by Elle Kennedy
Her co-worker looked her up and down, those eerily-perceptive brown eyes piercing into her. Finally, Trisha gave a brisk nod. “You had sex.”
The flush returned to her cheeks. “What? Of course not.”
“Liar. You had sex. It’s written all over your face.” Trisha’s eyes lit up. “Tony’s still in town?”
Since it was the perfect out, she quickly nodded in confirmation. “Yep. Still here.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“I want details! You obviously got laid last night. I, on the other hand, went to a high school basketball game with Lou. I can’t even remember the last time I had an orgasm, so I really need to live vicariously through you.”
Fortunately their manager walked over and put an end to the conversation before she could answer. Unfortunately, Linda’s brisk strides and the frown on her face told Maggie that her manager wasn’t happy.
“Trisha, tend to your tables,” Linda said in lieu of greeting.
Looking puzzled by the older woman’s harsh tone, Trisha simply nodded and hurried away.
Linda turned to Maggie. “I need to speak with you.”
She was feeling a little puzzled herself. Straightening out the bottom of her apron, she leaned awkwardly against the counter and shot her boss a quizzical look. “What’s up?”
“A complaint was made about you.”
“What?”
“A customer filed a complaint after you left on Saturday.” Linda’s frown deepened. “Apparently you were ridiculing his drink order. He was very unhappy with your behavior.”
Ridiculing a drink order?
She ran over Saturday night’s events in her mind, trying to remember everyone she’d served. She didn’t recall being particularly rude to anyone. It wasn’t her style to be rude and she honestly couldn’t think of what she might have said to warrant a complaint.
Obviously sensing her bewilderment, Linda added, “The customer said he felt you were belittling his masculinity.”
Oh. Oh. The memory of Wayne the daiquiri man entered her brain. She’d been thinking about Ben at the time, distracted by the fact that he was waiting outside for her and demanding to stay at her apartment, but she’d apologized for the remark, hadn’t she? No, of course she’d apologized. Evidently the customer hadn’t been satisfied with that.
“I wasn’t belittling him,” she said in her defense. “I was distracted and said something—to myself. I explained to him that I wasn’t referring to him or his drink.”
“Regardless, he was unhappy, and unhappy customers are bad for business. I know you’ve been busy with your school work, Maggie, but try to stay focused when you’re here at the Olive. I’m not going to put the complaint in your file, but I just want you to be aware of it.”
“All right. Um, thanks for letting me know.” She played with the tie of her apron, adding, “It won’t happen again, Linda.”
“Good. Don’t forget, Jeremy will be here next week, so everyone needs to be on top of their game. Best behavior, okay? Don’t antagonize customers.”
She wanted to protest that she hadn’t antagonized anyone, but Linda was already walking away.
With a small sigh, she grabbed her tray and headed for the couple who’d just seated themselves at one of her tables. She pasted a smile on her face and diligently took their order, all the while thinking about how she couldn’t wait to get home. Ben Barrett might be a movie star, not to mention a huge headache, but he was damn good in bed. And right now, she could really use another orgasm. Or two. Or ten.
It only took three days for Ben to realize that Maggie Reilly needed a lot more than sex. She needed a goddamn vacation.
He honestly couldn’t understand how she lived the way she did. Her life revolved around work and school, and her self-discipline was almost mind-boggling. She spent the mornings studying and writing papers, and the afternoons at the community center where she volunteered. Then she came home and buried her nose in a textbook for a couple more hours. By the evening, she was getting ready to go to work, where she spent the night waiting tables. She came home around two a.m. and went straight to bed. She ate only when he forced her to, and shot down his suggestions that she take a walk or watch some television with him. In fact, the only time she actually seemed grateful for his company was when they were in bed together.
It almost made him feel slutty—that she seemed more interested in his body than in his attempts for them to get to know each other. Not that he was complaining about the sex. If anything, the sex only got better each time they got naked.
But it seriously bothered him, the way Maggie didn’t make any time for herself. He didn’t think the words ‘relax’ or ‘unwind’ were even in her vocabulary. And he was growing more and more distressed each time he found her asleep at the computer desk and had to carry her back to bed at four in the morning.
Not that he didn’t appreciate a solid work ethic, because he did. Despite what Maggie thought, he worked hard for the money sitting in his bank account, the money he’d earned before Gretchen had shocked him and the world by leaving him a part of her fortune. Acting wasn’t all fun and games, and when he was in the middle of an intense shoot, Ben didn’t even leave his house.
Still, he always took breaks, always made sure his work didn’t monopolize his life. He’d seen a fair amount of actors crash and burn, make six films back to back and get so lost in the work they didn’t even know who they were anymore.
Maggie might not be in the movie industry, but she was a workaholic through and through. She needed to slow down and unwind, and he’d officially dubbed himself the man who’d help her do that.
It was time to step in. He’d promised her he wouldn’t complicate her life, but this was just plain ridiculous. Sure, he loved having a quiet place to hide out, but how much longer could he really watch Maggie waste her life away?
