It was almost like watching a bucket brigade, the way the baby was passed through the crowd in the kitchen from one set of hands to another until he was finally delivered into his father’s arms. Maggie turned back to the spaghetti sauce, a funny feeling unfolding in her chest. She’d noticed right away how everything seemed to revolve around the kids. She was having an awful time sorting out which child belonged to who, because somebody was always holding someone else’s baby or tying some other kid’s shoes. Even the quiet reprimands were dealt out by whomever was closest, and Maggie had never seen better-behaved kids. Everyone was part of the family circle, and the most amazing thing was that they had automatically included her as one of their own. Their ready acceptance touched cords in her she didn’t even know existed. It was the nicest thing that had happened to her in a long time.
Turning down the heat under the sauce, she glanced over to where Kelly was standing. She and Tony were off in a corner talking to the revered Mario, and Maggie could seen the flush of excitement on her daughter’s face. Maggie smiled to herself. She wondered if that was the leverage Tony had used to get her daughter to come.
Tony glanced up and caught her watching them, and his expression went very still. He stood with his back braced against the window frame, his arms folded, one foot flat against the wall. There was something in his stillness, in the steadiness of his gaze, that made her heart skip a beat.
She inhaled and turned back to the stove. Lord, he was driving her to distraction.
It was a little after ten o’clock when they finally left. Kelly couldn’t seem to wait to get into the car. She had a thousand questions to ask Tony, most of them about his brother and his career. But she also had quite a few about his family; who was married to the tall blonde, who did the twins belong to, who was the oldest, who was the youngest?
Her elbows hooked over the seat back and her chin resting on her hands, Kelly hung on every word, as if this whole thing was totally amazing. She was still asking questions when Tony pulled into the parking area behind his shop. Her chin still on her hand, she said, a hint of shyness in her tone, “You’ve got a really neat family, Tony.”
Maggie saw the corner of his mouth lift before he switched off the lights and killed the engine. “We have our moments.”
Taking the keys out of the ignition, he opened the door, and Kelly scrambled out. “Thanks, Tony. I had a great time.”
In the faint glow from the light standard in the back alley, Maggie saw him tap the end of Kelly’s nose. “That’s what I was hoping for, Stretch.”
Kelly shot her mother a quick glance over the roof of the car, then made a discomfited gesture with one hand. “Well, I’ve got school tomorrow, so I’d better head in.” She jogged off toward the alley, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks again. It really was great.”
Maggie’s heart stammered and missed a couple of beats as she watched her daughter disappear around the corner of their garage, an acute case of jitters jamming up in her middle. Darn that kid. Maggie had been counting on Kelly to provide a comfortable escape route, and now she felt as if she’d just been stranded on a high wire without a clue how to get down.
Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she started walking toward the alley, trying to get rid of the nervous flutter in her throat. Tony fell into step beside her, his silence setting off a new wave of jitters. Lord, she wished he would say something. Anything. She could handle him when he was giving her a hard time and kidding around. This quiet side of him unnerved her no end and made her palms clammy. For some crazy reason the line from a commercial, about never letting them see you sweat, popped into her head. Right then, it seemed like good advice.
Taking a deep, not-quite-steady breath, she made herself speak. “You really do have a great family. Your mother is an absolute sweetheart. And I never had such fabulous food in my entire life.”
More silence. Desperate to fill up the void, she babbled on. “And your grandmother is wonderful. That lace she makes is incredible. I don’t know how she does it with her hands the way they are. She told me all about what it was like when she and your grandfather immigrated to Canada. It must have been so hard, coming to a strange country with two babies and not speaking the language. I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”
They’d reached her garage, and Tony stopped walking, resting his weight on one leg and folding his arms as he watched her with a tolerant half smile, letting her ramble on to the point of self-destruction.
She stopped for a breath, and he finally interceded. “Maggie,” he said in a warning tone, as if trying to snap her out of it.
She shot him a wary look. “What?”
