Pushing Her Boundaries (4 page)

Did I just say my Maggie?

Finishing his drink, Mace shook his head. He rose from the barstool. Damn, screw the menu, the woman looked good enough to eat, especially if his wayward dick had any say in the matter. From the way she kept tugging on the hem of that curve-hugging, thigh-high red dress, he guessed she didn’t have a fucking clue how delectable she looked. She seemed embarrassed as hell to be exposing so much leg, and if she wasn’t careful, that low-cut neckline would expose a lot more.

Good. The dress will put her at a disadvantage. I don’t know which is more exceptional, the shapely legs or those sweet little breasts
. Mace strode in their direction.

“Hello.” He watched as Maggie’s head flew up. Their eyes met and he grinned at her. The bottle of wine began to slip from her hand. With a sweep of his arm, Mace caught it before it hit the floor. He perused the label. “Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc. Nice.”

“Wha…what the hell are you doing here?”

Mace laughed, enjoying her discomfiture. “Gee, and here I thought you’d be glad to see me. I’m meeting my brother’s fiancée.” He turned to Lynn. “I’m Mace. It’s a pleasure.”

Smiling, her green eyes sparkling at him, Lynn shifted her crutches and stuck out a hand.

Mace took the hand offered, but leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “A handshake seems too formal, don’t you think? Now that you’re engaged to my little brother, that is.”

Sputtering, Maggie said, “You’re…you’re Jeff’s brother? And you were flying up here to meet…?”

“One and the same.”

“You two know each other?” asked Jeff.

“This is the nurse I told you about, the one who helped me with that little incident on the plane.”

Lynn turned to Maggie. “What incident? What happened?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Mace watched Maggie’s hand flutter to her face, to brush her short, dark curls away from her flushed cheeks. He noted with growing amusement that she was obviously uncomfortable with the attention. These two sisters were definitely Snow White and Rose Red and he knew which one he preferred.

“No, seriously, Maggie, what happened? Whatever it was, it’s why Mace had to take a later flight.”

Jeff slid an arm around Lynn. “Why don’t we let the hostess seat us and we can discuss it over drinks? I, for one, have been looking forward to this wine for weeks.”

Lynn shrugged and allowed Jeff to help her toward their table. Mace stuck out an arm in Maggie’s direction. She shot him a suspicious look.

“You had this all figured out, didn’t you?”

Mace smiled. “You give me too much credit. I guessed. I hoped, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“You hoped?”

“Yeah. You were cool today and I appreciated that. I’m glad you were sitting next to me and not some screeching bimbo. Things could have gotten out of hand.” He moved closer. “C’mon, Maggie, it’s just an arm, not a marriage proposal.”

She looked irritated, but she took his arm nonetheless and they followed Jeff and Lynn. “Screeching bimbo? Is that what you think of women?”

“Apparently even when I say something nice, I annoy the hell out of you. If it wasn’t for the fact that this is an engagement dinner of sorts, I’d do my best to keep it up.”

“I’m sure you would.” Maggie laughed and Mace could feel her relax a bit.

“Would you be offended if I gave you a compliment?”

Maggie’s steps faltered and she clutched at his arm. “I’m not used to walking in stilettos,” she mumbled.

“Maybe not,” Mace said, “but you look damn good.”
Damn good, like I could toss you down on the floor, pull up that short dress, and fuck you right now kind of good.
Mace heard someone speaking. He turned to his brother. “What was that?”

“I asked, do you two want to sit inside or outside on the terrace?”

“The terrace,” Maggie and Lynn replied together. The two sisters looked at each other and laughed. “It’s cold in here,” said Maggie. “I’m getting goose bumps.” She fussed with one of the shoulder straps on her dress.

Mace’s eyes flashed downward, to her exposed cleavage. Just before she managed to pull up the bodice, he caught a brief glimpse of a rose-colored, very erect nipple beneath the silky material. Suddenly his jeans felt way too snug and he deliberately steered Maggie in front of him as they stepped through the doorway onto the terrace.
This is Minneapolis, not California. Wouldn’t be polite to frighten the hostess.

When they were seated, Mace asked the hostess to chill the wine. She handed them their menus, graciously took the bottle, and disappeared into the restaurant.

“So,” said Lynn, “what happened on the plane?”

“Well…” Maggie flushed again and Mace could tell she didn’t want to talk about it, probably because her sister had just been in a car accident. He decided to interrupt.

“Our seatmate became ill and one of us had to get off in Salt Lake City to accompany him to the hospital. I was elected.”

“But I thought…”

Mace kicked his brother under the table. “The details aren’t important. I was able to speak with his family in Denver and I’m sure they didn’t waste any time getting there.” Maggie shot him a confused look.

“Wow, scary. Lucky for him he was sitting next to a doctor and a nurse,” said Lynn.

His eyes on Maggie, Mace said, “Luck of the Irish.”

Maggie frowned at him and by her expression, he couldn’t tell if she was pissed off that he’d interrupted her or grateful that he hadn’t told the whole truth. “Did you learn his name?”

