Her pulse ricocheted, her breath quickened. Just looking at him aroused her, made her want things she knew she could never have.
She started to set the cookies down inside the door when he turned sharply. The irritation in his frown slowly turned to a smile.
Darn, darn, dam.
She couldn’t very well just run off now, not without looking completely ridiculous. And she’d certainly done that often enough when it came to Nick.
Be calm, Margaret, she repeated over and over.
He set the screwdriver down and reached for a rag, wiped his hands with it. “Well, well, Maggie Smith. What brings you to the wolfs den?”
She prayed he wouldn’t notice her knees were shaking as she walked across the shop. “My mother thought you might like some cookies.”
He kept his eyes on her when she handed him the tin. “I’d love some cookies.”
Why did he have to keep looking at her like that? As if he wanted to gobble her up whole instead of the cookies? And why was she thinking that she wanted him to?
“Well,” she mumbled and backed away, “I have to get going.”
He reached out and took hold of her arm. “At least stay and have one cookie with me. I hate to eat alone.”
Don’t do it, Maggie... “Well, just one.”
While he washed his hands, she wandered over to a motorcycle beside his workbench. It was beautiful. A big, powerful-looking machine with polished chrome and a brand-new black leather seat. The only thing missing was an engine.
“Is this yours?” she asked when he came back.
“A friend’s. We used to race together.” He broke open the tin, and a smile of pure ecstasy curved his lips. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Ah, chocolate chip.”
He already had half a cookie in his mouth when he offered one to her. “I think I just died and went to heaven,” he moaned around the bite.
“I’ll tell her you said so.” The expression of pleasure on Nick’s face bordered on sexual, and Maggie felt her insides shift. She looked quickly away, turned her attention to the motorcycle while she nibbled on a morsel of chocolate. “Why did you quit racing?”
Well into his second cookie, he shrugged. “It was time. I was on the road all the time. Too many different hotels and restaurants.”
“And women?” Cursing her loose tongue, she bit the inside of her mouth and felt the warm spread of a blush on her cheeks.
His grin was wide and slow. “You read too many tabloids, Maggie.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business.”
“I have no secrets.” He set the cookie tin down on the workbench and moved behind her. “How ’bout you, Maggie Smith?” he whispered, his mouth inches from her ear. “What are your secrets?”
What are your secrets? His question made her heart stop, but his closeness made it start up again at lightning speed. Her secrets she could never tell him. She watched, mesmerized as he lifted her hand to his mouth, then bent down and sank his teeth into her cookie. Her mouth actually watered.
When he came back for the last bite, and his lips touched her fingers, pleasure rocketed through her. “Let’s take a ride.” His hands slid to her waist.
“A ride?” she repeated lamely. She could barely think, let alone refuse him.
“Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” He eased her closer to the bike.
She shook her head, felt the hard, cold steel against her leg.
He smiled. “Then your first time will be with me. I like that.”
He had no idea how true his words were, or the longing that swelled in her heart. “There’s no engine,” she pointed out.
“We don’t need an engine.”
She let out a squeak when his hands circled her waist and lifted her. Instinctively she swung her leg over the bike and grabbed for the handlebars. He climbed on behind her and settled his hands on her hips. “You’re in control, Maggie. Feel the power.”
She did feel it. It surged through her like a speeding train, made her head spin and her heart pound. He’d sucked her into the fantasy, and she couldn’t stop herself. A delicious bubble of forbidden delight swelled inside her. How long had it been since she’d given in to the emotions, just let herself go, let herself feel?
Since the last time he’d touched her, she realized.
“Where shall we go?” she asked breathlessly.
“We’ll go anywhere you want to, sweetheart. As far and as fast as you like.”
His words thrilled her. She closed her eyes, let the sensations course through her. He slid her body snugly against his, wrapped his arms around her waist and held on.
“It’s dangerous to ride without a helmet,” she whispered, then felt the rise of heat on her cheeks at the innuendo.
He laughed softly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”
Even in her dazed state, she knew that wasn’t true. She could never be safe with Nick, but somehow, at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter.
She could almost feel the wind in her hair and on her face, the vibration of the powerful engine between her legs. The radio played a hard-rock beat, and the pulse of the music pounded into her blood.
And then there was Nick.
She smelled the soap he’d washed his hands with, something citrus, but his own scent, pure male, consumed her. With a sigh of surrender, she melted into the heat of his broad chest, luxuriated in the strength of his muscular arms.
“Maggie, sweet Maggie,” he murmured.
How many times had she dreamed he’d say her name like that? That she might hear her name on his lips, not another woman’s?
“Don’t hold back.” His breath fanned her ear and waves of pleasure pulsated through her. “Just let yourself go.”
She thought she heard the roar of the engine, but it was the blood pounding in her head. They were going much too fast. It frightened her. It excited her.
She gasped when he nipped gently on her earlobe. “There’s a stop sign ahead.”
“There’s no one around for miles.” He brushed his lips over a spot just below her ear, and she shivered in response. “You don’t have to stop.”
