"Maggie! What the hell are you doing?" Alex’s panicked voice yelled at her.
"I’m falling!" she shouted. Her nails scraped as she fought to hold on, but her body continued its painful slid, until her legs met nothing but air. She desperately grabbed at the last of the shingles, which broke off in both of her hands.
Maggie screamed as she plummeted over the roof’s edge.
* * *
Chapter Six
Eons passed as Maggie fell, but instead of splatting on the hard, unmerciful earth, she found herself clasped in two strong arms. She glimpsed Alex’s relieved expression as he caught her, then he stumbled and fell backwards. Maggie threw her arms around his neck as they crashed to the ground.
Maggie sprawled against Alex’s chest, still holding on to him for dear life. For a few moments, they clung to each other, drawing in deep breaths. She shuddered and felt Alex’s arms tighten around her.
"Are you all right?" he wheezed.
"I don’t think anything’s broken ...but my ankle’s throbbing," she responded. Alex felt warm and solid beneath her and her wicked mind wondered how much more enjoyable their positions would be if clothes weren’t involved. She raised up and looked at Alex. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He smiled. "You seem to like being on top."
Alex’s innuendo echoed her own naughty thoughts and tendrils of heat curled through her body. She rolled off him and sat up, cringing when pain danced in her ankle. The strong scent of paint and dirt assailed her senses, then another odor infiltrated.
"This sounds weird, but I swear I smell hamburgers," she said.
"You do." Alex stood. On the ground was a crushed white bag. "I brought you one in case you hadn’t eaten lunch."
Maggie looked at the bag longingly as she massaged her ankle. "Everything on it?"
"Yep." He watched her movements, then squatted, testing the soreness with gentle fingers.
"Ow!"
"Can you move it?"
"I can’t do the lambada, but I don’t think it’s broken."
"I’ll get some ice to pack on it, then I’ll take you to the emergency room."
The trip to the hospital was short. Alex scooped Maggie out of the passenger seat, ignoring her protests like a typical macho male. Secretly, she was glad, because she didn’t really want to hobble into the emergency room. And Alex’s solid warmth made her feel safe and secure. She tried not to snuggle too deeply in his embrace.
***
"I can walk."
"Humor me," said Alex as he carried Maggie out of the emergency room.
"The doctor said it’ll be fine. It’s just bruised. And it’s wrapped so tightly, it shouldn’t hurt to walk."
Alex deposited her into his truck. "The doctor also said to stay off it as much as possible today and keep it elevated."
Maggie’s glare didn’t faze him, so she resorted to pouting. He ignored it. After a few minutes, she realized they were heading in the wrong direction. "Where are we going?"
"We just spent almost three hours in the emergency. You haven’t eaten." He glanced at her. "You’re a little crabby."
"Youfree-fall off a two-story house and see how you feel."
"I’ll finish painting the shutters."
"Fine."
Alex drove downtown and parked on a street crowded with cars. Despite Maggie’s grumblings, Alex helped her walk to a nondescript building. Elegantly etched on the glass door was "Welcome."
Alex ushered her into a quiet, beautifully decorated lobby that screamed, "Expensive!" The small room was half-paneled, half creme-painted walls. Two leather wingback chairs beckoned weary travelers. A chandelier lit the space. No signs, other than "No Smoking Please," existed.
"What is this place?"
"A restaurant."
Maggie gestured around the room. "This is a restaurant?"
"No, this is a lobby."
Next to the wingbacks, the wall cracked open. Maggie realized it was a seamless door. A tall woman entered, dressed in a black evening gown, stiletto heels, and perfect-coiffed blonde hair. Her eyes twinkled as she wrapped Alex in a hug.
"Alexander," she said in an accented-voice. "You have been away too long." The woman kissed his cheek.
"Clarisse. Beautiful as always."
Maggie felt invisible. She didn’t compare to this elegant creature, and she wished she could disappear through the wall as easily as this woman had entered. Clarisse turned a surprisingly warm brown gaze on Maggie.
"So lovely!" Clarisse pressed a manicured hand into Maggie’s. "Alex has such good taste, yes?"
"Yes."
Alex laughed, then grasped Maggie’s elbow. "Two for an early dinner?"
Clarisse winked. "Of course! But I may have to throw out some people. You know how busy we are."
The door opened and Clarisse led them into another dark-paneled room. A glass bar with leather stools curved the entire length. A huge saltwater tank with colorful tropical fish made up the back wall. The plush carpet was a rich chocolate brown and matched the paneling. Again, the walls were creme-colored with no paintings or signs.
"Are you sure you can afford this?" Maggie whispered as they followed Clarisse through another invisible door.
Alex bent down. "Just this once."
His words gave her no comfort, but she couldn’t tell the man how to spend his money. Maybe she’d offer to go dutch, or pull out her credit card, though this place might max out its limit.
