For Mike's Sake

by Janet Dailey

  Wade ended his imprisonment of her mouth, leaving her lips swollen with passion, and began a sensuous exploration of her curving neck. Desire quivered along her spine as he found the pleasure points that excited her, and Maggie couldn't stop the moan of delight from escaping her throat.

  The fanning warmth of his disturbed breathing caressed her skin.

  "God help me, Maggie, but I want you."

  His husky, grudging admission sent tremors through her limbs.

  She felt the pressure of his growing need for her. It was echoed by the empty ache in her loins. There was only here and now; nothing else existed, and this moment would never come again.

  "Don't you think I feel the same, Wade?" she whispered.

  With blazing sureness his mouth sought her lips. There was only one ultimate climax to the crushing embrace. But before a move could be made in that direction, a young voice jolted them back to reality.

  "Mom! Dad! Look at the size of the fish I caught!" Mike's excited cry tore their kiss apart.

  Almost immediately he came tumbling down the steps, holding the fish aloft.

  There was no time for Wade to withdraw his arms from around her. A trembling Maggie was glad of their support.

  Her head dipped to hide behind the protective shield of Wade's wide shoulders, concealing her love-drugged expression from her son.

  She felt Wade take a deep, controlling breath before glancing over his shoulder.

  "It's the biggest one yet!"

  Instead of holding the fish by the gills, Mike was trying to hold it in his hands. It slipped through his grasp onto the cabin floor, giving both of them a momentary reprieve from his gaze.

  "It is a big fish," Wade agreed.

  "See it, mom?"

  This time Mike picked it up correctly.

  A supporting arm remained around her as Wade moved to one side.

  "It's a beauty, Mike." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strange.

  It earned her a curious look from Mike. "Are you all right, mom?"

  "I'm fine."

  Maggie shivered in late reaction.

  "She's just a bit chilled, that's all," Wade inserted.

  Chilled. It was directly the opposite. Her whole body was suffused with heat, the heat of regret, of shame, and of love.

  But Maggie didn't contradict his statement, letting it be an explanation of why Wade had been so obviously holding her.

  Mike seemed satisfied with the answer and let his attention return to the fish he held. "Actually I caught it on your pole, mom." He grinned at Wade, "I guess we'll have to say it's hers."

  "I guess we will." Wade nodded in concession.

  "I'd better go put this guy on the stringer and see if anything's biting on my line."

  As quickly as he had come, Mike left, scurrying back on deck.

  His departure left an uncomfortable void. Aware of Wade's piercing study, Maggie turned away from it. Her emotions were still too close to the surface. A bubbling sound provided the necessary distraction.

  "The water's boiling," she said. "I'd better get that coffee before it boils away."

  She turned her back on him as she shut off the gas to the burner.

  "Maggie …"

  She could hear the beginnings of au apology in his voice.

  No doubt it would be followed by a reminder that he was engaged to someone else and that the desire they had shared moments ago was all a mistake, and they were the very last things she wanted to hear. The tears weren't that far away.

  Maggie sought refuge behind the excuse Wade had offered the last time.

  "We were following the pattern of a memory, first arguing, then kissing. It didn't mean anything." Not to you, her heart qualified the last statement.

  There was a long silence that left her with the uncanny feeling that Wade didn't believe she meant what she said. Then a drawer opened beneath one of the bunk beds.

  "After you drink your coffee, it probably wouldn't hurt if you wrapped up in a blanket and stayed below."

  "I think I will."

  Maggie didn't fight his suggestion.

  There was another pause before she heard Wade mounting the steps to the deck.

  Her hand shook as she added the boiling water to the brown crystals in the mug. Now she did feel cold, and terribly lonely.

  Carrying the mug to the bed, she wrapped herself in the blanket Wade had laid on the bunk.

  Within minutes after she had curled herself into a ball of abject misery, Maggie heard the engines start. She knew Wade wasn't going to look for another fishing hole; he was returning to the marina. She closed her eyes and tried to forget.

