Page 68 of Hot & Heavy

She sighed— that's all. Oh, God, this is a losing battle. I am dead meat.

First they went to the produce department, where Maddie had to touch and smell everything. Grapes that she declared bigger and more succulent than those on her father's farmstead, wherever that was. Apples that were redder and firmer than those she'd seen in Birka, wherever that was. Pomegranates more inviting than those eaten in the Arab harems, wherever they were. She claimed to have never seen a banana before. He bought several of those. Oranges she was familiar with, but the ones she'd tasted had been far smaller and bitter. He gave her a sample section which was set out on a tray. She declared it food of the gods. They tossed a bag of oranges in the cart. Then a bag of lettuce mix, potatoes, tomatoes, peaches, blueberries, watermelon and so much more, each of which required another of those sighs which he was not categorizing in a sexual way, like he had before, though he was thinking it.

Dammit. A man has to be dead below the waist not to want a woman to sigh like that over him. I can hear it now. "Oooh, it is bigger, and firmer, and more succulent than any I have seen before."

"Why are you grinning?"

He zipped his lips. "Never mind."

He had to pull her from the produce department after half an hour and a half-full cart of produce alone.

The meat department was equally tantalizing to her. She just couldn't accept that there were no cows or pigs or lambs being slaughtered behind the counters to yield all these packets of meat. They bought hamburger, hot dogs— and didn't that raise her eyebrow?—steaks, bacon, sausage, a couple of frozen pizzas, frozen French fries, butter, bread, rolls, ice cream, milk, eggs, soda, beer, nail polish, dish and clothes detergent, a brush, comb and mirror, soap and shampoos, each of which she had to sniff. Even as they left, he with a sigh of relief, she with a sigh of regret, he had to promise they would return. They ended up with two carts full of groceries and a three-hundred-dollar bill.

Outside, one exasperated-looking cat greeted them with a loud, whining, "Meow!"

"We bought you some cat food, sweetling," Maddie told Sam, reaching down to ruffle her fur. Sam purred her thanks.

"Hey, thank me. I'm the one who paid for it."

Sam thanked him by pissing on the sidewalk near his boot.

"Damn cat!" he said under his breath as he led them toward his convertible.

"I heard that," Maddie said. But she wasn't mad at him, he could tell. He'd taken her to a magic mart-—

her words—and he was in her good graces. For now.

They were cruising down the streets in his neighborhood, top down, the late-afternoon sun warm on their heads. Ian was feeling oddly at peace. And happy. He couldn't say why for sure. He just was.

Maddie was holding on to her seat for dear life. Claimed she had never ridden in a horseless red box with no roof before. "Do you have to go so fast?"

"Are you kidding? I'm going fifteen miles an hour. Relax."

Maddie sat back and seemed to loosen up. That was when she threw him one of her zingers. "Ian, is one hundred thousand dollars a lot of money?"

"You could say that. Yeah, it's a lot. Why?"

"The man in the jewel mart offered me that much today."

"No way!" Oh… my… God! Prostitution now. I don't believe it. No, no, no! It can't be that. Even Maddie wouldn't be worth that much money for a roll in the hay. "No way!" he repeated.

"He did. I assure you, he did." She held out a business card to him. It read: Abraham Kranich. Fine Estate Jewelry. Then, handwritten on the card was, "$100,000. Eight-carat emerald."

He had just pulled into his driveway and was about to punch in the remote for his garage door when he turned to her. "You have an eight-carat emerald?"

She nodded, and took a big green stone from her pocket to show him. What did he know? It looked like a big green stone.

"The man said this is a rare jewel and of superior quality."

"I'm going to hate myself for asking, but where did you get it?"

Her face flushed. "I might have taken a jewel… or two… from the harem treasure chests."

"You stole jewelry?" This is just great! First she seems to be a terrorist, then a hooker, now a cat burglar.

She lifted her chin haughtily. "I was sold, against my will, to one man after another. For two long years I have been kept from my homeland. I deserved just payment, and that is what I got. No one ever missed them. I kept them sewn into the seams of my gunna. Ten little jewels! Pfff! I had ten times as much stolen from me when Steinolf invaded my keep."

Steinolf again! "Ten, you say?"