Flirting with Disaster (17 page)

Nadine chuckled. “You know, Mrs. Forsythe, I've been thinking the very same thing.”

 

Josh insisted on dropping his mother off at the motel after lunch, then riding with Maggie back to Images.

“But how will you get home?” she protested. “We're in my car.”

“I've been known to walk from time to time,” he said, regarding her with amusement. “Or I can hang around till you've done whatever you need to do and then you can drive me back. I'm in no rush. I have plenty of time on my hands this afternoon.”

Maggie regarded him suspiciously. “Is this about Brian? Are you just coming by to make sure he hasn't been over there making trouble today?”

Josh returned her gaze with amusement. “Can't you imagine that I'd just like to spend a few more minutes with you?”

“I can imagine it,” she said. “I just don't believe that's your motive.”

“And here I've been on my best behavior all afternoon.”

“Ha!”

“Did I get out of line one single time?” He grinned. “Or is that what you're miffed about, that I didn't run my fingers up your thigh under that fancy tablecloth and give folks something to gossip about?”

“Actually I am very grateful that you kept your hands to yourself,” she replied, despite the very telling heat that shot through her at the wicked suggestion.

“Why? Because you know you wouldn't have been able to resist me?”

“I could have resisted you,” she said. “No problem.”

Josh laughed. “Not buying it, sugar.”

“Well, that has more to do with the size of your ego than with any lack of conviction on my part,” she declared.

“I could prove you wrong.”

She frowned. “How?”

“I could pull this car over right here, do a little of that exploring I missed at lunch, and have you crying for mercy in sixty seconds flat.”

Maggie wanted desperately to dare him to try, but she knew with every fiber of her being that it would be a huge mistake. It was what he wanted. Hell, it was what she wanted. And it would lead straight to disaster.

“No, thank you,” she said primly.

“Chicken,” he accused.

“More than likely.”

“What are you afraid of, Maggie?”

She wished she could explain it. Maybe it was the past repeating itself. Maybe it was the present getting out of hand. Or maybe it was the inevitable heartache lying just down the road. Whatever it was, it was enough to keep her from giving in to temptation.

“I'm still trying to figure that out,” she told him candidly.

“Want any help?”

“As if you could possibly understand what goes on in my head,” she said scathingly.

“Oh, I think I could,” he retorted. “You and I are a lot alike.”

The claim astounded her. “We most certainly are not!”

He laughed. “You so sure of that, sugar?”

“Absolutely, positively.”

“Have you ever in all your life dated someone with the expectation it would lead to marriage, aside from your ill-advised decision to get yourself engaged to Warren, of course?”

“Warren counts,” she muttered, because he
was
the only one. She'd waltzed into every other romance knowing full well it would lead nowhere. “What's your point, anyway?”

“You and I don't do the whole serious, happily-ever-after thing. You have your reasons. I have mine. The fact is, though, that we make deliberate relationship choices that we know have a short-term life expectancy.”

Maggie couldn't deny that he'd pegged her exactly right, after all. Most disconcerting. “So what if we do? What does that have to do with me being scared of you? I don't see that it proves anything at all.”

He glanced sideways and held her gaze. “You know how they say opposites attract?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we both can testify that they might attract, but they don't last. So, the way I figure it is, we're two peas in one very explosive pod. Once we start steaming up the sheets, there'll be no turning back. We might be risking that independence we're both so fond of.”

“You're assuming that we're going to have sex,” she said. “It's not going to happen.”

“Because you're scared,” he said, coming back to that again. He grinned. “You'll get over it, darlin'. So will I.”

It took a minute for the full import of what he was saying to sink in. “You're scared, too?”

“Terrified. If I thought this was going to be nothing more than a fling, it would have happened by now.”

“Your confidence is highly annoying,” she said.

“But my assessment is accurate and we both know it.”

“I don't know any such thing.”

“Darlin', you can deny this from now till the cows come home, but I have chemistry on my side. Mix all these pheromones together and sooner or later there's bound to be something spectacular going on.”

“Then why aren't you running for the hills?”

He grinned. “Maybe my track shoes are just worn out.”

