by Mia Kay
“For thirty-five years? Haven’t you ever wondered why? Was it the site of some awful massacre?”
“In Fiddler?” She snorted. “Maybe it was a stagecoach stop that poisoned travelers on their way to the gold rush.”
“And they haunt it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Every night they come out looking for horses.”
“Or brains. Maybe they’re zombies. Everything seems to be a zombie lately.”
They laughed for the rest of their trip, coming up with increasingly ridiculous stories until they’d regained their footing. In the restaurant parking lot, he helped her from the car and kept hold of her hand. He wanted to start the night over.
“I’ve looked forward to this all week, and you look beautiful. Thank you for coming with me for dinner.”
“Thank you for asking me, or for winning I guess. And I’m not just saying that because—”
“None of that.” He tugged her toward the door. “Tonight is just you and me.”
They went from the bright last gasp of sunset into the dark cool of the reception space. Usually hostesses were the youngest members of the staff. Here, it was a thin, stylish woman with a mop of unruly black hair and laugh lines. She wrapped Maggie in a hug.
“It’s so nice to see you, but your name isn’t on my book. Did Luca miss something?”
“No he didn’t. Clio, I’d like to introduce my friend, Gray Harper. Gray, this is Clio Romanelli.”
She appraised everything from his hair to his tie to his shoes, concluding with a firm, businesslike handshake and a warm smile meant just for him. “It’s nice to meet you, Gray.”
“And you, Signora. Our reservation will be under my name.”
Clio checked her book and smiled. “This way. Giovanni will take care of you.”
Once they were seated, Gray split his time between reviewing the menu and assessing his surroundings. The small dining room was full, but intimate lighting and real plants gave them more privacy than he’d hoped. It reminded him of the local restaurants at home, where the chef and the staff loved to show off favorite dishes and hidden menus. He stopped Clio as she walked past. “Signora Romanelli, what would you suggest?”
She kissed him on both cheeks. “Maggie, you watch this charming devil, or I will steal him from you.”
“Give me a chance, Clio,” Maggie said. “It’s our first date.”
“Ah! I will talk to Ercole,” she vowed as she left them alone. “You will be spoiled!”
Antipasto arrived with a bottle of wine, and Gray enjoyed the food as much as his view. Maggie’s skin was gilded by the candlelight, and her earrings glinted when she tilted her head—like she did now when she caught him staring. Crap.
“Why did you become an attorney?”
As he considered his answer, she didn’t rush to fill the silence. It was another reason to like her.
“At first it was because the attorneys and judges in Boone owned the big houses next to the country club.”
“And that’s important to you?” Her frown knitted her delicate brows together.
“For a long time, I looked at law as a meal ticket. Then I discovered I’m good at it. I understand it, and I like knowing why and how things work. I quit thinking about big houses and started solving puzzles.”
“What did you like best about Chicago?”
“The fog.” He smiled. “I know it’s weird. Of all the things to like. But after you get used to what’s available and you find your favorite haunts, it’s just you in the crowd. The fog changes things. It’s almost primordial, and it muffles every sound. It’s like you’re the only survivor in this giant man-made mountain range.”
As the food kept coming, it became natural to share plates as they laughed and talked through the evening. Clio appeared at their table with a basket, and Gray was surprised to see the dining room was almost empty.
“Cannoli and espresso,” she offered. “The only way to end an evening.”
Gray had a better way in mind. After they left the restaurant, he drove to an overlook in the foothills he’d found earlier in the week. Fiddler twinkled below them.
He pulled a blanket from the trunk and spread it on the ground in front of the car. They sat, and Gray stripped himself of his tie while Maggie opened the basket between them. When the breeze rearranged his hair, he draped his jacket around her shoulders. “It’s colder up here than I thought it would be.”
“The coffee will help.” Her voice was muffled by the yards of extra wool. Funny how his jacket around her shoulders warmed him more than when he’d been wearing it. “I saw you with Sarah Mitchell this morning.”
“She wanted to introduce me to her new kitten, Skippyjon,” he explained. “She said it could come visit at the hospital. Really?”
“Thanks to Abby they have a progressive therapy animal policy. The kitten will help her as much as human visitors.”
“I’ve promised her I’ll come see her. Her parents will need a break.”
“They need a pediatric heart surgeon.” She looked up, her eyes full of hope. “Do you know one?”
Finally a question about his previous life he could answer almost truthfully. “I do,” he said around a mouthful of dessert. “I work—worked—with her brother. But she’s in Chicago. Can we get Sarah there?”
“I think I raised enough money for that,” Maggie said as she nudged him in the ribs. At least he’d had the sense to put her on his good side.
They savored their coffee while Maggie pointed out landmarks. When he shivered, she awkwardly draped the jacket over him. It warmed him more to know she’d been watching. “No, I’m—”
She raised his arm and slid against him, stopping his objection. For the first time tonight, her perfume tickled his nose, tempting him to come find it. He accepted the challenge. Just like anything delicious, scent wasn’t enough. His mouth watered for a taste of her.
