"And kiss her good night," drawled Paula, who knew about these things.
"Gross!" Josh said.
"When you marry Mommy, will we be Wilders too?" asked Kari, skipping between Greg arid Maggie on the short walk to the door.
"I'd be happy for you to use my name, Princess," Greg replied in a warm, paternal voice. "Well talk it over with Mommy later."
"Kevin Wilder," Kevin said, throwing away his May heritage without a moment's hesitation. "I like it."
"Greg!" Maggie said, her teeth clenched together. "I want to talk to you. Right now!"
"Kristin, take Kevin and Kari inside, dear," Greg said, playing Daddy again. "Your mother will be along in a minute."
" Night, Dad!" Kevin cried exuberantly. Kari insisted on giving Greg a hug and a kiss. At first Kristin hung back shyly, but she finally found the nerve to place a quick peck on Greg's cheek.
"Well, now youVe really done it!" Maggie said, turning on him furiously after the children had gone inside. "What am I supposed to tell those children now, Greg Wilder?"
"That we're getting married in two weeks, that I'll be their new daddy, and that we'll all live happily ever after."
"Except that we won't! You never gave me an opportunity to reply to your proposal, Greg, so I'll do so now. My answer is no! I'm not going to marry you."
"Of course you are, honey. You're just having a case of bridal nerves. What scared you, Maggie? Was it the talk about having another baby? I was just having a little fun with the kids. If you don't want another child we won't have one, it's as simple as that."
"Having another baby has nothing to do with it! Greg, you had no right to tell the kids we were getting married! I didn't say I'd marry you. I haven't said it yet and I'm not going to!"
"Daddy, hurry up," Joshua shouted from the car. "Max has to go to the bathroom."
Greg glanced from Maggie to the car. "I'll take the kids home and be back within an hour. We'll talk then."
"If by talk you mean that you intend to bulldoze me into saying yes, then don't bother, Greg. I won't be rushed into anything that—"
"Sooner or later you're going to marry me, Maggie," he interrupted impatiently. "If not for my money, then to legalize our affair. So why prolong the inevitable?"
She felt as if she'd been punched in the solar
plexus. "I would never marry for money! And we aren't going to have an affair!"
"Were having one now, Maggie, and you don't want your children or mine to know about it. If you turn down my proposal, I can only assume that you'd prefer an open affair. And it will be open, baby. Our children and the entire community of Woodland will know that we're sleeping together, I promise you that."
"You're not going to threaten me, Greg Wilder!"
"Threaten you? Darling, I'm trying to propose to you. We'll talk later," he promised in maddeningly soothing tones. "I'll be back after I take the kids home."
"I won't let you inside!"
"You can't relegate me back to the doorstep, sweetheart." He laughed, a soft dangerous laugh that sent a little chill along her spine. "I've already been inside. Inside your house, inside your life, inside you, Maggie. You can't keep me out and I think you know it." He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "Ill see you in an hour or so."
She'd only been home for a few minutes when Mrs. Jenkins arrived from her half of the duplex, carrying a ceramic vase with a dozen long-stemmed red roses in it. "The florist come to deliver them this afternoon, and since you weren't here, I took them in for you," Mrs. Jenkins explained. "I put them in water. They do look lovely in this vase, don't they? It's one of my favorites."
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins." Maggie stared at the roses, slightly overwhelmed. "They're beautiful. No one has ever sent me roses before."
"Red roses traditionally mean love and romance." Mrs. Jenkins sighed. "Here's the card." She handed Maggie a small sealed envelope. "Did Dr. Wilder send them? I believe he spent Friday night here."
The envelope fluttered from Maggie's hand and she stooped to retrieve it. Oh, no, it was beginning already—gossip linking her and Greg. An open affair,
he had said. They'd slept together one night and Mrs. Jenkins knew about it. In another day or so, all of Woodland Courts would know too. "Mrs. Jenkins, how—how did you know?"
"I go to bed very late and get up very early. I saw his car both times." Mrs. Jenkins shook her head at Maggie's stricken face. "I'm not condemning you, Maggie dear. No one knows better than I how sterile your life has been for the past six years. I'm delighted you've found a gentleman friend."