“Or maybe you can't resist trying to get one more notch on your bedpost,” Maggie assessed.

Josh ran a finger along the curve of her jaw. The touch was enough to make her clamp her thighs together. Lordy, the man was dangerous.

Then he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Maggie bit back a moan of pleasure. His mouth settled in place and he gave the kiss his all. Rockets went off in her belly as her body seemed to melt into his. She couldn't have gathered a coherent thought if her life depended on it.

When he pulled away at last, a soft little moan escaped.

He winked as if her reaction was totally predictable. “You could be right about the whole bedpost thing,” he confirmed, acknowledging her less flattering assessment. “I guess we'll just have to wait and see how things turns out.”

Maggie had a feeling it would be a whole lot smarter to start building an impenetrable fortress with a moat around it.

J
osh couldn't imagine why he'd spent the afternoon tossing out dares designed to stir up the already simmering chemistry between him and Maggie. They both clearly understood that the attraction was hot enough to melt whatever resolve usually kept them safe without him pointing it out. Maybe he'd been taunting himself, as well as Maggie, which was a damn dangerous game.

He shrugged off the disconcerting subject as he trailed Maggie into Images, relieved to have something less provocative to focus on.

Once again, he was struck by the coziness of the gallery. It made him long for things he thought he'd gotten out of his system a long time ago. He'd never lived in the kind of place that had personal touches scattered around to turn it into a home. He and Nadine had been lucky if they stayed in a motel classy enough to have its own national brand name printed on the soap wrappers.

They'd traveled light, as well. He'd been fortunate if she'd let him bring along a favorite toy truck or a book, because too much baggage slowed down their often hasty retreats. The lack of possessions and the dingy surroundings of his childhood had pretty much kept his expectations low. Possessions simply weren't something that mattered to him. But he was beginning to think that hominess meant more than he'd ever imagined.

At the door to her office, Maggie turned to him. “I'm here all safe and sound. You can go now.”

Her dismissal annoyed him. Mostly to exasperate her, he shoved his hands in his pockets and held her gaze. “I thought maybe I'd stick around for a bit.”

She gave him a perplexed look. “Why?”

“Because it'll irritate you if I do,” he admitted with complete candor.

To his amusement, she deliberately shrugged as if it made no difference to her at all. Only the telltale pink in her cheeks gave away her exasperation.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “But I have work to do.”

“No problem. I'll just keep Ellie company out front till you're done. There are a few things I'd like to talk over with her, anyway.”

“What things?” she asked, instantly wary.

“I just want her take on how things are with Brian these days.”

“I've told you we have that situation under control,” she said impatiently.

He nodded. “That's your perspective. Now I'd like hers.”

She regarded him incredulously. “You don't believe me?”

“I believe that you're convinced that what you're saying is true. You may not be the best judge of Brian's temperament.”

“And Ellie is?”

“She's known him a long time, right? She dated him. And you, what? Met him for two minutes? Besides, she's seen him more recently than you have.”

She frowned at his accurate summary. “Okay, fine. Talk to Ellie, and then what?”

“I'll take you home.”

“I have my car,” she reminded him yet again. “Besides, I only live a few blocks away.”

His unyielding gaze locked with hers. “Then it shouldn't take long to get there, should it?”

She looked as if her patience was at an end. But instead of arguing, she heaved a resigned sigh, went into her office and shut the door very firmly in his face. Josh chuckled at the defiant gesture, then turned around and went in search of Ellie.

He found her using some orange-scented polish on an antique desk. She was concentrating so intently on the mindless task that she jumped when he spoke to her. The reaction told him a lot about the state of her nerves. He didn't have any trouble guessing the reason for it.

He studied her with a narrowed gaze. “Does Brian still have you that jumpy?”

She frowned at the question. “You're the one who scared me.”

“You knew I was in the gallery, Ellie.”

“I thought you were still in the back with Maggie,” she said, apparently persisting with the denial that her ex-boyfriend had anything to do with her nerves being on edge.

Josh decided to let that particular subject drop and come back to it from another direction, when her guard wasn't up. “How's your work going these days?”

