Authors: Mia Kay
“None of that.” He tugged her toward the door. “Tonight is just you and me.”
They went from the bright last gasp of sunset into the dark cool of the reception space. Usually hostesses were the youngest members of the staff. Here, it was a thin, stylish woman with a mop of unruly black hair and laugh lines. She wrapped Maggie in a hug.
“It’s so nice to see you, but your name isn’t on my book. Did Luca miss something?”
“No he didn’t. Clio, I’d like to introduce my friend, Gray Harper. Gray, this is Clio Romanelli.”
She appraised everything from his hair to his tie to his shoes, concluding with a firm, businesslike handshake and a warm smile meant just for him. “It’s nice to meet you, Gray.”
“And you, Signora. Our reservation will be under my name.”
Clio checked her book and smiled. “This way. Giovanni will take care of you.”
Once they were seated, Gray split his time between reviewing the menu and assessing his surroundings. The small dining room was full, but intimate lighting and real plants gave them more privacy than he’d hoped. It reminded him of the local restaurants at home, where the chef and the staff loved to show off favorite dishes and hidden menus. He stopped Clio as she walked past. “Signora Romanelli, what would you suggest?”
She kissed him on both cheeks. “Maggie, you watch this charming devil, or I will steal him from you.”
“Give me a chance, Clio,” Maggie said. “It’s our first date.”
“Ah! I will talk to Ercole,” she vowed as she left them alone. “You will be spoiled!”
Antipasto arrived with a bottle of wine, and Gray enjoyed the food as much as his view. Maggie’s skin was gilded by the candlelight, and her earrings glinted when she tilted her head—like she did now when she caught him staring.
Crap.
“Why did you become an attorney?”
As he considered his answer, she didn’t rush to fill the silence. It was another reason to like her.
“At first it was because the attorneys and judges in Boone owned the big houses next to the country club.”
“And that’s important to you?” Her frown knitted her delicate brows together.
“For a long time, I looked at law as a meal ticket. Then I discovered I’m good at it. I understand it, and I like knowing why and how things work. I quit thinking about big houses and started solving puzzles.”
“What did you like best about Chicago?”
“The fog.” He smiled. “I know it’s weird. Of all the things to like. But after you get used to what’s available and you find your favorite haunts, it’s just you in the crowd. The fog changes things. It’s almost primordial, and it muffles every sound. It’s like you’re the only survivor in this giant man-made mountain range.”
As the food kept coming, it became natural to share plates as they laughed and talked through the evening. Clio appeared at their table with a basket, and Gray was surprised to see the dining room was almost empty.
“Cannoli and espresso,” she offered. “The only way to end an evening.”
Gray had a better way in mind. After they left the restaurant, he drove to an overlook in the foothills he’d found earlier in the week. Fiddler twinkled below them.
He pulled a blanket from the trunk and spread it on the ground in front of the car. They sat, and Gray stripped himself of his tie while Maggie opened the basket between them. When the breeze rearranged his hair, he draped his jacket around her shoulders. “It’s colder up here than I thought it would be.”
“The coffee will help.” Her voice was muffled by the yards of extra wool. Funny how his jacket around her shoulders warmed him more than when he’d been wearing it. “I saw you with Sarah Mitchell this morning.”
“She wanted to introduce me to her new kitten, Skippyjon,” he explained. “She said it could come visit at the hospital. Really?”
“Thanks to Abby they have a progressive therapy animal policy. The kitten will help her as much as human visitors.”
“I’ve promised her I’ll come see her. Her parents will need a break.”
“They need a pediatric heart surgeon.” She looked up, her eyes full of hope. “Do you know one?”
Finally a question about his previous life he could answer almost truthfully. “I do,” he said around a mouthful of dessert. “I work—worked—with her brother. But she’s in Chicago. Can we get Sarah there?”
“I think I raised enough money for that,” Maggie said as she nudged him in the ribs. At least he’d had the sense to put her on his good side.
