‘‘Sean.’’ His name came out as a sigh as she turned her face up to his. ‘‘You’re making me crazy.’’
‘‘Good.’’ Amazed at the effect such small caresses had on her, he cupped her chin and ran his thumb lightly over her cheek. ‘‘Let me make you even crazier.’’
She held his gaze. ‘‘I shouldn’t.’’
That didn’t sound like a definite no, so he kissed her. The minute he did, he knew that there hadn’t been a bit of no in her answer, but there was a hell of a lot of yes.
He might not have experience in engineering these moments, but he was a quick study. Out on the balcony was not the place to continue. Other women might not have cared about appearances, but this one did.
Reaching behind his back, he found the doorknob. Without breaking the kiss, he opened the door, drew her inside, and closed the door again. He couldn’t have done that if she’d resisted him, but incredibly, she went along with the whole maneuver.
He must be doing something right, because she was kissing him like there was no tomorrow, opening her mouth and angling her head so they could turn this into a very French experience. She released his wrist so she could bury both hands in his hair.
He backed her up against the wall and pressed his aching body against hers. She pressed back with a groan. He had the despairing thought that if he’d been smart enough to bring condoms, he could have her right here, right up against the wall.
Reaching between them, he found the button on her jeans. He expected her to stop him, but she didn’t, so he unfastened it and pulled down the zipper. Still no protest, just heavy breathing and little whimpers of need.
Okay, then. He slid his hand inside her panties and nearly came himself from the discovery that she was drenched. Somehow he’d found the override switch on her self-control. He couldn’t believe a gentle touch on the cheek could result in this level of excitement, but there it was.
If she stopped him now, then he didn’t understand the first thing about a woman. She didn’t stop him. She kept on kissing him fiercely as he thrust two fingers deep inside her. Her orgasm didn’t take long to show up. She must have been wound tighter than a spring-loaded tape measure, because she snapped in seconds.
Wrenching her mouth away from his, she cried out as she arched against the wall. He’d long ago lost count of the number of climaxes he’d given women over the years. Not a single one had affected him with this kind of rush—part tenderness, part triumph and part incredible joy.
Suddenly he was jealous of every man who had ever made her come. From now on he wanted to be the only guy with that privilege, which was insane. He’d never wanted exclusive rights to a woman, especially one he’d known a matter of hours.
Slowly he eased his fingers free and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her gently, he dropped kisses on her eyelids, her nose, her parted lips. Gradually the tension left her body and she slumped forward, resting her forehead on his chest.
He couldn’t believe how happy he felt, considering his dick was still in his pants and was going to stay there. Ordinarily he also cared about his own satisfaction. Self-sacrifice hadn’t been much a part of his sex life.
But at this moment, even though he ached and would love to get some relief, he was more than willing to give up on it for now. If only one of them could know the melting pleasure of gratification, let it be her. He loved knowing he’d given her that gift.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. He waited, expecting her to smile and thank him for what he’d done.
Instead she sighed and shook her head. ‘‘My God, that was such a mistake.’’
‘‘It was not!’’ No woman was going to call her orgasm a mistake, not when he was the instigator of said orgasm. ‘‘Your body was crying out for that, and you know it.’’
Her blue eyes grew stormy. ‘‘B.S. I’m in charge of that body, and I can muzzle any crying out that’s going on. I allowed myself to get worked up. I have to take responsibility for behaving like a complete idiot.’’
‘‘I don’t see it that way.’’
‘‘Of course not. You’re the one with the piece of property to protect. Anything you can do to distract me from my plan is—’’
‘‘No, damn it.’’ His grip tightened. ‘‘That was not about me trying to distract you.’’
‘‘No? Then what was it about?’’
She had him there. His original goal had been to get friendly and persuade her to lay off the property. He’d made obvious progress in the getting-friendly department, so why wasn’t he pushing his advantage?
‘‘Sean, I concede that you’re attracted to me, although why that is I don’t know.’’
‘‘You don’t?’’ He stared at her in astonishment.
