by Jo Leigh
She dried her hands and her thoughts went yet again to her own lost opportunity. The last thing she needed was to have it haunt her in her new job. Moving to D.C. would solve a lot of her problems. Money was only one thing. Leaving Colin was a much bigger deal.
It’s not that she wouldn’t see him. He came to Washington a lot. He even had a pied-à-terre off Dupont Circle. But she wouldn’t see him as often, and that was both good and bad. The move could be—should be—the perfect time to get over him once and for all. She just wondered if she’d be strong enough to do that if he kept popping up. Anyway, that was something to think about later, after they’d found Blake.
Colin came into the kitchen but he didn’t sit down. “She was glad I called. You were right. She was worried that I wasn’t telling her something bad. She says thanks for taking care of me.”
“I suppose you didn’t mention we were taking care of each other.”
“No. I wouldn’t lie to my mother.”
She went to him and bumped her shoulder to his. “Stupid git.”
“Hey!” He bumped her back.
“Have you told Elizabeth?”
He stopped. “No. Should I?”
“That’s up to you, but despite everything she’s been a good friend to Blake.”
He stared at the table for several seconds. “I’m not going to worry her yet. Let’s wait till tonight.”
“She probably won’t be home. It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh. Well. I don’t want to ruin her plans. It can wait, I think.”
Maggie shook her head. It wouldn’t occur to him that she might have had plans for the night, but that wasn’t his fault. She was always there when Colin called. And here she had such a high IQ. Where had she gone wrong?
Colin stretched his neck with a wince. “I should call Foster back and see if he’s gotten anywhere. Although I don’t want to piss him off.”
“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room and onto the big ottoman by the couch. “Sit.”
“Why?”
“You’re too tense. I’m going to work on your neck.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again, his shoulders sagging. “You’re too good to me.”
“I know. Take off your shirt.”
“Cheeky.”
“That’s me. I never take no for an answer.”
His shirt came off, and of course he folded it before tossing it on the couch. He wasn’t as thin as he’d been in college. There were actual muscles now. Long and lean, but wiry and tough, with a great chest. And then there was that gorgeous face of his with his sharp cheekbones and strong chin.
Why did she do this to herself?
“I’ll be back,” she said as she hurried away.
“Where are you going?”
“To get lotion.” She probably didn’t have time for a cold shower. Which was a joke. That never had worked.
She knew there was nothing useable in his guest bathroom, so she went into his en suite. There was a full bottle of a very fruity-smelling lotion under the sink, but she didn’t imagine he’d enjoy that, and the whole point was for him to relax. There was, however, an unopened plastic bottle of baby oil in the back. Why he would have this was a mystery, probably something she didn’t want to know, but it would do the job nicely.
He had slumped forward, elbows on knees, when she got back to him. “Maybe we should do this in a prone position?”
“I think I’d be more relaxed here. I don’t want to fall asleep.”
“I would wake you, if anything—”
“I know.” He looked up at her, his face troubled. “Thank you for this.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t their first massage. She’d gone to school for it and had used her skills in three countries when she’d needed extra cash, which was pretty much always. The secret was to keep the information quiet. Once someone knew she’d been a professional, especially a friend, it was hard to tell them to screw off. If she’d wanted to be a masseuse, she’d have become one.
Colin never asked. Not once. Blake, all the time.
Before she started, she handed him a towel and then rolled up her sleeves. She liked that he liked her dress. She’d found it in Milan and had spent too much on it, but the red made her feel powerful and the slinky skirt made her feel sexy, both of which she needed to audition. After kicking off her shoes, she poured some oil in her hand before warming her palms.
The moment she touched his skin, he sighed and his shoulders lowered. But she didn’t get into real trouble until she went deeper.
She’d given him massages at least a dozen times over the years. Each time, he’d been completely silent and thanked her profusely after.
This time, he moaned long and low. It was the exact sound she heard when she dreamed of them making love.
3
THE FEEL OF HER WARM hands pressing into his shoulders fell right on the border between pleasure and pain, and his moan escaped before he could stop it. Maggie had told him that’s where he held his tension, and she’d proved it often enough. Yet it never occurred to him to consciously loosen up. How could he? This massage would help, but to truly relax, he’d have to do something drastic—say, run off to Tahiti.
She hit a particularly sore bit, and he found himself angry again that Blake had tried to seduce Maggie when they’d met. She’d denied it, but Colin knew better. Maggie had all the qualities Blake sought. Brilliant, funny, irreverent, sly. Together, the two of them would have been unstoppable.“Relax,” she said, stopping for a moment. “Don’t think. Just let go.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His eyes had closed the moment she’d touched him, and he felt every bit of his weariness. There’d been so much tension at the consulate of late. On the international front, of course, but there was also a great deal of internal politics snaking its way through the ranks. He tried not to get involved, but there was no way to stay completely out of it.
