by Laura Wright
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you ever just want to cut loose? Be carefree. Maybe get a little wild?” She grinned. “I recommend it highly.”
Maggie’s brows furrowed. “Grandma, please don’t tell me that you’re trying to get me to be a bad girl.”
“Just for the weekend, honey. Then if you don’t like it, you can return to the safety of being a good girl.”
It was the second time in two days that she’d heard her life being referred to as “safe.” Once by her grandma and once by the man Maggie had wanted to fling herself on when he’d crept back to their room late last night. “What’s so wrong with being responsible and practical?”
“Nothing, unless your purpose becomes giving others a good time but never yourself.” She kissed Maggie on the cheek. “You deserve to have a few days and nights of decadent fun.” Then she handed her the red dress. “I’ve got to run to the salon. You decide about the dress. And,” she said with a parting wink, “the night of decadence.”
In the full-length mirror, Maggie watched her grandma go. She didn’t want to be cautious and boring—she wasn’t boring. Whether anyone believed it or not, she did have a few carefree oats left in her.
Two women her age came scampering out of a dressing room wearing the fun, clingy, sexy kind of dress she held in her hands. They spun around in front of the mirror, their faces excited and eager.
Oh, just the thought of blowing Nick Kaplan away with a sexy dress, a fabulous new hairstyle and a devil-may-care attitude made the fun-fairies that had been waiting patiently within her for years fly about.
Maybe he’d even kiss her again, she thought. What harm would there be in a few kisses? Maggie Conner—bad girl, carefree girl. She smiled at the thought and signaled the salesgirl that she’d made her decision.
Tonight would belong to the woman Maggie was determined to set free. But in the back of her mind she knew that, come Sunday, she would have to return to the safety and protection of her life in Santa Flora.
It had been close to five-thirty by the time Maggie had returned to the suite. Nick hadn’t been there, only a note from him telling her that he was hanging out with the nervous groom and she had the place to herself to get ready—that he’d meet her down by the pool at seven.
And it was almost that now, Maggie mused, glancing over at the clock. Five minutes to seven. After checking her makeup and slipping on her dress, she looked in the full-length mirror once more and let out a very girlish, very nervous laugh.
She understood those women in the dress shop now.
Except for her gold locket, Maggie didn’t look anything like herself. The red strapless dress hit just below the knee and showed off every curve. The matching strappy sandals displayed her pretty painted toes and were three inches high at least, making her legs look miles long. The woman at the salon had given Maggie a seductive up-do that allowed several errant wisps to frame her face.
She couldn’t wait for Nick to see her, she thought as she left the room and made her way downstairs.
The setup for the ceremony and reception was breathtakingly beautiful—complete with an ice sculpture, Maggie was pleased to note. Several guests had arrived and were milling about, talking. She wondered who they all were, and if even half of them had met Kitty and Ted.
She turned back toward the stairs looking for the bride and groom. But she didn’t see either of them. What she did see caused a sharp intake of breath and a dry throat as she caught sight of Nick. Granted, men in tuxes were always handsome. But none, none, compared to Nick Kaplan. He stood at the top of the stairs, one hand in his pants pocket, looking off-the-chart gorgeous. Dressed in a traditional tuxedo, his eyes flashed pure green deviltry. What had ever made her think that this man wasn’t sophisticated?
She glanced around. It was worse than the salon in the mall. There were far more women here, and they were all staring at him as he walked down the steps, a confident smile playing about his lips.
Then he saw her.
At first his gaze raked over her slowly, from her red toes to her red lipstick. When his gaze finally came to rest on hers, all amusement had vanished from his expression. He strode toward her, something primitive, almost possessive burning behind his eyes. The intensity of it made Maggie feel as if she was about to become his hapless prey.
“Maggie Conner,” he said when he stood in front of her. “If you were going for the drop-to-my-knees, howling-at-the-moon, begging-for-a-kiss kind of look tonight,” he paused and grinned slowly, “you succeeded.”
She broke into a wide smile, suddenly feeling as if she was walking on a cloud. “Thank you.” He looked even better up close, if that were possible. Broad shoulders, just a hint of shadow on his jaw.
Be still my heart, she mused, glancing over at the bar. The two female bartenders were gaping at Nick, trying to catch his eye. Of all the rude— She paused at that thought. Wasn’t she the one trying to find him true love? The woman of his dreams?
She swatted away all thoughts of making a match for this gorgeous man. She wasn’t finding him anything or anyone. Not tonight, anyway.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Nick asked her as a waiter passed by with a silver tray full of glasses of champagne.
Champagne was a fast train ride to Uninhibited City. Maggie had heard several people say that the bubbly potion made your knees weak and your senses explode. Well, this was it. Decision time. Did she buy a ticket or stay in Safe-and-Dull Junction forever?
She grabbed the champagne from the tray and was about to take a sip when Nick stopped her.
“We haven’t made a toast.” He raised his glass, his eyes smoky. “To a magical night for Kitty and Ted.”
She smiled, clinked her glass with his and added, “To a magical night for everyone.”
