Curious, she clicked on the link and began reading.
Poseidon's Courtyard lacked the ambiance and central location necessary to make it popular with tourists, but locals like Maddox had long since learned about the restaurant's ample portions and friendly service. And everybody loved Moira Reyes, the pretty blond proprietress, whose Tennessee drawl was as authentic as the Southern-style barbecue she and her husband Juan served in their restaurant.
Moira opened the door to Maddox's knock, took one look at his battered face and let out a low whistle. 'Good God, what happened to you?'
'Ran into a door.' he answered with a smirk,
'Right.' To his relief, she dropped the subject, stepping aside to let him in. 'Sweetie, it's barely ten. Juan just got the pit fired up, Hope you're not hungry yet.'
'Just thought I'd pop in and say hi while I was in the neighborhood'
He didn't tell her what he was doing in the neighborhood. He didn't even want to admit it to himself. In fact, if the shell-pink facade of the Princeton Hotel wasn't staring at him over the treetops beyond the patio, he might even believe it was just a coincidence. But the truth was, he was worried about Iris and kicking himself for running her off from his house when she was obviously in danger.
He sat at a table near the barbecue pit and watched Juan basting the meat already on the grill. 'What's up, Juanito?'
Juan flashed him a grin. 'My blood pressure, 'memo. La mujerona, she nags and nags.' He softened his complaint with a look of sheer adoration at his wife.
'Yeah, I hear women do that.' Maddox drawled.
'If we all weren't so damned flawed, maybe we wouldn't have to ride your butts so hard,' Moira set a glass of iced tea in front of Maddox and sat across from him. 'What you need is a good woman, Maddox.'
''You just think everybody needs to And his own Juan or Juanita.' He grimaced. 'Doesn't always happen.'
'Well, far be it from me to butt in where I don't belong-'
Maddox couldn't help but laugh.
'Okay, fine.' Moira conceded with a grin. 'It's my usual M.O. But you're not happy. Maddox, Are you?'
He knew better than to answer the question,
A soft thudding sound drew Moira's gaze to the door. 'Don't people read the hours we have posted in the window anymore?' She headed to the front to see who was knocking,
'Moira's right.' Juan said, not turning away from the barbecue pit. 'You wouldn't be sitting here looking like somebody ran over your dog if you really liked being alone. I don't know why you fight so hard to stay that way.'
Maddox had no answer, so he remained silent, letting his gaze wander across the courtyard to the adobe walk half swallowed by a flowering vine. Beyond the wall, past a line of small palm trees, the Princeton lazed in the hot Caribbean sun.
He wondered what Iris was doing right now. A faint memory of her scent drifted to him on the warm breeze. He closed his eyes and pictured her the way she'd looked this morning, standing at the French doors before everything had gone to hell. He could feel the pull of her, that band around his heart drawing him to her.
'Maddox, you have a visitor.'
His eyes snapped open at the sound of Moira's voice. Moira stood in the doorway. Iris Browning by her side.
'Maddox.' Iris said, her eyes dark with apprehension.
'Hey, brown eyes.' He pasted on a knowing grin, hoping it hid the twisting in his gut. 'Just couldn't get enough of me?'
Chapter Twelve
Iris looked away from Maddox, heat rising in her cheeks. She should have known better than to come here.
'Seriously, what're you doing here?'
'Are you going to introduce us to your friend?' Moira arched an eyebrow at Maddox, then turned to Iris, 'I'm Moira Reyes, This is my husband, Juan, Nice to meet you.'
Despite her misgivings about coming here at all, she had to smile at Moira's soft drawl. 'You're not from around here.'
Moira laughed, 'Neither are you. Iris, is it?'
Iris extended her hand. 'Iris Browning, And no. I'm just here on vacation.' She glanced at Maddox. He stared back at her, unsmiling.
'I bet you'd like some sweet tea.' Moira said.
'No, really. You're not open yet-'
Moira waved of her protest, 'Be back in a minute.'
Iris was tempted to leave anyway, but Maddox's low voice stopped her. 'Don't leave on my account.'
She squared her jaw and met his gaze. 'I have to get to the conference at the St. George.'
His smile widened. 'That's not for another few hours. I checked.'
Now he was really beginning to annoy her, 'Planning on gate-crashing again?'
'May be.'
She sighed. 'I thought you were washing your hands of the whole thing.'
He didn't answer, his gaze sliding away from hers. Fear radiated off of him like heat, cracking his sarcastic facade. 'How did you find me?'
Iris hesitated. Part of her wanted to turn around and get out of there, go back to the hotel and wait for conference time. The last thing she wanted to do was endure another rejection from Maddox.
But another part of her understood his fears, especially now that she'd read about some of what had happened to him in Kaziristan-and afterward.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the table where he sat and took the chair opposite him. 'I asked Claudell where I might find you. This was the first place he suggested.'
Maddox ran his finger around the side of his glass of tea, tracing a path in the condensation, 'I wish you'd taken my advice and caught the first plane out of here. I don't think it's safe for you here.'
'I told you why I can't leave.'
'What good are you doing staying here? You're no closer to finding your friend than you were two days ago, are you?'
'Not really.' she admitted, 'But I'm hoping Quinn will have some ideas.'
'Quinn?' He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. 'You're not doing anything with Quinn.'
'Why not?' she countered, 'At least he's willing to help me find Sandrine. You've washed your hands of it, haven't you?'
He glared at her, breathing hard.
'Haven't you?' she repeated.
He looked down at the table. 'You can't trust Quinn.'
'Yeah, well, my track record for choosing who I can trust is a little spotty these days, isn't it?'
He looked up at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
'Is there a particular reason you don't trust Quinn?' She had a pretty good idea why he didn't, but she was hoping Maddox would tell her himself.
'We have different ways of seeing the world, that's all.'
Nice and noncommittal, she thought. And not enough.
She licked her lips and took a plunge. 'I know what happened in Kaziristan.'
His gaze darkened. 'No, you don't.'
'No. I guess I don't know everything.' she admitted. 'But I know more than I did this morning. Did you know there are Web sites devoted to you and what you did during the siege? They call you a hero.'