The dining area was made up of private half-circle booths. A single lit candle adorned the middle of each white, cloth-covered table. The lighting was muted as was the tinkling, soothing music.
Clarisse led them to a booth. Maggie and Alex scooted in on opposite ends. Alex lifted her legs onto his lap. She raised her eyebrows.
"The doctor said to keep your ankle elevated as much as possible," he said. He rubbed her calves. The tender pressure of his callused fingers infused her body with tingling heat.
"And what did he say about the rest of my legs?"
"Gotta keep the blood circulating."
"Oh."
Though it was nearly impossible to ignore Alex’s warm touch, Maggie distracted herself by looking for a menu, but she didn’t see one. Clarisse had disappeared, but soon a waiter--in a tuxedo minus the jacket and cummerbund--appeared. He placed two glasses and a carafe of water onto the table, took their drink orders, and left.
Maggie looked at Alex. Even in his jeans and simple T-shirt he looked like a man who belonged here. She, on the other hand, preferred a good, sloppy hamburger, and a soda. Clearing her throat, she asked, "When do we get menus?"
"No menus here," replied Alex. "The chef makes something different each day and it’s never the same thing twice in one week. And it’s always good."
"It appears to be very exclusive."
"It is."
Settling deeper into the soft cushions of the seat, Maggie tried to squelch her uneasiness. How could a handyman pay for lunch at this place? How did a handyman even know about such a place? A restaurant with no name...a French hostess...no menus...all clues which added up to...what?
His rich friend.
Of course. Alex’s friend had undoubtedly brought him here. And it appeared Alex would spend a month’s earnings to impress her.
"Clarisse owns the restaurant with her husband. He’s the chef."
An odd relief snaked through Maggie when Alex mentioned Clarisse’s husband. She frowned. "I don’t mean any offense, Alex, but are you sure this won’t be too expensive?"
"Stop worrying about it, Maggie."
She didn’t want to make Alex feel bad with her continued badgering about money. She resolved to pay half, though, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. After making the decision, Maggie relaxed.
The flickering candlelight, the intimacy of the booths, and Alex’s gaze made Maggie feel...warm. He’d released her legs from his sensual torture. He leaned closer, playing with the cloth napkin, his fingers inches away from hers resting on
the table. Her heart began to thud. Alex’s blue eyes would not release her from their intense scrutiny and she felt bolted to the seat. He seemed to sense her reactions and his lips curved into an sensuous smile. Maggie almost jumped out of her skin when the waiter reappeared.
He placed two glasses of Raspberry tea and two Caesar salads in front of them, asked them if they needed anything else, bowed with a flourish, and left again.
Maggie dug into her salad with an enthusiasm born of desperation. This attraction to Alex was becoming unbearable. She truly didn’t know him. She didn’t trust him. And he had become an integral part of her fantasies. His touch on her shoulder startled her. Her fork flew from her grasp, skittered across the table, and landed with a soft plop on the carpet. Speechless, Maggie stared at the salad, the table, and finally Alex.
The waiter materialized, picked up the fork, and handed Maggie a clean one. He vanished, again, and she almost looked for the magician’s smoke. Alex’s chuckle drew her attention. She bowed her head.
"Why are you so nervous?"
She refused to look at him. "I’m not nervous. You just...surprised me."
"Pardon the cliché, but you’re as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof."
Maggie put down her fork and pushed away the salad. "This is too fancy for me. I don’t fit in here." She had substituted one truth for another, but no way would she confess to Alex that she wanted to see him naked. Worse, she wanted to get naked with him.
"Would you like to leave?"
She shook her head as renewed embarrassment scorched her face. "It’s just dinner."
"Right," Alex agreed. "I’ve other plans for our first date."
Heat zinged the pit of her stomach. Oh boy. She was in trouble.
The meal, as Alex had promised, tasted excellent. Maggie was sure the actual names of the dishes were unpronounceable, but it boiled down to salmon, scalloped potatoes, and some scrumptious vegetable stuff that melted on her tongue. She suspected baked squash. Maggie had not eaten food so delicious, and although she enjoyed it, she felt relieved when the dishes were cleared.
They declined dessert, despite the mouth-watering display of chocolate concoctions. To her amazement, Alex scooted out of the booth without waiting for the check. She followed awkwardly. "I insist on paying half," she blurted. "It’s only fair."
He smiled. "It’s already taken care of. Shall we go?"
"Wait a minute. I--I feel like I should pay something."
Alex cocked his head; the look in his eyes made her shiver with an odd anticipation. "I’ll find out what you owe--if it’ll make you feel better."
She nodded, and Alex led her out of the restaurant.
Alex didn’t speak another word as they drove home. The tense silence had Maggie in knots by the time they arrived. The setting sun’s light filtered through the trees as they pulled into the gravel drive.
"Thank you for dinner," said Maggie. "It was wonderful."
