Devil Moon Read Free

great trip to the moon. He recalled nothing of her face, only those three luscious dots on her throat and the rest was all sensual memory.
    Though desire to meet her nudged him, in the end he decided to leave well enough alone and move on down the road. The lady obviously had issues and God knew he dragged around enough of his own baggage. They were two people who'd met each other's needs on a lonely, hot summer night. Why spoil the memory of a fabulous encounter?
    He gathered up his tackle box and fishing pole, then spied the homey quilt on the ground. What the hell . Impulsively, he threw it over his arm, a souvenir of a secret sweet memory he could roll around in his mind when the bitterness in his life became overwhelming.
    Heading to his car through the wooded path he softly whistled, It Was Just One of Those Things.
    * * *
    Maddie stood in the shower, using all the hot water, washing the night away. She had really gone bonkers. She could blame the wine, blame the hormones. Blame the Man in the Moon.
    Don't be ridiculous. You've got no one to blame but yourself. A Harris takes full responsibility .
    Stepping out and wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel, she tried to get her head on straight. She was Madeleine Harris, a stiff-necked, upright paragon of moral sanctity. Her mother was a Woodbridge, of the Boston Woodbridges, whose only lapse in protocol had been to fall in love with an Arkansas backwoods boy. Beau Harris had claimed his highbrow bride, then taken Boston by storm with his devastating charm and savvy business sense. What would her parents say if they knew of last night's escapade?
    She patted herself and bent over to catch her slick hair in a turban-towel twist. She stood upright and gazed at herself in the mirror. Blue eyes stared back with a hint of alarm. Was that a love bite on her throat? Yes, right beneath the trio of moles.
    Oh, heavens to Betsy and great day in the morning !
    Last night she'd really gone over the edge. What would the school say, if they knew? Madeleine Harris, prim and proper assistant principal at Beaver Cove High, baying at the moon and getting laid by a wandering fisherman. And, oh Lord, what would all those girls she lectured in Female Health call her if she confessed she'd had unprotected sex with a total stranger…A skank. Not just a skank, a stupid skank. The list of STD's went through her mind–herpes, gonorrhea, syphilis…AIDS.
    She exited her steamy, tastefully decorated bathroom and entered her bedroom. The knap of the new carpet comforted her bare feet. She inhaled deeply, trying to center herself. Serenity now . Not working. The taupe walls and peaceful landscapes failed to calm her jitters.
    Maddie swore she would go see that herbalist Randy always talked about. There must be something growing in a rainforest somewhere to keep her from going on these wild hormonal tangents. She needed to get under control, keep all her loose threads bound up. She sat on her flowered quilt bedspread, inert, tempted to just roll up into a ball and die right then and there.
    Then Grammy materialized at the foot of her bed. "No use frettin'. He didn't look too diseased to me. Looked damn good to these old eyes. Get off your ass and quit feeling sorry for yourself."
    Not again. Maddie threw an arm over her eyes, fell back on the mattress, and groaned. Surely these conversations with Grammy were normal, just a role-playing thing.
    "I am not going crazy," she muttered.
    But then, schizophrenics heard voices, saw people that weren't there, didn't they? Maybe she was like that fellow in A Beautiful Mind .
    She peeked toward the specter at the foot of the bed. A gray-headed figure clad in a floral day dress wavered before her, lips pursed in true Grammy-irritation.
    Oh, this isn't looking good .
    "Go away," Maddie hissed.
    Mercifully, Grammy disappeared when the phone rang. Maddie reached across her nightstand and eased up against her many decorative pillows.
    "Hello?"
    "Maddie, my dove, how