But I’m not going to ask him to do that. He was amazing in that way when we were together, but that’s not his job anymore.
When Maggie emerged, Joe was standing in front of the apsara. He was still and silent, and she paused. She recognized that posture: he was fiercely concentrating on something, thinking hard, and she didn’t want to interrupt him.
She leaned against the wall, crossed her arms loosely. She gazed at Joe’s broad back, and admired the muscles which were clearly visible even through his loose white t-shirt. His ass looked amazing in those jeans, too, she was irritated to see.
He was a gym enthusiast – or he had been when she’d known him – and from the looks of his body, not much had changed that way. Her sculptor’s eye took in every curve, every plane, every part of his toned definition. Joe Carlisle was an attractive man, still. It annoyed her, and it made her more determined than ever to not be attracted to him.
He turned suddenly, caught her staring at him. A second too late, she dropped her gaze and blushed, hoping that he hadn’t seen the heat in her eyes.
“So,” she said, trying to sound normal. “What do you think?”
Joe felt a half-grin twitching on his lips, and he suppressed it. If she thought he was laughing at her, she’d kill him. But that look he’d caught on her face? God, he recognized it: pure want, deep need, hot desire.
She still finds you physically attractive. Too bad she finds you personally repugnant.
“She’s amazing, Maggie,” he said. “I love the details… the delicate anklet, the folds in the material wrapped around her waist.” He ran his long finger over the length of one leg. “What I’ve always loved about apsaras is their curves… they’re not skinny little goddesses, you know? They have hips and thighs and breasts.” His eyes met hers. “My idea of a perfect woman.”
She swallowed hard.
Joe looked back at the sculpture. “So when will you get to the top half?”
“I figure it’ll be totally finished in about two weeks.”
“Fast.”
“Yeah, well. I have one hell of a deadline.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “Thank you, Maggie.”
That startled her. “For what?”
“For this amazing work… it’s beautiful. I knew you’d give me something stunning, but you’ve surprised me. She’s – she’s gorgeous.”
“You’re welcome,” Maggie said, taken aback at how soothing she found his words. How much she’d needed that encouragement and belief in her. “It’s actually been a pleasure working on her.” As she said it, she realized that despite everything going on in her life, all the craziness and stress, it was absolutely true.
“You’re enjoying it?” Joe asked.
She smiled, a real smile. “I am.”
“I’m glad.”
She stared over at him, and she suddenly wanted to give him something too; a small offering, a little gift. “Can I tell you something without you getting angry?”
“Sure.”
“I lied to you. About not eating carbs.”
He hadn’t been expecting that, and confusion furrowed his brow. “You what now?”
“I lied, that day you brought me the croissants. I – I still eat croissants. Most mornings, actually.”
“So why’d you tell me you didn’t?”
“Because you were being really nice and it pissed me off and I didn’t want to accept your stupid croissants.”
He blinked, astonished, then he burst in to laughter. She joined him, and the tension in the room disappeared completely.
“Oh, Maggie.” He shook his head. “You kill me, I swear.”
“I’m sorry… it was dumb and childish and I was being a brat. But if it makes you feel any better, I was totally starving that day, and the smell of the fresh-baked pastry was torture.”
“Well, good,” he said. “Serves you right.”
“I know it.”
They shared a grin.
“So, the next time I come here in the morning, I should bring you some breakfast?”
“Would you?” she said.
“Of course I will.” Joe laughed again, thinking that she was adorable even when she was behaving like an insane person. “No problem at all.”
Chapter Eleven
Almost two weeks later, Maggie opened the studio door, working hard to stay calm. She was almost dead on her feet and all she wanted to do was crumble. Joe’s stubborn insistence that he come tonight to see the completed first sculpture made her want to scream. He'd backed off quite a bit in the past couple of weeks, and she hadn't even seen him since the first day of Yates' trial, but she wasn't looking forward to having him around her when she was so tired and on-edge.
Deep breaths. It’s OK. Just show him, get his feedback, get his ass out of here.
Joe studied Maggie closely, taking her in. She had dark circles under her beautiful eyes and her cheeks had no color in them at all. Even her lips looked gray.
Goddammit, I may have been pushing her too hard to get this done. Maybe it’s too much for her, with all this never-ending shit happening with Reena.
“Come on in,” she said.
He followed her past the tiny kitchen in to her main work area, and he stopped dead. There, in the middle of the room, stood the most stunning, amazing thing he’d ever seen. His breath caught as he took in the curve of the hips, the delicate bracelets surrounding her graceful wrists, her flashing eyes. She was the perfect dancing goddess: elegant but powerful, regal but sexy, airy but all woman. She was exactly how he had imagined her to be, and he felt emotion rising in his chest.
Joe turned to Maggie. She was leaning against the far wall, watching him. Her arms were crossed and she looked shattered beyond belief. He paused.
“Maggie? You OK?”
