Maggie swallowed. What should she say?
“Jared, why don’t you answer me?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “This is Mr. MacNeill’s answering service. I’m afraid he is unavailable right now, but I will see that he gets your message. What name shall I give Mr. MacNeill, please?”
“To hell with my name.” The woman muttered something else, hot and unrepeatable, then slammed down the phone.
No, it wasn’t the sort of message you could leave with a third party.
Maggie wandered back to bed, only to toss restlessly. Her smile faded in a sizzle of jealousy at the thought of Jared wrapped in warm sheets with another woman. Some instinct told her he would be a masterful lover, as careful in pleasure as he was with the other details in his life. He would be a man who took time with a woman, overwhelming her with his intensity and his control.
The thought left her cheeks flaming.
Not with her, he wouldn’t. She didn’t know the man well enough to be jealous, and she wasn’t ever going to.
But her hand rose to her mouth, retracing a faint thread of memory.
Then with a hiss of anger, Maggie mounded her pillows over her head and closed her eyes.
Maggie woke up to bright sunlight.
Outside, the river was a road of beaten silver banked by dark trees. She was still absorbing the beauty when she heard the pad of feet and a knock at the door.
“Awake yet?” Jared was wearing the same soft jeans, but now a dark sweater hugged his chest.
“Possibly. It depends on that lovely smell.”
“Coffee. Eggs. Fresh scones.”
“Don’t tell me you cook.”
His brow arched. “Pure self-defense. Chasing people through dark alleys always leaves me with an appetite. Now up with you or everything will be ruined.”
Maggie fought back a wary smile as she tugged on a robe that was miles too big and padded into the kitchen. Jared set a full plate before her, then sat back to watch.
She paused with a fork halfway to her mouth, oddly disturbed by his scrutiny. It was almost as if he was trying to slip past skin and bone to find the heart of her. “You aren’t eating?”
“I’ve already eaten.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you sleep well?”
“Umm.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s an umm.”
He studied her over the rim of his teacup. “Have any memories surfaced?”
The question left a hollow tug at her chest. For a little while she had managed to forget the abbey and its shadows, along with her concern for her father. “None.”
“They’ll come.”
“I almost hope they don’t.” Maggie suppressed a shudder. “What about the man in the alley?”
“I’ve notified the police. Without a license plate or a clear description, I’m afraid there’s not much they can do.” He reached out and brushed a crumb gently from her cheek. “Let me worry about it. There’s more when you finish that.”
Maggie felt the feather-light touch of his fingers like a jolt of direct current. For a moment the room seemed to shift, oak beams and shadow instead of a sleek, contemporary kitchen.
She was relieved when he pulled away. She took a bite of the omelette and sighed in pure satisfaction. “I need to leave soon. I have two shops to visit on Brompton Road this morning.”
“Fine. I’ll pick you up afterward.”
“You’ve been very nice, but that’s not necessary.”
“Five o’clock. The Ritz. I’m taking you to dinner,” he said firmly.
Maggie frowned and pushed away her plate. He was crowding her again, overwhelming her. “I’ve got other plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“No.” She didn’t stop to consider, sweeping to her feet. The man was too sharp, too cool. Any more contact would throw her off balance entirely. “I said I can’t.”
“Then afterwards. The Ritz lobby at seven.”
She sighed. “No.”
“One way or another, I’m going to see you home safely tonight.”
Maggie glared, taking in the firm set of his jaw. “Are all Scotsmen this obstinate?”
“No.” A smile lurked in his eyes. “Some are worse.”
“I give up. But make it eight instead.”
He took her hand as she rose, his eyes watchful. “Be careful today.”
“I always am.”
His fingers closed, tracing slow circles over her wrist, and she felt electricity dive straight down her spine. She didn’t like this shivery feeling that came with every movement of his hands. Even worse was the way his eyes narrowed, as if he could see exactly the effect he was having on her.