At the moment, she was sitting on the other end of the couch, devouring a book about autism, and she hadn’t gotten up in three hours. He wanted to suggest they order a pizza or something, but he knew trying to get her to quit when she was still absorbed in her work would get him nowhere.
Instead, he flicked on the television, instantly groaning when he saw what was on.
For the first time all afternoon, Maggie glanced up from her book. Her gaze followed his and rested on the screen. She made a face when she saw the entertainment show. “Don’t these people have lives?” she grumbled.
He ignored her and turned up the volume.
“Ben Barrett’s newest flame must be keeping him very busy,” the host said with a mischievous grin. “The sexy bad boy has been off the radar for nearly a week now and everyone is wondering how he’s been spending his time…”
“Should we tell them?” Maggie said with a tiny grin.
“Was that an honest-to-God joke?” he returned with mock-amazement. “I didn’t think you were capable of anything but working.”
“Ha ha.”
“Early in the week, Barrett’s car was found vandalized in front of a New York City strip club,” the host continued. “It was later revealed he had spent the night in a hotel with an unidentified woman…”
“They make you sound like a sleazebag,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.
“Although rumors are swirling that Barrett is out of sight due to an impromptu elopement with his mysterious new lady—”
Maggie burst out laughing.
“—a source close to the actor admits that Barrett is keeping a low profile because of the Gretchen Goodrich scandal. Goodrich, who was the wife of Oscar-winning director Alan Goodrich, recently left Barrett a sizable fortune after—”
Ben turned off the television with an angry frown. Damn vultures. Why the fuck couldn’t they just leave him alone? Why couldn’t they let Gretchen rest in peace?
“So…” Maggie’s quiet voice broke through his troubled thoughts. “Are you ever going to tell me about what happened with Gretchen Goodrich?”
&
nbsp; “Sure.” He turned his head and stared her down. “If you agree to take a damn break for a couple of days.”
“I don’t take breaks.”
“Then start.”
Annoyance flickered in her emerald eyes. “We’ve been through this already.”
“And I still don’t think it’s healthy, the way you bury yourself in work and school.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. It’s my life, Ben.”
“Yeah. Sure. It’s your life.” He rose to his feet, unable to stop the scowl from creasing his mouth. “I’m taking a shower. I’d ask you to join me but you’ve still got, what, three hundred more pages to read?” He stared pointedly at the textbook in her lap before walking out of the living room.
She didn’t follow him, and he hadn’t expected her to. The past three days had taught him that Maggie shut down the moment he criticized her lifestyle.
He strode into the bathroom and ripped off his T-shirt and jeans, then turned on the water and stepped into the shower stall. As the warm water slid down his body, he dunked his head under the spray and released a low groan. Why was he letting Maggie’s workaholic ways get to him anyway? The television segment he’d just seen confirmed that the media storm surrounding him was still going strong, which meant he definitely needed to stay out of sight for a while longer. That’s what he’d wanted, a place to hide out for a while, and he was getting that from Maggie. He was also getting some pretty incredible sex, which was just another perk.
Yet it pissed him off, the way Maggie drove herself to the point of exhaustion. He liked her—fuck, he liked her a lot. And what he didn’t like was seeing someone he liked wasting her life away. He didn’t know what made her do it, why she felt she had to work so freaking hard, but he did know he wanted to help her.
But how the hell could he ever break down Maggie’s impenetrable devotion to her job and her annoying tendency to choose responsibility over fun?
He stood in the stall for a moment, letting the water course down his body, and then the answer came to him.
With a sly grin, he shut off the water and stepped onto the fluffy pink mat outside the shower stall. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom, heading for Maggie’s bedroom. He sat at the edge of the bed and picked up the phone from its cradle. Glancing over to make sure he’d closed the door, he punched the number for information. A few seconds later, he got what he was looking for and dialed another number.
“The Olive Martini. Trisha here.”
“Why hello, Trisha.” He lowered his voice, looked once again at the door, and then said, “I’m calling about Maggie Reilly.”
“Who is this?” The voice on the other end thickened with suspicion.
He faltered for a moment before responding with, “It’s Tony.”
“Tony? Oh my God! I didn’t recognize your voice.”
Shit. He hadn’t banked on any of the other wait staff knowing the infamous Tony.
“Uh, I’m trying to speak quietly. Maggie’s in the other room and I don’t want her to overhear.”
“Gotcha. So what’s up?”
“Well, I need you to do me a really big favor…”
“I want to take you on a trip.”
Maggie’s head shot up, not so much from Ben’s sudden reappearance but more from the words that exited his sexy mouth. He approached the couch, clad in a pair of jeans and a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. His jaw was tight and his mouth was set in a very firm line, as if he’d come out here expecting a fight and prepared to win it.
His words hung in the air. A trip? Hadn’t he listened to a word she’d said ten minutes ago?
“I don’t have time to take—”
“I’m not talking a week-long vacation,” he interrupted, catching the disbelief in her eyes. “I’m talking one night. Well, two, since we’d leave tonight and come back Saturday morning.”
“I’m working tomorrow, Ben.”
