That'll Be the Day

by Kress, Alyssa

  Very slowly, Maggie set down her pen and spiral notebook. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard. I help you out here for a week and we're even."

  Maggie shook her head. "You don't get to decide how I want the debt repaid. Remember? That's up to me."

  "Except that you're taking too long to decide." Ian shifted his shoulders. "So I'm deciding for you. My labor for a week."

  No way, no how. But Maggie didn't get a chance to voice the vociferous negative. Ian uncrossed his arms and strode right in.

  "Come on," he ordered. "No customers to worry about. Now's as good a time as any to finish with that tree."

  No way, no how. Maggie scrambled to her feet. "No," she finally managed to say out loud.

  Ian didn't even break his stride.

  Maggie was forced to hurry outside after him. "No, Ian. You are not staying. I mean I—I don't need any help. And you don't get to decide how to repay the debt."

  Ian waved a hand, not bothering to turn around. "Oh, I don't mind helping."

  "Ian—" He was moving so fast she couldn't catch up to him. "Forget the debt. I'm voiding it."

  "Well, that's very nice of you, I'm sure. But I can't forget it, I'm afraid. No, I'm bound and determined to pay you back. Now, isn't this the tree?" He came to a stop beside that damned tree.

  Maggie was panting as she finally caught up to him. "Ian. Go." Time to take off the kid gloves because oh, wasn't he demonstrating right now exactly why this physical desire of hers was all screwed up? He was an utter control freak.

  He put his hands on his hips again. "Why?"

  Why? Did he expect her to explain her own vulnerability? The weakness she'd never expected to experience? Maggie pointed toward the sales building, where the door was. "Because I say so. I don't want you here. Go."

  One side of his mouth quirked. "You don't want me here." His tone was incredulous.

  So arrogant! Maggie shook her head. "That's right. You're the last person I want in my nursery. You aren't a customer. And anyway, I have the right to refuse service— Oh, never mind. Just go."

  Ian regarded her with a deepening expression of amusement. "And if I said no?"

  Maggie's eyes widened. "I'll call the cops."

  He laughed.

  Maggie balled her hands into fists. "I just might."

  Ian was still laughing. "What are you going to tell them? My brother-in-law wants to help me repot a palm?"

  She regarded him narrowly. "I bet I could come up with something a lot more reprehensible than that."

  Ian's smile faded and his molasses-dark eyes managed to get darker. "Could you now?"

  Maggie felt a slow heat wind through her as her words came back to echo between them. There were more reprehensible things he could do to her. In an instant all the heat and danger dropped back down between them. All the secret, taboo possibilities.

  Maggie felt her knees go weak. She could imagine...oh, so much. Way too much. That incredible mouth of his, the artistic hands, and those strong, broad shoulders. How would it all feel if she could touch— Desire was like a chisel, chipping at her will.

  Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie shook her head, trying to shake herself out of the spell.

  But it was Ian, actually, who led them back from the edge. He shifted his gaze and took a step back. "Ahem. So, this is the plant, right? Why don't you get a couple of those digger things? We'll try loosening it around the edges first."

  Maggie blinked. "Diggers."

  Ian kept his focus on the palm. "You gonna go get them?"

  "Diggers," Maggie said again, and observed his face. Whatever had been there before was still visible, but clearly leashed. "No," she decided to claim. "That's not what we were talking about."

  Ian's eyes met hers. He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Give it a chance, Maggie. Just a chance."

  Fear speared through her. He was asking now, and a request from him was much harder to refuse than a command. But she tried. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Ridiculous?" He looked confused. "I don't know what's ridiculous about it."

  "No." Maggie smirked. "You wouldn't."

  Regarding her expression, he frowned. "All right. If you really want me to leave, I will."

  What?

  He held up both hands. "I'm not going to stalk you."

  Right. Good. But a strange deflation went through her.

  "So I'll leave." He took a step back. "As long as you tell me to go."

  Maggie cocked her head. "Excuse me?"

  "You say it. Out loud. 'Ian, I want you to go.'"