"He's asked me to marry him," Maggie blurted out. For reasons no doubt buried deep in her psyche, she simply couldn't bear to have her neighbor think her relationship with Greg was merely a casual liaison.
"Oh, Maggie, how wonderful!" Mrs. Jenkins's face lit up. "A rich doctor! How wonderful for the children! I'm so happy for all of you!"
Maggie winced. A rich doctor. Mrs. Jenkins thought she'd climbed aboard the gravy train. Everyone in Woodland Courts would think the same. She'd managed to snag a wealthy husband; she was moving up and out. Her fiery Irish pride rebelled at the notion. Dammit, she'd managed to survive and provide a decent living for herself and her kids. She was no Cinderella waiting around to be rescued by the wealthy prince! "But I haven't decided whether or not to accept his proposal," she said, setting her jaw.
"Oh, Maggie!" This time Mrs. Jenkins's expression was one of pure dismay. "What's to decide? Rich doctors who will take on a widow with three children don't grow on trees, you know. I'd say marry him as soon as possible."
Mrs. Jenkins and Greg seemed to be in perfect agreement on that, Maggie thought. For different reasons, or course. Greg wanted her baby-sitting and sexual services on a more convenient basis; Mrs. Jenkins thought she should take no chances in securing ownership of the golden goose. Neither cared at all that what Maggie would be getting was a husband who didn't love her.
"Would you like to come in?" she asked with frozen hauteur.
Greg gave a low whistle. "Will wonders never cease! She actually invited me inside. And all it took was a proposal of marriage."
Maggie refused to acknowledge the joke. "You said you wanted coffee," she said sternly. "You can hardly drink it on the doorstep. Although you shouldn't drink coffee at all at this time of night. The caffeine will keep you awake all night and I don't have any decaffeinated coffee to offer you."
"Sweetheart, I plan to be awake a good part of the night." He caught her round the waist and hauled her back against his chest. His lips brushed the soft skin along the curve of her neck and Maggie felt something akin to a bolt of electricity shoot through her. When his hands moved upward with slow confidence to cup her breasts, she drew a long, ragged breath. She'd been waiting all day for this, she admitted to herself. She craved his touch.
"Why don't we skip the coffee?" Greg's husky voice made her pulses throb. "I don't need the caffeine as a stimulant, darling. You're ten times as potent."
"Mommy?" Kari appeared at the head of the stairs, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Uh-oh," said Greg. "Caught in the act. Well, almost."
Kari stared intently at the sight of her mother in Greg's arms. Maggie tried to wriggle free, but Greg didn't release her. He removed his hands from her breasts but continued to hold her firmly against him. "What are you doing out of bed, princess?" he asked pleasantly.
"I heard the doorbell and I thought it was my new daddy. I wanted him to tuck me in," Kari said.
"Your new daddy would love to tuck you in, Kari." Greg released Maggie and loped up the stairs, two steps at a time. He swooped Kari up in his arms and carried the giggling little girl into her room.
Maggie heard him talking to all three children,
heard the good nights and the laughter and Kari's plea for one more hug. Her children were starved for a man's attention. Why hadn't she recognized that fact until now? It was so obvious that Greg's children needed a mother. How had she managed to remain o
blivious to her own children's acute need for a father 's love?
Lost in thought, she walked slowly into the kitchen to put on the coffee. It was beginning to perk when Greg joined her. "I had a nice talk with the kids/' he said, making no attempt to resume the lovemaking preliminaries that had been interrupted. "They're great kids, Maggie. You've done a wonderful job with them."
Maggie glowed in spite of herself. The one surefire way to reach her was through her children.
"I see you got the roses." Greg watched her pour the coffee into two mugs and carry them to the table, along with the sugar bowl and a carton of milk. The roses were sitting in the middle of the table in Mrs. Jenkins's vase.
"My neighbor was wildly impressed." Maggie sat down at the table and poured a little milk into her coffee. "She thinks I should jump at the chance to marry you. Tomorrow isn't too soon for her."
"You told her I asked you to marry me?"
