Within This Frame

by Zart, Lindy

  Her dad said, “He was a mess, Maggie, an absolute mess. Hadn’t showered in what looked like days, eyes so bloodshot it was obvious he’d been crying a great deal. I showed up angry. I was concerned over you, and I took it out on him. He asked me to put him out of his misery. Not that I would have ever seriously shot him, but it wouldn’t have been right of me to wound a man already in anguish, not even with words or fists.”

  “What did you . . . what did you do then?” she whispered, blinking eyes that stung with unshed tears.

  “I bought him a meal, told him to take care of himself, and I left.”

  The love she’d shared with Lance had been amazing—not perfect—but amazing. And then it was ripped away, without warning, without Maggie having time to prepare.

  Face forward, she reached for her dad’s cool hand and tightly gripped it. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too. Be careful, all right? I don’t just mean with Lance. I mean with you and what you’re doing.”

  “I know.”

  She took a drink of the coffee. She had a few people she occasionally hung out with and considered friends, but no one with whom she would discuss anything of consequence. Her father was the closest thing to a best friend she had.

  “Dad?” Maggie felt his eyes on her without looking. “Why do you think Nora called him? And why did he say yes?”

  He didn’t speak, and when Maggie turned to him, he had a thoughtful look on his intelligent face. He was a thinker; one who thought of all possibilities before coming to a decision, and when he didn’t know something, he was truthful about that as well. They’d spent many nights over her adolescence discussing the improbable, playing board games, or sitting on the couch, each of them with a book in hand.

  Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them.”

  “I feel like I’m missing something,” she mused. “And it involves the two of them.”

  Her dad patted her knee. “Let’s walk some more.”

  They were almost to their cars when Maggie blurted, “He brought up an idea he has for a celebrity fitness show, and he wants me on it.”

  He paused near her car. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel like he wants to use me, like the only reason he agreed to help me was because he had it in his head that he could get something out of it,” she said in a rush, her heart pounding in beat with her words.

  “Then don’t do it.”

  “I said no.”

  Removing his glasses, he rubbed the lenses on the sleeve of his black jacket. He resituated them and said, “And what did he say to that?”

  Maggie shifted her feet. “Nothing. He’s been acting normal, like nothing was ever said about it.”

  “Then you know he’s not using you, or he would have been gone by now.”

  “Or he just really needs my money.”

  Amusement flickered in his green eyes. “Your money works just as well in the stores as anyone else’s.”

  She blinked. “I guess so.”

  “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want to use you? What if he wants you on that show because he knows he needs you to make it great? That’s a compliment. And if that’s so, and you aren’t completely against it, why don’t you negotiate terms?”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  He hesitated, and then asked, “Have you ever wondered why he chose that career path?”

  Maggie shrugged. “He said he wanted to use his handsomeness for good or something lame like that.”

  A smile tipped his mouth. “I bet he did. I find it interesting, though, that given everything that went on with you when you were younger, that he chose to work in a field that directly correlates with it.”

  “I’m sure it’s a coincidence,” she mumbled, eyes downcast.

  “I’m not.”

  She looked up.

  He rubbed a circle onto her back. “Whatever you decide to think or do, the choice is yours. Something to ponder. Have a good day.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Inside their cars, they waved and went their separate ways. Sundays were rest days, meaning Lance didn’t drag her out of bed at six in the morning, all sickeningly chipper and devastatingly beautiful. They were also cheat days, which had her taste buds salivating, because she could eat whatever she wanted and however much of it she wanted. Maggie figured if she balanced her food, it wouldn’t be so horrible—mix the good with the bad. She made a quick stop at the grocery store, thoughts on Lance and his proposition as she drove to the house.

  The most time they spent together was the one to two hours she exercised under his supervision and when they made meals. Other than that, Lance did his own thing and she did hers. Her daily life was more interesting with him around, and as exasperating as he was, he did make her laugh.