"You’re welcome." Alex’s lips pressed together. "I have a confession."
Maggie’s heart pounded harder. "What is it?"
"I...I’m not who you think I am. I’m—"
"About time!" Gran’s voice shouted as her gray-haired head poked through the driver’s side window. "Where have you been? I’m not paying you to lollygag around, Alex."
"Gran!" exclaimed Maggie. Her heart still beat erratically. What had Alex almost said?
"You two get inside. I gotta tell you something."
Gran withdrew and walked to the house. Alex looked at Maggie. "We’ll talk later, okay?"
But Maggie couldn’t wait. She had to know..."Are you married?"
"No."
"Hurry up!" yelled Gran from the front porch.
Relieved, Maggie smiled. "Her majesty commands us."
They got out of the car. Despite Alex’s reassuring smile, Maggie suddenly realized she probably wouldn’t like what he had to confess. She pushed away the encroaching dread, but its heavy tendrils clung to her emotions.
With Alex behind her, Maggie followed Gran into the house. She almost stumbled over the suitcases.
Gran whirled around and faced them. "I’m going to Vegas."
"What?" said Maggie.
"I said it plain enough, didn’t I?" Gran grinned. "I can’t let Betty Lee down. She needs me."
"You said she was an old hag."
Gran elbowed past Maggie and started rummaging in the closet. "I said no such thing, Maggie Lynn."
"What about Alex?" asked Maggie.
Gran turned around. Alex leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking the front door. "I left a list for you." She faced Maggie. "I’m leaving for the weekend–not forever."
"But Las Vegas? Gran you’re too–"
Gran folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. "I’m too what? Old? Might fall and break a hip or get robbed or wake up in a bathtub of ice cubes missing a kidney?"
Maggie bit her lip, unable to verbalize her concerns. Gran had always done what she wanted–no matter what. "I worry about you."
"I’ll be fine, dear." She closed the closet door and picked up a small bag. "Now move it or lose it."
Maggie stepped back and Alex barely got out of the way before Gran barreled through the front door. She looked over her shoulder. "Don’t stand there gawking you two. Bring the rest of my things."
A powder blue Gremlin rolled into the driveway just as Maggie and Alex lugged two suitcases onto the porch. Betty Lee, her bleached-blonde hair a sharp contrast to her wrinkled, pale face, poked her head out of the driver’s side window. "Let’s go, Victoria. There’s a jackpot with my name on it!"
After Gran and the suitcases were wedged into the small car, Betty Lee backed out of the driveway, spewing gravel. The tires squealed as she sped off down the street.
Maggie looked at Alex. He grinned. "We’re alone."
The promise his in eyes took her breath away. She broke eye contact, suddenly feeling unsure about everything. She spotted the porch swing and hobbled over to it and sat down. To Maggie’s surprise, Alex followed her, and hunched down by her feet.
"How’s the ankle?"
"It’s better," she lied. Her left ankle throbbed like hell.
"Really?" He removed her tennis shoes and socks, then tugged on her toes. "Looks to me like your feet are suffering from the ache."
"T-the ache?"
"Remember, Maggie? I told you I give great foot." He sat cross-legged on the porch. Grasping her right foot, Alex kneaded the bottom with strong, warm fingers. She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. He stroked, massaged,tortured. The top of her foot and her toes received equal attention. She swallowed back a groan. How many nerve endings did feet possess? He started to give the same gentle treatment to her left foot, his fingers carefully stroking around the bandaged ankle. Maggie almost couldn’t stand it. "Didn’t you have something to tell me?"
"Later."
He continued his gentle assault. She felt hot and tingly and...andachy.
"Your calves look tired, too." Alex’s voice was gruff.
Maggie’s eyes fluttered open. Calves? His fingers circled her ankles. She nodded weakly. "Definitely tired," she agreed.
He stroked upward, then down. He massaged her calves the same sensuous way he had her feet. Maggie sat up and stretched out her legs. The man had a magic touch. She watched as he rose up on his knees and leaned forward. She automatically opened her legs. She realized, too late, that she’d unintentionally given him access to the most vulnerable part of her body, but Alex did not move any closer.
His blue eyes telegraphed a smoldering message that made her heart thud in her chest. He kneaded the tops of knees, stroked her calves, and watched her. His touch went no further. He didn’t press his body into the gap separating them.
She was going to spontaneously combust. Desire seeped into her, thick and hot and heavy. Panic wiggled through her. She couldn’t feel this way. What did she really know about Alex? She obviously couldn’t trust her own body. And her i
nstincts, when it came to men, were wrong.
"S-stop."
His hands stilled immediately. He looked at her, waiting. She licked her dry lips and Alex’s hungry stare followed her movements. Her heart lurched and her body quivered. He would kiss her if she asked. He might, even if she didn’t. She cleared her throat. "The rest of me is ..."
Husband For Hire Page 6