by Ronica Black
She eyed the mantle and stood on the stone hearth to examine the contents. There were two matching antique mantel clocks, both looked to be working, matching vases, which she knew were also antique, and a set of thick white candles. But what really caught her attention was the painting above. It was a landscape full of rich greens and varying browns. It looked like Frank’s property in the summertime. It was so well done, so vivid, she wanted to reach out and touch it. She found the signature near the bottom corner. Stacy Kimball. Ellie had never heard of her, but she liked the painting so much she knew she’d look her up later.
After staring at it for a while longer, she turned and approached the bed. It was large, king-sized with soft white flannel sheets and matching white goose down comforter. The blankets were thick and soft, with patchwork white and gray. She ran her fingertips across the covers and sat next to the night table. She wanted so badly to look inside. What did Maggie have in there? She felt the handle on the top drawer. Should she pull it open? She knew once she did there would be no going back. She knew she’d then read the letters and mull through everything she could find. She dropped her hand.
A warm tongue assaulted her hand. She jerked with surprise. The dog sat next to her, licking his lips and wagging his tail.
“Jesus.” She collapsed onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She had almost invaded someone’s privacy. Disgust filled her. She recalled the time she’d walked in on the housecleaner going through her own nightstand drawer. She’d been so furious she’d charged at her, screaming and yelling. Turned out the woman had been taking small items throughout her yearlong employment and selling them to fans.
“What is wrong with me?”
She stroked the corgi’s head as he settled down next to her. Without another thought, she opened the book she’d been reading and thumbed through it to find her place. It fell open to the last page where the author bio was. She read it quickly and then sat up, heart pounding.
She’d read the same bio numerous times, but she’d never really thought about it before. The author, whose photo she’d never seen, remained elusive, saying only that she lived in Northern Arizona with her dog Lincoln, a Welsh corgi.
Could Maggie be the elusive best seller? The same author she read avidly? She reached over and read the dog’s name tag.
Lincoln.
Ellie covered her mouth to stifle a cry of sheer surprise.
“Holy shit.”
She extinguished the lamp and scooted beneath the covers. Her heart raced, nearly beating over itself. Could Maggie be Abigail Forrester?
She closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow. First the physical attraction and now this. It was all a little much. Maybe too much.
If she wanted to know about Maggie, she’d just have to ask. She just hoped she wouldn’t question her in return. Because for now, she had no answers to give her.
Chapter Nine
Maggie awoke to another weather alert on her phone. The storm had slowed but looked to be only for a brief time. Winds and snowfall would return in the early afternoon. They were still encouraging people to remain indoors until further notice. She blinked against the morning light. She’d slept in the guest bedroom, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. She knew she needed to get up and relight the fireplaces for extra warmth, but she didn’t want to leave the confines of the cozy bed. Then she remembered Ellie, and she threw off the covers and headed down the hall.
Silence hung in the house, thick and heavy. She slowed as she neared the master bedroom door. Carefully, she placed her ear against it. More silence. She gave a quick knock and cracked the door. Lincoln perked up from the foot of the bed. His tail wagged as she stepped inside. Quietly, she approached the bed to check on Ellie.
She was sleeping on her side, curled into the covers as if she would never let them go. Maggie’s breath hitched as she stared at her beautiful face. Ellie looked so serene, so angelic. Maggie wanted to look at her like that for all eternity. Never had she seen anything so beautiful.
She released a breath and turned to walk away. Lincoln remained on the bed, insistent. It was odd not having him at her heels all the time. She’d never seen him so taken with anyone before.
As quietly as she came in, she left the room and headed for the kitchen. She pulled out the turkey bacon and a few eggs and started making breakfast. She knew Ellie would be hungry when she woke.
She thought again about contacting someone, letting someone know Ellie was there and that she was safe. Surely someone was looking for her, worried about her. But she wouldn’t know who to call and she didn’t want to betray Ellie’s wishes.
She opened the fridge again and retrieved the orange juice. She poured herself a glass and sipped from it as she scrambled the eggs. She’d looked Ellie up on her phone last night while lying in bed. She was an Emmy award winning actress, famous philanthropist, world traveler, spokeswoman for numerous foundations and products. She was a very important person. A person people would most definitely miss. So why was she here? Why now? And why was she alone? Ellie hadn’t mentioned a current husband, so who was Marco?
“Good morning.”
Maggie turned, surprised. Ellie was walking, and the color in her face looked vibrant, healthy.
“Good morning.”
Ellie hugged herself and Lincoln trotted past her into the kitchen where his bowls sat. He lapped happily at some water. Maggie set down her juice. “Coffee? Juice?”
“Juice please.”
Maggie poured her a glass and handed it to her with a smile. “Sleep well?”
Ellie took a few swallows and smiled. She seemed to think about her answer carefully. “Eventually.”
“Good. You really needed it.”
Ellie didn’t respond. She seemed to be lost in thought.
