by Opal Carew
He chuckled. “Like you’re not a little snooty yourself. I saw that artwork in your place. Nothing store bought. It’s all hand-crafted crap. You didn’t have anything commercial in there.”
“Well, no. I like what I like.”
“Yeah. Me too.” The look he shot her was no less than scorching. “So, back to you and your sob story growing up.”
Trust Mac to give her no quarter. She liked that about him. When others learned of her humble beginnings, they seemed uncomfortable or even pitying. Not the man still giving her a once-over.
“Your brother,” Mac continued. “You and he grew up out here?”
“On the East Coast, actually. We grew up outside of D.C. But we both wanted to move West. It’s way too humid out there.” She shook her head and took a sip of wine. “Hey, this is good.”
“Only the best for you, Maggie.” He patted his chest. “Myself included.”
She nearly choked on her wine.
“So when did you come out here?”
“You really want to know, or is this just to soften me up for sex later?”
The lazy amusement on his face vanished, to be replaced with real annoyance. “Can’t I be curious about you? Why is that wrong? If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
“Ah, no.” She put her wine down. “Honestly, I’m not used to this. Usually on a date, I sit back and listen while the man of the hour goes on and on about his job and his life. I nod, smile and look pretty.”
“You’ve been dating the wrong guys.” He snorted. “Not surprising. You tell me I have trust issues? Check a mirror, honey.”
“Look, sweetcheeks, I didn’t ask for an analysis of my shortcomings.” Irritated with him, she turned back to her plate. He might be an ass, but the smells coming from her dinner made her salivate.
“Easy. I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you. Jesus, just eat, would you? I forgot what a pain in the ass you can be when your blood sugar is low.”
How did he know that? She dug into her plate and moaned at the flavors bursting on her tongue.
“Go on. Say it,” he demanded.
She wanted to be annoyed, but he’d earned that smug tone.
“It’s delicious. This is amazing. Just a few vegetables and steak and it tastes like heaven. How do you cook like this?”
“It’s a gift.”
“No kidding.”
They continued to eat and polished off the bottle of wine. She learned more about him, watching how animated he became when talking about his uncle or Shane. He loved Shane’s family as well, particularly Shane’s younger brother.
“George idolizes you and you know it,” she teased. “He’s working hard to become the next Mac Jameson. In the four months I’ve known him, I’ve seen him with three different girls.”
“Whoa. That’s not my style, Maggie.” Mac leaned back and grinned. “I’m more the love them and leave them happy type.”
“I don’t know. They seem to be in perpetual mourning at the gym. You have your own set of groupies.”
“Yeah? Well you do too.” He didn’t seem happy about that fact, and his displeasure secretly thrilled her. “Trust me. I’ve heard more than my share about the hot blond aerobics instructor.”
“Lovely.”
“Yep. The one with the fine ass and nice tits.”
“Mac.” She flushed.
“What? Their words, not mine,” he protested.
“Yeah, right.”
He chuckled. “I mean, I agree with the description, don’t get me wrong. But there’s more to you than looks, right?” He paused. “You still haven’t told me much about your art, and I know that’s a big deal. To hear Shelby talk about you, you’re the next Van Gogh.”
“He was a painter.” She paused. “How much do you know about art?”
“Not a thing,” he said with pride.
“And you don’t seem to care that you know nothing. So sad.”
“Hey. I can field strip an M16 in the time it takes you to spell Van Gogh backwards. We all have our priorities. Now quit changing the subject. Your art. How’d you get into it?”
She wanted to tell him not to bother buttering her up. She’d mentally agreed to sex with him, despite her prior claims that he not assume they’d eventually come together. But he looked interested. And he’d persisted in trying to talk about her tonight. Such a change from the way her dates normally progressed.
She liked his interest and decided to answer him. “I don’t know. I always liked creating things. Sculpting especially. Just model clay, nothing fancy. I can draw reasonably well, but it’s not something I can make a living doing. For that matter, neither are my current art projects,” she ended with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Not to hear Shelby tell it. She said that gallery where you work is selling a lot of your stuff.”
“The Beholder is a terrific place. And the new owner Kim’s a gem. She gives me flexible hours at the gallery, so that I can do my art and work for you during my time off.”
“I like that. But I still don’t get how you got into making paper. I mean, I think paper and I see holes and lines.”
“I used to feel the same. Then a few years ago I was bumming around an art gallery in Portland and saw a paper sculpture. The artist happened to be there at the same time, and we started talking.”
“Did he invite you to see his etchings?”
“No. She showed me her studio and took me on as an apprentice. I helped her prepare and did a lot of cleanup for her. In exchange, she helped me get started. In the garage at my place, I have my own paper press and materials. It’s not the best space to work, and it’s messy, but it’s my own form of expression.” She hated that she sounded defensive. A lot of artists looked down on her for her craft, but she loved it. She might not be into oils, watercolors or traditional art, but her medium worked for her.
“Sounds good to me.” Mac sat back and nodded. “Like you said, I know nothing about art. But if you made that red picture above your fireplace, I’d say you could more than earn a living selling your stuff.”