Six
She was a different woman tonight, Nick mused, watching Maggie across the long candlelit table as she talked to her new grandfather and sipped champagne. They were far enough away that Nick couldn’t hear what they were saying, but every few minutes Maggie would break out into a cheery laugh that filled the night air with warmth. She was carefree and looked relaxed under the gauzy white tent that housed the bride, groom, Maggie, Nick and about thirty-six strangers who were fast becoming friends.
She also looked unbelievably stunning in her red dress and heels. It had been one thing to imagine what she wore underneath her neatly pressed pants and high-collared blouses but tonight her sensuality lay bare for all to see and admire.
And they did.
Men from eighteen to eighty watched, their gazes following her wherever she went. But she hadn’t seemed to notice. Her attention had been focused on the last-minute preparations and her grandma’s bouquet.
The ceremony itself had gone off effortlessly. And even though Nick didn’t believe in marriage for himself, he was happy for the couple. Under the fading eyes of a red sunset, Kitty and Ted had pronounced their love and commitment, then given each other a ravenous kiss before the official had pronounced them husband and wife. It was all fine and very sweet and just as a wedding should be. But during that kiss, Maggie had looked over at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, and it had done something to him. He didn’t know why—maybe didn’t even want to know why—but that look had gripped his heart like a damn vise. And had rendered him mute ever since.
During the toast, dinner—even while the cake had been served—he’d kept to himself. And it hadn’t been easy. He’d wanted to talk to her, look into those eyes and tell her just what he thought of that dress. Every so often she’d turn to look at him, the warm desert breeze picking up wisps of dark hair and blowing them about her face. Her eyes shone like the crystal glass she held, then turned dark and seductive as she tipped that glass and sipped her champagne.
Beside him, he heard a soft laugh as Kitty sat down at the vacant seat next to him. “Are you staring at my granddaughter?”
“Admiring,” he corrected.
“Ah.”
Her tone was filled with understanding. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Someday she’ll make a beautiful bride.”
His chest tightened as he turned to look at Maggie. A vision of her dressed in white flashed into his mind and at the same time annoyance flowed through his blood. Why was marriage the goal of every parent, every grandparent, every woman?
Kitty studied him. “I’m not talking about you, Nick, if that’s what you’re thinking. All that jabber about tuxes last night was just a little joke. And the living together, well, that was a hope. I know how different the two of you are. Maggie appreciates commitment, and you appreciate freedom.”
Damn right he did. He drained the remainder of the champagne in his glass, glad that the subject was cleared up. But then he paused and looked back at Kitty. “So this weekend was about…”
“Fun. Just plain fun. For both of you.” Kitty eyed her granddaughter. “But I’m always thinking about her future. Keeping my eye out for Mr. Right.”
Mr. Right. Nick snorted. “Well, I hope he’s out there.”
“I know he is,” she said, sounding absolutely convinced. “Maybe you can help me to find him.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t see how.”
“In your business you must know many eligible young men.” She smiled. “Maggie’s your matchmaker. You could be hers.”
“I don’t think so, Kitty,” he said.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “It was just a thought.”
The thought of seeing his new roommate with another man kissing her, touching her, made Nick want to put his fist through the table.
He wanted out of this conversation and he wanted thoughts of Maggie with other guys out of his mind.
To the right of the pool, the band had finished setting up. They announced themselves and began to play a bluesy midtempo tune with lots of bass.
“Dancing,” Kitty said, a smile in her voice. “The true passage to seduction.”
Nick nodded, then found out quickly how right she was as, one after the other, men turned to stare at Maggie, their eyes fixated on her as if she was a fine bottle of merlot they were desperate to uncork.
Kitty saw them, too, and remarked, “Looks like I won’t be needing much help after all.”
Nick’s muscles tensed. When he and Maggie got back to Santa Flora, the dating and matchmaking would return to both their lives. Then she could find her Mr. Right. Next week or next year for all he cared. Tonight she was with him.
He stood, walked the length of the table and offered his hand to Maggie. “Dance with me?” he asked, trying to keep the possessive tone out of his voice.
Maggie felt her heart leap and fall as she stared up into Nick’s emerald gaze. This was it. The crossroads. If she was going to follow through on her decision to loosen the strings that bound her, she would just have to give in to the longing inside her.
She put her cool hand in Nick’s warm one and smiled. “I’d love to.”
They walked toward the dance floor, past the swimming pool that glittered like blue glass under the electric lights. Couples were already converging onto the small black-tiled floor, which was wreathed by flowers wrapped loosely in twinkling lights. Maggie breathed in the rich scent of the blooms as Nick led her out into the midst of the flowers and lights and pulled her into his arms. It felt good to be held, and held by him.
She looked up at him as they swayed to the music. “I have to tell you something.”
He raised a brow at her while his arm tightened around her waist. “Well, confession is good for the soul. Or so I’ve heard.”
“I’ve heard the same thing. So here goes.” She smiled a little shyly. “You are a dashing best man, Mr. Kaplan.”
He grinned. “That is a pretty shocking confession. But I’ll go you one better.” Suddenly he released her, twirled her around, then caught her close. “You are the most beautiful maid of honor I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed at his playfulness but shook her head at his flattery. “I’m not beautiful. Cute, maybe, but not beautiful.”
