by Webb, Peggy
“You do what?”
“You know. Smiley faces. Circles with a grinning mouth. It adds a personal touch and makes the kids feel good about their work.”
“It doesn’t sound too hard to me. Now”—he rubbed his palms together—”where are those papers?”
“If you hurry, you can probably still get a good seat at the lecture.”
Adam threw back his head and laughed. “You’re about as subtle as a bulldozer.” He crossed over to the rocking chair and covered Maggie’s hands with his. “Don’t deprive me of doing this good deed, helping a schoolteacher in distress.” He was standing so close Maggie could see the laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. “Besides, this will give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
Maggie jerked her hands away and stepped backward. “This way.” She whirled and almost ran to her kitchen table. Anything was better than standing so close beside him she practically sizzled. She would put the kitchen table between them.
But Adam had other ideas. He dragged his chair up close to Maggie’s. “I have to see how you draw these smiley faces,” he explained.
Maggie was intoxicated by his nearness. The faint, woodsy scent of his after-shave reminded her of the times she had encountered him in the forest, of their heated arguments, of their vows to fight each other, but most of all, of their kisses. Getting to know Adam Trent would be walking right into danger. And Maggie loved danger. Taking a deep breath, she cocked her head, smiled at him, and jumped in with both feet.
“I’ll expect no mistakes from you, Mr. Trent,” she said as she handed him a stack of math papers. “My students are accustomed to perfection.”
“Dear me, Miss Merriweather, I was always taught that humbleness is a virtue.”
“You have been hoodwinked, Mr. Trent. Self-confidence is my motto.”
He grinned, thoroughly enjoying their banter. “Some would say arrogance.”
“Only the uneducated, the uninformed, the untidy, and the undeserving.”
“You left out one.”
“What?”
“The ugly.”
“Well, of course! Thank you. Mr. Trent.”
“Fortunately, I don’t fall into any of those categories. I am a humble admirer of your ‘self- confidence.’ “
“If you hadn’t said that, I was going to black your eyes.”
“How would I ever explain that at my board meetings?”
And that was the last time board meetings were mentioned, for Maggie and Adam were both enchanted with the easy camaraderie between them. They became completely caught up in a lighthearted mood that took them far away from board meetings and seminars and three-piece suits and impulsive doings with trumpets and belly-dancing costumes.
The jumbled mass of papers rapidly became neat stacks of corrected work.
“How about a tea break?” Maggie suggested.
“Make that hot chocolate and show me where the fixings are,” Adam said.
While Adam made the chocolate, Maggie walked into the den to put a record on the stereo. “What kind of music do you like?” she called to him.
“Almost anything except hard rock.”
Maggie selected an album of haunting blues, the kind of music that grabbed the heart and turned it inside out. She turned the volume up so that they could hear it in the kitchen and then joined Adam.
“How is that?”
“Perfect. I love blues, especially the Bourbon Street variety played by that tremendous clarinetist.” He handed her a cup of hot chocolate.
His fingers lingered on hers as the cup exchanged hands, and their eyes met and held for a searing instant. Maggie’s lips parted and she held her breath, waiting for the moment to pass. Here was more danger than she had bargained for. A man who made her weak-kneed and who loved her kind of music. Not only that, but he could even identify the instrument being played. Adam Trent was full of surprises.
“Adam.” It was a shattered plea, a useless denial of the current that flowed between them.
His lips found hers over the chocolate cup, and there could be no more denial. The lightest caress touched her parted lips, and Maggie was caught up once again in the magic that was Adam Trent.
It was a gentle tasting as Maggie precariously balanced the cup between them, a soft touching of flesh that quickly fanned the flames of passion and demanded more.
Adam’s hands cupped her face as the kiss deepened, and Maggie nearly tipped the cup of chocolate onto him. She kissed him with a wild abandon, letting go of all her reservations. She was controlled by her obsession for this man, and nothing mattered except the moment.
Adam groaned deep in his throat, and his hands roamed under her football jersey. Her soft flesh flamed at his touch, and she arched against him, begging for more. The forgotten chocolate cascaded from the overturned cup, running down the back of Adam’s neck and soaking through his white shirt.
