16. Schlepped Away
"Maxwell," whispered CC, climbing into the pull-out bed on the Fines' couch, "I hope you don't mind … Brighton insisted we switch places."
That was a polite lie; the truth was that she simply couldn't stand to share a bed with that little troll for one more minute. Being cooped up in a tacky little apartment with three children, Niles, the Fine family and their neighbor was beginning to grate on her last nerve; there was nothing like a family to make one feel left out in the cold.
She wrapped her arm around the waist of her bedfellow, drawing close against him in the dark. He was so warm. It was the best she'd felt in months, no, years … God, how she'd needed this!
"If you're looking for a hot water bottle," said Niles, "That's not it."
She recognized him the moment he spoke. Fourteen years of habit ordered her to recoil from him in disgust and find another place to sleep – anywhere, even with the children if necessary – but her body hesitated for a moment too long. It was absurd, it was pointless, it was twisted – but she did not want to let Niles Brightmore go.
Only the dread of what he might say next made her pull away.
"It's too damn cold to argue, Tidy Bowl," she said.
"Cold? You do realize this house has a perfectly functioning heater."
"Well, it's much too low and I'm dressed for the Caribbean."
"I suppose you'd bruise, too, if someone put a pea under your twenty mattresses?"
"We can't all be insulated by fat." CC poked him in the stomach, annoyed with herself for not recognizing him earlier. She should have felt the difference.
"Look, Niles," she coaxed, using the voice she saved for reluctant investors. "You don't want to sleep on the floor and I don't want to sleep with three kicking 's all there is to it, right? It's only common sense."
"Never thought I'd see the day when you were begging to share my bed, Miss Babcock."
"Oh, shut up and scootch over," said CC, who took that as a yes.
She settled down with her back to him, careful not to touch any part of his body. When morning came and they woke up spooned together, with her hand over his heart and every curve of their bodies aligned, well … that could not be helped.
"Oy gevalt!" exclaimed Fran in a loud whisper, clutching Maxwell's arm, when they caught sight of the sleeping pair. "First my Ma and the butcher, now this! Mr. Sheffield, before the world ends, can I have Maggie's Prada purse?"
Maxwell laughed softly. "Poor old CC. At least she's getting some enjoyment from this trip."