God help her, she didn’t want to. She wanted this feeling to last forever. That last tiny portion of her mind that was still rational knew it couldn’t, of course, but why not enjoy just a few minutes of heaven?
On a moan, she let her head fall backward. A trail of fire followed his mouth over her neck, then up her jaw. His touch turned her inside out, exposed every raw nerve. And still it wasn’t enough.
“Maggie.” His voice and breath were strained. “I want you.”
She simply couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She turned toward him, needing to stop this, to stop him, but his mouth closed over hers and every word scattered like leaves in the wind.
She tasted like chocolate, Nick thought. Rich and dark and sweet. He angled his head so that he could taste her deeper, felt an arrogant pleasure from her soft whimper of delight. She was interested in him, all right, in spite of what she wanted him to believe. He had no idea why she fought against it as hard as she did, but he intended to break down every defense until he found out.
She murmured a complaint when he moved back to her neck, then trembled when he slid his hands under her soft sweater and cupped her breasts. They were smooth and firm and warm in his palms, encased in delicate lace.
She arched into him, called out his name, and it felt as if a furnace door had blown open inside him. A blast of fire ripped through him, a need so intense that he thought he might explode from its force.
Her nipples were hard against his thumbs, and he wanted to taste her there, to pleasure them both, but the angles of their bodies prohibited it. Frustrated to the point of pain, he tightened his hold on her, and nestled his arousal firmly against her bottom.
“This is what you’re doing to me, Maggie,” he said harshly. “Tell me what I’m doing to you.”
“You’re destroying me.”
He felt, as well as heard, the anguish in her quiet words. Why did he have the distinct feeling she didn’t mean that in the most positive way?
She was as aroused as him, he was certain of that. But there was something she was holding back, something that went deeper than the physical.
She shuddered once, then went still.
“I’m sorry.” Dragging a shaky hand through her tousled hair, she sighed, then slid off the motorcycle and met his confused gaze. Her lids were heavy with desire, her lips swollen and still-moist from his kisses. “I can’t do this.”
There was fear in her eyes, he realized. A look damn close to terror. “Why are you so afraid of me?”
She folded her arms, hugged them tightly to her. “It’s not you I’m afraid of, Nick.” She drew in a deep breath, then said quietly, “It’s me.”
That was one answer he certainly hadn’t expected. Frowning, he shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m going back to New York in a few weeks. I’m sorry if I led you on, but I’m not interested in this kind of—” she hesitated, obviously searching for the right words “—relationship.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The woman had completely devastated him and now she stood here and soft-pedaled what had happened. He wanted to throttle her almost as much as he wanted to kiss her again.
“It means I’m not interested in a one-night stand. It’s not my style, Nick.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And you think it’s mine?”
“Yes.”
He let the sting of her answer pass, then pressed his lips tightly together. “Don’t believe everything you read, Maggie.”
Between the need still drumming through his body and his sudden irritation, distance between them seemed like a good idea. He stepped off the motorcycle and moved to his workbench to turn off a pounding Rolling Stones song.
Silence echoed in the high ceilings and dark corners.
“Tell your mother I said thanks for the cookies.” He looked at Maggie, saw the desire that still burned in her eyes, and he had to turn away. He picked up a screwdriver and focused his attention on the carburetor he’d been rebuilding. “I should have the parts for Drew’s bike day after tomorrow. I’ll call you.”
He stiffened when he heard her move toward him. If she got too close, if she touched him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Still, he wasn’t certain if he was relieved or disappointed when she moved back again.
“Just let me know how much I owe you,” she said quietly.
“I intend to. Good night, Maggie.”
He didn’t look back, not when he heard the door close behind her, not even when he heard her car start up and drive away.
Rather than damage the carburetor, he kicked his toolbox, then threw the screwdriyer. It smashed against the metal wall and clattered down behind a stack of tires three deep. Unless he moved thirty tires he wouldn’t be using that screwdriver for a while.
Dammit, anyway, the woman infuriated him.
He’d be lying to say his irritation wasn’t partly because she wouldn’t go to bed with him. Physically she frustrated the hell out of him.
But what really got to him was her presumption of his morals, or rather, his lack of them. He’d been accused and judged without facts before, dozens of times, and he’d never much given a damn. Even that annoying paternity suit a few years back and what people had thought of him hadn’t bothered him. The woman had been out for a little money and publicity for her acting career. He’d still had to prove it to the courts. And while it might be easy to prove you had slept with someone, it sure as hell wasn’t an easy thing to prove you hadn’t.
His entire life, the only people whose opinion of him had ever really mattered were Lucas Blackhawk and Ian Shawnessy. He felt nothing for the mother who’d run out on him, nothing for the drunken stepfather she’d left him with. They were both gone now, his mother he had no idea where, nor did he care, and his stepfather had drunk himself into an early grave.
Lucas and Ian were his only family. They’d always been there for him, and he knew they always would. He trusted them with his life. What anyone else had ever thought of him simply hadn’t mattered.