‘‘No, I don’t.’’ She moved away from him and buttoned her jeans. ‘‘I’m not the kind of woman who incites men to lust.’’
‘‘That’s where you’re wrong.’’
‘‘At least have the decency to be honest with me.’’ She zipped her jeans. ‘‘I figured out that you wanted to seduce me to get some leverage, and then you started enjoying the seduction for its own sake, I suppose because you’re oversexed.’’
She was starting to make him mad. ‘‘If I’m so oversexed, why haven’t I slept with anyone in almost a year?’’
‘‘Oh, that’s easy. You’ve been through all the women in town, and you’re bored. I’m a novelty.’’
‘‘That’s not true, Maggie.’’ God, he hoped it wasn’t true. That wouldn’t say much for his character.
‘‘Besides that, I’m a challenge. I don’t fall at your feet like all the women in this town. I think the challenge excites you.’’
He wouldn’t accept that. He couldn’t be that shallow. ‘‘I wanted you the first time I saw you, before I knew you’d be a challenge.’’
‘‘Because I was new in town.’’
‘‘No, damn it! It was your hair, and your freckles, and your mouth.’’
‘‘Arranged in a particular combo that you hadn’t seen on the women you’ve dated in Big Knob. And it was convenient to be attracted to me, because then you could use sex to get what you want.’’
There was some truth to that, but his gut told him it wasn’t the whole truth. He remembered how happy he’d been to make her come and how little he’d cared for his own satisfaction. That had never happened to him before and he thought it was significant. Something more than sex might be going on.
But he wasn’t about to discuss that now, with her standing there looking so righteous. She wouldn’t believe him, anyway. She’d only think he was trying to justify his behavior.
Her expression softened. ‘‘I’m not judging you for what’s happened. If anything, I’m judging myself for falling in with your plan. My boss said I have to be tougher if I plan to make it in this business. I’m embarrassed to discover that he has a point.’’
‘‘What do you mean, tougher?’’ He’d thought she was plenty tough, coming here by herself to negotiate this deal.
‘‘I have yet to close the sale on any property I’ve tried to buy for SaveALot.’’ She reached under her sweater and arched her back so that she could fasten her bra.
The motion stirred him up again, but he clamped down on his reaction. He had bigger fish to fry. ‘‘What happens if you don’t get the property this time?’’
‘‘Simple.’’ She leaned down to pick up her coat. ‘‘I lose my job.’’
Sean felt like punching something. He didn’t want her to lose her job, but he didn’t want her buying this property to put up a big-box store, either. If Denise didn’t hate him right now, he could ask her to hunt for some other piece of property that would work for Maggie. There had to be something. But Denise wasn’t in a mood to help him.
Well, he’d have to fix that. His eyesight had improved, so maybe the effect of the loser herbs was wearing off a little. He didn’t want to go to bed with Denise, though. Maggie was the only person who fit that des
cription. This had become so damn complicated.
Maggie leaned down toward the wicker chest. ‘‘We might as well blow these out.’’
‘‘No, wait!’’
She glanced up. ‘‘Why?’’
‘‘These are special candles. You don’t just blow them out.’’
‘‘What do you do, squirt them with water? Dunk them in wine?’’
‘‘You do this.’’ Sean licked his thumb and forefinger and pinched the candle wicks, extinguishing the flame.
‘‘Ouch. Didn’t that hurt?’’
It had, a little, but he wouldn’t say so. ‘‘Nah.’’
‘‘What kind of candle has to be put out like that? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’’
‘‘I haven’t, either. I borrowed these from Dorcas and Ambrose, and they told me not to blow them out. You can use a snuffer, but I don’t have one.’’
‘‘I’d like to take a look at them. But without my glasses, I might as well not bother. Couldn’t see anything unusual even if it was there.’’
‘‘You could try mine.’’ He picked up the black-framed glasses from the top of the wicker basket where he’d laid them earlier.
‘‘I doubt they’ll work, but thanks.’’ She took them and put them on.
