She didn’t doubt it. Magnet to metal filings.
“Magee…” she whispered, taking the ignored soda out of his hand to put it on the window ledge behind his head. Her fingers drifted through his hair, and he closed his eyes.
“I know what you need…” she started.
“Do you?” His hands circled her waist and he pulled her between his knees, then pressed his cheek against her abdomen. “Tell me. For God’s sake, tell me.”
Opportunity wasn’t just knocking, it was battering down her door, Felicity thought. Her fingers trembled as she stroked Magee’s hair. Say the words! Moving to L.A. will make you brand new again. Do what Simon planned—it will be your passport to fulfillment.
You owe it to yourself.
Reach your full potential.
Her fingers tightened in Magee’s hair, and he groaned, nuzzling against her. “You’re right, Lissie. What I need right now is you.” His hands came around to the buttons of her blouse.
She shivered, letting him do what he wanted. Their physical connection would only add to her selling points. Included at no extra cost.
He tugged the blouse from her skirt, then pushed back the edges to reach her bra. The front clasp parted at a snap of his fingers. Her heart might be aching for him, but her pulse started pounding, her body heating with that bad-girl passion that only Magee could bring out in her.
But they were in her trailer! She shouldn’t take the chance of being found here with him.
He peeled the silky fabric of the bra from her skin. Goosebumps rushed over her skin as he stared at her breasts.
Custom designed for you.
His hands slid beneath her opened blouse and around her ribs, tugging her closer. He buried his head between her breasts, and she didn’t think any more about denying him.
His hair was smooth and warm against her, his hands rough and firm on her bare back. “You smell so good,” he said.
Without making a further move, he breathed her in.
And then she realized it wasn’t a prelude, a prologue, foreplay. It was skin-to-skin, man-to-woman, authentic intimacy.
She froze, even as another of her sales catch phrases flitted through her mind, Why forgo the pleasure?, but this…tenderness was as compelling as the passion he usually demonstrated.
Her hands went to his hair again, and she stroked it, giving him her time, her touch, her comfort. Maybe she should talk now, bring up the move to L.A.
There’s no reason to hesitate.
That catch phrase worked for both of them.
“Magee…”
His head turned to lick one nipple.
Heat burned away anything more than one-word thoughts. Okay. Now. Good.
He licked again, and her nipple contracted to a hard, pulsing point. His lips surrounded the aureole and he sucked it inside his mouth.
Felicity flinched against him, the so-good pleasure pulling at her womb. Her hands held his head closer to her breast, but he didn’t respond with anything more than the gentle sucking. Her heart quivered, and she combed her fingers through his hair. When he moved to suck on her other nipple she relaxed into his embrace and into the slow twist of tenderness and arousal.
The feeling was glorious. Fulfilling. It was sex and comfort, excess and simplicity, Mary Magdalene and the Madonna all rolled together.
It was a feeling she’d never known before.
Oh, no. No.
She’d wanted to convince him to move to L.A. because she wanted her cake and to eat it, too. Mr. Right and the Thrillbanger all rolled into one. Who wouldn’t want that?
But this went deeper. She’d fallen deeper. She’d fallen off the deep end, the highest cliff, she was in deep caca.
“Lissie.” He looked up at her, his mouth wet. “It’s L.A., isn’t it? I should go to L.A.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked into that beautiful, dark, dangerous—oh, she’d been warned from the first!—face. But he was almost hers. She almost had him.
It was time for a few clinchers to close the deal. Yes, she could say. L.A. L.A. and me. Take advantage of this special offer!
It’s a winning decision! Don’t delay!
Backing up a step, she opened her mouth. “No.”
No? No, what? What the heck was she talking about?
She pulled the edges of her blouse together. Fastened a button. “No” came out of her mouth again. Startled by it, she jumped back another few inches. Thinking it was his face distracting her, she directed her gaze out the tinted window behind him. “You can’t come to L.A.”
He blinked, then turned his head to see what she was looking at. “This is about him?”
Him? Him, who? She squinted, and saw Drew in the distance. “Oh, n—”
“I’m not slick enough for you, is that it?” Magee’s voice went hard and cold. “Not good enough?”
Not good enough? She’d started out life as a dirt-poor desert ratette. “What are you talking about? It’s L.A. You…you don’t belong there.”
“What about us?”
She froze. “Us?”
“In L.A. we could let this…this thing between us burn out naturally. Seems like a good idea.”
Her mouth dropped. Burn out naturally. She took another giant step back. Even with those words echoing in her head, she was terrified she’d still try to persuade him to be her Mr. Right in L.A.—until his interest in her burned out, anyway. Her face heated. “An hour ago you were engaged to my cousin.”
“But Lissie—”
“No buts, ifs, or ands,” she said, her voice hoarse. “We don’t belong together and you don’t belong in L.A. any more than…than I belong in Half Palm.”
His eyes narrowed. “Ah. So that’s what this is about.”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.” The space inside the trailer shrank as Magee stood up.
“It’s about that little fantasy-Felicity you’ve concocted. You have to keep a safe distance between you and Half Palm, your family, and me, don’t you, dollface? You especially can’t risk being with a man who really knows you because he might topple all those castles-in-the-air you’ve created.”