He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, “I say that you are.”
Breathing was impossible at that moment. Thinking, too. He was so close his chest pressed against her breasts, his hips tight against her belly. And that scent that emanated from him. Spicy and so intoxicatingly male. She lowered her gaze but found her voice. “I forgot that you’re such an expert on women.”
“I never said that.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “I just said I knew how to kiss a woman.”
Emboldened by the smooth, seductive tonic known as champagne, she whispered, “But do you know how to kiss a woman while you’re dancing?” Oh-oh, she thought, you’re in the deep end now.
An eyebrow shot up over his left eye. “You want to find out?” His tone was low and raspy and over-flowing with promises.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she knew the old Maggie, the Maggie of this morning, would pull away at such an invitation—pretend she didn’t know what he meant. But that wouldn’t be fulfilling the promise she’d made to herself today. And she was going to follow through no matter how unfamiliar—or how good—it felt.
She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have asked the question if I didn’t, Nick.”
His eyes darkened as the red-hot sound of the saxophone was carried to them by a gust of desert wind. “Don’t say my name like that again,” he warned, “or I will kiss you—here, dancing in front of everyone. No more playing around.”
She lowered her lashes and threw down another card. “I’m not playing…Nick.”
She barely got his name out before he covered her mouth with his. The kiss was hard, passion-filled and quick. He pulled away just as abruptly as he’d come.
“I can’t breathe,” she said, pressing against him, but the breathlessness wasn’t from desire alone. Their first kiss on the night he’d moved in had been like a knock on Snow White’s glass coffin, but this kiss had awakened Maggie from a long and very unfulfilling sleep. And for the first time in her life she truly understood what she’d been missing. What she’d allowed herself to go without.
“Why did you do that?” he practically growled as the band ended the song with a flourish of percussion. “Why did you bait me? I warned you…”
She nodded and strove for lightness. No way was she telling him that she wanted him…wanted him to seduce her. “It was research. I had to make sure you could do two things at once.”
“Do you need any further demonstrations on that point?” he asked, his voice heavy with irritation.
Her brow knit together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, then suddenly turned and led her off the dance floor.
“We’re done dancing?” she asked, dragging her feet as she followed him back up to the head table. No, she thought, I need more. I’m dying of thirst here and he’s holding the darn canteen! “C’mon, Nick, how about one more dance?” she asked, hopeful.
“Don’t you think you should save something for those other guys waiting to dance with you?”
Where the devil had that come from? she thought as she watched his dark smile fade like foul weather setting in. He turned toward the bar, and she followed his gaze. A trio of men stared openly at her with appreciative eyes.
“Who knows, Maggie,” Nick continued dryly, grabbing a glass of champagne from the table. “Maybe one of those guys is your soul mate. Maybe one of them actually believes in that bunk you sell. If I were you,” he said with cold formality, “I’d go check it out.”
“Would you?” she retorted, lips tight.
He nodded, his jaw twitching.
“Well, you have at it then,” she said, her tone ripe with her own irritation. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed.”
Maggie didn’t have to guess why he was being such a jerk, pushing her into dancing with other men. Her put-on boldness had led her to make a complete fool of herself. Nick couldn’t have made it clearer that
he wasn’t interested in what she was so shamelessly offering.
That room-service menu had better have ice cream and lots of it, she thought as she turned away from Nick’s glowering face. Then, after she kissed her grandma and Ted good-night, she headed for the elevator.
Nick watched her go, holding back a curse. Women. They had no idea what they wanted. Acting cool one minute and coy the next. Again he’d been goaded into kissing her, and again his body had jolted awake like a three-alarm fire. Maybe he was going through some kind of midlife crisis at thirty. That would explain these strange…feelings he hadn’t been able to shake over the past week. It wasn’t lust—he knew what that felt like all too well. It could just be irritation or pure annoyance. He was certainly feeling that.
What he really needed, he thought, as he shot to his feet, was to get out of this world of wedding bliss. It was starting to warp his mind. Maybe he’d go to the casino or head straight for the bar the way he had last night. Whatever he did, he wanted out of here. He gave Kitty a kiss on the cheek, shook Ted’s hand and took off for the lobby.
But he didn’t go to the bar or to the gaming tables. Instead he followed the trail of a warm, intoxicating fragrance. Like an idiot, he went after Maggie.
He caught up with her at the elevators. “Maggie, hold on a minute.”
“What are you doing here?” she said, stabbing repeatedly at the up button that was already lit.
“Looking for you.”
“Why?”
The elevator doors slid open and Nick expelled an aggravated breath. “I don’t know.”
She didn’t say anything, just stalked into the empty elevator. He followed her. “Dammit, Maggie.” Taking her hand, he turned her to face him. “Look, I didn’t want you to leave the party.”
She wrenched her hand free, leaned past him and pushed the button for the seventeenth floor. “No. You wanted me to dance with those other men.” The door closed and they were alone. “Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t interested in—”
“Dammit, Maggie,” he repeated, hauled her against him, kissed her hard, then pressed her back against the elevator wall. “I am interested in you. That’s the problem.”