They savored their coffee while Maggie pointed out landmarks. When he shivered, she awkwardly draped the jacket over him. It warmed him more to know she’d been watching. “No, I’m—”
She raised his arm and slid against him, stopping his objection. For the first time tonight, her perfume tickled his nose, tempting him to come find it. He accepted the challenge. Just like anything delicious, scent wasn’t enough. His mouth watered for a taste of her.
Turning her face from the view and tilting her chin, he waited for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he brushed the lightest kiss he could manage across her lips. She held her breath, but stayed put for a second, longer one.
At the third teasing taste, she stopped his momentum, holding him still, silently pleading for something he was happy to give. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and her tentative caress danced along his collar to the nape of his neck as her mouth opened beneath his.
Under the taste of coffee and laughter, there was a subtle reminder of another flavor he couldn’t place. Something that left him hungry no matter how many times he returned to nip her lips or slide his tongue along hers. Her nails grazed his scalp as she kissed him back, and her hum of pleasure drew him over her. Cradling her neck in one hand, her pulse pounding against his thumb, he groaned as she drew her hands down his chest and around to his back. Tugging him closer, welcoming him deeper. Kissing her was like talking to her, or laughing with her—direct, passionate and honest.
Honest.
His libido whimpered in protest as he reversed course, gentling the kiss and putting distance between them. He pulled her hands from his body and his lips from hers. Resting against her forehead, he waited until their breaths were no longer ragged gasps. “I think I should take you home.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Her wicked smile made his imagination race.
“And see you tomorrow,” he said as he pulled her tempting fingers from his waist.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” He stood and offered her his hand. This time, he didn’t pull away. He’d given up enough tonight. He could keep this.
Chapter Twelve
Gray stood at the church door, alternately berating himself for going out with her at all, for kissing her and—worst—for leaving her on her doorstep rather than carrying her upstairs and getting her out of his system. He eyed a vacant pew in the back of the church. He could do his job better from here.
His gaze swept the crowd, looking for suspects. Was anyone staring too long? Paying more attention to her than to anyone else? Everyone who caught his eye smiled and waved, forcing him to wave back and look somewhere else. Until he reached the front row.
Maggie was in purple. His thoughts spun through every purple flower he knew. What would the bastard send her tomorrow? She was facing the back, like she did every Sunday, focused on Tiffany and Charlene, and the spot next to her was empty. Waiting.
Striding to the front row, he stood next to her and waited until she looked up at him.
“May I?”
He’d leave her alone if she wanted.
Her smile shook on the corners, and her eyes widened. “Of course.”
Thank God.
It took every ounce of discipline to pay attention to the sermon and the liturgy. Then he bowed his head and prayed both in thankfulness and in a plea for forgiveness. Gray promised to stop pretending. He’d leave Maggie alone. He’d go home and back to his life. His life. Why had he been spared, but not Ted? Could he have done anything differently?
Should
he have done something else? Halfway through the prayer, Maggie’s delicate fingers wound through his. He clung to her like a drowning man.
“Amen.”
He raised his eyes to meet her clear hazel gaze and forgot his vow. “I’ll come get you for lunch.”
She gave him his favorite impish smile. “Okay.”
An hour later, he surveyed her appropriate clothing and nodded his approval. Then he noticed how the jacket hugged her breasts and the jeans cupped her ass. His blood heated. Oh yeah, he approved.
Their ride was quiet. Everyone thought helmets made it impossible to talk, but that wasn’t true. Shelby had found a way to chatter endlessly, strategizing about meetings and office alliances, plotting promotions, comparing assignments others had received. If he wanted to talk, he would own a car.
Maggie’s hands rested loosely at his waist and her legs nestled behind his, keeping his body aware of hers. If he didn’t end this, she’d hate him later. He could do without her now to keep her friendship. He had to.
