That'll Be the Day

by Kress, Alyssa

  "Oh, Maggie." Ian's voice was a shaky sigh as he dragged his lips from her mouth to nip along the edge of her jaw.

  Maggie gasped and writhed as his hands caressed and undressed, all at the same time. "Are we going to—? Right here?"

  "For starters," Ian growled, and set a possessive hand over her camisole at her breast. "You got a problem with that?"

  Maggie closed her eyes, marveling at how much she liked that. She liked the way he casually took possession of her body.

  Liked it? She melted from it.

  "No problem," she breathed.

  No problem?

  They kissed again, long and hot and damp. Hands became busy, unfastening buttons, drawing down zippers. Ian was more dexterous than Maggie. She was down to her high heels and panties while he still wore his shirt and pants, though both were unfastened. Maggie shivered at what he was doing to her with his thumbs and his tongue. Then she was lying on the sofa and his weight was on top of her. His scent was spicy as he sank into her heat.

  Maggie murmured earthy encouragement and wrapped her legs around him. The next instant she had her head arched against the sofa pillows, her breath gasping as Ian took her encouragement to reality. Never— No, never— This was...so good. "Ian!" she yelped, as her climax hit her like a thunderclap.

  "Maggie." His voice was a tiger growl.

  For a moment Maggie knew nothing but joy and a bone-deep satisfaction. It seemed as if they'd just concluded an utterly essential act, that their two bodies had absolutely needed to be joined. Achievement, satisfaction, contentment.

  And then, intruding on the euphoric moment was a strident question. She was where? Naked underneath Ian Muldaur on the sofa in his living room. Was this a good idea? Hadn't she, somewhere along the line, decided it was in fact a rather bad idea?

  "Okay," Ian breathed, and lifted his weight. "Okay, that was a little— Not quite what I intended."

  Maggie shot him a questioning look. "It wasn't?"

  He let out a breathy laugh and managed to find a way to lie beside her on the sofa. "I'd rather have taken a little time with you, done it right."

  Oh, that's what he meant. He'd wanted to do it, only better. "That was—pretty good," Maggie felt she had to admit.

  He laughed again and gave her a squeeze. "Fortunately, we have all night."

  All night. Anxiety made large circles in her brain. This was dangerous. She was letting him in. He was gaining power over her. Even now as they simply lay together, she could feel pieces of herself peel away.

  Then Ian's lips touched her ear, softly, tenderly. "Thank you," he whispered.

  Maggie closed her eyes.

  "Thanks for coming tonight," Ian went on. "Thanks for being with me, for being who you are. Everything."

  Maggie squeezed her eyes closed. Oh, why'd he have to do that—get humble? She couldn't defend herself against it. Her anxiety drowned beneath a sweet warmth.

  Dimly it occurred to her that maybe this was the worst part, that she allowed herself to get sucked right back in, that she maybe even welcomed getting sucked back in.

  She wasn't thinking about that, though, as she turned to press her palm against his cheek. Her chest overflowed with emotion as she smoothed the short rasp from an hours-old beard.

  His eyes looked into hers. He appeared open, vulnerable, yet with the strength of a lion. Maggie felt a huge lurch in his direction, as if innumerable bonds were being knotted between them.

  The fear returned, slicing through the moment like lightning slicing through a night sky. There, and then gone. The bonds returned to pull her close to him.

  "You're welcome." She touched her lips to his.

  Ian put a hand on the back of her head, and the kiss soon turned wild.

  It just barely occurred to Maggie that he was taking charge, once again, before the storm dragged her under.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  He wanted her in his life. Permanently.

  Ian knew this was true the second time they'd made love, but the determination only grew stronger over the next several weeks. On a Tuesday morning, he punched the button for the elevator going up to his office at Brockton and made a mental note that the day marked four whole weeks he'd been granted Maggie's favors.

  Not coincidentally, it was four weeks he'd made it through work. He was well aware of the strong connection between the two. If it hadn't been for Maggie, he wouldn't have lasted a day at his job. Ian's lips twitched. If it hadn't been for Maggie, he probably wouldn't have been able to go back to work at all.