His startled protest was muffled against her mouth, as slowly they came out of the spell that bound them.
“Your shirt!” Maggie cried. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
He lifted the wet material away from his neck and grinned. “I’ve always thought chocolate becomes me.”
Maggie laughed with him, and the minor accident became the perfect means for breaking the tension between them. Fortunately, the chocolate had cooled during their kiss, so there was no real damage done except for the mess on Adam’s shirt and Maggie’s kitchen floor.
They argued good-naturedly over who should have custody of the mop, and Adam won. Maggie abandoned her shoes and swabbed at the puddles of chocolate with wads of paper towels. She ended up getting more chocolate on her feet than on the towels.
“I think you’ve discovered a new nail polish,” Adam said, teasing.
“Yes, but would it sell?”
“Maybe to a few hungry cats.” Adam laid the mop aside and stripped off his wet shirt.
Maggie stifled a gasp. What was he doing? Oh, that chest! That magnificent bare chest! Her eyes seemed glued to the spot. She thought she was going to have heart failure right there in the middle of her kitchen floor, chocolate toes and all. Oh, Lord, she prayed, don’t let me attack this man with my mop and drag him off to the bedroom caveman style.
“I thought I would toss this shirt into your washing machine.” He stood with the wet shirt dangling from one hand.
Once in the bedroom, her fantasy continued, she would proceed to gobble him up, piece by piece, lingering longest over the chocolate parts, until there was no more Adam, and she, Maggie the cat, would be sitting in bed, purring.
“You do have a washing machine, don’t you?”
She might save a little piece for tomorrow, she decided, for she would definitely be sorry when there was no more Adam.
“Maggie?”
“What?” The real man with the—oh, no, she couldn’t even look at that chest without panting— soggy shirt was speaking to her. “Yes, the machine. In there.” She pointed to her utility room. “Don’t trip on the—”
“Damn!”
“...garden rake.” She peered around the door. “Are you all right in there?”
“A sizable lump on my head notwithstanding, I’m just dandy.” He dropped the shirt into the machine, added powder, and closed the lid. “What is a garden rake doing in here? It’s the dead of winter.”
“Sometimes it comes in handy for my carpet.”
“You rake your carpet?” He started the machine.
“No. When I lose things in my carpet, I find them with the garden rake.”
“How innovative.” He emerged from the utility room, and she had to calm her galloping heart and still her runaway thoughts once more. It wasn’t fair that he looked twice as good without his shirt as she had imagined.
She was staring, and he knew it. The slow grin started at his mouth and moved upward to his eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Covering her flaming face, she said, “I’ll get you a shirt.”
“I don’t think it will fit.” Hi
s smile was now positively gloating.
“It’s Jim’s,” she said as she whirled around and retreated from the room. “Oh, shoot!” she muttered to herself. He was supposed to be the enemy. In the guest room, she banged open several dresser drawers before she found a couple of shirts that Jim always kept at her house. Her brother was fond of popping in for visits that turned into all-night gab sessions. Jim so enjoyed being “spontaneous” that he had suits of clothes scattered all over Lee County at the homes of his friends.
Yanking out the shirt, Maggie marched back to the kitchen, determined to clothe Adam and send him on his way. Enough was enough. She had to teach school tomorrow, and it was going to take her the rest of the night and part of tomorrow just to recover from the sight of Adam’s bare chest. Why couldn’t Mac’s chest have looked like that?
“Here.” She thrust the shirt unceremoniously at him. “Put this on.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Adam gave her a teasing military salute.
“Thank you for helping me grade papers. I’ll get your coat.” She tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but standing there with her ponytail, and chocolate on her bare feet, she didn’t look very forbidding.
“Is this the brush-off?” Adam leaned against the kitchen closet and took his time buttoning Jim’s shirt. When he had finished, he flashed a lazy smile that melted the chocolate on her toes. “I haven’t had my chocolate yet.”