She brightened. “You liked it?” Then she immediately felt stupid. Of course he’d say what he thought she wanted to hear.
Except he looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. Not that I’m into art or anything, and I don’t know that I’d call it pretty, but I couldn’t look away from it. The piece had nice detail.” He shrugged.
“Shelby bugged the heck out of me to make her something for her birthday. She swears I’m going to be worth big money soon.” She sighed. “Maybe after I’m dead. Seems like the curse of most great artists. They’re poor until they die.” Realizing what she’d said, she corrected herself. “Not that I’m poor. But none of my work goes for millions.”
“Not yet.” Mac smiled. She saw no censure or taunting there, and she relaxed. “So The Beholder is where you work?” He frowned. “That sounds familiar. Hey, isn’t that right down the road from Shelby’s clinic?”
“How do you think she and I met? We bumped into each other years ago, and boom. Instant friendship.”
“The hot blond and sultry brunette. Fits.”
She didn’t like hearing him refer to Shelby as sultry. But the fact she felt a hint of jealousy over her boss didn’t sit well either. She hurried to ignore her weird emotions and pasted a smile on her face. “It’s nice to know you think I’m attractive, but you don’t need to keep repeating yourself.”
“Too used to hearing it, are you? I get that.” He gave a put-upon sigh. “Me too. Women are always treating me like a walking billboard for sex. It’s tough, being so manly.”
“Please.”
“No, really.” He nodded, but his innocent expression didn’t mesh with the devilry in his gaze. “Take my last girlfriend.”
“Do you even remember her name?”
He frowned. “Yeah.” He paused. “Jessica.”
“Jessica what? You don’t know, do you?”
He ignored her. “Jessica was all about my body and
my wallet. I mean, I was happy to share myself with her, but I was hoping for something more.” He looked into her eyes, and the truth there shocked her. Mac wasn’t as superficial as she’d once thought. “I didn’t expect marriage or anything super serious since we’d just met, but time spent not talking about her boob job and how great she looked would have been nice. The only things she seemed to care about were herself and how much I cleared last year after taxes. Oh, and how much I could bench press.” He snorted. “I don’t lift weights to look good. I lift because it takes my mind off the fact that I’m retired.” He sneered the word.
She’d seen the scarring on his left leg and been curious but had never asked. “What happened?”
“Got shot in the knee and it never healed right. So I was medically discharged after two surgeries. Now I do physical therapy, and Shelby’s helping. It’s not like I could have stayed in the Corps forever anyway.” He acted like it was no big deal, but Maggie could tell how much being out of the service bothered him.
“That’s where you met Shane, isn’t it?” She knew Shane had served in the Marines.
He nodded. “He and I ran into each other a few times when I was active. Then I when I got out two years ago, I ended up seeing him on the street downtown. Weird coincidence. I mean, his folks are just a mile from my uncle. Small world.” He smiled.
“Yeah.” They quieted and watched each other. Maggie wondered what Mac saw when he looked at her. This was the longest they’d ever talked together, and the majority of the conversation hadn’t been about Shane or Shelby.
Mac suddenly stood and cleared their plates.
“I’ll wash.” She moved to stand, but he barked at her to sit down. “Again. Do I really need to remind you I’m not a dog?”
“You know, there are so many ways I could take this conversation. But I don’t want to totally strike out. So I’m gonna put the dishes in the kitchen. You’re going to go sit in the living room, and we’ll finish up the night—”
“Getting naked?” There. She’d put her cards on the table. She wanted to have sex, so why not take what they both clearly wanted? Except the answer he gave her wasn’t what she’d anticipated.
“Watching the new detective movie on TV. And don’t even try acting like you don’t want to see it. I overheard you the other day talking to Shelby about it.”
“You have big ears.” So no on the sex, but companionship and an agreement to watch a television movie she’d been looking forward to? The man paid attention to things she liked. How…odd.
She figured out which remote to use and how to use it just as he joined her. Before she could turn the channel, he plucked the remote from her hand and settled her right next to him, hip to hip. His body heat bled through to hers, though she’d have bitten her tongue before telling him how much she liked him sitting so close.
“I am not a doll. You can’t just twist me around and bend me ov—”
His laughter made her reconsider what she’d been about to say.
“Oh, shut up and watch the movie, Jameson.”
He whispered, “Mac,” then nipped her ear.
Her entire body warmed and her nipples hardened. She thought about asking him to skip the movie and move on to the main course—them, in bed. But he pulled his head back and broke the mood. Instead, he cuddled her against his chest and put his arm around her shoulder. The movie started, and they watched together.
Maggie felt comfortable, turned on yet content.
Content. Such a strange feeling to put together with Mac Jameson, but there it was.
The movie droned on, and everything started to blur.
“Maggie, wake up.”
She blinked her eyes open to see the credits rolling on the screen. She immediately brushed her mouth.
His laughter vibrated through his broad chest. “Don’t worry. No drool. But you do snore a little. It’s cute.”
“I do not.” Her cheeks heated. “So tell me who did it. Was it the CEO’s niece or his stepson?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Evil man.” She scooted out of his embrace and sought the bathroom. She returned moments later to see him standing by the door. He hadn’t been kidding about no sex.
