The Thrill of It All (18 page)

“Damn it, Felicity!” His harsh voice snapped her attention away from the scenery and back to him. “Can you imagine how close you get to someone you trust with the other end of your rope? We were more than climbing partners, we were like brothers.”

“All right.”

“No, it’s
not
all right.” Everything she said and anything she didn’t say seemed to increase his foul mood. “You need to understand that I should have died when I broke my ankles that day. Simon should have left me there. But instead he saved me.”

She remembered the night Magee had saved
her
. Once the realization had sunk in, she’d wanted to celebrate her breath, her beating heart, each drop of blood that pulsed through her veins. “You must have been relieved. Euphoric.”

“Euphoric? Relieved? I was barely conscious on the way down. When I was lucid again, they broke the news to me that Simon was dead.”

Meaning he’d skipped right over rejoicing and moved straight into mourning. “But…but you’d lived. That had to mean something to you.”

“What, exactly? I’ve thought about it for months, and I can only conclude that I must have been spared for a reason.”

And it was clear what Magee thought that reason was. He’d been saved to live out the rest of Simon’s life. It was what gave him purpose—she remembered him mumbling about it when he was half-drunk the night they’d first made love.

And he was almost right. Looking into the light she’d understood—

No
. Felicity shut down that train of thought. It was weird. Creepy. And it made her…doubt.

Her sanity, she told herself.

“Magee, take me to the amphitheater, not back to Aunt Vi’s,” she said, her voice urgent. “The GetTV crew should be there by now. And I need to see…I need Drew.”

“Drool?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “Don’t start that. You have no right. None.” Magee was engaged to someone else, to her cousin. He had his purpose and now she needed to reconnect with hers. With her job, with her image, and with the Mr. Right who went so well with both.

Magee left her alone after that.

Once they reached the parking lot of the nature amphitheater and she saw the trailers and semi with
GetTV!
emblazoned across them, she released a sigh of relief. Civilization. Her sanity. The Charmed life that she’d made for herself was still there, waiting for her to step back inside it.

As Magee pulled in beside one of the trailers—thick utility cords already snaking from underneath—she caught sight of Drew. His hair gleamed golden in
the sun. His khakis had a knife-edge pleat and she’d be able to see herself in the shine of his tasseled loafers.

He looked exactly, perfectly, like everything she’d ever wanted.

Her hand on the door, she turned to Magee. His hair was tangled by his own fingers. Either he needed to change his razor blades or he’d forgotten to shave. His T-shirt read
Recreational Gynecologist.

She had to smile. “Thank you for at least
looking
like the wrong one.”

“What?” He tilted his head.

Her fingers itched to smooth his glossy hair. “Never mind. Just one more thing—”

“Something
more
?” But a glint of good humor had returned to his eyes.

She nodded. “I believe you do care about me. And if that’s true—help me out, okay? Could you…could you keep Aunt Vi and the other Charms away from here the next couple of days? Please?”

Her gaze flicked to Drew, then back to Magee’s face.

He must have seen who she’d been looking at because the humor in his eyes hardened. “Ah. Still working so damn hard to be something you’re not.”

She flinched, the nasty crack like a slap. Her fingers tightened on the door handle and she wanted badly, so badly, to hurt him back. The Felicity Charm she’d created was all that she had, didn’t he see that?

“Well, that makes us two of a kind, then, doesn’t it, Magee? Since you’re working so damn hard to be
someone
you’re not.”

From the startled look on his face, she knew it was a direct hit.

And she told herself it felt good to come out the winner.

With Ashley in his arms, Peter hadn’t felt so certain that anything was right since he’d made the choice to return to his broken, lifeless body on that mountain almost three years before. Being with Ashley fulfilled that conviction he’d been unable to shake during his near-death experience. The golden light had been so tempting with its promise of boundless love, but Peter had known he had more to do on earth.

She stirred, her cheek nuzzling his bare chest. Then, with a contented sigh, she stacked her hands over his heart and propped her chin on them. “I was a little nervous,” she said, a smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. “But I think we did fine.”

Smiling back, he lifted his hand to stroke her hair. “Just fine. And if you were nervous, think how I felt having to explain exactly what you could, uh, expect.” To tell the truth, sharing with the woman who was his friend and his love that sex would be different with a man who had an incomplete lower motor neuron injury had not been as difficult as he’d thought. Ashley was more resilient than even
he
had known.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, a touch of wickedness lighting her eyes. “Finding out your erections last longer and that you can climax but not ejaculate was a heck of a thing for a girl to accept.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Peter, think about it.”

“That there’s no end to my stamina?” he said, leering at her.

“Better than that…there’s no wet spot.”

He laughed, then pulled her up to kiss her pretty mouth. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you,” she whispered. “I loved Simon, too, so much, but this with you and me…this will be a partnership.”

“It won’t be easy,” he warned. “There’s complications. Complications like—”

“What the hell is going on?” said a shocked voice.

Over Ashley’s bare shoulder, Peter saw one of those complications looming in the bedroom doorway. “—Magee,” he finished.

“Magee,” Ashley echoed, and rolled over to face the other man, pulling the covers to her collarbone.

Gripping the bars of the iron headboard behind him, Peter pulled himself to a sitting position. Magee was still in the doorway, staring at the scene on the bed in clear confusion.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Peter said.

Magee blinked again, then appeared to focus on Peter’s face. “Is that right?” His gaze flicked to Ashley. “Is that right?” he said again.