“Not as well as it would be if I could work in my own studio,” she confessed, her expression resigned. “The light sucks in here, but Maggie's convinced it's better for me to work here than at my studio at home right now, even though you changed the locks. I don't know why she's so set on this. Brian's not going to do anything.”

Apparently she shared Maggie's optimism. Josh wished he were half as certain as they seemed to be that all the danger with Brian had passed. He decided to test her candor. “Has Brian been bothering you at all?”

Ellie hesitated, then admitted, “He's dropped by here a couple of times, but he hasn't made any more threats, if that's what you mean.” She spoke with a touch of defiance, then amended, “At least not to me.”

Josh frowned at the admission, wondering if Brian's threat had been more serious than Maggie had led him to believe. “Who has he threatened?”

“Maggie, in a way. Not that he'd hurt her,” she rushed to add. “He hates the idea that she's planning to show my works here at the gallery. He's trying to come up with some way to get even.”

“And how do you think he intends to go about getting even?”

When Ellie remained silent, he stared her down. “Ellie, what does Brian have planned? He has something in mind, doesn't he?”

She regarded him with dismay. “He says he'll ruin her reputation.”

“Which is why you two came up with this whole contest scheme,” Josh concluded, putting it all together. Maggie had been so busy downplaying things, she hadn't given him the whole picture.

Ellie stared at him with evident surprise. “You know about the contest?”

“Maggie mentioned it. How do you think he's going to react when he finds out he was set up?”

“I…” Her voice faltered. “I'm not sure.”

“Yes, you are,” Josh said. “He's going to be furious, isn't he? I certainly would be. No man likes to be made a fool of, especially by a woman he cares about. And he will blame you, won't he?”

“I guess,” she said shakily, then lifted her chin in a brave show of defiance. “But Maggie's sure the plan will work. She's usually right about stuff like this. Me, I just want to paint. She's the one with a head for business.”

“But you're the one who knows Brian,” Josh reminded her. “I think that's what counts in this instance.”

“You're really worried, aren't you?” Ellie asked, suddenly looking as frightened and vulnerable as she had on the night Brian had gone on his rampage at her studio.

Josh didn't relent. “Aren't you?”

She nodded slowly. “I can't say anything to Maggie because she's trying so hard to help, but I'd feel better if we'd never put this whole plan into motion. Brian's all caught up in the contest. He's so sure he's going to win. He keeps talking about the fantastic trip we could take with the prize money, even though I've told him over and over that I won't go anywhere with him.”

“What does he say to that?”

“That I'll change my mind once he's gotten the recognition he deserves by winning the contest.”

“Maybe he will win,” Josh said. “Is he any good at all?”

“I think he has talent,” Ellie said loyally. “But I showed Maggie a painting of his the other day and she says his work is derivative and mechanical, that there's nothing original or passionate about it.”

Josh almost felt sorry for the man. It must be hell to care so deeply about something and know that your work will never quite measure up. Renovating historic properties might not be art, but it was the one thing Josh had always cared about and he knew he was good at it. The craftsmanship required was its own art form, and not every carpenter had the patience and skill for it. He was fortunate that Cord Beaufort had recognized his talent and given him an outlet for it. Cord wasn't lavish with his praise, but the amount of work he'd given to Josh spoke volumes.

“Isn't art one of those subjective things?” he asked Ellie. “Maybe his work just doesn't appeal to Maggie.”

“To be honest, I think he's heard the same thing before,” Ellie confessed. “He just refuses to accept that he's a better teacher than he is an artist. It eats at him. It's no wonder he's bitter and angry.”

“That still doesn't give him the right to destroy the work of other artists,” Josh said.

“I know that,” Ellie said at once. “I've done everything I can to cut him out of my life. He knows he can't get into the apartment anymore because I changed the locks, so he stops by here, because I can't very well throw him out of a business that's open to the public.”

“You could get a restraining order,” Josh suggested, knowing he was probably wasting his breath.

Ellie immediately shook her head. “It would only infuriate him more,” she insisted. “And besides, I don't think he would ever hurt me physically.”