Blake would have told him to quit and go where the real action was. Damn him. He wasn’t truly happy unless his life was in imminent danger. He breathed deeply once more before Maggie could say anything.
“Good boy,” she whispered. “Put down your head, I’m going to work on your neck.”
He did, and her fingers went up to the base of his skull. This time, he was able to bite off his moan, but only just. She had magic hands. It was a treat whenever she’d offer to give him a massage. He never asked. He’d seen her reaction when others presumed. Insensitive jerks. That list was headed by his boneheaded brother.
Thank God the two of them hadn’t gotten together. The last thing Maggie needed was someone who would dash off to a war zone or jump off bridges or race motorcycles. She deserved someone who would be there for her. Maybe it wasn’t as exciting, but there was a lot to be said about a steady head and long-term goals.
“Relax. You’re doing it again.”
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Just the idea of Maggie and Blake…
“Colin. The phone’s right here. There’s no more you can do, at least for now. So focus, would you?”
He shook out his arms and recommitted to relaxation. He needed to get rid of this damn headache, and her fingers in his hair was better than any pill.
Once his head was back down and she was using the pads of her thumbs to mesmerize and calm, his thoughts drifted from his newest art acquisition, a Basquiat that he’d hung in the bedroom, to Maggie’s red dress. Then he imagined fingers at her zipper and the way her long auburn hair would look on her bare back as the dress fell.
He stiffened immediately, furious that Blake might have touched her that way, but he caught himself short.
“What was that about? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Sorry.”
“No problem. Concentrate on your breathing, okay? In for five, out for seven.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Counting commenced, and for a
while it worked. He didn’t think about anything but his lungs, his diaphragm, the warmth of her hands, of her body so close behind him. Was that her breast brushing against his back?
Moaning again, this time out of pure desperation, he lifted his head. “This isn’t working. I can’t relax.”
Maggie stopped, then stepped around to face him. “I had you, then I lost you. What happened?”
“I can’t still my brain. It’s no use.”
“Okay, then let’s do this. You put up with me for ten more minutes. I want to finish your shoulders. I promise not to go a second over, but I know you. If you try, you can relax for ten minutes.” She went behind him again, although she didn’t touch him.
He wanted to take advantage of her skills. To let her help him. Instead, he stood up, scaring a surprised yelp out of Maggie. Spinning round, he saw why. She’d been pouring oil, which was now all down the front of her dress.
“Oh, shit, Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She held out the bottle of oil. “Please take this. It’s dripping on the carpet. And so am I.” She lifted the hem of her dress to contain the damage as she hustled off to his bedroom.
He cursed his way into the kitchen. Could nothing go right today? Where the hell was his brother? “Shit,” he said again as his head throbbed in time to his heartbeat.
MAGGIE GROANED AS SHE looked at the wreckage. The oil had spilled down the bodice and the skirt. Why did it have to be her favorite dress? Why hadn’t he warned her he was going to stand up?
She unzipped and stepped out of the dress and put it on the bathroom counter. Now in her panties and bra, she felt exposed and that made her angrier.She looked under his cupboards for talcum powder, but she hadn’t seen any in her search for the oil, and nothing had changed. She rose, did her own breathing exercise until she calmed down, then opened the bathroom door. “Colin?”
“Yes?”
She jumped at the nearness of his voice. He was in his bedroom. “Could you please bring me some cornstarch? I’m sure you have some in the kitchen. If not in the right cupboard, there should be some under the sink.”
“Right. Cornstarch.”
She shut the door again as he dashed off. She really didn’t understand him sometimes. How could a man so utterly confident at work, in crises that involved nations, get so lost in his own kitchen?
His mother, of course. And the nannies. Neither of the boys had lifted a finger taking care of themselves. Not that they didn’t have to work. Every summer from the time they were teens they had to have jobs, all volunteer work, helping others. It was part of their family’s code. They had great privilege and therefore they had to do everything they could to earn it by giving back to the community.
But Maggie wouldn’t be surprised if it took Colin an hour to find the cornstarch. He had a maid in twice a week, his groceries were delivered and he never cooked. His clothes were professionally cleaned. He still had nannies.
His parents had done a lot right, though. He was a selfless man. Oblivious at times, but honestly good. He still donated time and money to all kinds of causes and he mentored two U.K. college students who attended university.
Oh, who was she kidding? She couldn’t be mad at him on a good day.
“I’ve found it.”
She opened the door just enough to grab the box. “Thanks. And could you get me something to put on?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure I have something.”
The last of his sentence trailed off as he wandered toward the closet.
As for her, she spread the dress carefully on the counter, then evenly sprinkled the powder all over the stain. It took quite a lot of the box, and she might have to do it again if it didn’t blot up everything. It would be hours, if not overnight, before she would know if the remedy had worked.
He knocked again. “This should do it.”
She held her hand out from behind the door and pulled back his big burgundy robe. It was thick and would certainly keep her warm. It also dragged on the floor, not to mention fell way past her hands. She looked like Dopey from Snow White. “Colin?”