  She opened her mouth. It was the strangest thing. She did want him to leave. Of course she did. But nothing came out of her open mouth.

  Pausing, Ian rested his weight on one hip.

  Maggie drew in a deep breath. "I don't want anything to happen." True enough, but not the right words.

  Ian noticed. "So I don't have to leave."

  "I—" Dammit, why couldn't she say the words? Maggie narrowed her eyes and went on the offensive. "I don't get it. How do you have time to hang out here for a week? Don't you have to go back to work?"

  His casual posture froze.

  Maggie held her breath. Maybe she shouldn't have asked that. Perhaps he'd lost his job—though she couldn't imagine it would be legal to fire him for having health problems. Besides, he was an utter workaholic. His boss probably adored him.

  "That's not a problem," Ian finally said, making a visible effort to relax again.

  And that wasn't an answer, Maggie noted.

  "Look." Ian smiled faintly. "If nothing else, this week should be interesting."

  Maggie's lips pursed. She had to admit he was right. It would be interesting. But maybe too interesting.

  "Anyway—" Ian shrugged. "I'm not allowed."

  "Not allowed?" Maggie was, briefly, baffled. Then her mouth made an 'O' as she got it. He wasn't allowed to have sex. "Oh," she breathed aloud.

  She doubted any other information could have acted as powerful an aphrodisiac. Sweet heat melted through her.

  He wasn't allowed. Nothing was going to happen, because nothing could happen. The biggest danger she feared was no danger at all. Maggie could enjoy the pleasure of her infatuation without worrying about the negative consequences.

  "So," Ian asked. "How about it?"

  Maggie felt her heart speed up. It would be crazy to agree that Ian could work with her for a week. Even if nothing could happen, he knew. Everything. And he felt it all right back. There was a definite stickiness underfoot.

  Ian, I want you to go. Those were the words that needed to come out of her mouth. But, dammit, she couldn't make them come out. A crazy, insane part of her wanted to have Ian around, wanted to spar with him. A part of her liked him.

  That was probably the best reason of all to send him away, because she was in danger of liking him too much. This was particularly stupid given she knew who he really was underneath: a man who dictated which coat a woman should buy.

  Maggie pressed her lips together, drew in a deep breath, and willed herself to do the right thing.

  "The diggers are in the orange shed, the one by the north fence," she heard herself say. "And if you really intend to be useful, you'll pull out the hoe while you're at it." Maggie pointed. "My demonstration vegetable garden needs hoeing."

  Maggie was gratified to see surprise flash in Ian's eyes. It was all that prevented the self-preserving aspect of her personality from screaming the house down. What was she doing? What was she thinking?

  Ian seemed to sense her doubtfulness. He backed away carefully.

  "Nothing is going to happen," Maggie repeated.

  Ian held up his hands. "Nothing can happen."

  Maggie assured herself this was true as she watched him turn toward the shed for the diggers. Nothing could happen, so she wasn't completely insane.

  But her heart bobbed as she watched Ian's lean, long-legged gait, and she knew, deep down, that she was, actually.

  Completely insane.
/>
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Okay, so it was more difficult than Ian had imagined to hold himself back from Maggie while in such close quarters over the span of an entire day. She was so...wantable.

  Meanwhile, she'd thrown him one task after another throughout the morning, all carefully screened for physical difficulty, and all requiring Ian to stay far, far away from her. It hadn't helped. He hadn't been offended by her solicitude, and he hadn't lost an iota of desire for her ripe, sinful self. At every moment of the day, he'd remained aware of her position, whether she was striding through the aisles, working with the plants, or chatting up customers.

  The only thing that kept Ian from self-combusting was the certainty Maggie was suffering every bit as much as he was.

  No, not quite true. There was something else that eased the pain, Ian considered as he stopped by the orange shed and looked at the time. He could stand the sexual deprivation because he was so all-fired glad to feel sexual deprivation. It was wonderful to have something he wanted—and intended—to accomplish. By the shed, he began to strip off his gardening gloves.

  "You're leaving?"