Josh wished he were as certain of that as Ellie was. Maybe he could find out which cops worked this neighborhood of downtown and make sure they kept a close eye on the place. Ellie and Maggie wouldn't even have to know.

Since it appeared Maggie wasn't especially eager to spend any more time with him today, maybe he'd go take care of that right now. He'd let her think she'd won. With a woman like Maggie, keeping her off balance could only be a good thing.

“I'm gonna take off,” he told Ellie.

“Without saying goodbye to Maggie?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“Trust me, I think she'll be relieved.”

Ellie grinned. “Getting a little too close for comfort, Josh?”

He laughed. “So she says.”

“Good for you. Don't let her scare you off. After that disastrous mistake she almost made with Warren, she needs to be shaken back out of her comfort zone.”

“And you think I can do that?”

“
You
know you can. Otherwise you wouldn't be hanging around her as much as you are.”

“Are you suggesting I wouldn't waste my time on a lost cause?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Sweetheart, you've got it all wrong. Lost causes are my specialty.”

At least they had been till he'd run into one very complicated cause: Maggie Forsythe.

 

Maggie shuffled papers around on her desk and got precious little work done. The thought of Josh stubbornly waiting her out annoyed the daylights out of her. She'd been taking care of herself long before he'd come along and she'd be doing it long after he left. What gave him the right to take on bodyguard duty, especially when she and Ellie both were convinced that Brian posed no real physical threat?

Tired of being cooped up and accomplishing nothing, she eventually poked her head out of the office and took a surreptitious look around. It was surprisingly quiet in the gallery.

“Ellie? Josh?”

“Right here, Maggie,” Ellie called out cheerfully. “At least I am. Josh left a while ago.”

A startling sense of disappointment washed over her. “Oh? How come?”

Ellie's lips twitched. “He seemed to think you'd be relieved.”

“Well, I am,” she replied.

“Of course you are,” Ellie said, her skepticism plain. “That's why you look as if somebody snatched the last cookie you'd been saving for a snack.”

“You're imagining things,” Maggie insisted.

“Oh, really? Then you came out here hoping to find me all alone?”

“Absolutely.”

Ellie laughed. “It's a good thing you're basically an honest person, because you are such a lousy liar.”

Maggie frowned at her and sat down on the stool behind the register. Ellie was the second person today who thought they understood her. How could so many people think they understood her when she didn't understand herself? She'd even lost track of why she was so mightily resisting Josh. Then she remembered. It was the old patterns-and-guaranteed-heartache thing. She needed to keep reminding herself of that.

“Could we not talk about Josh?” she pleaded.

“Suits me, but he's obviously on your mind,” Ellie said.

“That doesn't mean I want to talk about him,” Maggie said. “Anything happen around here today?”

Ellie looked as if she might persist despite Maggie's plea, but she gave her a resigned shrug and said, “Okay, then, I'll stick to business. I sold Cleo Anderson's sculpture and one of Mrs. Decatur's prints.”

Maggie brightened. “That's wonderful. I didn't think we'd ever unload that sculpture. I can't imagine what I was thinking when I brought it in here. Who bought it?”

“Some tourist with a New York accent and more money than taste,” Ellie said, grinning. “We're shipping it up to her co-op on Park Avenue.”

“And Mrs. Decatur's print? Who bought that?”

“A very sweet older lady from Savannah. She said it reminded her of her grandmother's garden.”

“Perfect,” Maggie said, genuinely pleased.

Mrs. Decatur was already in her sixties when she'd taken up painting as a hobby. When Maggie met her, she'd had a garden room in her home filled with paintings stacked against a wall gathering dust. Her latest work had been on an easel and had immediately caught Maggie's eye. Her praise, though, had fallen on deaf ears. It had taken Maggie a full year to persuade the woman to let the gallery make prints of her lovely watercolors. The signed, limited editions were hot sellers long after the originals had been snapped up for top dollar. It had given Mrs. Decatur a nice nest egg for her retirement.

Satisfied with the report of the day's business, she turned her attention to Ellie's future. “Let's talk about your show. I'm still thinking September or October. You have plenty of paintings ready now, so there won't be any pressure on you to meet some sort of deadline, though we can always use more if you have them finished.”