  Maggie was...Maggie was...

  Alone in the elevator, Ian closed his eyes. He blocked out of his mind the problems sitting on his office desk, waiting to be addressed. Instead, he filled his mind with images from the last time he'd seen Maggie.

  Maggie with her lips parted and her skin flushed, lying sprawled on her fake polar bear rug. Then Maggie with her hair mussed and that ratty plaid robe tied around her, slamming a plate of Egg Beaters in front of him and snapping it was his own fault if he didn't have time to eat before he had to pick up Kathy from her soccer game and Andy from the library.

  But her eyes had softened and her embrace had been warm when he'd finally had to leave her last Sunday.

  In the elevator, Ian opened his eyes and released a quiet sigh. Maggie was...magnificent. Indeed, he wanted their relationship made clear in bold, uncompromising language. He wanted to go to bed with her every night and wake up with her every morning. He wanted them to be partners, dammit.

  Married.

  Ian squeezed his fingers into fists and then forced himself to relax them. He would have brought the matter up by now, but he could sense her uncertainty. Hell, he could smell her doubts from a mile away.

  Patience, Ian reminded himself. He took a deep breath. This campaign could not be won by anything else. He had to wear down her fears, erode her misgivings. Victory would eventually arrive, he was sure, because she appeared to want to be won over.

  At least that's what he told himself.

  The elevator slowed as it neared his floor. With well-engineered precision, it glided to a stop, and the doors slid open. Ian walked out, quelling the little ball of dread that formed in his stomach every time he went into work, even after four weeks.

  Howard was waiting in his office, sprawled in one of Ian's visitor chairs. "'Morning, Ian," he yawned.

  "Good morning, Howard." The unexpected presence of his boss produced another burst of apprehension, but Ian quickly dampened it. Casually, he swung his briefcase onto his desk. "To what do I owe the honor?"

  Howard straightened in the chair. "Got a call this morning from Italy. God, this time difference is going to kill me."

  Alarms started to ring in Ian's head. "From the architect," he guessed.

  Howard nodded. "Seems Mr. Hot and Fancy has decided to make his own trip out to Kansas City, help interview for a new local architect. Only fair since Vito was the one to fire the last guy. Anyway, he wants someone there from our office."

  Ian felt a chill form in his gut. He knew what Howard was going to say next. If the principal architect thought the interview process was this important, he was going to want a principal from the construction management team. "Me," Ian said, and hoped his voice didn't sound as faint as he felt.

  "I sure can't go. Besides, I'm no good at holding these prima donnas' hands." Howard grinned up at Ian. "You're super good at it."

  Ian knew his teeth were in a death clench. Anything to keep his panic from showing. He hadn't been on a business trip since Raleigh. Eight hours after his return from that one, he'd collapsed on the floor of this very office with a heart attack. "When does Vito want to do this?"

  "Well, he muttered something about the end of this week, sounded like he meant Thursday. That'll mean lining up a bunch of appointments in Kansas City to get it all done before the weekend."

  It would mean a ton of phone calls and unnecessary scrambling in order to line up interviews and get them all done in a ridic
ulously compressed time frame. Ian felt pressure build behind his skull. Why did they do this? Why did people take what could be do-able and straightforward, and turn it into a mad dash?

  But Ian didn't say any of that, of course. Instead he murmured, "I see," and managed some facsimile of a smile. "I'll tell Eileen to make airline reservations."

  Howard yawned again and nodded. "I'd appreciate that." He lurched out of Ian's visitor chair.

  The chill in Ian's gut deepened. He had to go on a business trip. No, a mad scramble of a business trip. This was, he realized, a test. Was he going to be able to handle this job or not—that is, really handle it and not just fake it?

  Howard turned at Ian's door and smiled. "At least the weather in Kansas City shouldn't be too crummy this time of year."