As he swerved into a roadside park without warning, she scrabbled against his jacket to find a hold. He killed the ignition and pulled off his helmet. Behind him, the creak of leather and her deep sigh told him she was doing the same.
“I thought we could take a break.” He looked over his shoulder to see static turn her hair into a dandelion. Her knees wobbled when she stood, and he steadied her. “Careful.”
“
Now
you’re worried.”
He kept one gloved hand at her elbow, and combed her hair with the other. When the leather glove made the static worse, he used his teeth to tug it free. Unfettered, he stroked the strands, captivated by their softness and the way they gleamed in the sunshine. “I’m sorry.”
I’m so sorry, Maggie.
She moved away, giving him room he didn’t want. Rather than reaching for her again, he stored their helmets and gear. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The air smelled of fresh-mowed grass, and squirrels crashed through the undergrowth. Somewhere above a crow called, and Gray scanned the bright blue sky when he heard the keen of a hawk. A rabbit darted across the path in search of a hiding spot. Nature was noisy, but his companion was holding her breath.
Surrendering to temptation, he took her hand. After a few last stolen moments, he rested against a picnic table and faced her. “Last night...”
I got carried away. I can’t do this. Not to you.
I’m not staying. I can explain.
He’d practiced saying it.
“I had a better time than I expected,” she said with a grin.
“Gee, thanks.” He rolled his eyes. “First dates bring up second dates.”
And we can’t have one.
“Especially since we see each other every day.”
He enjoyed the warmth of her, the undemanding pressure of her hand in his.
This has to end.
“No fraternizing at work.” Work. He had to think about work. He was here to do a job.
“Fraternizing?” she giggled. “Is that what they call it in the big city?”
“This is weird, isn’t it?”
A shadow settled on her face, and her smile melted. “Maybe we should just—”
His kiss stopped her from ending it.
Without the distraction of sugar and coffee, she tasted like sunshine, flowers and fresh air. His tongue itched, and he slid it against hers in search of relief.
Honey. She tasted like honey. Warmth flooded his blood, thickening and pooling it. He was so hungry.
The growl began low in his throat, but it was echoed by an actual rumble of hunger. She giggled against his mouth and pulled free.
“We should find some food.”
He allowed her to change the topic because he knew what would happen if they stayed here. And he’d hate himself more than she’d hate him. “We should.”
They found another picnic table next to a roadside stand and laughed through sandwiches and chips chased with sodas, topped off by cookies and coffee. On their way home, Gray savored her arms wrapped tightly around him, leaching as much warmth as he could share.
He pulled into the lot and left the bike running while she removed her helmet and offered it to him. Her nose was pink from the air and her eyes danced under disheveled bangs and helmet hair.
“Keep it.” He cradled her face in a gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She dropped her cheek into his palm and curled her fingers around his, keeping him close. The chaste embrace made him shake. She walked away, and her hips swayed in a tempting rhythm while his fingers carved grooves into the handlebars.
* * *
“No! No. No. No.
No!
” His shouted denials filled the house and echoed from the rafters. She couldn’t do this. Not after all this time. How could she? Going on a date with Gray was one thing. It was a rule of the auction. But kissing him? She shouldn’t have kissed him.
And she’d thrown away his lilies. He’d found them out back against a rock, dead among shards of glass. That couldn’t be right. Maggie loved lilies.
It had to be
Gray’s
fault. He was keeping her from playing the game. She’d see. He’d
make
her see, and then she’d be sorry.
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie refused to acknowledge how much extra time she’d spent getting ready for work this morning, and she’d never admit that she’d danced down the stairs with a goofy smile on her face and spent extra time looking for Gray’s favorite coffee mug.
The weekend had been fun, but it was temporary. It had to be. He was staying, and she wasn’t. Like the maudlin souvenirs in her closet, Maggie let herself play with the memories of candlelight and cannoli one last time before she put them away.
As the back door closed, she put the financial report beside the coffeemaker. Her heart beat in time with his approach. Holding her breath, she put all her attention on the
Journal
and the article about RFID technology.