And was enjoying it.
“It might be worth it, you know.”
“What?”
“Letting go, just once. Putting down that prickly guard of yours while you stop looking for shadows. Maybe you could even try trusting someone for a change. People do that on occasion.”
He wasn’t cocky now, Maggie saw. He wasn’t even calm. There was a fine edge of tension to each word, and banked desire shimmered in his eyes. His fingers moved slowly over her palm, and she felt her hand open unconsciously at his touch. When had a simple meal become such a dangerous thing?
Maggie closed her eyes and pulled free. “Not me. When you let go, you get burned, MacNeill. And I have enough adventure in my life.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “Maybe neither of us does. It might be one hell of an adventure to find out.” He watched her rise, the intensity of his gaze almost painful.
Maggie made her decision as she went off to dress. She owed Jared MacNeill for her rescue, but she wanted no more involvement. Balancing her life was hard enough, and she couldn’t afford any personal entanglements.
So she had absolutely no intention of being anywhere near the Ritz lobby tonight, not at seven or eight or any other hour.
AT TEN MINUTES TO EIGHT JARED PULLED HIS TRIUMPH into an empty spot near the Ritz and strode inside. Maggie was nowhere in sight. He’d suspected she might not show, of course, and had taken precautions.
After a quick conversation with the maitre d’, he flipped on his phone and drummed his fingers on a polished table-top.
“Mac, is that you?” his friend Izzy answered promptly.
“Afraid so. Where is she?”
“Staring at the jewelry window outside Harrod’s, looking like someone with all the time in the world.”
Jared said something low and graphic in Gaelic.
He’d been right. She’d had no intention of meeting him tonight. “Any sign that she’s being followed, Izzy?”
“None that I’ve picked up, but I’ve been mostly in the car. If you want, I’ll circle the block and then go in on foot to check.”
“Don’t bother. Just keep on her. I’ll be by as soon as I can cut through traffic.”
Less than ten minutes later, Jared moved up silently beside Maggie. She was peering through a window at a necklace of matched black pearls set in braided platinum. “Making your Christmas list early?”
She spun around, one hand to her chest. Her gaze locked on his formal white shirt and black evening jacket. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—”
“At the Ritz?” he finished calmly. “So I was, until you failed to arrive.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I had you watched.”
“You did what?” Her face flushed bright pink.
Jared took her arm and pulled her down the street, blandly ignoring the interested looks from a pair of passing men in homburgs.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking you to dinner. Unless my information is wrong, you haven’t eaten since breakfast. I expect you must be ravenous after visiting four jewelry shops, two museums, and a dozen bookstores.”
“You had no right to have me watched…” Her voice faded in a sputter.
“There’s no need to hiss. You�
��ve got to eat, and I’m prepared to take you. How about Hunanese?”
“I wouldn’t eat with you for all the tea in China.” She wrenched away. “What makes you think you can follow people around, poke into their lives and then swoop down like some hawk to force them to your bidding?”
“It’s dinner, Maggie, not a lifestyle change.”
Or was it? Jared thought. Did trust come so hard with her that a simple dinner invitation became a major assault?
“I can’t imagine what she sees in you.”
Jared frowned. “Who?”
“Your woman friend with the purring voice. She phoned last night while you were asleep. It seems that she was verrrry lonely. She wanted your company—in bed.”
Jessica had phoned again? Jared tried to hide his irritation. She had been after him for three months, since they’d been introduced at a party given by one of Nicholas’s friends. She still refused to accept that Jared wasn’t interested.
“She’s not my woman friend.”
“No?” She shrugged, but Jared saw a glint of irritation in her eyes. “I suppose complete strangers call you in the middle of the night and offer you their bodies.”
“One can wish.”
Maggie spun away, muttering. “I don’t need a watchdog. I just want to be left alone.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“What happened last night was a random crime. It had nothing to do with me or my father.”
He waited, saying nothing.