  "Yeah," Ian said. At least.

  ~~~

  "Let me make sure I have this right. You want the fishtail palm, two of the sago, and five of the umbrella sedge." Maggie looked for confirmation from the two middle-aged women who stood with their foreheads puckered, both still gazing at the array of plants Maggie had gathered on the packed dirt before them.

  "That sounds right," admitted one of the women.

  "Yep," the other woman had to agree.

  "All right, then." Maggie bent to check the prices she'd scratched onto the sides of the containers and added it up in her head. "That'll be three hundred and sixty-seven dollars." Straightening, she brushed her hands on the back of her jeans.

  "Here. You take Mastercard, right?" The first woman held out a plastic card.

  "Sure. I'll go run this inside, then help you load your plants in your car." Maggie smiled as she took the credit card. It was nice to make a sale at the very end of a day, particularly as she was getting rather low on money. "Be just a minute."

  The two women murmured acknowledgment and Maggie skipped off toward the sales building, the sales building where no check from Corporate Edges had arrived with the afternoon mail. But whatever mood this thought might have inspired in Maggie vanished when she saw who stood lounging against her counter.

  "Ian." Her smile felt like it went through her whole body. The mere sight of him made her that happy. It didn't hurt that the sight of him was something else, sharp and handsome in his gray suit and bold-colored tie.

  Ian's answering smile seemed slightly sheepish. "Hope you don't mind the surprise."

  Maggie shook her head. Mind? She was like a puppy, wriggling in joy.

  Ian's gaze went toward the open side of the building. "Are all those plants going in their car?"

  "Oh, only about half of them." Maggie set the credit card in the machine and shoved it across for an impression. She managed to look away from Ian long enough to complete the job. "Last sale of the day."

  "Tell you what." Ian began to shrug out of his suit jacket. "I'll help you load the plants if you'll have dinner with me tonight."

  Maggie's eyebrows jumped. Inside, a little spark of anticipation jumped, too. "Oh?"

  Ian's eyes went dark on her. "Just the two of us."

  Maggie cleared her throat as she picked up the credit card receipt. They weren't usually able to get together, just the two of them, during the regular part of the week. Fact was, she'd been planning to start that yoga class tonight, attempting to do something for herself, just herself, for a change.

  But if Ian could manage dinner, and whatever might happen after dinner...

  "Sure," Maggie said softly. "I'd love to have dinner, just with you."

  Ian tossed his jacket across her counter and grinned. It wasn't a completely lascivious grin, just lascivious enough to get Maggie's blood heating. "Lead me to my load, then."

  "This way." Maggie turned. As she walked back out to the garden with Ian beside her, she felt little sparkles of happiness falling all around, like so much fairy dust. The phenomenon occurred whenever Ian was in her vicinity. She got happy, really happy.

  Probably she radiated everything she was feeling, because the two middle-aged women she'd left frowning over their decision perked up when she and Ian arrived. The loading of their plants took place amid a lot of good-natured joking and laughter.

  But a part of Maggie stood back from all this and watched in appalled disbelief. She was closing up the nursery ten minutes early just so she could have dinner with Ian. Not a thought was spared for the yoga class she'd planned to take, for any of the plans she'd made: her own plans, for her own life. Instead, Maggie ended up showering and changing quickly back at her house while Ian waited in her living room. She ended up rearranging her whole evening in order to accommodate this man.

  "If it's all right, I had a particular place in mind to take you tonight," Ian told her as they left her house for his car.

  Maggie smiled at him. "Whatever you like is fine with me."

  God. Did I just say that? Did I just say 'whatever you like is fine with me?' True, she didn't really care where they went tonight, but it was the principle of the thing. She was acting like she didn't have an independent thought in her head.

  Once in Ian's car, Maggie dismissed her inner voice of disapproval. This was ridiculously easy to do under the influence of Ian's strong male self handling the big car. Nor could any critical voices be heard when his hand settled on her back, warm and steady, as they walked into the restaurant. This turned out to be a place Maggie had never been, at the top of a fancy hotel in the nearby town of Santa Clarita.