She experienced a wild churning sensation as he straightened and came toward her, backing her up against the double door of the garage. He braced his hands on either side of her head. “Just shut up, okay?”
From a dead start, her heart lurched into a breath-robbing frenzy, and she stared at him like a rabbit caught in a pair of headlights, the commotion in her chest immobilizing her. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he said, a tiny trace of humor in his voice. Before she had a chance to collect her senses, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth lazily back and forth against hers, stealing what little breath she had left. Closing her eyes, Maggie flattened her back against the solidness of the garage door and tried to hang on, every nerve in her body suddenly rioting. He was barely touching her, and she was practically incoherent.
Tony moistened her bottom lip with his tongue, then deepened the kiss with the same lazy thoroughness, the warmth of his mouth setting off frantic currents of sensation. Maggie fought to catch her breath, the sudden electrical charge paralyzing her lungs. He slowly licked her bottom lip again, and her legs went weak and she started to slide down the door, every bone in her body turning to jelly. Lord, she was going to turn into nothing but a puddle at his feet.
Laughing against her mouth, Tony caught her in midslide. Grasping the back of her head, he turned her face against his neck and straightened, his breathing rough and uneven against her ear. Maggie slid her arms around him and pressed her face tighter against his neck, her whole body quivering as she tried to haul air into her lungs. She felt as if he had blown every fuse in her body.
Tucking his head down against hers, he slid his hand deeper into her hair and pulled her hips flush against his, then tightened his arms around her. Releasing an uneven sigh, he spoke, his warm breath against her ear making her shiver. “So,” he said, his voice husky and tinged with amusement, “what was this big deal with my grandparents?”
Still feeling as though her heart was stampeding around in her chest, Maggie managed a shaky laugh. “I don’t remember.”
He slid his hand up the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he gave her head a little squeeze. Then he rubbed his stubbled cheek against her temple, cuddling her deeper into his embrace. He began massaging her scalp, his touch slow and mesmerizing. “This feels pretty damned good, Mag,” he whispered huskily. “Even better than I imagined.”
There was something in the gruff quality of his voice that got to her, and Maggie found herself suddenly struggling against a thick wad of emotion. She clenched her eyes shut and swallowed hard, nearly overcome with feelings for this man. Feelings that caused a painful ache deep in her chest. It had been a very long time since she’d been held like this, and it made her feel things she had no business feeling. She could so easily fall in love with him. So easily.
He rubbed his hand down her spine, hugging her closer, and she felt him smile. “I gotta tell you, though. You’re harder to corner than that damned cat.”
A rush of guilt nailed her squarely in the chest, and she flattened her hands against his back, wishing—oh, Godwishing this could be real. But common sense told her she was in way over her head. She gave herself a minute to fight back the awful sense of loss that was threatening to break loose, then swallowed hard and drew in an unsteady breath. Bracing herself for the bereft
feeling, she started to pull away. “Tony, I—”
He pulled her back, tightening his arms around her. “Not a chance,” he said, his tone gruff. Grasping her jaw, he lifted her face, covering her mouth with a soft, sweet kiss, one that made her pulse go berserk. Her heart was pounding so hard when he finally drew away that she felt the reverberation from her scalp to her toes. He combed her hair back from her face, then nestled her head firmly against his shoulder.
Tony gave her a tight hug, then began rubbing her back. “I’m not letting you off the hook this time,” he said quietly.
Maggie pressed her face against the soft skin of his neck, her whole body trembling. She grasped the back of his head, holding on to him with what little strength she had. She took a deep, shaky breath, struggling to bring things back into focus.
He smoothed his hand up her back, his jaw pressed tightly against her temple. “Just so you know,” he said, as if warning her, “I never throw in a poker hand, Burrows.” He carefully tucked some hair behind her ear, his touch oddly comforting. When he spoke again, there was a touch of amusement in his voice. “And I sure as hell don’t quit while I’m ahead.”