  Maggie didn't emerge from the cocoon of the blanket until the boat was docked, the mooring lines tied, and the engines silent.

  She wadded her wet clothes into a bundle and started up the steps.

  The instant she set foot on deck, Wade's voice barked, "Where do you think you're going?"

  "I presume you're taking us home." His tone instantly put Maggie on the defensive. Poised short of the top step, she lifted her chin.

  "Not dressed like that."

  Wade softened his tone, but it was no less lacking in determination.

  "I hope you don't think I'm going to wear these." She indicated the wet bundle of clothes in her hand. "They're wet. It may not bother you, but I'm not going to stain the upholstery in that expensive car by wearing these wet things."

  He stood in her path, blocking it as effectively as a tall gate.

  "You're not wearing that shirt."

  "For heaven's sake, Wade —" his attitude rankled "— this shirt covers more than if I were wearing a bathing suit."

  "I don't care how much it covers." There was a hardening set to his jaw. "No wife of mine is going to parade down these docks half-dressed."

  His statement seared through her, but Maggie realized that Wade was unaware of what he had said. The swift rush of heat was quickly replaced by a chilling depression.

  Avoiding his gaze, she made a bitterly mocking reply. "I'm not your wife anymore. Or had you forgotten?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the startled jerk of his head. Taking advantage of the moment, she climbed the last step and brushed past him. Wade didn't try to stop her.

  Mike was on the dock, standing by one of the mooring lines.

  "Are you taking us straight home, dad? What about the fish?" He had seen them talking, but hadn't heard the substance of their conversation.

  "Your mother needs some dry clothes," Wade answered. "As for the fish, we'll take them with us."

  "You'll help me clean them, won't you? I'm still not very good at it." Mike scrambled back aboard to get the fish.

  Maggie heard Wade agree as she stepped ashore. Within minutes the three of them were making their way to the silver Mercedes in the marina parking lot. Most of the looks that Maggie received focused on the bare length of her legs, rather than the oversized flannel shirt and what was, or wasn't, beneath it. Maggie ignored the mostly admiring glances, but it wasn't so easy to ignore Wade's growing aloofness.

  At the house, Maggie carried her wet clothes to the utility room while Mike and Wade gathered what they needed from the kitchen to clean the fish. As they walked out the side door to the backyard, Maggie went to her bedroom to dress.

  When they returned to the kitchen with the cleaned fish in a pan of water, they were laughing about something. A pain of loss and regret splintered through Maggie and she turned away to conceal it.

  Mike came rushing forward. "Will you cook the fish tonight?"

  "If you like," she agreed, taking the pan from him and setting it on the counter.

  "Great!" With her agreement obtained, he turned back to his father. "Now we can eat what we caught, like real outdoorsmen."

  "You can."

  "Aren't you staying?" Mike was surprised, but Maggie wasn't.

  "I can't. I have a date tonight." Wade's voice was smooth, his words cutting.

  "But —" Mike sear
ched for a protest "— this morning before mom agreed to come along, you said we might not get home until dark and we'd eat somewhere before you brought me home. Why can't you stay now?"

  He was standing close to her. Maggie turned and quickly but affectionately placed her hand across his mouth, silencing him before his innocent remarks made the situation more awkward than it already was.

  "Your father said he had to leave, Mike. That's final." She took her hand away and saw the resigned droop of his mouth.

  "I'm sorry, Mike. I'll be busy tomorrow, but I'll call you Thursday," Wade promised.

  "I have baseball practice in the morning," Mike told him.

  "I'll remember. Between now and Thursday afternoon, you can be thinking about what you'd like to do," Wade suggested.

  "Okay," Mike agreed with halfhearted enthusiasm.

  The exchange was prolonged for a few more minutes before Wade finally left.

  Maggie's only acknowledgment from him was a curt nod of goodbye. She turned to the sink when the door closed and began rinsing the fish in cold water. Mike watched.