  Grocery bags in hand, she stepped into the kitchen, the quietness of the house surreal, even as a few short weeks ago it was natural. It was temporary. She knew it was temporary. Don’t get attached, she told herself, fearing she already was.

  Maggie quickly put away the food, tucking the box of cookies behind a row of canned goods, and went in search of her personal trainer. She found him in her bedroom on the bed, clad in black lounge pants and a long-sleeved white shirt, asleep with his hands clasped over his stomach. She couldn’t be upset about finding him there, the peacefulness that emanated from him aweing. She hadn’t realized how tense he was until she witnessed the absence of it.

  She tiptoed closer, admiring the sculpted features of his face, eyes lingering on his lips and jaw. When she was to the bed, she stared down at the man she’d loved as a girl, as a young woman, maybe even yet.

  “I know what you’re thinking—it’s a sin for a mortal man to be this good-looking,” he murmured, eyes closed.

  She jumped, her thoughts eerily similar to that.

  A hand snaked around her waist, tugged, and she was partially lying on top of Lance and staring into blue eyes. He smiled up at her. “I picked my bedroom.”

  Maggie twisted her body to get away, but his grip around her only tightened. Letting out an irritated huff of air, she told him, “You’re insane if you think you’re sleeping in my bed.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping?” His eyelids dropped, giving him a sensual, drowsy look.

  “Lance,” she warned as his hands settled on her bottom and slowly made their way up the sides of her body, turning her hot, and dizzy, and aroused. “Stop,” Maggie gasped.

  “What if I don’t want to?” he taunted.

  Lifting her head, she glared at him. Maggie moved again, but all that resulted in was Lance shifting so that she lay full on him, making her aware of all the hard edges of his body—and other things. She closed her eyes, face burning, and tried not to think about what was perfectly lined up with her lower half.

  “Nine months.”

  “What?” she choked out.

  “It’s been nine months.” He rotated his hips against her, one slow circle around that had her forgetting all logic.

  “That’s . . . not my . . . problem.” Maggie moaned, dropping her head forward. It had been over two years for her, since her last boyfriend, and her body ached for the touch of Lance, whether she wanted it to or not.

  “You’re right.” Lance sat up, effectively dumping her off him.

  Maggie landed on her back, struggling to breathe, all of her coiled tight and ready for a man she wanted to hate. She closed her eyes as she willed her heart to steady. She tried to think of fruit to get her mind off things, but all that did was make it worse—plums and bananas decided to morph into other images and torture her.

  “I actually like the room across the hallway,” he said conversationally. “That way, if you decide you want to participate in any extracurricular activities—bonus points for exercise, Maggie—you’ll have easy access to yours truly. I am your coach, after all. I have to be there for you, at all hours, any time, for any situation . . . any
need you may have. I’m being a good friend, really. Going above and beyond. It is my—”

  Maggie grabbed a pillow and slammed it against his head. “Shut up, Lance.”

  He grabbed the pillow from her and threw it across the room, eyes locked on hers. The space between them closed as he brought his face inches away from hers. “There’s no point in pretending I don’t want you. You know I do.”

  “You don’t want me. You just want someone,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Lance argued her words with a simple chastising look. “That’s a lie. I could have anyone—you know I’m not exaggerating, but I want you.”

  “But I’m . . .” She gestured to her curvy body.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, voice harsh. “Quit saying otherwise. Quit thinking otherwise. Start believing it.”

  She enfolded his words into her arms and heart. Maggie dropped her eyes from his, faintly nodding. He was right.

  “And you?” she questioned.

  “What about me?”

  Maggie lifted her gaze to his, the blueness of it as lovely as any sky. “You never wanted anyone to know what you struggled with, how you felt unloved and unlovable, but I did. In the end, it was one of the reasons you pushed me away.”

  “I’ve learned a lot since I was a teenager.” He got up from the bed, his back to her. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I don’t get involved with my clients.”

  Maggie pressed her lips together to remain mute.