That prompted a shaky laugh, and the tension abruptly drained out of her. “I didn’t take you for a gambler, Parnelli.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then slid his fingers into her hair again. His voice was very soft when he responded, “I’ve been running a gamble ever since I saw you standing in the doorway, sweetheart.” He held her for a moment, then withdrew his arms and took her face between his hands. Tony planted another firm kiss on her mouth, then tipped her head back so he could look at her. Finally he released an uneven sigh, his expression turning serious. “I’m leaving for Vancouver first thing tomorrow morning for a car auction. And I won’t be back until sometime Friday.” He inhaled deeply and tightened his hold, the soft glow from the alley light casting his face in strained lines. “I want to take you out Friday night, Maggie,” he said, his voice very quiet.
Maggie stared up at him, her throat suddenly tight. She should say no. She knew she should say no. But a fierce longing overrode her common sense. She had to wait a moment for the contraction to ease, then managed an uneven smile. “You aren’t taking me to a poker game, are you?”
He stared at her a second, then let his breath go in a rush and grinned at her. “Nah. I was thinking more along the lines of a blues bar.” He rubbed his fingers up and down her nape, making her shiver; then he tightened his hold on her face and gave her another quick kiss. “I’ll pick you up around nine.”
Before she had a chance to agree or disagree, he covered her mouth with a final kiss. Only this one wasn’t quick. It was devastatingly long and deep and very, very thorough. And Maggie’s senses were whirling when he finally let her go. Shaken to the core, she stood there in some sort of sensory coma, her legs weak as water and her heart pounding. By the time she was able to swim through the overload of sensations and open her eyes, he was gone.
Still stunned by the effect of that last kiss, she dazedly turned and started toward the house, her knees threatening to buckle with every step. She felt as if she’d just been run over by a ten-ton truck.
It was not a good week for Maggie. One moment she’d be nearly giddy with expectation, the next so filled with apprehension that she’d be on the verge of a full-blown anxiety attack. It was during those times that their age difference seemed like a bad joke, and she’d ruthlessly remind herself that she was a middle-aged mother who had nine hard years on him. But her darned heart wouldn’t always listen to her commonsense mind.
She was a mess. She really tried to put everything back into perspective, but would find herself reliving that last kiss, and more than once, she’d have to put her head down on the desk and wait for her heart to stop pounding and her body to stop pulsating. Then she’d get into another long talk with herself, trying to get a grip on the crazy emotions that kept surfacing, and a disconnecting thought would pop into her mind, like what did one wear to a blues bar. She’d never been to something like that in her whole life.
It was so bad that Frank started watching her with a perplexed look, and on Wednesday he demanded to know if she was getting sick again. And were their accounts receivable upto-date? Feeling suddenly defensive, Maggie told him what he could do with his accounts receivable, then picked up her handbag and left. Frank looked like a confused little boy when she stomped out the door.
Maggie hoped that a long walk and a heavy dose of tough self-talk would straighten her out, but she somehow ended up at Stevie’s fitness center.
The tall blonde took one look at her, fixed one of the club’s for-whatever-ails-you tonics and made her down the whole drink.
Her head in her hands, Maggie stared blindly at the pink fizz remaining in the tall glass. She was going to ask her neighbor why life was so complicated, but that wasn’t what came out of her mouth. “What do you wear to a blues bar?” she asked instead, a thread of panic in her voice.
Stevie, dressed in a mind-boggling dark purple-and-pink Lycra leotard, grinned and rested her arms on the table. Stevie was partial to pink.
Pure delight sparkled in the blonde’s eyes. “Have you got a date to go to a blues bar, Maggie?”
Maggie shielded her eyes with her hands. “Don’t give me a hard time, Stephanie. Or I’ll saddle you with full custody of Hook.”
The other woman laughed, pushed her chair back and stood up. “God, I love it when the mighty tumble.” She shouted across the vast room to one of her employees. “Hans, keep an eye on things, will you? I’m going out for a bit.”