“Yeah.” She gestured at the apsara. “So is this kind of what you had in mind?”
He looked back at the sculpture. “Not ‘kind of’, Maggie. This is exactly what I had in mind. She’s fucking gorgeous. Perfect.”
At his words, Maggie felt quite a bit of tension suddenly just seep out of her body. She’d been up for thirty-six straight hours now to finish the damn thing and she’d barely eaten, and she’d spent hour after hour worrying about her Mom, and about Reena. To make everything more exhausting, she’d spent the last four nights sleeping sitting up in the chair in Rita’s room, wanting to be there when Rita woke up frightened and in pain.
By this point, she was shaky and close to tears, just from the sheer desire to lie down and sleep. If Joe had told her to start again from zero, she’d surely have fallen in to a weeping mess on the floor. Also – and she hated to admit this – she was happy that he liked it.
Crap. I actually care what he thinks, separate from making him happy enough to get paid.
“OK, good to hear.” It took a massive effort, but thank God her voice was cool and measured. “So I’ll carry on like this, shall I?” She pushed herself off the wall, then stopped as a dizzy spell hit her. She sagged back again, trying to ignore the spinning.
“Yes, please.” He looked at her again. “Hey, you OK over there?”
“Fine.”
Joe wasn’t so sure. She looked incredibly unsteady on her feet, and her eyes were unfocused. He walked a bit closer. “Maggie?”
“Yeah?” Her voice was weak, wavering.
“Are you really alright?”
“Joe…” Her eyes closed and he lunged forward.
She went down so fast, he almost missed her. Maggie slid down the wall, limp and pale, and he went to his knees and grabbed her shoulders before her head hit the floor. He pulled her up against his chest, touched her cheek. She was freezing cold.
“Fuck, Maggie,” he muttered. “What have you done to yourself, baby?”
He stood up, cradling her in his arm
s, and walked over to the sofa. He set her down on it and memory washed over him: making love to Maggie right here, her hot and writhing under him as he thrust inside her. God, he still remembered how hard she came that one night, hard enough to shake his whole body with her spasms.
Not now, man. Mind out of the gutter, OK?
He took off his jacket and carefully put it under her head, then he sat down next to her and took her hand.
“Maggie?” He kept his tone low. “Can you hear me?”
She turned her face towards his voice and sighed. His heart jumped to hear that small sound, wishing he could stroke her hair, kiss every freckle on her nose.
“Maggie?”
She opened those astounding eyes now and gazed at him in total confusion. She blinked, looked around.
“What – why am I – what happened?” she said. She tried to sit up and he saw a flash of something cross her face. Pain? Dizziness? He reached out and gently eased her back down.
“Hey, stay where you are for a few minutes, OK?” Joe said. “You passed out.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. Are you hurt?”
She closed her eyes again. It made her look strangely soft and vulnerable, and he felt the urge to hold her tight and close.
Mine. She’s mine. I want to take care of her.
Now were the hell did that come from?
Ignoring his own thoughts, he held her hand tighter. “Maggie? Do you hurt anywhere?”
“No,” she said and pulled her hand away from him, mortified that he’d seen her like this. Joe Carlisle was the last man on earth who should see her needy and weak, and she had done a fucking nose-dive to the floor right in front of him. “I’m OK now.”
“You sure?” He didn’t move one inch off the sofa. “I think I should take you to the hospital.”
“Forget it.” She sat up again and lowered her feet to the floor. “I have to get back to work.”
“You what?” Joe was stunned. “No way. What you need to do is get some sleep. Probably some food, too.”
She gave him a hard look. “You can go now. Thanks for your help.”
“Maggie…”
She got to her feet and blinked as the room swam in front of her for a few seconds. Joe reached out to hold her elbow and she angrily shook him off. “Don’t touch me. I’m totally fine.”
He stood there, watching as she walked over to the kitchen. She poured a glass of water and drank it down, holding tightly to the counter. He saw her whole body shaking with the effort to stay standing.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked softly. “Pushing yourself this hard, hard enough to hurt yourself?”
Her green eyes shot sparks at him even from across the room. “Jesus Christ! Really?”
He nodded.
“Because I have one hell of a tight deadline and some pretty severe penalties if I fail to meet it… you know this.” She ran her hands through her tumbled hair and he recognized that as her one real sign of agitation and stress. “I’m under pressure and I haven’t been getting enough rest, I guess. No big thing.”
“Maggie. This is crazy. Just… slow down a bit, OK?”
She made a harsh sound in her throat. “Yeah, you’d love it if I failed to deliver on time, huh? You’d like nothing more than deducting ten percent right off the top and then holding final payment over my head, right? Maybe you’d even refuse to give me final acceptance of the project so you could delay payment even longer?”
“My God,” Joe said. “You really think that about me? That I’d do that to you? Play with your professional reputation and livelihood like that?”
She crossed her arms. “Are you seriously asking me if I think that you’d cheat me? Manipulate me?” Her lips curled. “Lie to me?”