  "You know where he's going, don't you?" Mike said glumly.

  "Where?"

  "He's got a date with her." The feminine pronoun was emphasized with scorn as Mike wandered away from the sink.

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  Chapter Eleven

  MAGGIE WIPED THE PERSPIRATIONfrom her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. She hadn't realized there were so many weeds in the flower bed when she'd started. The muscles in her back were beginning to cramp from constantly bending over. But she was almost done. Arching her shoulders briefly to ease the stiffness, she again stooped to her task.

  A car turned into the driveway. Her backward glance recognized the station wagon as being familiar, but she couldn't immediately decide why.

  Her brows drew together in a frown as she straightened up.

  The passenger door opened and Mike scrambled out, baseball and glove in his hand. "You forgot to pick me up, didn't you?" he accused.

  Her green eyes widened in disbelief. "Practice can't be over this soon?"

  "Well, it is," he declared in disgust. "Coach gave me a ride home since you didn't show up."

  Embarrassed, Maggie glanced at the bronzed man sliding out from behind the wheel of the car.

  "I'm sorry, I honestly didn't realize it was so late. I started weeding the garden and lost all track of time, I guess."

  "That's all right. Things like that happen." Smiling away her apology, Tom Darby walked around the hood of the car toward her.

  "All the time," Mike mumbled, but thankfully not loud enough for Tom to hear.

  Denny, the neighbor boy, called to Mike, wanting him to come over. With his coach there, Mike refused, shouting, "Later!"

  "Denny has a new puppy he wants you to see," Maggie told him.

  "Oh!" That changed things.

  He shoved his baseball and glove into her hands and raced off.

  Self-conscious about her oversight, Maggie tried to make amends.

  "Thanks for bringing Mike home. I really appreciate it. I know it was out of your way."

  "It was no trouble at all," Tom insisted. "In fact, it gave me the perfect excuse to see you again."

  His boldness took her by surprise. It shouldn't have, she realized. Her actions in the past had encouraged him to show this interest.

  It was just in the last few days all her thoughts had been concerned with Wade. Tom Darby had ceased to exist in her mind as anything but Mike's coach.

  "Oh." It was a small sound, revealing Maggie's inner confusion.

  The initial attraction she had felt toward Tom had faded into insignificance in the face of the overwhelming emotion that consumed her. How could she handle the change?

  Tom appeared not to notice her hesitation. He continued with the confidence of a man whose suit had never been rejected. His hazel eyes looked steadily into her green ones.

  "I would like yon to have dinner with me one night this weekend. Friday or Saturday night, whichever is convenient for you?"

  His technique was excellent, not giving her a chance to say no, only to choose which night to accept.

  "I'm sorry, but I really can't say if I can come." Maggie stalled for a moment. "With Mike's father here, it's difficult for me to make plans until I know what his are. I'll have to take a raincheck on the invitation."

  "Whatever you say." He wasn't happy with her answer, but he seemed resigned to it. Glancing up at the clear, blue sky overhead, he remarked, "It's going to be warm today."

  Maggie sensed a hint behind the comment. Regardless of his motives, Tom had done her a favor by bringing Mike home.

  The least she could do was repay him with some measure of hospitality.

  "It's already warm. And you've been on the ball field with those boys all morning. Let me offer you something cold to drink since I can't accept your dinner invitation. Iced tea, beer, Coke?"

  "A beer would taste good if it isn't too much trouble," Tom accepted with alacrity.

  "It's no trouble. I'll get it."

  Tom followed her into the house, something Maggie hadn't planned on, but she didn't object. She set Mike's ball and glove on the kitchen table and paused to remove her cotton work gloves.

  Tom strolled along a few paces behind her, seeming to appear perfectly at home. She walked to the refrigerator.

  "How is Mike doing?"

  Maggie sought to establish a less personal topic of conversation, discuss Tom's work and steer away from his social life and whether it would or would not include her.

  "He's doing fine, shows a real aptitude for the game."