Of course she couldn’t take the chance of the world finding out about her Half Palm beginnings and the real Charm relatives! But that had nothing to do with Magee. “Look, is this so difficult to understand? The ratings prove that my viewers love my persona, which includes the fictionalized Charm family. That’s just the way it is.”
“And that’s the love that matters to you, isn’t it? The love of a bunch of anonymous, credit card-toting strangers.”
“I don’t have parents. I don’t have a brother. So maybe strangers are all I have,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Unless you’re going to tell me you love me?”
He was silent a moment. “Love you? I hope to God I’m not that stupid,” he finally said, then brushed past her to slam out of the trailer.
She dropped onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. How had this happened? More importantly, how could she have let this happen? She’d always believed that with smart choices and hard work she’d achieve her heart’s desire.
But now…now her shopping cart was chock-full of unhappiness.
Lifetime guaranteed.
A siren sounded, loud enough to restart a cadaver’s heart. Revolving red lights flashed. Magee fought the urge to raise his hands over his head, and instead grabbed for an empty plastic cup, shoving it beneath the spewing slot machine to catch the flood of tokens.
“Jackpot,” he muttered, disgusted.
As the first cup reached overflowing, an empty one was offered up. He grabbed it without looking or thanking the source. Manna from heaven—not that he believed in such a place—had been raining down on him all night long.
Finally the damn machine stopped belching coins. It took longer for it to cease its caterwauling. The police lights continued to revolve with bloody regularity as he glanced over to see who’d come to his aid with plasti
c cups a second, then a third time.
“Peter,” he said. Maybe his good fortune—which had been running like a Derby winner all evening—had finally run out. “I’m not looking for company.”
The other man’s gaze flicked to the overflowing cups, then back to his face. “What are you looking for? A small fortune?”
“Ash said the slots helped her forget,” he muttered. “I thought I’d give it a try.”
Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Forget? That’s not like you. You’re more of the stewer type.”
“Cut the psych shit, or get the hell away from me.” Magee turned back to the machine. He fed it a dollar coin. The stupid thing started shrieking at him again. Tokens gushed.
Peter handed him another cup. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”
His back teeth made an unpleasant grinding noise in his head. “What do you want?”
“For one thing, to see if you’re okay. Someone came into the bar and said they’d spotted your Jeep in the Easy Money parking lot. Seemed like a strange choice.”
“On the day a man’s fiancée dumped him?” The slot machine died down, giving his sarcasm the quiet it deserved. “Doesn’t seem that strange to me.”
“Is that what’s bothering you, Magee? That Ashley and I are together?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He hesitated. “All of the above.”
“I love Ash and Anna P.,” Peter said.
He knew that. And they loved him back. Leaving him the only unhappy one. “Simon would want them taken care of.”
Peter let a beat go by, then sighed. “Just so you know, I’m not going to take care of them like Simon would. I’m not Simon.”
You’re working so damn hard to be someone you’re not.
“Is that what you thought I was doing, Pete? Trying to be Simon?” Felicity had said so.
“I think you’ve been trying to figure things out.”
Magee turned to look at the other man. “Why the hell did we do it?” He’d resisted analyzing his actions all his life, but the truth seemed imperative now. “Why did we take those risks? How long did we think our luck could hold?”
“Some of the why was because it was fun. And then some of the why was those demons, pal. I was showing my father I could accomplish something that took more balls than passing a class in anatomy.”
There was a weight on Magee’s chest that made it hard for him to breathe. He hadn’t climbed to prove anything to anyone!
Or had he? Magee remembered telling Felicity about walking that two-by-four.
“I did it to give fear a face,” he heard himself say. To take that amorphous disquiet hanging over his family and turn it into a rock wall, a new route, a summit he could physically tackle. He’d told Felicity his childhood had been suburban-sitcom perfect, but he saw now how the sudden knowledge that it could be taken away—fathers died! mothers feared! brothers threatened!—had hit him hard.
Air whooshed out his lungs. “Are we head cases?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. You don’t miss it at all?”
“I hate the fucking snow.” Magee’s answer was automatic—and the truth. “I don’t want big mountains anymore. I’ve been through epics, accidents, and sufferfests on them and now they’ve lost their allure. But…but I miss the rock.”
He realized that was true, too.
“You know anything about adaptive rock climbing?”
Magee raised a brow. “You’re kidding. You want to go back up?”
Peter nodded. “With the right partner.”
“You want to risk again?”
“I want to dare. There’s a difference I don’t think I can explain.” Peter hesitated. “What do you think?”
Magee studied his old friend. He knew what was being asked. A paraplegic climber needed a strong partner, and a patient one. Someone who enjoyed the chess problem of rock climbing as much—more than—the athletic challenge.
“I don’t know if I can trust my judgment anymore—or if you should. And you gotta know that my luck ran out on that last climb with Simon.”
Peter slanted a look at the overflowing cups of tokens. “You sure about that?”
Magee stilled, looking down on the piles of tokens. He hadn’t lost his luck after all? “But…” He shook his head, trying to fit this new piece into the puzzle. Was life truly that random? Could it be so purposeless, so meaningless, that the reason he was alive and Simon wasn’t was something so trivial as chance?