“But you still don’t believe that, do you?”
“In my experience, coincidence doesn’t exist,” he said grimly.
“Was following me Nicholas Draycott’s idea or yours?”
“Both.”
“In that case, you both can—”
She was about to say more when a garbage can clattered down the narrow drive, barely missing her feet. Seconds later a black shape shot through the darkness, yelping wildly.
Maggie froze. “If that was an overfed English rat, I don’t want to know.”
“Not many rats that I know yelp. It was a dog, I think.” Jared studied the gaunt shape cowering inches away.
The dog stiffened, growling softly as another can rattled over the drive. Behind the clanging metal a trio of young boys swaggered into view.
“’Ere, where’d the brute get off to?” one demanded, scowling at Jared.
“Haven’t seen it.”
“No? Then what d’ ye call that mangy bag of skin pressed against yer feet?” The tallest boy, probably all of sixteen, made a quick, poking stab with a stick pulled from beneath one arm. “’E’s my bleedin’ dog. Going ’ome with me, so ’e is.”
Jared caught the stick and sent it flying. “The dog stays here,” he snapped. “He’s frightened and he’s shivering and I expect he’s tired of your bullying.”
“’Ere now, yer can’t do that. Property’s property, ain’t it?”
Behind Jared the puppy flattened his ears and eased backward, trembling.
“This ‘property’ appears to have different ideas.” Gently, Jared picked up the trembling animal and his eyes turned very hard. “Now push off before I take a stick to you, the way you’ve done to this little fellow.”
The boys looked at the dog, then looked at Jared’s broad shoulders, then set off toward the street.
Silence fell. The dog yipped happily, shoving a wet nose into Jared’s face.
He winced. “Probably has fleas and worse.”
The thin body lurched enthusiastically.
“What’s your name, then?”
A quick bark. More wild wriggling.
“I guess that leaves the name up to me. What a mess you are.” Jared chuckled, scratching the small, alert head. “You look like a cross between a fox and a mongoose. I shudder to think what your parents were.”
Small, pointed ears flopped forward, and the puppy lunged for Jared’s bow tie, covering it with saliva.
“I can see I’m rapidly going to regret this.”
Maggie laughed. “I think he’s cute. All that hair goes so well with your evening jacket. So does the puppy saliva.” She smiled smugly. “And since you can hardly take him to dinner, I’ll find my own way back to the hotel.”
Jared frowned at her over the mass of wriggling fur. “Hold him for a moment, will you? I think he’s caught.”
“Do you really expect me to fall for that?” Maggie shook her head. “Not on your life. Enjoy your meal and your new friend.”
“I’m serious. It’s his paw.” Jared stared down in disgust. “Somehow he’s managed to get twisted in my shirt.”
As Maggie reluctantly bent closer, the dog yelped. Ears flattened back, he struggled, clearly in pain. “Poor thing. Come to Maggie, then, and let the mean old man tug you free.”
Jared ignored her jibe, gently probing to find the little paw, now solidly thrust between the studs on his evening shirt. With every movement the dog whined pathetically. “They must have hurt him,” he said harshly.
“I think he’s bleeding. There’s something dark on your shirt, and he doesn’t seem to want me to touch his neck.” Vainly she tried to hold the mass of struggling fur, then thrust the puppy back to Jared. “Just tell me where he’s caught.”
“Fourth one down, I think.”
Maggie stared at the white shirt beneath the struggling fur and counted downward. She had half an idea to leave now, while Jared was so distracted.
But with a resigned sigh she went to work, one hand sliding beneath the restless animal while she searched for the first button. A moment later Maggie found they weren’t buttons at all, but impossible little circles caught through the tightest of holes. “What are these things, anyway?” she muttered, bent over Jared and trying to avoid the yelping puppy.
“They’re studs.”
Studs. It figured.
“I’m afraid they’re going to be tight.”