  Lance looked over his shoulder at her, correctly assessing her expression. “It’s true. I’m not the kid you remember me as.”

  She slowly stood up. “You’re not. I know that. I can tell.”

  Relief smoothed his features. “I won’t touch you. Much,” he added when she narrowed her eyes. “But as soon as the last day of our contract is up, Maggie, either submit, or run.”

  He walked out of the room like he hadn’t just taken the air from her lungs or the willpower to stand from her legs. Maggie collapsed on the bed and closed her eyes, deciding to hide in her bedroom for a while. It was either that or hunt down Lance and ravish him.

  LANCE—1996

  THINGS WERE BAD from the start.

  Jeff wanted to take his Cavalier and Lance insisted on taking the Jeep. Maggie stood between the two of them, looking from one to the other. The lavender top and white pleated skirt she wore looked good on her, and she had her hair up with loose waves around her face. He’d wanted to kiss her as soon as he’d seen her. It was hard to remember he had a girlfriend when he was around Maggie.

  “If it’s that big of a deal, we could walk,” Maggie suggested. “It’s not that far.”

  “It’s at least a mile away,” Jeff complained.

  “We have to pick up Anne yet anyway.” Lance checked the watch on his left wrist. “And we need to get going or she’ll be wondering where we are.”

  “Well, you can take the Jeep and get Anne. Jeff and I will meet you guys at the restaurant.”

  Jeff put an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and ushered her toward his car. “Fabulous idea.”

  Lance grabbed Maggie’s wrist, halting them. “Except it makes more sense to take one car.”

  With a tight jaw, Jeff eyed the place where Lance’s hand touched Maggie. “It isn’t far enough to make a difference one way or another.”

  “It might be, depending on what all we do tonight,” Lance said pleasantly.

  “Can we just get in a stupid vehicle already and go?” Maggie shook off Jeff’s arm and pulled her wrist from Lance’s grasp.

  “My car is safer,” Jeff said, scowling.

  “Mine is cooler.”

  Jeff’s brown eyes narrowed.

  Maggie sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Each of you pick a number between one and ten. We’ll take the car of whoever guesses closest to the number I’m thinking. Lance, pick a number.”

  He rubbed his jaw as he studied Maggie’s exasperated face. “Eight.”

  She looked at Jeff. “Pick a number, Jeff.”

  “Three.”

  “It was nine. Get in the Jeep.” Maggie turned from them and marched toward the black Jeep.

  Lance gave Jeff a smug look. He stared back, not speaking. Shrugging, Lance followed Maggie to the Jeep. She was already seated in the back. He paused, wanting her up front instead of Jeff, but one look at her face made him think better of mentioning it. She did not look happy. He wouldn’t be happy either, if the guy he was going on a date with drove a Cavalier.

  Top down, radio blaring, Lance drove to Anne’s aunt and uncle’s house. He put the vehicle in park and waited for Anne to come out, ignoring the sigh of relief Jeff let out when the Jeep was no longer moving. He’d grumbled about his driving the whole way. Asshole. Jeff got out and climbed in back with Maggie. Lance scowled at the street.

  Maggie cleared her throat and he met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Lance lifted his eyebrows when she didn’t say anything.

  She shook her head and finally said, “Aren’t you going to go to the door?”

  “What for?”

  “To pick her up and say hello to her relatives?”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  Jeff snickered. “Because that’s what gentlemen do.”

  “Gentlemen?” Lance rolled his eyes. “I’m not a gentleman.”

  “We know,” Jeff said all too cheerfully.

  Lance shifted his jaw and angled a glare over his shoulder. “I suppose you walked to Maggie’s door and greeted Judith before you met me outside?”

  “Yes. I did,” he said, unashamedly gloating.

  Cursing, Lance opened the door and jumped out, jogging up the curved sidewalk that led to the brick-sided house. Lance glanced back at the car as he waited for the door to open, wondering what Jeff and Maggie were doing inside the Jeep. Hands fisted, he thrust his jaw forward and stared at the brown door.