Too late Maggie realized what she'd given away. "She—she saw your car here all night Friday." She sipped her coffee. It was hot and rich and seemed to strengthen her. And she remembered her manners. "Thank you for the roses, Greg," she said primly. "They're lovely."
"Come over here and thank me properly," he said challengingly, and laughed when she didn't move from her chair. "Never mind, I can wait until later when you're not feeling so shy."
She jumped up from her chair, at once restless and excited and aroused. Greg controlled her as easily as a puppet on a string, she admitted to herself. A look, a touch, or a few words from him could make
her feel exactly what he wanted her to feel. She sought to break the invisible strings by focusing on some mundane domestic task.
"I'm hungry. I'm going to make some toast." She carefully turned her full attention to the task. "Would you like some?"
"No thanks." Greg watched her work for a few minutes. And then, "Maggie, how did Johnny die? You've mentioned several times that he was killed, but IVe never heard the full story."
His question caught her by surprise. She assumed everyone who knew her knew the facts surrounding Johnny's death. She hadn't told the story in years, for her neighbors, who knew all the facts, were quick to pass them along to newcomers to Woodland Courts.
"Johnny was a policeman on the Baltimore police force," she began, and Greg nodded. He knew that. "And he was shot and killed by the man driving the getaway car in a bank robbery in the city. Kari was just a week old at the time." She added that last for no other reason than that she always did when she discussed Johnny's death. The two facts were irrevocably bound in her mind. The local news had focused on it too during the brief time that Officer John May's death was a front-page story.
"It must have been a terrible time for you," Greg murmured.
"Of course, you know what it's like." Maggie stared into space. "The phone call that changes your life forever and turns an ordinary day into a living nightmare. The traumatic adjustment to an irreplaceable loss. The days when you go through the motions of living and wonder why. You've been through it all too."
Greg nodded grimly. Although Maggie knew the circumstances of Alicia's death, he wanted to share them with her. "A drunk driver hit Alicia's car and pushed it into the path of a truck in the passing lane. The car was totaled and she was pronounced dead at the scene."
"I remember hearing the news on the radio/' Maggie said softly. "I was stunned. I couldn't believe it had happened to little Joshua Wilder 's mother, the lovely woman that I knew. M
"I felt so helpless, Maggie. As a neurosurgeon, I'd been able to save accident victims with head injuries, but there wasn't a thing I could do for my own wife."
"And then comes the anger, the rage," added Maggie, remembering. "It took me a long time to work through that."
"It was the same for me. And I'm still a little irrational on the subject of drunk drivers."
"I'll never feel kindly toward bank robbers either," she said wryly. And added quickly, "I didn't mean to sound flippant, Greg. I was just—"
"I know, honey." His voice was kind. "I know."
She felt that he really did understand and was touched by the moment of shared compassion and mutual understanding. "Greg, how long after Alicia's death did you begin to date?" She was very curious; she'd often wondered about it.
"I assume we're both using the word 'dating' as a euphemism for taking a woman to bed?" Greg gave a slight laugh. "I had sex for the first time four months after Alicia was killed. It didn't mean anything, no emotions or feelings were involved at all. I think I just wanted to know if I was still alive. An existential pinch on the arm, so to speak. And it's continued along that vein."
Maggie said nothing, but her heart was sinking fast. She wished she hadn't asked. To her, Greg's lovemaking had been passionate and deeply fulfilling, an affirmation of life and love. But to him it had been merely an existential pinch on the arm? She felt sick.
"Maggie, during the past six years, didn't you ever want, wonder . . .?" His voice trailed off.
She shrugged. "Working all night, taking care of kids and the house during the day, and trying to grab some sleep whenever I had a spare moment was my existential pinch on the arm, I guess."
She ate her toast and they finished their coffee in silence. Maggie wondered what Greg was thinking. He was studying her with an intensity that she found unnerving. Was he remembering Alicia and comparing her to his beautiful and beloved wife? Was he regretting his impulsive proposal, wondering how to withdraw it? She had no idea and she was afraid to ask. Afraid to hear his answer, she realized with uncomfortable insight.
At last Greg glanced at his watch. "Do you think the kids are asleep yet?"