When he didn’t come for coffee, she looked up to find him staring from across the room. He slid his tongue along his lips and raked his fingers through his hair—slick tongue, strong fingers, soft hair.
He wasn’t skinny, he was lean. Soft skin covered hard muscles. Shyness masked passion. Her imagination put him in her bed and stripped him bare. The shimmer in his eyes told her he was doing the same. Yet neither of them moved.
What was that rule again?
Taking a deep breath, she pointed toward the envelope. “Fitz dropped that off this morning. Take your coffee and go in your office. I’m sure I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
The knock at the door froze them in place. Gray was the first to move, his tight jaw echoed in his clenched fists. Maggie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles corded under her fingers. Definitely not a lapdog.
After a curt conversation with Casey, she thumped the vase of irises on the nearest table and yanked the card free. Clenching her teeth, she ripped into the envelope.
How could you ruin our game?
“What game?” she asked as she dropped the card into Gray’s waiting hand. The pressure built in her chest and she tilted her head backward to stop her tears.
“His.” The grit in Gray’s voice matched his scowl.
Not falling apart was wise. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the veiled threat from his fingers, scrawled the date and type of flowers across the back and tossed it on top of the pile. “I’m going to need a bigger drawer.”
There was another knock, and Max walked in. “Hi, Gray. What’s the deal this morning?”
Maggie’s control snapped. “Stop ignoring me like I don’t matter in my own life.”
Max blinked at her.
“It’s Monday,” she sneered. “What the hell do you think is the deal? I got more
fucking
flowers and another
goddamn
creepy note.” She jerked to a halt when Gray’s warm hand closed over her shoulder.
“Let the man do his job.”
“I’m not someone’s job! And I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and suspecting every person I see. Maybe if everyone would get out of his way he’d show up.”
“You know—”
“What? That I ruined a game I know nothing about? We’re no closer than we were six months ago. At least if he came for me, I’d have a description for a sketch artist. Or maybe we’d hit the jackpot and he’d leave DNA.”
“Enough,” Gray snapped. His tight jaw sat atop the rigid cords of his neck and squared shoulders.
Guard dog.
“Just because we’ve gone on a date doesn’t mean—”
“I’m not ordering you around.” Exhaling, he gave her a brittle smile and flexed his fingers. His grip gentled and he tugged her to the nearest bar stool. “Come over here for coffee. Max, would you like some?”
“I think I’m safer outside,” the patrolman teased.
The latch clicked behind him, and silence fell. Maggie ignored her coffee and glared at Gray, who was glaring back. Until his lips shook and his eyes twinkled.
“Woof.”
Maggie dropped her head to the bar and hid her face in the crook of her elbow. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Not a problem.” Gray picked up the bouquet. “Let’s go out back. If you’d like.”
“I would, thanks.” She lengthened her stride to catch up, and he took her hand once they descended the stairs.
When the glass shattered at her feet and her muscles turned to rubber, he was there to catch her. Leaning against him, she closed her eyes and listened to the wind in the trees. She’d done this for years, pretending it was the ocean. The sunshine helped. She missed the beach. Maybe she should go there first.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
And just like that, her fantasy changed. He was next to her, holding her hand the way he’d done when they’d looked at clouds. His other hand tightened on her stomach, keeping her still.
“Yeah.” She should move. “Yes. Thanks. I should... Scrabble.”
He stroked her stomach with his thumb. “I was thinking. Maybe we can revise our agreement.”
If he didn’t quit whispering, she was going to melt into a puddle with the ruined irises. “How?”
“No fraternization in the building,” he murmured as he kissed the tender spot beneath her ear.
When she turned, intending to say no, his eyes reminded her of the blue flame of a gas stove. They finished melting her muscles, and his kiss melted her bones. He sampled her mouth the way some people ate dessert or drank wine—savoring each flavor and then coming back for another taste, demanding more each time. His soft cotton shirt tickled her fingers as they roamed up his chest to his shoulders. His arms tightened around her and his body rippled and flexed at her touch, frustrating her that fabric was between them.