  Ian paused in the act of placing the gloves on the shelf inside the shed. Maggie was apparently standing right behind him. "I want to get home before the kids do," he answered.

  "Oh."

  Was there a hint of disappointment in her tone?

  Carefully, Ian turned around. Yes, it was disappointment. He could see it in her face, though she was quick to hide the emotion.

  He was just as quick to pretend he didn't notice. "So I'm not giving you a full day's work, it's true," he told her. "I hope you don't mind."

  "Mind?" She blinked rapidly. "No, of course not. I'm glad you're spending time with the kids."

  That's a first. But Ian didn't voice the snappy retort. They weren't in that rancorous place any more. No, now they were in the stare-into-each-other's-eyes-and-burn place. In fact, it was happening right then. He was looking into her sorceress eyes and wondering what it would be like to be buried deep inside her and watch those eyes go stormy.

  It wasn't easy to draw in his next breath. Deliberately, he reminded himself: Nothing's going to happen.

  At least, nothing was going to happen for a week.

  Somehow Ian avoided grinning at the unvoiced thought. "I thought it was about time I got to know them," he told Maggie. "Don't you?"

  Maggie didn't give him the tart response he'd invited. Instead, she bestowed on him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen grace her face. "See you tomorrow," she said.

  Oh, wow. Not only was she giving him that killer smile, but also she was agreeing he could come tomorrow? Ian's feeble heart nearly exploded. He'd expected another tussle over the issue.

  "Right." Carefully, he cleared his throat. "See you tomorrow."

  Their eyes met.

  An incredible impulse took over him. He wanted to walk forward and take her in his arms. Oh, he wanted to feast on everything she offered.

  Fortunately, he still had enough brains to realize doing so would screw up everything. He might win the battle, but he'd lose the war.

  "Uh..." Swallowing, Ian nodded and croaked out, "Goodbye." Then he stepped around her and walked away. Quickly.

  It was essential he keep his hands off, he reminded himself, striding through the sales building to the front door. He wanted Maggie blissfully comfortable with him.

  Ian smiled to himself as he jogged down the front stairs. If he could keep this up, she'd grow so complacent that when he did make his move she'd fall into his hands like a ripe plum.