“There’s a robe in the bedroom closet.” Maggie turned to finish the eggs. She spooned them onto a plate. She could feel the silence weighing heavy, but she continued to cook, giving Ellie some room for comfort. People must ask her questions all the time. Maybe she needed some quiet. Maggie turned with the plate and her juice in hand.
“Who’s Stacy Kimball?”
Maggie dropped the plate and felt her knees go weak. She gripped the counter for support.
Stacy. How did she know about Stacy? Maggie fought for breath, embarrassed at her reaction.
Ellie was at her side, helping her straighten. “I’m so sorry.”
“The eggs.” Maggie couldn’t believe she had dropped them and broken the plate. She’d made such a mess. Her head spun as she moved to get the broom.
“Wait, wait.” Ellie held firm to her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Maggie stilled, aware of Ellie’s touch. It was strong and that surprised her. Ellie might be petite, but she was still powerful. It caused a rush of adrenaline to blaze through her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Ellie squeezed Maggie’s forearm.
Maggie forced a smile. “You didn’t. I mean—I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.” Ellie said it so softly Maggie angled her head to stare at her lips.
“I—”
“Don’t.” Ellie put a finger to her mouth. “Please don’t lie. I can’t handle it.”
Maggie stared into her eyes. She trembled with vulnerability and with desire.
“She means something to you,” Ellie said. She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry I intruded.” Slowly, she moved away, leaving Maggie breathless.
Ellie found the broom and dustpan. She knelt and cleaned the mess as Maggie stood, helpless to move.
“You don’t need to do that,” Maggie finally said.
Ellie threw away the mess and returned the dustpan and broom. Then she opened the fridge for more eggs. She stood at the stove, ready to cook. “Maybe you should sit down. You still look pale.”
Maggie swallowed against a burning throat. She almost said she was fine, but she remembered Ellie’s words. “I haven’t heard her name spoken in a very long time.�
� Her breath trembled as she confessed.
Ellie didn’t turn but rather stood very still. Maggie watched the back of her head, praying she wouldn’t make eye contact. She felt wide open, fully exposed. It was what she most avoided and here she was offering up her insides to a stranger.
“She must’ve been very special.”
“How did you—?” The name had come from nowhere, completely shocking her.
“The painting,” Ellie said. “The one over the fireplace in your bedroom.”
Maggie held her juice and sipped carefully. The tartness of it brought her back into the now. “Of course.”
“I like it,” Ellie said, cracking an egg into the pan. “I can’t stop studying it.”
“She was—is—very talented.”
Ellie moved the eggs with a spatula. “You can ask me,” she said. “Ask me anything that’s on your mind.”
Maggie almost denied having a question. She stared down at the counter. It seemed easier for both of them to talk with their backs turned. “Who’s Marco?” She heard Ellie stop her movement.
Maggie waited a moment and then backtracked, knowing she’d overstepped.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Ellie sighed. “He’s my manager.”
Maggie finished her juice, her nerves still getting the better of her.
“Why do you ask?” She was scrambling again and forking the bacon out of the pan.
Maggie stepped beside her, holding out a fresh plate. “You were talking to him. When I found you.”
Ellie deposited the eggs and bacon onto the plate and Maggie led them to the kitchen table where she already had plates and silverware ready.
They sat opposite each other, and Maggie met her eyes. Her heart rate kicked up and she had to force herself to look away.
“What did I say?” Ellie asked.
Maggie hesitated.
“Please don’t say you don’t remember.”
“Okay,” Maggie breathed. Ellie was intense and insistent in a way she’d never experienced. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore.”
Maggie knew she’d hit something. She didn’t press. Instead, she took a bite and tried to appear calm.
Ellie took two bites and chewed slowly. She looked sad, anxious, her brow furrowed.
Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious Ellie was upset, and she was upset with herself for causing it.
“He works me to death,” she finally said after swallowing. “Sells me out, keeps pushing and pushing.”
Maggie stared at her glossy eyes. A tear fell, one then two. “Ellie, I’m so sorry.”
“No.” She held up her hand in protest. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be anything.” She wiped away the tears and took a deep breath. “I guarantee you he’s hunting me down this very second.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Maggie asked.
Ellie was gazing out the window, watching the wind blow mists of snow off the heavy trees. She didn’t turn to look at her. She seemed lost in her own world. “I wanted to get away. Needed to get away. Is that so wrong?”
“No.” Maggie could hardly speak. Her voice was weak with emotion. She knew exactly how Ellie felt. “It isn’t.”
“You won’t tell anyone will you?” She turned, stared right into her with penetrating eyes.
Maggie shook her head.
“I know my whereabouts will be worth a lot of money—”
“I’m not interested in money.”
Ellie continued to look at her. “What are you interested in?”
“Making sure you’re okay.”
Ellie fingered her juice glass. “Are you for real?”
Maggie didn’t like that the questions had turned to her. She didn’t like being under anyone’s microscope, especially Ellie Falcon’s. She had a power over her, and it was scaring the hell out of her. Something in her eyes, her expressions, the way she seemed to feel everything. All of it was teaming together and attacking her shell. Searching for cracks, a way in. She knew they wouldn’t stop until they found a way to infiltrate.