“Maggie…”
“No.” Her tone was clipped, final. “You’re an untrustworthy bastard who uses people, and I don’t want to give you even one reason to have anything on me. I’ll make the deadline, and then I’ll never lay eyes on you ever again.”
Joe stood in the middle of her studio, without a clue what the hell to say to her. It was clear to him that she was in bad shape, and that it wasn’t just physical. She was stretched and strained emotionally, too, on edge and upset, and he was convinced it wasn’t just about the deadlines. When they’d been together, Joe had seen her on crazy-tight deadlines before and she’d never lost it like this.
Is it because it’s me that this project is for? Maybe being around me is harder on her than I realized. Or is it Reena? Has something more happened with the case?
“OK,” he said, trying to be soothing but not patronizing. “I’ll go, if that’s what you really want.”
“It is.”
“And you’ll drop by the restaurant tomorrow, alright?”
“What for?”
He gestured at the sculpture. “To talk about the final details for the next apsara.”
Maggie closed her eyes, exhausted at the thought of having to produce three more of the damn things. “OK. Fine. I’ll be there at nine o’clock.”
“It can be later, if you want.”
“Don’t do me any goddamn favors.”
“I’m not.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to do or say that wouldn’t make her angrier. “I’m just – I’m trying to make sure you get some rest.”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”
“Actually, I just remembered that I have to meet a supplier tomorrow morning, and then I’ll be out for the rest of the day.” Joe was totally lying, but he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it. “Can you drop by tomorrow night? Maybe around six?”
“Sure,” she sighed. Normally, she’d be at the hospital by then, just settling in next to Rita’s bed for the long night vigil, but showing up an hour later wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“So… you sure you’ll be OK here on your own now, Maggie?”
“I’ll be awesome here on my own.” Because I’ll be here without you.
He paused. “Can I ask you one thing before I go?”
She sighed again, heavily. “If you must.”
“Why won’t you say my name?”
She looked up at him sharply. “What?”
“I’d kind of noticed something was weird, of course, but it didn’t really hit me until tonight… when you passed out and fell was the first time that you’ve said my name since walking in to my restaurant to take the commission.” He shrugged. “Why won’t you say my name?”
Maggie regarded him in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?”
He held her gaze. “You really despise me that much?” he asked softly. “So much that you can’t even… I don’t know… see me a person?”
She was stricken mute by the pain in his voice, and for a few seconds she actually wavered. She hated being this person; hated being so cold and bitchy and unforgiving all the time. It was hard on her, harder than she’d thought it would be. Maggie hadn’t fully realized what an effort it was going to be to maintain her level of anger at and hatred for Joe. It was exhausting, she suddenly saw, and she didn’t have a lot of extra energy.
Maybe this is what Reena was talking about? Not forgiving, not forgetting, but letting go of the rage? Making room for other things to come in to my life… because God knows, my anger at him is so huge, it’s blocking out everything else.
Joe was still standing there, waiting for some kind of answer, and Maggie honestly didn’t know what to say to him. But she had to say something, she saw now. Things couldn’t go on the way that they had been.
“I – I…” She fell silent.
“What? Maggie, what?”
“I don’t hate you.” Her voice was so low, he had to strain a bit to hear it. “Not anymore.”
“You don’t?”
�
�No. I hate that I have to work with you, hate that I had to take this job… but I don’t hate you.”
That interested Joe, very much. “So – you took this commission because you had no choice?”
She stared back. “None whatsoever. If I’d had any other option besides this one, I’d have grabbed it. Believe me.”
“Your back is against the wall somehow?” He found himself worrying about her suddenly. If she’d taken the work with him because she needed money, then she must need it badly and fast. “You in trouble?”
“Not me.”
Joe tensed up. “What’s going on, sweetness?”
The endearment that she had once loved so much slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and her anger flared again. He felt his heart sink as the tentative, gentle thaw between them ended, and the temperature in the studio returned to a harsh sub-zero.
“None of your fucking business, Joe.” She spat out his name and he flinched. “So if you’re done with the Q and A, maybe you’ll let me get back to work?”
“Maggie….”
“No.” She shook her beautiful head. “You came over to approve the first sculpture and you did. I’ll come to the restaurant tomorrow and we’ll discuss the next part of the commission. Until then, we have nothing more to say to each other.”
Chapter Twelve
Nick glanced at the clock on the wall of The Rock Fighting Club and blinked. It was after seven o’clock, and he was supposed to be at Mia’s right now for dinner.
Shit. I lost track of time again.
He walked down to his office, limping a bit on his sore leg, and grabbed his cell. Sure enough, he’d missed two calls from Mia. He called her back, wondering if he’d have time to jump in the shower before heading over to her place.
“Nick?”
“Yeah, angel, it’s me. Sorry, I’m running late at The Rock.”
She was silent.
Fighting History (Fighting For Love Book 4) Page 7