Buried in Bargains (Good Buy Girls) (7 page)

Chapter 8

“Joanne!” she cried. “Just the person I need. Tell me, is my makeup a wreck? I was looking for a bathroom because the other one was occupied.”

Joanne gave her a weak smile. “Oh, that was me. The baby queasies hit hard, but at least I didn’t get sick.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Maggie commiserated, looping her arm through her friend’s and leading her back toward the ballroom.

“Your makeup looks fine,” Joanne said. She studied Maggie’s face. “No runs. No drips.”

“How about blotches?” Maggie asked, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to see that neither Michael nor Diane had appeared.

“They’re fading,” Joanne assured her. And the lighting is so dim, I’m sure no one will notice.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, have you seen Michael?” Joanne asked. “He was waiting for me in the hallway, but I lost him.”

“Oh, hey, look!” Maggie replied, pretending she hadn’t heard Joanne’s question. “There’s Claire and Pete.”

Claire looked stunning in her bright blue gown, and Pete Daniels stood beside her, looking quite dashing in his tuxedo. He also looked completely besotted with Claire. Maggie smiled. That was exactly how it should be.

They were standing with Ginger and Roger, and Maggie steered Joanne in their direction, hoping to keep her from thinking about where Michael had wandered off to.

Maggie supposed a tough-love sort of friend would have let Joanne walk in on Michael and Diane, but given how hard it had been for Joanne to get pregnant, Maggie didn’t want her to get upset. And Maggie knew that if Joanne saw her husband, the love of her life since she was a kid, having a whispered conversation while embracing a cute young thing, she was going to be upset.

She supposed their conversation could have been about a variety of things, even though it had sounded really incriminating. Maybe there was a logical reason behind the words they had exchanged. She sifted through what she remembered.

“It just can’t go on,”
Michael had said.
“It’s not right. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

What couldn’t go on? That’s what Maggie wanted to know. Was it something happening between Michael and Diane? Was it something Diane was doing at the deli? Maggie knew it was none of her business, and yet, Joanne was her friend. How could she not speculate and wonder?

“Mean-girl alert,” Laura said as she and Aaron rejoined the group.

“What?” Maggie asked. “Where?”

“Britney and company have Diane surrounded,” Laura said.

“Not for long,” Aaron said. He emitted a sharp whistle and in moments his brothers, Byron, Caleb and Dante, made their way through the crowd toward him.

Maggie glanced back at Diane, who was no longer with Michael, and sure enough, Britney Bergstrom, who had wanted the gown that Maggie rented to Diane, had a posse of friends circling Diane. One of them was pointing at Diane and laughing. From the malicious look on her face, it was obvious that she was being nasty.

Despite what Maggie had overheard between Michael and Diane, she felt her blood boil. She loathed bullies.

Maggie went to step forward, but Ginger stayed her with a hand on her arm. She pointed, and Maggie saw Ginger’s four boys and Laura moving toward Diane, effectively surrounding her.

Caleb, Ginger’s third-born son, held out his arm to Diane, and she clutched it with obvious relief as he led her out onto the dance floor. Meanwhile, Laura and Aaron stood like sentries with their arms crossed over their chests, glaring at Britney until she and her friends scurried away.

“It’s moments like this that I am most proud of our children,” Maggie said.

“Agreed,” Ginger said with a smile. “They are good people.”

When Britney and her crowd left, Aaron and Laura joined Diane and Caleb on the dance floor while Byron went in search of his girlfriend and Dante, the youngest of the Lancaster boys, looked to be heading back to a cluster of his friends by the buffet table.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Ginger said.

Maggie whipped her head around to follow Ginger’s stunned gaze to the door. She felt her own jaw drop.

Summer Phillips was standing in the doorway with her hand on the arm of Tyler Fawkes. To say that they were a striking couple was an understatement. Tyler had squeezed his considerable girth into a white tuxedo with a black shirt, open at the throat, very John Travolta in
Saturday Night Fever.

But Summer. Summer was the topper. Pink sparkles caught the eye, but then it was hard to decide where to look. In what appeared to be formal wear à la Frederick’s of Hollywood, Summer wore a dress, if it could be called such, that consisted of two strips of narrow sparkly fabric that crisscrossed over her bosom, leaving her entire upper torso bare. Her skirt was more of the same glittery pink fabric but sported a thigh-high slit in the front. She towered over Tyler in silver platform sandals, and her faux blonde hair was teased up to add another few inches as it had been styled into huge roll on top of her head and was held in place by a sparkling tiara.

Everyone in the room turned to take in the couple, and even the band stumbled for a note or two. To put it mildly, Summer was a showstopper. She preened under the attention and scanned the room. When her eyes lit upon Maggie, she gave her a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and made her way over to their group.

“Summer.” Ginger greeted her as she approached. “Funny. I didn’t think you were on the guest list.”

“Don’t need to be,” she said. “I’m Tyler’s date.”

Tyler hadn’t taken his eyes off of Summer’s chest, and Maggie was pretty sure he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Isn’t that right, Tyler?” Summer asked. “Tyler, eyes up here!”

Summer pinched his arm, and Tyler said, “Ouch!” and snapped his eyes up to hers.

“Yes, dearest,” he said.

Summer cast them a self-satisfied smirk. Then she turned her gaze on Maggie, and it glowed with triumph.

“What, did the Amish have a fire sale?” she asked as she took in Maggie’s gown with obvious distaste.

Maggie glanced down at her gown. She was covered from neck to ankle, and she hadn’t taken off her wrap yet, which made her look as bundled up as a demure grandmother.

“Why you—” Ginger sputtered in Maggie’s defense, but a deep voice cut her off.

“Maggie, there you are,” the voice said from behind her. “I believe this dance is mine.”