A familiar figure hovering just out of earshot caught his attention. Felicity’s Hardy Boy, Drew, looking like something a debutante had dragged in from a charity luncheon. Linen slacks, light blue dress shirt open at the throat, a navy blue blazer. All that was missing was the yachtsman’s cap or a polo mallet.
“What’s he want?” he ground out.
Peter glanced over his shoulder, looked back at Magee. “You. He came to the bar and said he wanted to talk to you.”
As Pretty Boy approached, Peter wheeled away. Magee set the cups of tokens aside and folded his arms over his chest.
“Good to see you again, Magee,” Drew said, his palm outstretched. “I have a favor to ask.”
Magee shook hands, then, glancing down as he shoved his fingers in the pockets of his faded jeans, he noted the slogan on his T-shirt. “I’m in a pisser of a mood, and frankly, Drew, I think my shirt says it all.”
The other man’s gaze dropped.
I can only please one person a day, today isn’t your day and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.
Amusement glinted in Drew’s pale blue eyes as he raised a hand to smooth back the strands of his perfectly smooth hair. Magee stared him down, refusing to shake back the ragged stuff that was hanging over his own forehead.
“Still…I was hoping you could do something for Felicity.”
Magee set his jaw. He was doing that, damn it. She wanted to walk out of his life and he was letting her. That he’d suggested it be any different had been his surprise talking—shock—because his original plan for the future had been derailed. He’d always known what he and Felicity had was of the here-today-gone-tomorrow variety.
He’d counted on it.
Drew’s eyebrows rose. “Is that a no?”
Magee shrugged. “Depends on what it is.” So he was curious. Sue him.
“She told me about that tightroping you did at the rock gym.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s…impressive. I thought we might pump up the presentation of the Mountain Logic merchandise with a demonstration.”
Magee frowned. “You want to tape some folks doing it at the rock gym? It’s fine with me, though you’ll have to check with my other partners, too.”
“I want a live demonstration. At the amphitheater. With you on the rope.”
“Is this Felicity’s idea?” She hadn’t appeared to like him doing it all that much the first time.
“This is between you and me.”
Ah. “For Felicity…or should I say, Felicity’s show.”
Drew smiled, displaying a piano’s worth of dazzling dental work. “You understand.”
Oh, he did. He hadn’t been challenged to a pissing contest in years, but nothing about them ever changed. This was between him and Drew and which one of them would look like a real man—the right man—in Felicity’s eyes at the end of the day, the boulderer or the businessman.
He could tell Drew who she’d pick. Magee could also tell him he didn’t want her—she was too shallow, too uptight, too ready to leave him and Half Palm behind.
But he had nothing else on his agenda, nothing else mapped out for the rest of his whole damn, meaningless life.
And he didn’t want Drew to best him, either. “You’re on.”
It was a purpose—though not a noble one. And maybe it was nuts, but at least it was going to get him through another day.
Nineteen
Sitting across from Aunt Vi, Felicity drank her last cup of coffee in the old kitchen. She’d slept her l
ast eight hours in her old bed the night before. It had been easy enough to dodge Drew—he’d actually disappeared on her—so she hadn’t been forced to stay in the same Palm Springs hotel with the rest of the GetTV group.
If Drew asked about that, she’d give him some sort of excuse, but the day would be so busy she suspected it would slip right by him.
Though they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ben yet, Felicity had to believe he’d turn up any minute. She did believe it. In an odd way she trusted Mr. Caruso. By the end of today, her life would be back to normal. The airing of her latest All That’s Cool Afternoon would be a smooth-running success. She would escape Half Palm and the Charms for the second and final time in her life. She would make it through the day and back to L.A. without ever seeing Michael Magee again.
Aunt Vi got up to top off their mugs, then settled back into her chair, the movement setting the rickety table to wobbling. Felicity steadied it without thinking, then frowned. “Aunt Vi, you should buy yourself a new table.” Not to mention a new housecoat and slippers. As a matter of fact, Felicity had sent her a beautiful set last Christmas.
“I’m comfortable with the things I have,” Aunt Vi replied with a vague wave of her hand.
“But I send you money every month.” And Felicity had, from the day her GetTV salary had covered more than just her necessities. Suspicions growing, her frown deepened. Those no-good Charms! “Aunt Vi, what have you done with it?”
She sipped at her coffee. “I’m saving it for a rainy day.”
Felicity sighed. At least some other Charm hadn’t bilked it out of her. But the table had two, if not three teetery legs! “Isn’t today rainy?” she asked, lifting her mug and letting the table wiggle away.
“No.” Aunt Vi glanced out the kitchen window. “Today is beautiful, and will be even more so as soon as my Ben is back.”
What could Felicity say to that?
“Besides,” Aunt Vi continued, “I’m saving it for you. I don’t need anything more than I have.”
Felicity’s jaw dropped. That money was intended for her aunt! It was supposed to make Aunt Vi’s life more comfortable…and Felicity more comfortable with absenting herself from it.
The Thrill of It All Page 25