She grabbed one of Maggie’s arms and yanked it out from under her head, nearly giving her whiplash. “Come on, Mary Margaret. Most people would wear jeans and a T-shirt with a beer logo on it to a blues bar. But that won’t do for you. So your Aunt Stevie is taking you shopping.”
Maggie didn’t really know why she let Stevie take over. No one in her right mind would ever give that woman full control, but she followed along like some lame duck. Fishing Maggie’s credit card out of her wallet, La Goddess marched her into one of the trendy little boutiques along the main drag and slapped the card on the counter. Maggie’s sense of humor surfaced. Only Stevie could get away with going shopping in an outfit that looked as if it had been painted on her very spectacular body. It was a wonder the blonde hadn’t caused several major car wrecks on the short walk from her fitness center to the shop.
Stevie shopped with a vengeance, partly, Maggie thought with a small grin, when it was with someone else’s credit card. She assembled an outfit in ten minutes flat. Dark brown slacks, a cream-colored silk blouse and a tapestry vest that had dark greens, browns and a background of ivory. Taking possession of the designer shopping bag, she marched Maggie out the door and into the hair salon next door. “Dot,” she said in that same bossy manner, “will you please do something with this woman’s hair?”
Dot, who had burgundy tresses, was wearing a flamboyant jumpsuit and dangling earrings the size of hubcaps. She came over and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Maggie with the intensity of a carpenter who had just been handed a major renovation job. She pulled at Maggie’s hair. “Sure can. What do you want?”
Grinning broadly, Stevie pushed Maggie into a chair. “First of all, don’t listen to anything she says.”
Dot positioned herself behind the chair, meeting Maggie’s gaze in the mirror, her eyes twinkling. “Buckle your seat belt, honey. This is going to be a blast.”
Stevie came over to stand beside Dot, folding her arms and considering Maggie in the mirror. “She’s got great eyes, Dot. And decent bone structure. Can you do something that will accentuate her eyes and jawline?”
Maggie gave Stevie a contrary stare. “Don’t act like I’m not here, Stevie. It’s my hair.”
Stevie grinned at her again. “And it’s nice hair, Mary Margaret. It’s so thick, and that bit of natural curl is fabulous. But I gotta tell you, that style doesn’t do a thing for you.”
She gave an excited little wiggle, positively radiating enthusiasm. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting the chance to do this.” She tipped her head, thoughtfully narrowing her eyes. “What do you think about adding some blond highlights, Dot? That light brown color is pretty, but it’s kinda flat. You know what I mean?”
Maggie glared at her. “You’re taking an awful lot for granted here, Stephanie.”
Stevie just laughed at her. “Be quiet, Mary Margaret. There are two geniuses at work here.”
Maggie wasn’t sure about the genius part. Zealous? Yes, definitely. Eager and enthusiastic? Absolutely. Overbearing and pushy? Without question. They both totally ignored her as highlights went in and several inches of hair came off. Stevie had hung a towel over the mirror so Maggie couldn’t see what Dot was concocting. Maggie finally gave up, folded her arms under the vivid drape and sat there like a lump. Whatever had possessed her to say what she had to Stevie? Of all people, she should have known better. She just knew she was going to end up with one of those severe bobs that all the smart young professionals wore.
Maggie expected one thing; what she got was something altogether different. It wasn’t severe; it was soft and unbelievably feminine, expertly layered to make the most of what natural curl there was. And it definitely did something to her eyes.
She stared at herself in the mirror, not even sure it was her own hair.
Dot fluffed the back with her fingers. “This is absolutely a low-maintenance cut, sweetie, especially with that bit of curl. You shampoo it, then you do this—” she scrubbed her hands through her hair “—and you just let it dry naturally. And it’s going to look like this every time. You could go out in a hurricane and it’ll still look like this.” She whipped the cape from around Maggie. “You’ll need to come back every six to eight weeks,” she said briskly. “And that’s it.”
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