“It’s right,” Ashley confirmed. Her hand found Peter’s and she held on tight. “Peter and I, the two of us—the three of us, counting Anna P.—
we’re
right.”

Magee walked with zombie steps toward the bed. Ashley tensed, but Peter didn’t think there was anything violent in the offing. He was proved correct
when Magee dropped to the end of the mattress. Ashley curled her legs to give him more room.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his expression still dazed, even as he made himself at home on the bed. He turned his head toward Ashley. “We’re still getting married, aren’t we?”

F
elicity settled back onto the narrow couch in her GetTV trailer. Outside, the crew scurried about, carrying equipment into the amphitheater that would be used for the next day’s live shoot of her
All That’s Cool Afternoon.
Inside, the small space was sardined with wardrobe, makeup, and files of information on the products she’d be selling during her hour and the ones she’d be previewing on commercials they’d tape to be aired later.

On the floor in front of her the products themselves were stacked high, from the Caruso sauces to the mountaineering wear. She picked up a clipboard and pen, ready to familiarize herself with the merchandise and work on her presentation of each item. No matter how much attention Felicity herself garnered in public, on the set it was the product that was the celebrity.

If she had a secret, it was that she always focused on the star quality of the merchandise. She had to be
able to answer the questions Who, Where, When, Why, How, What—and most important of all—So what? What about each product could make it exciting, fun, and for tomorrow’s sell in particular, what about purchasing it would make the customer feel “cool?”

As she worked alone in the trailer, she felt an up-surge of confidence. Bottom line, she was good at this. She understood the appeal of transforming oneself, and she knew how to feature a product so an item as ordinary as tomato sauce became someone’s passport to an evening as a hot-looking, hot-cooking Latin lover.

Coming from the knowledge that something as small as a new lipstick could make a woman feel more beautiful, Felicity worked to present her products in a way that made a customer feel more sexy or more adventurous or more hip. Turning one of the Caruso bottles around in her hand, she studied the sauce and scribbled down notes.

The lightweight mountaineering jacket required a different mind-set. This product didn’t promise pleasure so much as excitement and a window into the world of extreme sports. She lifted the black and neon
fabric, then stood to slip it on. In the full-length mirror on the door to the bathroom, she inspected the sleek fit.

She needed some pithier phrases, too, she decided, jotting down
high voltage
.
High performance
. The image on one of the advertising posters in the Wild Side popped into her head, an image of Magee in this very article of clothing, hanging by the crimped fingers of one hand.

Raw power
.

The two words brought to mind other images: His strong arms around her. His long, limber fingers touching her cheek with such heartaching tenderness. Lost in memories, she didn’t hear the door to the trailer open. “Felicity,” a hoarse voice said.

She whirled. It was Magee. And something had turned him from Raw Power to Raw…Confusion? He stumbled over a box on his way inside.

Her knees going soft in sudden fear, she stared at the numb expression on his face. “Is it…is it something about Ben?”

He shook his head, then dropped to the couch where she’d been sitting. “It’s not Ben. It’s Ashley and Peter.”

Her voice rose. “Something happened to Ashley and Peter?”

“I found them in bed together. Ashley isn’t going to marry me.”

Felicity’s heart made an odd jump in her chest, as if the anchor that had been weighing it down now was released, leaving it free. “I don’t understand.” Or maybe she did. Ashley and
Peter
. Some things that had happened over the last few days began to make sense.

“I don’t understand, either.” Magee shook his head, his expression still dazed. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

Concerned by the wooden tone in his voice, she crossed to the trailer’s small refrigerator and pulled out a cold soda. The loud snap of the pop-top didn’t cause him to blink. When she pressed the can into his hand, he didn’t appear to notice.

There could only be one explanation for his behavior, she decided, and her heart plummeted from its high place. “You love her. You must really love her.”

He looked up. “I told you I did. She was Simon’s wife. She’s my friend.”

Wait, wait, wait. Magee appeared poleaxed that Ashley, his mere
friend,
had dumped him. “But are you…are you
in love
with her?”

He made an impatient gesture. “You’re not listening. I don’t know what to
do
now.”

“It seems obvious to me, Magee,” she said slowly. “You go back to your own life. The bar, the rock gym, the Wild Side. You forget about the job in L.A. You can start climbing again.”

He shook his head. “I’ve lost my purpose.”

Her chest ached. The purpose he’d thought his life had been saved for was gone.

“Simon said it was time to grow up,” he said, staring off into the distance. “To stop climbing, to get a regular job. Maybe I should still do that. Take the job in L.A., figure out how to be an adult.”

With two fingers, Felicity rubbed the headache starting to pulse between her brows. “Magee…”

She tried to imagine him somewhere other than Half Palm, out from behind the bar, off the boulders in the rock gym, on the tame side instead of the wild. It took some effort, but then she pictured him behind a desk, then in a house in a trendy suburb, with a Mercedes instead of that ugly heavy-metal machine he drove. Magee, becoming that hardworking, success-and stuff-oriented man she’d idealized as her Mr. Right.

Her heart soared upward again, making it hard to swallow. Magee as Mr. Right. It would be double-desserts. Cake served twice, and eating it twice, too.

And she knew exactly how to sell the idea to him.

A long-overdue change,
she’d tell him.

You should live out Simon’s legacy.

Turn your life around and you’ll feel good about yourself.

In Magee’s vulnerable state, America’s Sweetheart of Sales couldn’t fail. Hadn’t he once said that she could make people believe she had exactly what they needed? If she made him believe she had the answer to what he should do with the rest of his life, then once he was in L.A., she could have him, too.

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-f 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.