards Maisy, displaying a jubilant ear-to-ear grin. "Aha! I knew it." Dropping his other hand, Norman slapped the top of his desk again with pencil-cup-rattling vigor and then pointed at Maisy triumphantly. "See? That's what I've been trying to tell you all along, but you just wouldn't listen to me. Of course, you and Keller Chaney are made for each other." He threw his hands into the air, forming a victory vee.

  Incensed, Maisy began to sputter. "Norman Stanley, I--"

  "Uh-uh." Cutting her off in mid
sentence, Norman held his hand up to silence her. "You as much as said you and Keller were soulmates yourself, Maisy, less than two minutes ago." He flashed a triumphant smile. "So there's no use denying it any longer--to me, or to yourself." Norman clapped his hands together and rubbed briskly. "Ah, there's nothing like the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins when you know you're right. I love it!" He engaged in a euphoric little jig.

  Breathing in an audible exclamation, Maisy vehemently wagged a threatening finger. "Norman Stanley, you conniving phony, you stop that ridiculous little dance right now, do you hear me? You . . .you tricked me." She pounded her fist against his desk. "I trusted you and you tricked me. How could you do that?"

  "It was pitifully easy," Norman smirked.

  "Very funny." Maisy threw her hands up into the air and groaned.

  "Norman's my name and strategy's my game," he said, tipping an invisible hat and folding his torso into a little bow.

  "Strategy, huh? Try manipulation."

  Norman buffed his fingernails against his lapel and shrugged. "Call it whatever you want--it worked, didn't it? Deedle-dee-deedle-dee-dee," Norman sang as he hoofed another jig.

  "Well, I'm glad you think this all such a big joke, Norman.

  "Oh, stop being so melodramatic," Norman said, laughing, as he came around to the front of his desk, pulling a reluctant Maisy into a hug. "Now come on, you know I don't think this is a joke--but," he held Maisy at arms length and chuckled, "you do have to admit that I really had you going for a while there, didn't I?" Shrugging Norman's hands from her shoulders, Maisy shot him an indignant glare and folded her arms across her chest. "M-a-a-i-i-s-s-y-y?" Drawing Maisy's name out in a conspiratory tone, Norman sported a broad smile as he arched his eyebrow.