Cupping her ass, he tugged her to him and she wriggled closer, wanting his fingers to move. She dragged her lips from his to taste his jawline, shivering as he groaned in her ear and stroked her from hips to neck and back. Her nipples pebbled under her bra until the lace scratched them. She wanted his fingers there, his tongue.
The roar and rattle of a dump truck and the hiss of air brakes at the intersection recalled them to their surroundings. They stopped, but clung together until they’d regained their composure.
The breeze between them chilled her skin as they walked back. When they reached her car, she brushed her lips against his cheek.
He kissed the top of her ear. “Go Scrabble.”
* * *
Two hours later, a laughing Faye shooed her out the door. “Go home. Come back when you remember how to spell.”
“Hey. Everyone has an off day.”
Off day. Day off. Maggie’s brain whirred as she trotted to the car. Maybe they could take a day off. He could come upstairs. No. The agreement was not in the building. They could go to the Inn. No. That gossip would be spread across town by five tonight. Which was closer, Hastings or Baxter? And how did she broach the subject?
A sense of dread crept over her as she made her way across town. Deep in her soul, Maggie knew it had nothing to do with trying to seduce her business manager.
It’s nothing
.
Still, fear eddied and swept around her as she circled the courthouse.
It’s nothing. Everything’s fine.
On Broadway, her stomach began to churn. By the time she got to the library, she was speeding.
Nate’s truck was parked in back—in the middle of the day.
Oh God.
She tiptoed up the steps, through the door and down the hall. In the great room, Gray, Nate, Fitz and Tom Tyler Sr. were gathered around a table. Her attorney, her accountant, her brother and her business manager slash boyfriend. They each looked various shades of awful.
“Where’s Faith?”
“She’s fine,” Nate assured her. “Everyone is fine, Maggie.” His words eased her mind, but the anxiety didn’t dissipate.
“If this is about what happened today with Max,” she began, crossing her eyes at Gray, “I said I was sorry and I’ve already delivered cookies to the station.”
Gray’s smile was thin. “It isn’t that. Could you come join us?”
She sat but kept her eyes on his face. In this light he looked green. “You look awful,” she whispered. If possible, that made him greener.
Tom spoke first. He’d always reminded her of the poker-playing bulldog on those velvet paintings. “Gray’s asked some questions about Mathis and your grandfather’s estate planning. We thought it would be best if everyone was here.”
Okay.
“Ollie set up one trust for each of you, and your inheritance went there.” Gray’s voice was strained. “You’ve each gotten cash twice, once at Ollie’s death and once at thirty. What did you do with it?”
“We invested it in the companies,” she explained. “Was that wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, but this last trust distribution is the remaining cash and all the stock.”
“Right, Nate and I each get half at the end of the year when we turn thirty-five.” Maggie looked around the table. Now everyone was green except Fitz, who was frantically scribbling on his notepad. Nate wouldn’t look her in the eye. “What’s wrong?”
Tom took the floor again. “Ollie did these trusts when you and Nate were children, and there were some odd provisions in there. He’d met with me about changing it, but the accident...”
Translation: Granddad died without seeing his lawyer.
“I thought he’d signed it, Maggie. I’m sorry. I’ve been working off the assumption I had a signed amendment, but I don’t. It’s not binding.”
“Why does this matter? We’ve met every requirement he set.”
I’ve done everything he ever wanted. Skip prom, Maggie. Study business, Maggie. Wait, Maggie.
“Without the amendment, the original provision stands,” Gray said as he drew in a deep breath. “You and Nate have to be married for at least six months before your thirty-fifth birthdays.”
“What? I don’t believe you. Let me see it.”
He put the documents in front of her and kept a hand at her back while she read. The warmth was comforting until she reached the provisions he’d circled.