  Whistling, Ian opened his Cherokee's door and swung into the car. Okay, so he hadn't gotten what he wanted—yet. But, God, this was more fun than he could remember having had in a long, long time.

  ~~~

  This was torture. It was the worst torture Maggie had ever invited for herself. Why had she done it? Why let him stay? And for goodness sake, why had she asked him back for more tomorrow!

  But she had.

  In fact, the next two mornings she let him in her front door. She let him invade her territory, let him plant his male pheromones all over her garden, prickling her awareness of sensual possibilities, pushing her out of the comfortable place she'd been dwelling.

  Maggie hadn't realized what a very comfortable place that was. Snug in her one-bedroom house, she'd entertained male attention when she'd felt like it, politely declined it when she had not. She'd never in her life felt compelled by a man, never waited in pins-and-needles anticipation for one's arrival, never daydreamed about him once he was out of sight.

  She did now. Alone at night, she stared up at the ceiling in her bedroom and wondered: was this how her mother had once felt about her father? How Sophia had once felt about Ian? Was this what drew a woman in, trapped her, and held her in a position where she let a man direct her life? Biology?

  Because that's all it was, Maggie was sure: biology, physiological impulse, hormones.

  The fact her hormones had never worked like this toward any other man didn't make Ian special. Just dangerous.

  On Saturday morning, Maggie slept in. In fact, she asked Pearl to work for her at the nursery that day. Maggie considered she'd earned the indulgence after seeing off Alana's order, the biggest Corporate Edges had ever given her. Maggie felt like celebrating.

  It was only pure coincidence that she'd be avoiding Ian.

  When Maggie finally woke up, she rose, stretched, and then padded into the kitchen to put on the teakettle. The sun streamed in through the window over the sink, giving the kitchen a homey glow.

  The moment reminded her of how much she loved living here. Loved the coziness of it, the all-by-herselfness of it. She loved how it was all uniquely hers. No decision had been tainted by male influence or authority. Maggie switched on the burner and yawned. Now, what first: shower, or read the newspaper?

  Newspaper, Maggie decided with a smile. If you were going to be indulgent, might as well go all the way.

  She retrieved the newspaper from the front stoop, set it on the kitchen nook table, and put up her feet. Ah, this was the life.

  Half an hour later, she'd finished her tea and scone, read all the interesting parts of the paper, and found herself staring at the needlepoint on the opposite wall. Not that she was bored. How could she be bored? She enjoyed vegging out. She didn't need a man.

  But when her doorbell suddenly rang, she felt a happy leap of excitement. "Oh, wow! Who the heck could that be?"

  She knew, though. The pounding of her heart told her who was at the door.

  Her hands shook as she grabbed her plaid cotton robe from the back of the kitchen chair. "What is he doing here?" And how was she going to convince him to go away again? She pulled the robe on over her baggy T-shirt, wondering what excuse he'd use for showing up.

  At the front door, Maggie made herself pause. At the very least, she shouldn't appear to have hurried for the man. Biting her lip, she peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, Ian stood looming in the foreground. But behind him, compressed by the fish-eye lens of the peephole, were Kathy and Andy.

  Clever man. He'd brought the kids. He'd made sure she'd open the door.

  Maggie supposed she could take some comfort from the idea he hadn't been certain she would. Sighing, she turned the knob. "Well, this is a surprise." She gave Ian a raised eyebrow.

  "We were hoping it would be a pleasant surprise," Ian claimed and had the audacity to smile. His eyes met hers.

  Heat spiked through her bloodstream, merely from the touch of his gaze on hers. Her inner temperature blazed even hotter when his gaze then dropped, taking in her thin cotton robe.

  "Of course," Maggie said, and made a point of turning her gaze toward the kids. "I'm always glad to see you guys." Meaning them, not him.

  "Is Osiris here?" Kathy wiggled past her father and into the house. "Kitty!" she called. "It's your favorite niece. Here, kitty, kitty!"

  She disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom.

>   "Ignore the mess!" Maggie called after her.

  "What mess?" Kathy called back.

  "You still have that model-car kit I didn't finish?" Andy asked.

  "Sure." Maggie stepped back from the door. "Come on in."

  Andy also walked past his father. He acted perfectly at home, just the way Maggie had always wanted her niece and nephew to feel.

  Ian remained outside the door. His smile turned appropriately sheepish. "Do I get to come in, too?"

  How she'd like to say no. Simply looking at him made her feel helpless and shivery. She wondered if this was the sensation experienced by every poor hapless woman who'd let herself fall under the spell of a man.

  Toward Ian, Maggie rolled her eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Ah." His smile went from sheepish to wary. "You always have a choice, Maggie."

  Oh, he was good. He'd picked the perfect words...even if she suspected they were completely disingenuous.

  Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, which made her bra-less state feel like less of an exposure. "What's the idea, Ian?"

  Definitely wary now, he lifted one shoulder. "We were thinking of going to Banion's, catch a few roller-coasters. Wanted to ask you to come along."

  "You could have done that over the phone."

  "That would have made it too easy for you to say no." The wariness dropped. Ian's grin grew wide. "Thought I'd...manage things a little."

  It was exactly what she'd once said to him. The helpless shivery sensation turned into a melting heat. He understood her so well.

  She tapped her fingers on her forearms. "I could still say no."

  "Yes, you could." But Ian's wide grin said he didn't think she would.

  She wanted to pop him one. But that would only reveal that he'd gotten to her. "Come in," she muttered, and stepped back.

  Quickly, as if afraid she might change her mind, he stepped over the threshold.

  "You know, I've never been inside before." He stopped at the edge of her living room and looked around.

  She wasn't sure why he was inside now. Except that she'd let him in.

  Why did she keep making these choices?

  After taking a good look around, Ian turned to regard her. "It's very nice. Very...you."