“So call in sick.” He offered a small shrug. “C’mon, babe, it’s just one day.”
Her jaw tensed at his flippant tone. “I can’t lie to my manager.”
“Maggie.”
“Ben.”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, with that secretive little smile that said he was up to something. But how could he be? He couldn’t force her to go away with him. Couldn’t tie her up and drag her out of the city.
Before she could further analyze that sly expression on his face, the phone rang. Grateful for the interruption, she leaned over and plucked the cordless from its cradle, noting the blinking red light on the answering machine that indicated there was a new message. She’d forgotten that she’d turned the ringer off earlier, after three irritating telemarketers had called one after the other.
“Hello?” She avoided eye contact with Ben as she pressed the phone to her ear.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Since Trisha rarely ever called her, Maggie’s guard instantly shot up a few feet. She didn’t know where that suspicious tug at her gut came from, but she couldn’t ignore that something-is-fishy feeling.
“What’s up, Trish?”
“I need you to switch shifts with me. I’ll work for you tomorrow night if you do Saturday.”
Something was fishy, all right.
Her head swiveled in Ben’s direction, but he seemed completely uninterested in her conversation, and oblivious to its content.
Of course, he also happened to be an actor, so what he seemed to be wasn’t all that reliable.
“Why can’t you work Saturday?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“You won’t even believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Lou’s taking me to see a Broadway show,” Trisha replied in a bubbly voice. “And it was his idea. Isn’t that amazing?”
“What show?”
“Huh?”
“What show is he taking you to see?”
“The Puppeteer.”
If she’d caught Trisha in a lie, she had no freaking clue. Her ignorance about Broadway musicals, not to mention most pop culture, was definitely the proverbial thorn in her side. She’d have to check it on the ’Net later. As it was, she found it hard to believe that Trisha would magically want to cover her shift two minutes after Ben announced his plan to take her on a trip.
“So will you do it, Mags?”
“Uh…”
“Please say yes,” Trisha begged. “You know how much I complain about Lou never paying attention to me. You’ve got to let me have this.”
A sigh lodged in the back of her throat. Damn it. The guilt card worked every time.
“Sure, of course I’ll take your shift.”
“Great! I owe you a million!”
You sure do, Maggie thought ruefully as she hung up the phone and turned her attention back to Ben. He’d moved across the room and now stood in front of the television, oddly fascinated by the Cary Grant photos Summer’s grandmother had mounted on the wall.
“Apparently I now have the day off tomorrow.”
He turned around, his features revealing nothing. “Looks like fate decided to step in.”
“Fate,” she repeated, unable to stop that mistrustful cloud swirling in the forefront of her brain.
“So does this mean the trip is on?”
She took great pleasure in bursting that balloon of hope floating around in his gaze. “Nope.”
Pop. The balloon dissolved into an annoyed glimmer. “Why the hell not?”
“I volunteer four days a week, in the afternoons. Fridays and Saturdays are two of those days. It’s a requirement for my college program.”
His broad shoulders sagged with disappointment. He looked really cute when he was dejected, but Maggie refused to let that puppy-dog gaze get to her. In fact, this was a conversation she’d had so many times, it was almost soothing. The men in her life made demands, her schedule got in the way, and they left in a huff. It was a routine now, and th
e one thing she always gained the most comfort from was her routine.
She softened her tone. “You could still take that trip to…wherever it is you wanted us to go.”
“I guess you’ll never know,” he muttered. For the first time since she’d met him, he’d lost that confident aura.
The annoying blinking light on the answering machine flashed in the corner of her eye. “Hold on. You can continue being mad at me in a second,” she teased.
She pressed the play button and a familiar female voice filled the room. “Maggie, it’s Gloria. I really hope you get this message before you show up for your shift tomorrow.”
Gloria Rodriguez was the facilitator of the Broger Center, and the second Maggie heard her soft Hispanic voice an uneasy feeling climbed up her throat.
“Libby Martin, you know, the little girl with the freckles? Well, she’s come down with the chicken pox. I know you haven’t had any contact with her lately, but some of the other kids have and they’re showing symptoms too. So if you’ve never had the chicken pox, I’d advise that you don’t come in tomorrow.”
Damn you, Fate.
“Actually, don’t come for at least a week, just to be safe. The infectious period is about five days, but chicken pox could be dangerous for adults. So stay away if you’ve never had it, kiddo. Call me to let me know.”
Maggie listened to the soft click, then the automated voice announced she had no other messages.
“So…just for my own curiosity,” Ben began, his husky voice coming out in a soft drawl, “have you ever had the chicken pox, sweetheart?”
She made an inaudible noise, and then set her jaw so tight her teeth hurt.
“What was that?” he prompted. “I couldn’t make out your answer.”
She slowly opened her mouth, relaxing her muscles with a long, calming breath. “No, Ben, I can’t say I’ve ever had the chicken pox.”
He made a clucking noise with his tongue. “What a shame.”
She met his gaze and saw the amusement dancing around in those striking blue eyes. “I’m sure Fate would agree with you.”
His lips twitched. “So how long will it take you to pack?”