“Is it all right?”
“It’s really long. Maybe you have something shorter?”
“Ah. I’ll look.”
She took off the robe. It would serve him right if she marched out of here in her underwear. He’d have a stroke, even if they were her best set. Black and lacy, they were another crucial part of her confidence-for-auditions armory.
The reminder made her ache, but she stopped herself. That ship had sailed. Which meant that after this was over, she’d have to tell Colin that she was moving. Her legs wobbled at the thought.
“Try this,” he said.
They traded clothing, and this time she brought back one of his white Oxford shirts. She hesitated, but the fabric felt wonderful. Donning the thing, she realized it actually did work, coming down to about mid-thigh. The sleeves had to be rolled up, but that wasn’t a big deal. It actually covered a lot more than her bathing suit or some of her summer dresses, and he’d seen her in those.
The only real problem was that it made her think of all those movie images where the girl seduces the boy wearing his big white shirt.
Terrific. The day couldn’t get any better.
After a heartfelt sigh, she left the bathroom and almost ran right into Colin.
He stepped back quickly. “Is it salvageable?”
“I think so. It’s going to take a while to know for sure,” she said, concentrating on getting the sleeves rolled up to a comfortable length.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a dress.” Just an audition. Just her life.
“You looked beautiful in it.”
That stopped her. That was twice now. He complimented her all the time, but not about her looks. After all, she was still that good bloke he could turn to in bad times. “Thanks.”
She slowly looked up to see he was staring at her legs. His gaze moved all the way down to her bare feet, then slowly back up her body. It took him a long time to reach her face. When their eyes met, his face flushed.
“Don’t blame me,” she said, as self-conscious as she’d ever been and also unnervingly pleased. “You got me into this mess.”
His mouth opened, but no words followed.
“I’m getting myself a drink.” She turned, let herself grin like a fool as she walked—no, sashayed—out of the bedroom.
4
THINGS WEREN’T MAKING SENSE. Or rather, he wasn’t making sense. Colin went back to the living room where his half-dressed friend was fixing cocktails.
He had no business thinking about her legs. It simply wasn’t smart. He’d made every effort to keep his and Maggie’s relationship free of the mess of sex. He’d seen vivid proof that friends with benefits didn’t last. All one had to do was look at his brother’s life. The man went through women as if they were library books, and while Blake said he preferred it that way, he wasn’t the picture of happiness and stability, was he?Colin was nothing if not practical. He wanted Maggie around for the long run. There was no way to predict if they’d be sexually compatible or good at being a couple. He knew she was an amazingly fine friend. End of discussion. Wanting her was counterproductive. And yet…
“Here you go.”
He turned to find she’d snuck up behind him, her bare feet quiet on the carpet. He tended to forget how much shorter she was than him. The top of her head barely reached his eyes.
He took the scotch from her hand and had a good sip. She’d known what to pour for him just as he knew she’d fixed herself a bourbon and Seven. He kept a stock of 7-Up in the wet bar cooler for her. He also made sure he always had those awful sandwich cookies she liked so much, because she’d never buy them for herself, but she always ate them here. On the holidays he stocked good chocolates, only the nuts and chews, never creams, for the same reason. He wanted Maggie happy.
He wished he could do something about her musical a
mbitions, but there he was at a loss. Elizabeth had told him not to worry, that getting a singing job in the theater was very rare, but he would have liked to give her a hand up.
“What’s going on?” Maggie turned her head to look at him, her gaze worried.
“It’s hard to think clearly, that’s all. I’d try to sleep if I knew it wouldn’t be useless.”
“I know. All I can tell you is to have faith. He’s a smart cookie. He’ll come home.”
“I did some research on twins, you know.” He sat down on the couch, putting his cell on the cushion beside him. “We aren’t typical.”
She sat across from him in the wing chair and crossed her legs. The shirt went even higher on her thigh. She pulled it down a bit, but it didn’t help. “I could have told you that, but what makes you odd twins?”
He made sure to look at her face. “Even though we’re identical, our temperaments are more opposite than alike. Even as infants, according to rumor, we were night and day.”
“I imagine he was a handful.”
Colin nodded. “And I was a perfect angel. Again, rumor. I have no recollection.”
She laughed. “All that matters is that you’re not a perfect angel now. That would be insufferable.”
“I’m glad my flaws please you.”
“They do. But go on. What else?”
“The moment we were dressing ourselves we wanted to be as unique as possible, unlike most twins. We never had anything like a secret language, or even shorthand. Blake was always running around snooping or getting into trouble, and I wanted to be a footballer and applied myself to the task.”
“So you’re the yin to his yang, or vice versa. I used to know what those really meant, but my mind has been slipping for years.”
“It has not. You do that a lot, you know. Excuse yourself for things that aren’t the least bit true.”
“I do not.”