He caught his lower lip between his teeth to keep from laughing. Her delicate features, the freckles sprinkled on her nose and those oversized glasses made quite a combination.
She popped a candle out of its silver holder. The holders were also borrowed. Ambrose had brought over the wine early this afternoon, and then he’d handed Sean the candlesticks and candles, along with instructions on how to put them out.
Sean had been in too much of a hurry to ask him why the special instructions. He figured they were some kind of California candles that needed more TLC. Many things about Dorcas and Ambrose were strange. Added to everything else was Maggie’s suspicion that they were fugitives. He and the Lowells needed to have another conversation.
Maggie turned the candle this way and that. ‘‘Looks like an ordinary red candle to me.’’
‘‘I’m taking them back this afternoon.’’ He had a sex bench to build, for one thing. ‘‘I’ll ask what the deal is.’’
Still holding the candle, Maggie gazed at Sean through those ridiculous glasses. ‘‘So the Lowells bartered for the wine, but they loaned you the candles and holders, which is going above and beyond.’’
‘‘I guess you could say that.’’ He struggled to keep a straight face, but she looked like such a little geek.
‘‘It’s obvious they’re trying to match us up. Did you hire them to do that?’’
‘‘No! Swear to God. I didn’t even know until today that they had a matchmaking business. They told me they were relationship counselors, but they said they were taking a sabbatical.’’ He didn’t mention that he’d tried to hire them and they’d refused.
‘‘I assume they realize we’re after the same property?’’
‘‘Yes. I told them.’’
Maggie tapped the candle against her palm. ‘‘Then I guess they don’t want me to have it, either. I’m beginning to think the only friend I have in town is Denise.’’
‘‘You have me.’’
She laughed, but it wasn’t exactly a happy sound. ‘‘You’re not a friend, Sean.’’
She couldn’t have said anything that would have cut him deeper. But he supposed he had it coming.
Chapter 11
Telling Sean he wasn’t a friend might have been unkind, but Maggie needed to put distance between them. She had only herself to blame for this messy situation, and she had to be the one to clean it up. From now on she’d be a tough cookie, no matter what.
No more wine from the basement cache of Dorcas and Ambrose, no more candlelight or plump and juicy chicken salad sandwiches. And definitely no more orgasms courtesy of Mr. Sean Madigan. She would have a hard time forgiving herself for that indiscretion.
At least she was stone-cold sober now. She laid his glasses on the wicker chest. ‘‘Thanks.’’
‘‘If you’re going to drive, you should keep them.’’
‘‘I’ll be fine.’’ When she started putting on her coat, he made a move as if to come over and help her, but she waved him away. ‘‘Thanks. I’ve got it.’’
‘‘Seriously. Take the glasses.’’
She picked up her purse from the floor where she’d left it. ‘‘I can manage. It’s not as if Big Knob has a freeway running through it.’’
‘‘I don’t think driving without your glasses is a good idea. It’s Friday afternoon.’’
‘‘What, you have rush-hour traffic?’’
‘‘No, we have Edith Mae Hoogstraten. She’s eighty-seven, and she heads into town right about now on Friday afternoons. Her old Buick is in mint condition, but her vision isn’t what it used to be and her driving is a little . . . crooked.’’
Maggie was scandalized. ‘‘You let somebody drive who shouldn’t have a license?’’
‘‘We do. She only goes from her house to the Hob Knob. We always leave three parking spots open for her, and she hasn’t hit anybody’s vehicle yet.’’
‘‘I can’t believe someone hasn’t taken her license away.’’ Maggie figured that when SaveALot came to town, traffic would increase exponentially and Edith Mae’s driving days would need to be ended.
‘‘Nobody can bear to take it away because she loves her independence so much. Besides, she owns a shotgun and has threatened to shoot anybody who tries to pry that license out of her hands.’’
‘‘Good grief.’’ Maggie had been living in cities so long that she had no frame of reference for such behavior.
‘‘It’s okay. She drives slow, and everyone recognizes her old Buick. We work it out.’’