Maggie pulled her eyes away from Adam’s mesmerizing smile and looked down at her toes. She had to get him out of her house. Being here alone with him was simply too dangerous. He was so friendly and charming, not to mention perfectly devastating, that she kept forgetting who he was. “It’s cold now. And besides, I’m going skating.”
Adam gave his head a puzzled shake. “Did I miss something? I thought you said, ‘I’m going skating.’ “
“I did. I like to roller skate.” It was true. She did like to skate. “It’s a good way to relax after grading papers.” She’d never used it for that reason before, but it sounded plausible enough. She knew she’d say anything to get Adam Trent to leave before she lost control completely and did something really foolish. Like locking him in her bedroom and throwing away the key.
With deliberation, Adam assessed the woman standing before him. She was bold and beautiful, he thought, warm and playful as a cocker-spaniel puppy and cocky as a bantam rooster. And she was totally fascinating. “I’ll go with you.”
“But”—Shoot! This wasn’t working out right at all—”men who wear three-piece suits don’t roller-skate.”
“I’ll change. Get me a pair of jeans.” He laughed at her look of frustration. “Jim’s jeans. Surely he left a pair of jeans to go with this shirt.”
“You’re impossible,” she said. “You come barging into my house and commandeer my second-grade papers and...” It was mostly the kiss. Her face flamed at the memory of how much she had enjoyed his kiss, how much she enjoyed all his kisses. Then she barged ahead, full steam. “...and spill chocolate. I will not take a banker who spills chocolate, roller-skating. Besides, I’ll bet you haven’t been skating since you were five!”
“Guilty.” He grinned, then breezed past her. “Is this the way to the spare bedroom?”
She clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Now who’s being a bulldozer?” She could hear him whistling as he sauntered down the hall to her spare bedroom. Abruptly the whistling ceased.
Now what was he up to? Maggie tiptoed to the kitchen door and cocked her head, listening. She didn’t want Adam to know that she cared a hoot about what he was doing back there.
The closet door banged, and Adam called down the hall. “Better wash your feet and put on your shoes if you want to go skating with me.”
Maggie stuck out her tongue and picked up her shoes. Well, heck, he was just as stubborn as she. In the bathroom she thought about taking the soap, marching down the hall, and conking him on his arrogant head. Then she changed her mind and decided that skating would be fun after all, especially if Adam Trent fell on his backside.
She grinned at the thought all the way to Circus Skating Center. Maggie and Adam shed their coats and checked out two pairs of roller skates. Except for a small party of giggling thirteen-year-old girls, the rink was empty.
Loud rock music blared over the speakers, and strobe lights flashed. Adam kept a firm grip on the rail as he made a wobbly entry onto the rink. “I don’t remember roller-skating being like this,” he shouted above the music.
“It wasn’t thirty years ago,” she answered gleefully. She took a quick spin around the rink and came back to Adam. He was easing carefully around the edge of the floor, within grabbing distance of the rail.
“I don’t remember the floor’s being so far away,” he said ruefully.
“It wasn’t—”
“Don’t say it,” he warned her.
“Come on, Adam. Nobody forgets how to skate. Not even stuffy bankers in three-piece suits.”
“Did you say stuffy? I take that as a challenge, madam.” He ventured bravely toward the center of the rink. After a shaky start, his confidence on wheels returned. “I’ll race you around the rink.”
“Prepare to lose.” Maggie did a neat pivot and spun off across the floor.
“I never lose.”
Maggie looked over her shoulder at him. “Not bad for a man your age.”
“Minx.” His hands flailed the air as his legs threatened to go in two different directions. “Wait till I catch you,” he shouted when his feet were back under control.
The clatter of their wheels was drowned out by the music, and their faces changed from purple to red to blue in the strobe lights. Maggie felt a wild exhilaration as she raced ahead of Adam. It didn’t matter whether they were confronting each other in the woods, matching wits at a banking seminar, or chatting in her den. Being with Adam made every inch of her feel alive.
She glanced back over her shoulder in time to watch Adam’s uncertain negotiation of a curve. He was a big man, and she knew he’d make quite a splat on the floor if he fell. He might even break something. Suddenly, Maggie didn’t want to see him flat on the floor.