Turning her face from the view and tilting her chin, he waited for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he brushed the lightest kiss he could manage across her lips. She held her breath, but stayed put for a second, longer one.
At the third teasing taste, she stopped his momentum, holding him still, silently pleading for something he was happy to give. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and her tentative caress danced along his collar to the nape of his neck as her mouth opened beneath his.
Under the taste of coffee and laughter, there was a subtle reminder of another flavor he couldn’t place. Something that left him hungry no matter how many times he returned to nip her lips or slide his tongue along hers. Her nails grazed his scalp as she kissed him back, and her hum of pleasure drew him over her. Cradling her neck in one hand, her pulse pounding against his thumb, he groaned as she drew her hands down his chest and around to his back. Tugging him closer, welcoming him deeper. Kissing her was like talking to her, or laughing with her—direct, passionate and honest.
Honest. His libido whimpered in protest as he reversed course, gentling the kiss and putting distance between them. He pulled her hands from his body and his lips from hers. Resting against her forehead, he waited until their breaths were no longer ragged gasps. “I think I should take you home.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Her wicked smile made his imagination race.
“And see you tomorrow,” he said as he pulled her tempting fingers from his waist.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” He stood and offered her his hand. This time, he didn’t pull away. He’d given up enough tonight. He could keep this.
Chapter Twelve
Gray stood at the church door, alternately berating himself for going out with her at all, for kissing her and—worst—for leaving her on her doorstep rather than carrying her upstairs and getting her out of his system. He eyed a vacant pew in the back of the
church. He could do his job better from here.
His gaze swept the crowd, looking for suspects. Was anyone staring too long? Paying more attention to her than to anyone else? Everyone who caught his eye smiled and waved, forcing him to wave back and look somewhere else. Until he reached the front row.
Maggie was in purple. His thoughts spun through every purple flower he knew. What would the bastard send her tomorrow? She was facing the back, like she did every Sunday, focused on Tiffany and Charlene, and the spot next to her was empty. Waiting.
Striding to the front row, he stood next to her and waited until she looked up at him.
“May I?”
He’d leave her alone if she wanted.
Her smile shook on the corners, and her eyes widened. “Of course.”
Thank God.
It took every ounce of discipline to pay attention to the sermon and the liturgy. Then he bowed his head and prayed both in thankfulness and in a plea for forgiveness. Gray promised to stop pretending. He’d leave Maggie alone. He’d go home and back to his life. His life. Why had he been spared, but not Ted? Could he have done anything differently? Should he have done something else? Halfway through the prayer, Maggie’s delicate fingers wound through his. He clung to her like a drowning man.
“Amen.”
He raised his eyes to meet her clear hazel gaze and forgot his vow. “I’ll come get you for lunch.”
She gave him his favorite impish smile. “Okay.”
An hour later, he surveyed her appropriate clothing and nodded his approval. Then he noticed how the jacket hugged her breasts and the jeans cupped her ass. His blood heated. Oh yeah, he approved.
Their ride was quiet. Everyone thought helmets made it impossible to talk, but that wasn’t true. Shelby had found a way to chatter endlessly, strategizing about meetings and office alliances, plotting promotions, comparing assignments others had received. If he wanted to talk, he would own a car.
Maggie’s hands rested loosely at his waist and her legs nestled behind his, keeping his body aware of hers. If he didn’t end this, she’d hate him later. He could do without her now to keep her friendship. He had to.
As he swerved into a roadside park without warning, she scrabbled against his jacket to find a hold. He killed the ignition and pulled off his helmet. Behind him, the creak of leather and her deep sigh told him she was doing the same.
“I thought we could take a break.” He looked over his shoulder to see static turn her hair into a dandelion. Her knees wobbled when she stood, and he steadied her. “Careful.”
“Now you’re worried.”
He kept one gloved hand at her elbow, and combed her hair with the other. When the leather glove made the static worse, he used his teeth to tug it free. Unfettered, he stroked the strands, captivated by their softness and the way they gleamed in the sunshine. “I’m sorry.” I’m so sorry, Maggie.
She moved away, giving him room he didn’t want. Rather than reaching for her again, he stored their helmets and gear. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The air smelled of fresh-mowed grass, and squirrels crashed through the undergrowth. Somewhere above a crow called, and Gray scanned the bright blue sky when he heard the keen of a hawk. A rabbit darted across the path in search of a hiding spot. Nature was noisy, but his companion was holding her breath.
Surrendering to temptation, he took her hand. After a few last stolen moments, he rested against a picnic table and faced her. “Last night...”
I got carried away. I can’t do this. Not to you. I’m not staying. I can explain. He’d practiced saying it.
“I had a better time than I expected,” she said with a grin.
“Gee, thanks.” He rolled his eyes. “First dates bring up second dates.” And we can’t have one.
“Especially since we see each other every day.”
He enjoyed the warmth of her, the undemanding pressure of her hand in his. This has to end.
“No fraternizing at work.” Work. He had to think about work. He was here to do a job.