Maggie turned her head to see Sam standing behind her. She had no doubt that he had stepped in to keep the peace. She would have protested that she had no intention of scuffling with Summer at the ball, but she figured she’d just take the out Sam was offering and for once keep her mouth shut.

“Go on,” Joanne said. “I’ll hold your wrap.”

Before Maggie could protest, Joanne snapped it off her, and Maggie felt the cool evening air hit her back with a slap.

A breath hissed from behind her, and Maggie looked over her shoulder to see Sam taking in her bare back. She felt an embarrassed heat rise to her cheeks, but then his gaze met hers and it smoldered.

Without saying a word, he held out his hand to her. Maggie took it and Sam twirled her onto the dance floor as if they had been dancing together forever. It occurred to Maggie that in some ways they had been dancing close and then darting away from each other all their lives.

The band was playing “It Had to Be You” by Isham Jones and Gus Kahn. They were playing it slow, and as Sam waltzed her around the floor it was hard to catch her breath with his body so close to hers and her insides fluttering as if a thousand feathers were tickling her.

“Nice dress,” Sam said. His hand slid down her back from her shoulder blades to the base of her spine.

“Thank you,” Maggie said. She felt unaccountably shy and hyperaware of his callused hand on her exposed skin.

Sam surprised her by twirling her, and Maggie laughed as he reeled her back in again. He grinned at her, pulling her close.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light and normal.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he said.

Maggie tilted her head, not understanding.

“I want to show off my incredibly sexy partner,” he said.

Maggie felt her face get hot. “Won’t your date be annoyed?”

“No,” he said. “The lovely lady I wanted to take already had plans, so I came alone.”

“Summer dumped you for Tyler, huh?” Maggie said. “Bummer.”

Sam tipped back his head and laughed. He was stunningly handsome when he laughed, and Maggie felt her breath catch as her heart hiccupped in her chest.

Sam slowed them down and pulled her even closer and, as the bandleader crooned the last line of the song, Sam whispered the line in her ear, “It had to be you.”

He pulled back to gaze at her and, for once in her life, Maggie found she was speechless. As the band ended the song, Sam led her to one side of the room and right out the French doors onto the patio.

The cold air felt good against her heated skin. She stepped out of Sam’s arms, but he held on to her hand and led her to a dark and unpopulated corner of the balcony.

Maggie shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. She felt as if this moment between her and Sam had been coming forever.

“Here,” he said as he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thanks, but I’m not cold,” she said.

“You’re shivering.” He shook his head, obviously not getting it.

Maggie blew out a breath. How thick could the man be?

“Sam, I—” she began, while he said, “Maggie, I—”

“Oh, sorry, you go ahead,” she said.

“No, ladies first,” he said.

“All right,” she said.

Maggie stared at the man in front of her. At various times in her life she’d wanted to back over him with her car, split a pizza together and go skinny-dipping with him. It was not hard to discern which of those three she felt like doing now, since his blue eyes gleamed at her and his very trim and muscular body was defined by the moonlight in high-def under his white dress shirt.

“Sam, I—” she began again.

“Oh, hell,” he said. “I can’t take this.”

Maggie didn’t have a chance to catch her breath as Sam’s hands framed her face, holding her still while his mouth descended on hers in a kiss that was so hot it left scorch marks on everything around them.

It took Maggie only a moment to realize that this was Sam’s way of telling her how he felt. Before he could pull away, she knew it was her turn to be clear, and she fisted his shirt in her hands and refused to let him go. She felt him go still for just a second while he processed the fact that she was kissing him back, and then his arms dropped to her hips and slid up her back to pull her closer.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing heavy and Sam’s jacket had dropped to the ground. Maggie rested her head on his shoulder, listening to his heart pound in time with her own.

Sam’s hand slid up her back to play with the ends of her hair. “So . . .”

Maggie leaned back and looked at his face. Had he always been this impossibly handsome?

“So, I know we are trying to be friends, but I don’t want to be friends anymore,” she said.

The look he gave her was intense, as if he was afraid there was an option that he hadn’t thought of and he didn’t want to get blasted.

“Well, I don’t kiss my enemies like that,” he said.

“Me neither,” Maggie said.

“So that leaves . . .”

“Dating,” she said. “I’m afraid if you’re going to kiss me like that, we’re just going to have to start dating.”

Sam let out a whoop and spun her around, making Maggie laugh. Then he stopped and studied her with a look that made her insides knot up.

“Really?” he asked.

Maggie met his gaze and grinned. “Yes.”

Sam pulled her close and planted another bone-melting kiss on her.

“Good,” he said. “But Maggie, you have to be sure.”

“I am,” she said. She did a quick check, and everything inside of her screamed that this was right. “I promise I am absolutely sure.”

“Good,” he said. He kissed her quickly. “Because I’m older and wiser now, and I’m going to be a lot harder to scrape off this time.”

“No scraping, I promise,” she said. “Can I ask you one thing?”

He nodded.

“A few weeks ago,” she began and then paused. She felt like an idiot, but she had to know. If there was someone else he was interested in, she needed to know now before she got in too deep. “Right after I got out of the hospital, Ginger saw you coming down the street with flowers. Who were they for?”

“Ginger saw me, huh?” he asked.

“Yep,” Maggie said. “In fact, we all did.”

“They were for you,” he said. He looked embarrassed, and Maggie frowned.

“Me?”

“Yeah, but on my way I ran into Pete Daniels, also with flowers for you,” he said, looking annoyed. “You and I had agreed to be friends, so I thought you had moved on with Pete, and I didn’t want to mess it up for you.”

“Oh,” she said. She put a hand on the side of his face. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Totally stupid, but really nice.”

“Stupid?” he asked. Then his hand quickly found the tickle spot on her side, and he was merciless.