  As she opened the refrigerator door, she cast him a brief, smiling look.

  "Except for his hitting, which is abominable. He was really upset that he didn't get a single hit in the game the other night."

  "His hitting will improve before the summer is over," Tom replied with a certainty that revealed a firm belief in his teaching prowess. "Mike has to learn to keep his eye on the ball and stop swinging blindly at anything that comes over the plate."

  "It must take a lot of patience to teach inexperienced boys how to play baseball."

  Along with the can of beer, Maggie took the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator shelf. "Would you like a glass for your beer?"

  "The can is fine."

  He took it from her and pulled off the tab. "I suppose it does require patience, but the end results are rewarding. I enjoy sports and I enjoy working with kids. For me, it's natural to combine the two."

  "That's good."

  Taking a glass from the cupboard, Maggie filled it with tea from the pitcher for herself.

  "Listen, Maggie … there isn't any reason why I can't bring Mike home after practice. You don't need to keep making special trips to pick him up."

  He walked over to stand next to her, leaning a hip against the counter edge.

  "It's very generous of you to offer, but I couldn't let you do it."

  Maggie shook her head in refusal.

  The sunshine streaming in through the window above the sink glinted on the fiery sheen of her hair.

  It caught Tom's attention and he reached out to touch it as an innocent child would reach out for a dancing flame.

  "Your hair is an extraordinary shade of red." A lock trailed across his finger. His voice was musing and absent. "Beautiful."

  "Thank you." Maggie would have moved to the side to elude his involuntary caress, but the kitchen door leading outside opened.

  She froze as Wade crossed the threshold and stopped, his gaze narrowing darkly, slashing from her to Tom. The curling strand of hair slid off Tom's finger. They were standing so close together at that moment that the scene didn't look as innocent as it had been: the hard glitter in Wade's eyes told Maggie that.

  "Mike is at the neighbors'." Maggie took the step from Tom's side.

  Her head assumed a defiant angle; she was irritated by the criticism and condemnation sh
e saw written in Wade's features. She was single, thus free to have male friends.

  "I know." Wade's attitude continued to be silently intimidating. "I saw him when I drove in and he told me you were in the house. I wanted to speak to you."

  Again, Maggie thought, and mentally braced herself. The last time he had wanted to speak to her privately it was to announce his marriage plans.

  What was it about this time? Something equally shattering, she was sure.

  Tom took the rather broad hint that his presence wasn't welcome and set his can of beer on the counter top.

  "I'd better be moving along. Thanks for the beer, Maggie."

  "I'll walk you to the door."

  She had an unreasoning desire to postpone the inevitable conversation with Wade, if only for a few minutes. "Help yourself to something cold to drink, Wade. I'll be right back."

  There was no response, but she hadn't expected there to he one.

  Ignoring the side door Wade had entered, she led Tom through the living room to the front door.

  "Thanks again for bringing Mike home."

  "Maggie —" he paused at the door, his thoughtfully curious gaze resting on her face "— is there a reconciliation in the works between the two of you?"

  "No, hardly," she answered with a bitterly rueful twist to her mouth.

  "Are you sure? Because I had the distinct impression when he walked in that I was being confronted by an outraged husband." His head tipped skeptically at an angle.

  "You must have been mistaken."

  If Tom hadn't, it was probably a case that even if Wade didn't want her anymore, he didn't want her to be with anyone else, either.

  "I don't know …" Tom was still hesitant.

  "I do." Maggie smiled. "You see, Wade is engaged. The wedding is this month."

  He seemed to digest the information before accepting it.

  "I guess I did make a mistake, then." He shrugged the incident away. "I'll be seeing you, Maggie."

  "Yes. Goodbye, Tom."

  When he had left, Maggie returned to the kitchen. Wade had helped himself to a glass of tea and was putting the pitcher back in the refrigerator.

  "Was he one of the marital prospects on your horizon?" Wade asked.

  Pride made her answer, "He could be," although she seriously doubted it.