  He felt like a jerk, mostly because, out of all the times he’d come to pick up Anne for anything, he’d never come to the door. It wasn’t his thing. And yet, there he stood, all because he had to compete with Jeff. The surprise on Rory York’s face confirmed the rarity of Lance’s present position.

  “Hello, Lance. Come in.”

  A short and stocky computer genius in his mid-forties, Anne’s uncle was soft spoken and pleasant. He had caterpillar eyebrows and squinty blue eyes with a long, wide nose and a small mouth. Anne clearly got her good looks from her mother’s side.

  Lance returned the greeting and followed him inside, clenching and unclenching his hands as his eyes swept over the modern decorating the York family favored. Bold colors, shiny electronics, and geometric shapes took over every room of the high-ceilinged and spacious house. Anytime he’d come to the York house, there was a heavy floral scent present that made him think of old people and funerals.

  “Got big plans for the night, Mr. York?” Lance set his expression for casual interest. He felt trapped, like coming to the door meant some kind of commitment he wasn’t ready for, and never would, not with Anne.

  Rory York went red in the face, clearing his throat as he looked at the stairwell. “Oh, well. Jessie and I thought we’d stay in, watch a movie. The kids are all at friends’ houses tonight. Anyway, you and Anne have a good time. Anne’s in her room.” He cleared his throat again and glanced at Lance quickly before speed-walking from the room.

  So. Mr. and Mrs. York were in for a little kid-less entertainment. Lance watched his retreating form, a smirk lifting his lips. He tapped his fingers on the banister, and with a sigh, vaulted up them. Patience was not his thing either.

  Anne’s bedroom was the first door on the right. Lance knocked on the closed door, the sound of music pulsing through it. In three weeks she would travel to Hawaii for a two-week long photo shoot, and then it was back home to California. They’d both been aware of the temporariness of their relationship when it started.

  Lance didn’t do long term relationships, and he didn’t do lon
g distance ones either. In fact, he didn’t really do relationships too much at all. He and Anne weren’t even to the one-month mark, and it was the longest he’d stayed with one girl. Already, he was cagey.

  The door swung open, he was hit with the scent of apples, and a squeal sounded in his ears as arms wrapped around his neck and a warm mouth latched onto his. Instincts kicked in and he kissed her back, fingers gripping her bony hips. Anne was only two inches shorter than Lance, all of her long and sleek. She didn’t kiss like Maggie, an assessment firmly solidified in his mind with how recently he’d kissed the other. Anne wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt different. Lukewarm where intensity should be.

  “Hi, baby,” she said softly against his mouth.

  Lance disengaged her arms from him. He hated being called that, and had told her enough times that she should remember. “Hey. Ready?”

  Anne flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. “I sure am. I haven’t had anything to eat all day. And I worked out for three hours. I’ve been saving up for tonight.” She flashed a blinding white smile.

  She had glittery purple stuff around her eyes and her lips were unnaturally pink, like cotton candy. Lance noted the skimpy yellow top that showed a good deal of her midriff and the short ripped shorts that barely covered her butt cheeks. White cowboy boots completed the ensemble. Physically, everything about her was perfect, and for the first time that he could remember, it bothered him.

  He mentally compared what she wore to what Maggie did, and turned away. “Great. Maggie and Jeff are waiting in the Jeep.”

  Fingers wrapped around his bicep as they walked, Anne gushed, “I can’t believe I get to meet Maggie Smiley! I love her. She is so great on the show.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “You are dating her co-star, you know.”

  Anne briefly rested her head against his as they descended the stairs, dropping her hand from his arm. Her voice was dreamy as she said, “I know, and I love him too.”

  Lance froze, and when Anne kept walking like she hadn’t just said words she had no right saying, he swallowed thickly and followed her out the door. He heard Maggie’s laughter as they got in the Jeep. The sound of it made him want to smile, but then he remembered it was because of Jeff, and not him, and he slammed the Jeep door.