‘‘Well, all I need is to wreck the rental car, on top of everything else. H.G. would have a royal fit.’’ But she didn’t want Sean driving her, either. What a sticky situation, and she wasn’t just talking about her panties.
‘‘H.G. is your boss?’’
‘‘H. G. Stackhouse, regional manager for SaveALot, a kindly old Texas gentleman who used to like me. Now I’m not so sure.’’ She gazed out the French doors toward the balcony.
She really couldn’t see worth shit without her glasses. Even the French doors were fuzzy. She imagined that outside she saw a blurry scrap of rainbow, but it could be her imagination. She didn’t believe in superstitious signs, anyway.
‘‘Did this Stackhouse guy send you here? Are you supposed to buy this property on his orders?’’
She glanced back at Sean, who was slightly more in focus than the French doors. ‘‘No. I didn’t tell him where I was going.’’
‘‘How could you get away with that? I thought you said something about an expense account.’’
‘‘I do have one.’’ Come to think of it, she might not have the expense account anymore. H.G. might have been angry enough to cancel her company credit card. At least breakfast would have gone through. She’d use the card for some small purchase next, to test whether it was still valid.
Sean blew out a breath. ‘‘You’re not making much sense. How can you be the only person at SaveALot who knows about this potential property? I don’t understand exactly how these things work, but I sure didn’t think there was this kind of secrecy involved.’’
She would love to be able to confide her suspicions about H.G.’s son to someone, but Sean wasn’t the guy. He didn’t have her best interests at heart, meaning that he might use anything she said against her. Then a horrible thought came to her.
Thanks to her big mouth, he knew the name of her boss. He could very easily figure out how to make a call to H.G. and report Maggie’s whereabouts. He could also let H.G. know that she’d behaved unprofessionally and should be fired. She might be fired already, but if not, Sean could see to it.
Whether all that would save his precious property was another question, but he could dynamite her plans to buy i
t for SaveALot. She felt sick with dread. She’d given him so much power over her.
‘‘Maggie, what’s wrong? You just turned white.’’
‘‘I’m . . . not feeling well.’’
‘‘Damn.’’ He started toward her. ‘‘I hope it wasn’t the chicken salad.’’
She held up a hand to stop him. ‘‘Not that kind of sick. I won’t upchuck or anything.’’ She wondered if he had any idea that he held the tools for her destruction—or if he’d use them. ‘‘I haven’t had much sleep recently, that’s all. A little rest and I’ll be fine.’’
‘‘Let me take you to Madeline’s.’’
His image was blurry, so she couldn’t read his expression that well, but he sounded concerned. That was a good thing, because she had to count on his common decency not to torpedo her with H.G.
‘‘No, thanks,’’ she said. ‘‘I can get myself there. I promise to watch out for Edith Mae Hoogstraten in her old Buick. But first I need to check with Denise and see whether her computer’s up and running.’’ She dug in her purse and pulled out her BlackBerry. That needed recharging, too, but she had enough battery life to make one call.
Denise answered right away. ‘‘Hey, Maggie. I thought I’d hear from you before now.’’
Maggie turned her back on Sean, as if that would shut out the memory of what had happened here this afternoon. ‘‘I was checking out the property.’’ She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could rewind the clock.
‘‘Jeremy called and he’s on the road, heading back here. He’ll be at my office in about thirty minutes. He’s brilliant, so I think he’ll find the problem in no time. The electricity seems to have settled down, too, so if you want to stop by, we could have the information within the hour.’’
‘‘Thanks, Denise. I’ll be right there.’’ She ended the call and glanced at Sean. ‘‘I’ll be on my way, then.’’
‘‘Jeremy’s fixed it?’’
She couldn’t afford to give him any more information. ‘‘Thanks for lunch.’’ She walked out the door.
‘‘Wait!’’
‘‘Gotta go.’’ She hurried toward the stairs. Because she couldn’t see where she was going, she stumbled on the second step and had to grab the banister for support.
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