“Fraternizing?” she giggled. “Is that what they call it in the big city?”
“This is weird, isn’t it?”
A shadow settled on her face, and her smile melted. “Maybe we should just—”
His kiss stopped her from ending it.
Without the distraction of sugar and coffee, she tasted like sunshine, flowers and fresh air. His tongue itched, and he slid it against hers in search of relief.
Honey. She tasted like honey. Warmth flooded his blood, thickening and pooling it. He was so hungry.
The growl began low in his throat, but it was echoed by an actual rumble of hunger. She giggled against his mouth and pulled free.
“We should find some food.”
He allowed her to change the topic because he knew what would happen if they stayed here. And he’d hate himself more than she’d hate him. “We should.”
They found another picnic table next to a roadside stand and laughed through sandwiches and chips chased with sodas, topped off by cookies and coffee. On their way home, Gray savored her arms wrapped tightly around him, leaching as much warmth as he could share.
He pulled into the lot and left the bike running while she removed her helmet and offered it to him. Her nose was pink from the air and her eyes danced under disheveled bangs and helmet hair.
“Keep it.” He cradled her face in a gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She dropped her cheek into his palm and curled her fingers around his, keeping him close. The chaste embrace made him shake. She walked away, and her hips swayed in a tempting rhythm while his fingers carved grooves into the handlebars.
* * *
“No! No. No. No. No!” His shouted denials filled the house and echoed from the rafters. She couldn’t do this. Not after all this time. How could she? Going on a date with Gray was one thing. It was a rule of the auction. But kissing him? She shouldn’t have kissed him.
And she’d thrown away his lilies. He’d found them out back against a rock, dead among shards of glass. That couldn’t be right. Maggie loved lilies.
It had to be Gray’s fault. He was keeping her from playing the game. She’d see. He’d make her see, and then she’d be sorry.
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie refused to acknowledge how much extra time she’d spent getting ready for work this morning, and she’d never admit that she’d danced down the stairs with a goofy smile on her face and spent extra time looking for Gray’s favorite coffee mug.
The weekend had been fun, but it was temporary. It had to be. He was staying, and she wasn’t. Like the maudlin souvenirs in her closet, Maggie let herself play with the memories of candlelight and cannoli one last time before she put them away.
As the back door closed, she put the financial report beside the coffeemaker. Her heart beat in time with his approach. Holding her breath, she put all her attention on the Journal and the article about RFID technology.
When he didn’t come for coffee, she looked up to find him staring from across the room. He slid his tongue along his lips and raked his fingers through his hair—slick tongue, strong fingers, soft hair.
He wasn’t skinny, he was lean. Soft skin covered hard muscles. Shyness masked passion. Her imagination put him in her bed and stripped him bare. The shimmer in his eyes told her he was doing the same. Yet neither of them moved.
What was that rule again?
Taking a deep breath, she pointed toward the envelope. “Fitz dropped that off this morning. Take your coffee and go in your office. I’m sure I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
The knock at the door froze them in place. Gray was the first to move, his tight jaw echoed in his clenched fists. Maggie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles corded und
er her fingers. Definitely not a lapdog.
After a curt conversation with Casey, she thumped the vase of irises on the nearest table and yanked the card free. Clenching her teeth, she ripped into the envelope.
How could you ruin our game?
“What game?” she asked as she dropped the card into Gray’s waiting hand. The pressure built in her chest and she tilted her head backward to stop her tears.
“His.” The grit in Gray’s voice matched his scowl.
Not falling apart was wise. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the veiled threat from his fingers, scrawled the date and type of flowers across the back and tossed it on top of the pile. “I’m going to need a bigger drawer.”
There was another knock, and Max walked in. “Hi, Gray. What’s the deal this morning?”
Maggie’s control snapped. “Stop ignoring me like I don’t matter in my own life.”
Max blinked at her.
“It’s Monday,” she sneered. “What the hell do you think is the deal? I got more fucking flowers and another goddamn creepy note.” She jerked to a halt when Gray’s warm hand closed over her shoulder.
“Let the man do his job.”
“I’m not someone’s job! And I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and suspecting every person I see. Maybe if everyone would get out of his way he’d show up.”
“You know—”
“What? That I ruined a game I know nothing about? We’re no closer than we were six months ago. At least if he came for me, I’d have a description for a sketch artist. Or maybe we’d hit the jackpot and he’d leave DNA.”
“Enough,” Gray snapped. His tight jaw sat atop the rigid cords of his neck and squared shoulders. Guard dog.
“Just because we’ve gone on a date doesn’t mean—”
“I’m not ordering you around.” Exhaling, he gave her a brittle smile and flexed his fingers. His grip gentled and he tugged her to the nearest bar stool. “Come over here for coffee. Max, would you like some?”
“I think I’m safer outside,” the patrolman teased.
The latch clicked behind him, and silence fell. Maggie ignored her coffee and glared at Gray, who was glaring back. Until his lips shook and his eyes twinkled.