“Yes,” he said, “of course I did. O’Reily, John O’Reily.” He winked at her and she poked him in the shin, hard, with the toe of her shoe.

“No,” she said. “Seriously. What was his name?”

Mace rested his elbow on the table and leaned in her direction. He deliberately pressed his thigh against hers. “I told you, O’Reily. John O’Reily.” Maggie pulled her leg away, cheeks once again flushing a pretty pink, a color very similar to that nipple of hers. He decided to ignore her for a while and let her stew. She was cute as hell when she was mad at him, and that blush in her cheeks didn’t help soften up his hard-on.

“Good evening.” It was their server. “Welcome to 20.21. My name is Suzanne. Can I bring you a drink or answer any questions about the menu?”

Jeff turned to Lynn. “Would you like a Kir Royale?” Lynn nodded. “A Kir Royale for the lady and I’ll have that dark amber ale you have on tap.”

 
“Of course.” She smiled at Lynn and turned to Maggie. “And you, miss?”

“I’ll have a dirty martini with two olives, please.”

“And you, sir?” Her question was addressed to Mace.

His eyes on Maggie’s face, he said, “The same.” She looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Mace wished she would.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“So,” Mace turned to his brother, “what’s good here?”

“Pretty much everything, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh,” interrupted Lynn, “I think we should get the chef’s tasting menu for four. Don’t you think so, Maggie? You know food.”

Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, Mace leaned across the table to address Lynn. “So your sister knows food? I thought she was a nurse.”

“Oh, yes, Maggie knows food. Not only is she a nurse, she’s an amazing cook and a trained pastry chef.”

“Lynn…”

“No, really, Maggie.” Lynn waved off her mumbled protests. “You should be very proud of what you do. She makes wedding cakes, you know. She’s making ours.”

“I am?”

“Sorry, Maggie, I meant to ask earlier.” Lynn put a hand on her sister’s arm. “But the question sort of flew out of my head. Will you? Will you make our cake?”

“Well, yes, I suppose…”

“Thanks, sis, you are the best. So what do you think of the tasting menu?”

Mace glanced at Maggie. She fumbled with her menu. He took it from her hands, turned it right side up, opened it, and returned it to her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

The server arrived with their drinks. Mace noticed that by the time they’d finished talking to the young woman about the chef’s tasting menu and ordering it, Maggie had finished half of her dirty martini. When the server brought their first course, she ordered another.
Is it me, or do all social gatherings make her uncomfortable?

Mace couldn’t help grinning. After she’d downed her second martini and had finished two glasses of the sauvignon blanc, Maggie unreservedly grinned right back.

“Oh my god, this curry noodle dish with short ribs is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” She reached over with her chopsticks and took a small piece of beef from Mace’s plate. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not in the least. Anything else you’d like to share?” Looking across the table, he spotted one remaining lobster dumpling on the dim sum platter. He reached for it, picking it up with his thumb and forefinger. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

She did so without protest.

Damn, this woman has the nicest white teeth and the prettiest pink tongue I’ve ever seen
.

He set the dumpling onto her tongue, and, to his surprise, Maggie closed her mouth around his finger and thumb, delicately sucking the dumpling into her warm, wet mouth.

So much for getting through the rest of the evening sans erection.

Mace stole a glance at his brother Jeff. He and Lynn seemed engrossed in conversation and oblivious to the tableau playing out three feet from them. He wondered if Maggie meant to do that or if it was the alcohol talking. She didn’t seem like the type to drink very often. She was a charming woman when she dropped her guard. He wondered who or what had caused her to raise it in the first place.

By the time dessert and coffee arrived, Maggie seemed very relaxed. She propped an elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, giving him a nice view down the bodice of her dress. He tried his best to keep his eyes focused on her face, but every time she leaned over, Mace couldn’t seem to stop them from drifting downward. He was very glad she hadn’t worn a bra. Thank god there was still light from the setting sun, enough to allow him to discern just a hint of the rosy rings of delicate skin surrounding those perpetually erect nipples.

Forget the chef’s tasting menu, I’d rather taste her
. Instead, he licked his tiny spoon of frozen strawberry crème fraîche. He watched Maggie’s eyes follow his tongue with interest.
Turnabout is fair play
. He offered her a taste. She shook her head, but she continued to stare at his mouth with what appeared to be fascination.
Either that or I have some food stuck to my face.
He licked at the cold confection again, testing the waters. As Mace watched, her eyelids seemed to grow heavy, sliding down to cover those pretty hazel eyes. When she opened them again, he could tell that she was turned on—not by the frozen confection, but by the movement of his tongue, not that she’d ever admit it. Clearly, if he was going to get where he wanted to go with Maggie, Mace would have to push her boundaries. The alcohol may have lowered her resistance for a few hours, but by tomorrow morning, he knew the fences she surrounded herself with would be mended and sturdy.
Well, you can usually find an opening if you search long enough
.

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