She whirled around and raced toward him.
“Maag-gie!”
She reached out her hand, but Adam was already on the way down. He grabbed for her, and the two of them fell in a tangled heap onto the wooden floor. His breath whooshed out as Maggie landed on top of him.
“Are you all right?” She looked anxiously into his face. He’d gotten the brunt of it by breaking her fall, and, besides, she was accustomed to an occasional spill on the rink.
“I think I’m dying,” he said over a groan.
Maggie grabbed his head with both hands. “Oh, Lord, Adam. Do you need a doctor?” Sheer panic seized her. Not Adam. Adam couldn’t be hurt. What if he were seriously injured? She just couldn’t bear it. “Say something, Adam.”
“I think you’d better help me. Quick.”
Her nose was now almost touching his as she scanned his face for signs of trouble. His blue eyes twinkled up at her. Somehow he didn’t look like a suffering man.
“I have one last request, Maggie. Kiss me before I die.” He couldn’t suppress his grin any longer.
“I ought to kill you.” She pulled away from him and tried to glare, but she was too relieved to look very formidable.
Adam cupped her cheeks with his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. “I always grab opportunity.”
“The name is Maggie.” She was acutely conscious of the long, lean body underneath her. And, although the skating rink was dark except for the occasional Illumination of the flashing strobe lights, she didn’t think Tupelo was ready for what she was thinking. “Or have you forgotten?” she finished breathlessly.
“No, indeed. I haven’t forgotten.” His lips seared briefly across hers. It was a butterfly kiss, but it felt like an inferno to Maggie. “Upsy-daisy.” Adam sat up and dumped her onto the floor beside him. “I won.” He crossed his legs
, Indian fashion, and smiled triumphantly.
“What do you mean, you won? Get up from there and I’ll show you who won.” She leaned over and tweaked his ear.
“Mr. Trent?”
Startled. Maggie and Adam looked up at the prim-faced matron towering over them. She was standing outside the rink, staring across the railing, and her disbelieving eyes swung from Adam to Maggie and back again.
For a man who had been so near death a minute before, he moved with alacrity. He was finally upright, but Maggie decided to watch from the floor.
“Mrs. Vandergelding. What brings you to the rink at this time of evening?”
Smooth, that was what he was. Adam Trent even managed to make Jim’s plaid flannel shirt and tight jeans look like a fashion ad.
“My granddaughter and her friends are having a party. I came to pick them up.” Mrs. Vandergelding’s eyebrows lifted close to her henna dyed bangs as she took in Adam’s attire. “I didn’t know you skated, Mr. Trent.”
Maggie thought that the woman made skating sound like one of the seven deadly sins. She made a face and tapped her fingernails on the floor.
“This is the first time I’ve skated in—”
“Thirty years,” Maggie said from the floor.
“...a long time.”
Mrs. Vandergelding looked down her nose at Maggie, and her eyebrows moved an inch higher. “You haven’t introduced me to your...” She let the sentence trail off as if she couldn’t find words to describe Maggie.
With lithe grace, Maggie unfolded her long legs and stood up. “Sweetie.” She smoothed her red football jersey over her slim hips in a deliberately provocative manner and then clutched Adam’s arm. “I call him my sugar daddy, and he calls me his sweetie.” She smiled archly at Mrs. Vandergelding.
Mrs. Vandergelding’s breath whistled through her teeth as if somebody had socked her in the stomach.
If Adam’s look could have killed, Maggie knew she would be dead on the spot. “Don’t mind my cousin, Mrs. Vandergelding. She likes to tease.”
“Your cousin?” Mrs. Vandergelding squeaked out.
“I’m not—”
Adam gave Maggie a sharp tweak on the bottom. “She’s wild about skating. Talked me into coming with her tonight. I think I see your granddaughter waiting up front. It’s been so good to see you, Mrs. Vandergelding. Tell Sam ‘hello’ for me.” He kept up a continuous stream of chatter so that Maggie couldn’t drop in another bombshell.