“What do you mean?” She shifted and took another bite. Movement would help deflect her stare.
“Your nobility. The white knight coming to my rescue. Honest, straightforward, kind-hearted. It all sounds really good, but is any of it true?”
Was she complimenting her or insulting her? She took a drink and tried to calm her racing heart.
“I suppose you would have to ask someone who knows me.”
“Like Stacy?”
Maggie met her gaze with a fierce one of her own. Ellie was pushing her, feeling her out. She was looking for some kind of reaction. Maggie had already showed her too much.
“If you can find her, you’re welcome to ask.” She rose and gathered her plate. She crossed to the kitchen and began to clean. She knew Ellie was upset and going through a lot. She understood her need to be guarded. But to cause hurt, that was another thing altogether.
“I’m sorry.” Ellie was standing behind her, and Maggie chose not to turn to look at her. She preferred she just go away.
“I’m hurting and I feel so—I don’t know— lost. I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”
Maggie washed the two pans and silverware. She placed them in the dish dryer and started in on the spatula. She could still feel Ellie behind her.
“I’m sorry I’m here. I’m sorry, I—”
“Your being here is not a problem.” Maggie turned off the faucet and turned to dry her hands. Her tone was assertive and firm. She wasn’t going to let someone come into her home and hurt her with the past. She didn’t care who the person was.
Ellie closed her mouth as if changing her mind to speak. She looked frail again. And small. Maggie knew it would be so easy to pick her up and carry her off, but she pushed the thought away. She couldn’t let her attraction to her overtake her.
“Please know how sorry I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
“Didn’t you?”
Ellie shook her head. “No.”
“Because it seemed pretty clear to me.”
“No, please don’t think that.”
Maggie left the kitchen and headed into the living room. She busied herself with the fire. She heard Ellie follow her.
“Maggie, you confuse me.”
Maggie let out a laugh. She shot Ellie a glare. “Now that’s a new one.”
Ellie didn’t falter. “I mean it. You’re so kind and brave, and I don’t know, so goddamned good. I have trouble believing it. I keep waiting for you—”
“What?” She stabbed a log, growing more upset.
“Everyone wants something from me. Of me. They all want a piece.”
Maggie straightened, staring into the fire. “I’m not everyone.”
Ellie stepped up to stand beside her. She held her hands out to feel the heat. “I’m coming to realize that.”
“I’m not going to ask anything of you. I don’t want anything.”
“Why not?”
Maggie looked at her and saw the innocence in the question. “Because I have all that I need.”
“But you’re alone.”
Maggie shrugged.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“I’m used to it.”
“I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”
“Yet you risked your life to get away to be alone.”
Ellie lowered her hands. “I don’t impress you do I?”
Maggie looked at her again, searching her eyes for motive. When she saw none she decided to be honest. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Is that what your problem with me is?”
“I’m not used to being treated like a person.”
“You are just a person.”
“I know that. You know that. But—”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I’m just not used to people l
ike you.”
“And I’m not used to people like you.”
“I suppose not.” Ellie moved away.
Maggie watched her walk quietly to the hallway where she disappeared.
Chapter Ten
Ellie returned to the bedroom feeling exhausted. Her heart fluttered in her chest with anxiousness, just as it did each time she had a difficult scene. And each time she wasn’t sure if she could do it, pull it off, go for broke. But she always managed to make it through. This, however, felt different. This was a person, not a scene. She’d hurt Maggie. She’d seen it on her face. It had looked as if someone had slapped her.
And she had. She’d verbally slapped her with Stacy.
Ellie closed the door softly behind her before crawling into the bed. A scratching came from the door, and she rose to let Lincoln in. He went for the bed and made himself comfortable. Ellie closed the door and joined him. She spread out alongside him and stroked his head. She loved the softness of his ears and the gentle breathing rhythm they both fell into.
Why had she hurt Maggie? Why had she intruded with Stacy? She would hate it if someone had done it to her. So why had she done it to Maggie?
Because she’d wanted to know. And now she did. Maggie had been in love with Stacy.
She rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. Maggie was gay.
Now she knew and she felt like hell. People were always so curious about her, and they would go to great lengths to find out something personal. Here she was doing it to another person. Playing games with her emotions to find information. It made her sick.
Could Maggie ever forgive her? Should she?
“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” she whispered as she stroked Lincoln. He answered by licking and nudging her to continue. “What’s wrong with me?” Why do I care if Maggie is gay? She sat up and pressed her palm against her stomach. It was fluttering. And she knew the reason why.
“No.” She shook her head, but her heart began to gallop in her chest.
She was attracted to her. Seriously so.
“Oh God.” She slid off the bed and hurried to the bathroom. She bent and splashed freezing cold water on her face. When she forced herself to look in the mirror, she saw a woman she hadn’t seen in years. A woman drawn to another woman. A woman so taken with another she’d go to the ends of the earth to be with her.