  "Jeez," Maggie whispered to Ian as the hostess led them past elegantly laid tables and expensive interior decorating. "I would have worn something nicer if I'd known..."

  Ian bent so that his breath warmed her ear as he spoke. "You look great."

  She was wearing a peasant blouse and cotton skirt, nothing to match the elegance of the hotel restaurant. The hostess stopped beside a table overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire Santa Clarita valley.

  "Is this table all right?" The hostess directed the question toward Ian.

  To his credit, Ian turned to give the question to Maggie. Was the undoubtedly best table in the place all right with her?

  Maggie experienced a sudden bite of panic. It suddenly occurred to her that Ian must have called ahead to make reservations here. He'd probably specifically requested this nice table overlooking the view. A significant amount of planning had gone into this supposedly impromptu dinner.

  The operative word being 'significant.'

  The panic inside Maggie surged. Oh, she'd had glimpses, here and there, of what might be going on in Ian's head about their relationship. But surely he wouldn't— Not tonight, without any warning.

  Meanwhile, everybody was waiting for her to pronounce judgment on the table.

  "The table is fine," she managed to say. Then she pulled out a chair before anybody else had a chance to do it for her.

  Smiling, the hostess handed them a couple of leather-bound menus, and left.

  Ian held his menu closed. He leaned over the linen tablecloth with its solid silver tableware. "Is something wrong?"

  "What? Wrong? Oh, no." Maggie opened her own menu breezily, then nearly swooned at the prices. Significant, all right.

  "Maggie," Ian said.

  Reluctantly, she looked up from her menu.

  Ian was regarding her with real worry. "Something is wrong."

  Something was wrong, all right. This was a place to—to do significant things, life-altering things, like propose that a woman set aside her own dreams and subsume her self in order to marry some man.

  Maybe other women could do it, but not Maggie. She'd worked too hard for her independence, fought too many battles throughout her childhood in order to become her own woman. Oh, she knew she was in love with Ian. That was bad enough. She was in ecstasies every time he was around.

  But marriage was something way beyond the dangers of love. It meant losing control of her own life.

  She cleared her throat. "Uh, it's just...this place. So I'm wondering...is there something special I should know about
tonight?" Like your birthday, maybe? Please, please, let it be your birthday.

  Ian gazed at Maggie for what seemed like forever, but was probably only about two seconds. "No, there's nothing special," he finally said. "Except..." His gaze flicked away from her.

  She watched him with her heart pounding hard in her throat. No, no. Please, no.

  Ian pressed his lips together. He looked back at Maggie. "Except I won't be able to get together with you on Friday night. I have to go to Kansas City."

  Maggie stared at him. Sweet relief wound through her. He had to go to Kansas City. Not a marriage proposal.

  "Oh," she said aloud. "Kansas City. Of course, where that music center is going to be. When do you have to go?"

  "Tomorrow night." Ian grimaced. "I've got interviews lined up all the way through Saturday. I won't be able to get home until Sunday afternoon."

  "Oh." Maggie's relief segued into disappointment. Either with the kids or without them, she and Ian usually spent the whole weekend together.

  "Yeah, it's a bummer. I really don't know how I'm going to deal with this part of the job. I—" Ian abruptly cut himself off, a strange expression crossing his face. "Never mind. Sorry to dump on you."

  "No. No." Maggie reached across the table to lay a hand on his wrist. "Go ahead. Dump." Anything was fine, so long as it wasn't a proposal.

  Ian looked away with a sigh. "It didn't used to bother me so much to leave the kids. In fact, it might even have been something of a relief to get away, but now..." He frowned downward. "Now, I don't want to become the absent parent again, particularly since Andy— Well, the two of us seem to be back to square one. I don't think it's going to help matters if I'm away from home half the time."

  "No," Maggie agreed in a murmur. "I doubt that would be helpful."

  Ian shrugged. "Meanwhile, I'm stuck. With the job site in Kansas City, it's a given I'm going to do a mess of traveling."

  "Mm hm." As she watched anxiety etch lines in Ian's face, Maggie wondered if he was telling her everything. She wondered even harder when, with a last deep sigh, Ian smoothed the lines on his face. It was an obvious effort.