“You can say that again.” Twice her fingers slipped free, and the wriggling paws didn’t help a bit.
Maggie bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to cause the poor creature any more pain. “Hold him tighter, and back over there beside that light post so I can see what I’m doing.”
They must be a sight, she thought, following Jared with one hand wedged beneath his shirt.
A middle-aged couple strolled past. Their eyes widened, registering sharp disapproval. “Can we get this done before anyone else wanders by?” she muttered. “What will they think?”
“That they’ve just interrupted the prelude to a steamy evening,” Jared said calmly. “And that I am a very lucky man.”
“Because I’m tearing off your shirt in lust?”
“Something like that.” Jared raised his arm, pulling the crisp white fabric tighter across his lean chest. “Tear away.”
The trouble, Maggie decided, was that the shirt was cut too well and she had no room to maneuver. And the real trouble, she decided a moment later, was that he was too warm, too hard, too muscled beneath her fingers.
Heat flared over her face. She frowned, trying to keep her thoughts on the job, on anything but that expanse of male chest. She finally managed to grip one metal circle and rip it free to the puppy’s excited barking.
“One down, three to go.”
“I only hope he’s housebroken,” Jared muttered.
Maggie’s gaze swung up in shock. “He hasn’t—”
“Not yet, but I wouldn’t put it past the wretch. Hurry, can’t you?”
Another stud tore free, giving Maggie room to shove her whole hand under the shirt. She thought she saw Jared’s jaw tense as she brushed his ribs.
Warm skin.
Hard, shifting muscle.
She closed her mind down hard, telling herself she felt nothing, wanted nothing. There was no reason for this swift, hot awareness of his body. “There’s some sort of string here. I think it’s wrapped around his paw.”
“I thought it was something like that.”
The dog
’s wild movements appeared to have shredded one edge of Jared’s cummerbund, leaving the creature trapped tighter than ever.
“Did you find it?” There was something odd and distant about his voice.
Maggie tugged hard, following the thread lower until it vanished.
Right beneath his waistband.
“I can’t,” she snapped.
“Why not?”
“It’s gone beneath your—your clothes,” she said in a strangled voice.
Increasingly restless, the dog lurched wildly up at Jared’s face, only to collapse with a shiver of pain.
“You’ll have to, I’m afraid. Much more of this and he’ll hurt himself badly. I can’t say it’s pleasant for me either,” he added hoarsely.
Maggie shot a glance at his face, trying to read the expression in his eyes.
He raised his arms higher. “Just have at it, will you? The dog and I will both survive somehow.” He muttered a low phrase of Gaelic as her fingers edged down toward his waist. “At least I hope so.”
In a blur of embarrassment, Maggie found the waistband and followed the heavy thread lower. “It’s caught.”
“I know that.”
“No, it’s caught lower. On your…on one of those button things.” She bit her lip. Trust him not to have a zipper like any normal man. “Give me the dog and you finish it.”
Jared shifted the restless, frightened animal toward her and was rewarded with a low howl and a burst of kicking limbs. He muttered a graphic curse. “No good. You’ll have to do it. Just think of me as another insensate diamond that you’re mounting.” His mouth twitched. “No pun intended.”
Maggie closed her eyes and searched lower, tracing that hard, flat stomach. Don’t think about it, she thought angrily. Don’t remember how he looked with his jeans half open.
She stiffened as she found the damnable thread…and something else that was clearly outlined against her fingers. Her gaze snapped to his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“You—it—”
His eyes were very dark. “Of course I am. You can’t probe at me with those amazing hands of yours and not expect a reaction,” he said flatly. “You’d have a dead man twitching.”
Amazing hands?
She stared at the ground, her breath coming hot and fast. “Look, I can’t do it.” She spoke in a rush, wishing she were anywhere else. Why did it matter so much? Why couldn’t she just smile and be blasé as either of her worldly cousins would have done?
The Perfect Gift Page 15