Until Maggie.
With Maggie it mattered.
He just didn’t understand why. Why she had him pacing his shop when he had so much work to do. Why he thought about her constantly, found himself in a tangle of sheets every morning since he’d seen her at the market. Why he could still taste her, smell her as if she were standing beside him.
And why, in the fact of absolute rejection, he still wanted her, still couldn’t stop thinking about her.
There was something about her that eluded him, like a dream he’d forgotten. She seemed...familiar. Not from when they were teenagers, but something else. Another time. Another place.
Weird, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair. The whole thing was just plain weird.
One block away from Nick’s shop, Maggie had to pull the car over to the side of the road. Her hands were shaking too badly to drive. Her entire body was shaking, for that matter.
Why had she let him get so close? She’d known the results would be disastrous if they were alone together. He didn’t even have to touch her to make her bones melt. A simple look from Nick was all it took to turn her into a quivering mass of need.
Damn!
She laid her head against the steering wheel, drew in deep breaths to calm herself. She couldn’t be mad at Nick, but she was furious with herself. She had to deal with this, deal with her feelings for him. They’d known each other since they were children. He lived in Wolf River now, and even though she would be going home to New York, she’d still have to see him every time she came back here. With her parents getting older, she’d already decided that her visits were going to be more frequent.
She couldn’t run every time she saw him. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t that timid young girl she’d been, growing up. She was a woman now, a mother. Independent and confident.
Slowly she lifted her head, stared into the darkness outside the car with the first sense of calm she’d had since she’d run into Nick at Bud and Joe’s and knocked over a tower of green beans.
She wouldn’t be afraid; she wouldn’t run. She couldn’t live that way anymore. She faced every other problem in her life and dealt with it. She would face her feelings for Nick, as well.
There was no possible way he could ever learn that Drew was his son. As long as she remembered that, she had nothing else to worry about.
Six
“Maggie, you look wonderful! I can’t believe it’s really you!”
Maggie had barely stepped into the door of the Four Winds restaurant before Julianna Hadley—no, it was Julianna Blackhawk now—had her locked in a hug, though the beautiful blonde’s advanced pregnancy forced Maggie to rock backward on her heels.
“Oh, my gosh!” Julianna pulled away, blue eyes wide as she covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe I said that. I didn’t mean, that is, I wasn’t—”
“It’s all right.” Laughing, Maggie gave Julianna’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I do look different. Amazing what a little makeup and a decent hairdo will do.”
Taking Maggie’s arm, Julianna led the way to their table, asking how Maggie’s mother was and if her father was doing well after his surgery. Soft strains of Mozart floated through the elegant dining room as the women walked through, turning several male heads of the business lunch crowd that filled the popular hotel restaurant. The hotel and restaurant was owned by none other than Lucas Blackhawk himself, Maggie had been told by her mother, though now that he was back in the ranching business, the hotel was up for sale.
Apparently, Maggie thought, she wasn’t the only one with changes in her life. But still she’d been surprised when Julianna had called and asked her to lunch. They might have been in the same grade, shared several classes, but Julianna and she had never been frie
nds. They had been two completely different people. While Maggie had been shy and dowdy and without friends, Julianna had always been the rich, beautiful Ice Princess—as she’d been cruelly dubbed—and also without friends. But this Julianna was genuinely warm and friendly, and though it hardly seemed possible, even more beautiful.
“I absolutely love that hairstyle on you, Maggie. It’s perfect for your face.” Julianna eased her body into a corner booth. “You look radiant. Poised and completely self-confident. Life as a famous New York journalist obviously suits you.”
Maggie might have argued the compliments, most certainly the famous part, but a waiter in a black tuxedo appeared, snatched the linen napkin from her china plate and flicked it onto her lap in one fluid sweep. When he started to reach for Julianna’s napkin, she grabbed it off the table.
“Oh, Henry, for heaven’s sake. It’s just me. Besides, I haven’t got a lap to put this on, anyway, and I don’t appreciate having that thrown in my face.”
She delicately tucked the napkin under the collar of her white silk blouse, then leaned forward and whispered to the waiter, “I want a chance to win my five bucks back, buster. Next time it’s five-card draw instead of stud poker.”
A mischievous twinkle in his gray eyes, the waiter leaned forward and whispered back, “Call any game you like, sister. I’ll still beat your behind.”
With a sniff she settled back into the booth with all the grace of a princess, albeit a very pleasant one. “We’ll have two sparkling waters in champagne glasses, please. We’re celebrating a reunion here.”
“Right away, Mrs. Blackhawk.”
His tone might have been solicitous, but Maggie caught the wink of the waiter’s eye before he turned away. “I, ah, take it you know him.”
“Henry’s a regular at Lucas’s Tuesday-night poker game. The whole guy thing. Beer, cigars, lots of bragging and cursing. They grumbled about me joining them at first, including Lucas, but I won, of course. Now the cigars are outside and the cursing is at a minimum, except for when I lose. Lucas threatened to wash my mouth out with soap last week.”
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