“What does this mean?” she whispered.
“It’s a convoluted explanation,” he replied.
Translation: It’s a fucked-up mess because Tom Sr. was never the best attorney.
“Basically, if you’re not married and have no children, what’s left in your share goes to Nate’s children, not Nate. Why Ollie wouldn’t—”
“Granddad believed in future generations having responsibility,” she sighed. “It’s why I got Grandma’s stock instead of it going to Dad.”
“Okay. But he didn’t make any provision to keep it in trust for Nate’s future children. Why?”
Tom cleared his throat. “He and Anne had Ron in their late twenties. Ron wasn’t much older when the twins were born. For Ollie, thirty-five was plenty of time for a family.”
“So if they didn’t have any by then, they weren’t going to,” Gray summarized. “God, what a mess.”
“What now?” Maggie croaked.
“If you’re not married, your trust treats you like you’re dead. And if Nate doesn’t have kids, it treats him like he’s dead. It distributes to Ollie’s next living relatives—his cousins in Florida, or their children if they’re deceased.”
“They spend money before the ink’s dry! And they didn’t even come to his funeral. Because I’m not married they get half of what I’ve busted my ass for since I was ten years old? How could he do this?”
“You can argue the provision is against public policy,” Gray reasoned. “I’ll help you.”
“How long would it take?”
He frowned, thinking. Her future was hanging in the balance, and he was calculating. The longer he thought, the tighter her chest grew.
“We could try for an emergency hearing,” he finally said, “but there’s a provision about fighting his wishes. Win or lose, you may lose simply because you fought.”
Tom took over again. “We called your cousins’ attorney, just to float it by him. They’ll pursue it. If you fight, they’ll claim you’ve violated the terms.”
She stared at the floor and clenched her fists to keep from screaming at her grandfather’s attorney. She wanted to go to the cemetery and kick over Ollie Mathis’s headstone.
“What about Nate’s share? What happens to it?”
“He’ll get it because he’ll meet the deadline.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway. I’ve got enough money—”
Now her brother’s gaze met hers. “But with Grandma’s stock your trust has the controlling interest.”
Granddad had told her having all her stock in one place would make it easier to manage. Turns out it was just easier to lose. Everything was too damn easy to lose. Cold dread replaced her anger. “So I might lose, I might win only to lose anyway, and I might end up in limbo while an appellate court decides the future of everything we’ve worked for and everyone who depends on us. Then it would be too late.”
Gray sat back in his chair, a dubious expression on his face. To prove she wasn’t a drama queen, Maggie pressed her point. “They’d own the majority of Mathis, Gray. Even if they kept Nate on, they’d run it into the ground.”
“Maybe they’d be reasonable,” Gray said.
She rolled her eyes. “They’re about to sue me because I don’t want to get married.”
His wry smile twisted as he motioned for her to continue.
“Fewer jobs, fewer employees, plant closures. Gray, we employ almost five hundred people, multiply that by four to take their families into consideration. That’s
two thousand
people in Fiddler who depend on us. It doesn’t count Rhett’s company. There’s another thousand.”
“Faith’s too,” Nate whispered.
She nodded. “Insurance, retirement, tuition reimbursement, health care. And then there’s the impact of less consumer spending because payrolls will be short. Lower sales tax and property tax collections. And what we donate—tithes, scholarships, matching donations...”
As Gray’s eyes widened, Fitz slid a piece of paper across to her. It was a list.
Rex Simon, Rhett Maxwell, Bill Granger, Max Caldwell, Rick Marcus, Chet Andrews, Barry Stanley.
All the eligible men in Fiddler were accounted for. All except her business manager.
“Are we done here?” She looked from man to man. “I need to get ready to open.”
The other three left, and she walked to the window. The sky was still blue, the sun still shined. Broadway was busy with standard Monday afternoon shopping. Familiar faces smiled and waved, unaware of their peril. Gray came to her side.