"Probably. M She carried the empty mugs and her plate to the sink. "They were worn out. Kari took her new doll to bed with her and—"
"Good. Glad to hear it. M He was on his feet and his hand snaked out to seize her wrist. He was staring at her with a fixed intensity. Maggie realized the reason for his seemingly innocuous question a little too late.
Greg confirmed her supposition. "Let's go to bed, Maggie."
Just like that, she thought. Let's go to bed, Maggie. Had he decided that although she was no match for Alicia, at least she was available? Her temper flared. Dammit, she was no one's existential pinch on the arm. "No, Greg."
"Yes, Maggie," he said, mimicking her tone. "We both need it, honey. We've been alternately aching, burning, and frustrated all day long."
"Not me!" she said with such vehemence that Greg laughed. They both knew she was lying.
"Sweetheart, I'm not going to stand here and argue with you." Greg swept her up into his arms and walked briskly out of the kitchen.
"Put me down!" she said, gasping. She was aware that her body was clamoring for him to ignore her indignant demand. And ignore it he did, murmuring something outrageously and blatantly sexual in her ear as he carried her up the stairs.
In a matter of seconds they were in her bedroom and the door was locked. Greg set her on her feet but
kept her in his arms. His gaze fastened on her mouth, and her lips parted and tingled, as if he had physically touched her. When his gaze lowered to her breasts, her nipples grew hard and tight, responding to his sensual scrutiny with a will of their own. "Maggie, my darling, my love," he said thickly. "I want you so badly. M
The undisguised hunger in his voice touched a cord deep within her. She wanted him with the same intense urgency.
His hands closed possessively over her breasts and they swelled beneath his fingers, fingers that kneaded and stroked and made her moan with pleasure. He claimed her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth at the same moment that he inserted his thigh between hers. The double mastery was shattering. The hot, dull ache in her abdomen erupted like a blazing volcano, sending spurts of hot lava coursing through her veins.
Maggie felt a deep and primitive need to surrender to Greg, yet at the same time she was filled with the desire to possess him, to drive him out of himself and into her loving power
. Existential pinch on the arm? Tonight she would make Greg Wilder forget everyone and everything but the passion burning between them. She wanted him out of control with need of her. Tonight he would be acutely aware that both of them were very much alive.
"Are you aching for me now, Greg? Are you burning for me?" she demanded huskily. She undressed quickly and he watched her with glazed, hungry eyes. Standing naked, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, moving her body sinuously against his.
Greg tugged off his shirt and fumbled clumsily with his belt buckle. Maggie felt a thrilling sense of feminine power at the sight of his unsteady hands. "Let me," she whispered, and brushed her knuckles lightly over his thrusting masculinity before lowering the zipper with erotically slow precision. His
uncontrollable response to her was enthralling. A pulsing excitement rippled through her when he moaned her name.
Emboldened, she pulled him over to the bed and pushed him down to sit on the edge. She climbed onto his lap, feeling the hardness of his hair-roughened thighs under her. Her hands moved over the satisfying solidness of his chest, over the whipcord muscles of his arms to the smooth length of his back. It was intoxicating to touch him like this, to feel his fierce masculine response to her.
"Maggie, Maggie, I need you so," he said urgently.
"Not yet," she teased, delicately sinking her teeth into an earlobe. "I'm not ready yet."
"Then I'm going to have to make you ready, sweetheart, because I can't wait any longer."
His hand closed over her bare breast and began a slow, sensuous massage while his fingers played with her nipple, arousing it to aching sensitivity. His mouth closed over it and he began to suck with a firm erotic rhythm. Maggie felt the effects deep within her womb and whimpered with pleasure.
"Now, darling?" His fingers slipped between her thighs to probe the moist warmth there. "YouYe hot and flowing and ready for me. Let me have you now, love."
Maggie trembled as his fingers teased and stroked with sensual expertise. "Kiss me, Greg," she breathed, and his mouth clamped over hers with greedy possession. Their tongues met and dueled hotly. Greg lay back on the bed, carrying her with him, their mouths still fused together. But when he would have rolled her on her back and moved on top of her, she slipped away from him.
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