Part of her liked him for simply spending the night with her, no strings attached. The other part of her worried he didn’t find her to his liking, despite the many times he’d flattered her.
“It’s late, and we have work tomorrow.”
“Problem with dating your boss is he’s all about the schedule.” She sighed. “But I am tired.”
She gave him another shot to make his move.
When he leaned closer, she felt a moment of relief. Predictable Mac. Her previous notions about the man hadn’t been that off the mark.
He placed a kiss on her cheek and then moved around her to the closet, where he fetched her jacket. He put it on her while she stared at him in confusion. Wait. He seriously intended to take her home?
“Come on,” he growled and dragged her into the bitterly cold night. The drive back to her apartment was over before it had begun, only the sound of classic rock breaking the silence between them. He pulled in front of the old Victorian house and idled the car.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, still not quite believing tonight had been so enjoyable or so nonsexual. Should I invite him in? Is this part of the script? He didn’t appear to be in a hurry to leave the car, yet he’d been adamant thus far to remain casual friends.
“No goodnight kiss?” he teased.
“I thought we did that at your house.”
“Please.” He huffed. “That peck on the cheek? Woman, I made you dinner. I didn’t spoil the ending of the movie, and I drove you home without molesting you. That’s got to be worth some tongue.”
She rolled her eyes. “First you don’t want sex, then you do?”
“It’s just a kiss.” His lips quirked in the moonlight. “Unless you’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself.”
“Yeah, right. A kiss, you said. Okay, buddy. Pucker up.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid closer to him. Then she palmed his face, and a spark of desire raced through her at the contact. He closed his eyes, and she closed hers as she leaned closer to kiss him.
Maggie wanted to thank him for being such a gentleman at the same time she wanted to punish him for not making a move. How dare he be so nice? All her assumptions about Mac Jameson had gone to the wayside. A womanizer? Maybe, but not a complete jerk. He didn’t muscle in on her or try to take advantage.
What the hell?
The kiss started soft until she traced his lips with her tongue. His hands moved to her shoulders, and she scooted closer, angling her mouth over his. She thrust her tongue between his lips, stroking his tongue with hers while she deepened the kiss.
Tingles lit her from her mouth all the way to her core, dampening her panties and making her want much more from the man.
He gripped her jacket and soon took charge of the kiss, drawing on her tongue and nipping at her lips while he intoxicated her with desire.
Mac Jameson would be hell on wheels in the sack…if she could get him there.
The bastard pulled away, panting. His eyes were darker blue, his mouth parted, slick, and sexy as hell.
“Fuck. You and I are definitely getting horizontal.”
“When?” she rasped, irked to have to follow his timetable. Her body screamed at her to straddle his hips slide over that thick shaft, taking it inside her where it would do the most good.
“When?” he moaned. “I’d say right the hell now, but that negates my good behavior all evening.”
“Negates? Big word for you, Mac.”
He chuckled. “You’re looking frustrated, sweetheart.”
“Oh?” She unbuckled his seatbelt and gripped the bar in his pants, gratified by his hiss. “What’s this, then? A little of your own frustration for me?”
“Damn it. Let me go.”
But he thrust into her hand.
Not the action of a man not interested.
“Why don’t we end the night the way we ended last night?”
“What?”
She unbuttoned his fly, all the way down, while keeping her gaze on his. The need on his face exacerbated her arousal, to the extent she almost didn’t care that they were in his vehicle…in front of the house.
“Turn off the car.”
“Why?” he asked even as he turned the key and shut off the engine and lights.
The silence was broken by his low moan as she reached inside his boxer briefs and found him hard, his slit wet.
“You know why.” She leaned close to kiss him again and started pumping him.
He met her more than halfway, wrapping his hand around hers over his cock. Their groans mixed until he was bucking and she was stroking faster, harder.
“Fuck, yeah. I’m coming,” he moaned.
She pulled harder and felt the sticky jet of his desire all over her hand while he whispered her name. She leaned back from him and looked down, enthralled with his large cock covered in cum.
“You made a mess,” she teased and kissed his jaw.
“Shit.” He was breathing hard and leaned his head back against the head rest. His eyes closed, and he sat there, panting.
“For such a bully, you’re surprisingly sexy.” She rubbed his seed over his semi-hard cock, wondering when she’d finally feel him inside her. “Now we’re even.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Even?”
“For last night.”
“Hell, no. We’re not even.” He tugged her hand from his cock and cleaned them both with a few tissues he grabbed from the tissue box on the floor. “I gave you an orgasm last night, and I made you dinner tonight. One measly orgasm from you is way less than I deserve.”
She frowned while he buttoned up. “Measly? Nothing small about the mess you made in your lap. I’d say that was a whopper of an orgasm. Heck. You owe me another dinner for that handjob.”
He just stared at her.
“What?”
“Hearing you say handjob. That innocent face and the sex talk. I’m hard again.”
“Shut up.” She blushed. “Well, I suppose I should get going. My boss is an ogre, and if I’m late tomorrow, he’ll probably fire me.”