Scenes of Passion (13 page)

A
t 1:00 a.m., Matt rose stiffly from his seat at the conference table.

He'd worked muscles in that dance rehearsal tonight that he'd forgotten he had.

The evening had been an emotional workout, too.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Dan Fowler was perfect for Maggie. The guy was honest and dependable and basically decent. Not too tactful, but that was mostly by choice, since being tactful took too much time.

Matt also knew that Dan had a strict personal policy of never,
ever
dating the women from his shows. His feelings for Maggie had to be pretty intense if he was willing to break his rules to ask her out. Of course that didn't surprise Matt at all. The surprise would have been if Dan
hadn't
fallen instantly in love with her.

If he had to handpick a guy for Maggie to become involved with, Dan would be at the top of his list. It couldn't have turned out better if Matt had planned it.

So here he sat, sick with jealousy, knowing without a doubt that no one, not even Dan Fowler, could love Maggie more than he did.

But he also knew that his love for her would do her absolutely no good if he wasn't around.

Matt stretched, knowing that he wasn't going to sleep tonight. Instead of lying awake in bed, he might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. He went into his father's master bedroom—the room Maggie had fallen asleep in, that first night she spent here—and into the bath, where he uncovered the hot tub.

He tried to be quiet as he took the stairs up to his room. There was a paperback book up there he'd started reading several nights ago. He'd finish it long before dawn, but at least he'd fill a few hours.

He paused as he reached the landing on the third floor, looking at Maggie's closed door. Slowly, he moved toward her room, stopping outside, staring at the doorknob, wishing for the first time in years for a beer.

If he had a beer or two or four, he could use the alcohol as an excuse for reaching out and opening that door. Without the beer, the responsibility was all his.

Maggie sat up in bed, her heart racing. As she listened, Matt's footsteps faded back down the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom.

With a sigh of frustration, she sank back in the bed. She couldn't take much more of this.

Then she heard him coming back down the stairs, and again, she held her breath. But he went past her door without stopping this time.

Don't think. Just do it.

But even as she threw back the covers and opened her door, she couldn't help but think.

If she went to him, and threw herself at him again, they would probably make love.

Still, she went down the stairs, down the hall past the din
ing room, past the living room, to the master bedroom. The connecting bathroom door was ajar.

Quietly she went to the door and peeked in. Matt crouched next to the tub, dipping his fingers in to test the temperature.

She closed her eyes and pushed the door open. “Hi,” she said, and he jumped to his feet.

He didn't say a word. He simply looked at her.

Now that she was actually here, her confidence faded. She crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly aware that she was wearing only her nightgown. “I heard you going up and down the stairs,” she said. “I know you can't sleep. I can't, either.”

And still he didn't say a word, didn't move.

“Do you want to talk?” she asked.

Matt shook his head, no. Jeez, she always knew just where to stand to be perfectly backlit. He could see her body through her gown, and he wanted her. Man, he wanted her. He had to get her out of here. This was just too difficult.

“I wanted to tell you that I'm not going out with Dan,” she said, pushing her hair back behind her ear and sitting on the very edge of the wicker chair. “It would just be…too weird.”

“No,
Matt knew he should say,
it's okay. Dan's a good man. You should go.
But he couldn't make himself say it.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “I started thinking, what if my mother calls when I'm out? If you answer the phone, what are you going to tell her? Maggie's out on a
date?
She thinks we're married.”

“But we're not,” Matt said tightly. He forced himself to turn away from her and instead stared sightlessly out the window.

“The truth is, I told you I was going to have dinner with him, because I was hoping you'd be jealous.”

Oh, God. It had worked. However, it had also worked to convince him that Maggie deserved someone more like Dan—and less like Matt.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, his back to her, praying that she wouldn't say anything else. “Please? I really don't want to talk right now.”

We don't have to talk,
Maggie wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat.

“Please,” he said again. It was little more than a breath, an exhale, but it held all the emotion of a cry of pain. “Go.”

And there she went. Running away. Too scared to speak out, to speak up.

Matt didn't turn around as she left the room.

 

Maggie lay in the darkness, looking up at the shadowy canopy that was draped above her bed, calling herself names.

Chicken. Coward. Scaredy-cat. Baby. Wimp. Only a wimp would have run away like that.

The digital numbers of her alarm clock switched from 1:59 to 2:00.

Maggie swore softly. Sleeplessness had never been a problem for her before. Of course, she'd never loved anyone the way she loved Matthew.

And she did love him.

So why was she lying up here all alone?

Because she didn't want to ruin their friendship? It was no longer a good excuse, because, face it, their friendship was already affected. She wasn't going to pretend to herself that she didn't feel anything for him, because damn it, she did. And she wasn't going to hang back anymore, careful to stay his buddy. She wouldn't be able to bear watching him find some other woman to spend time with.

So where did that leave her?

She knew that if she went to him and openly asked him to spend the night with her, he wouldn't refuse her.

But how would she feel in the morning?

That was a question that only the morning light could bring the answer to. The question facing her right now was, how did she feel tonight?

Maggie shivered, remembering the sensation of his lips on hers, of his body against hers. She wanted him, and she knew he wanted her. She'd seen the way he'd looked at her when she'd walked into the bathroom. She'd seen hunger in his eyes.

She stood up and crossed to the door. Taking a deep breath, she put her hand on the knob and turned it, swinging the door open.

And oh, dear Lord, Matt stood there, his hair down around his shoulders, his handsome face unsmiling. Even though the night had turned cool, he wore only his running shorts, and she could see the taut muscles in his chest rise and fall with each breath he took

Gazing up into his beautiful eyes, Maggie knew that the desire she saw there mirrored that in her own eyes. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding from where he stood.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but he reached for her as she fell into his arms.

Matt kissed her, desperately, ferociously. And she clung to him, her mouth demanding, her arms wound tightly around his neck as he pulled her closer to him. Her tongue was in his mouth, and his hands swept the length of her body, and he knew that he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't make himself stop.

Their legs intertwined, and she rubbed herself against him. And still he couldn't stop himself from reaching down to lift her up so that her legs encircled him.

He pulled back then to look into her face.

She gazed back at him, her cheeks flushed from the heat they'd created, and he felt giddy. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. She smelled like Maggie—clean and sweet. How many times in his life had he stood close enough to inhale her fragrance, close enough to drive himself mad with wanting her?

She pulled his face up and kissed him.

But again he pulled back. “It's not too late to stop,” he said, his voice sounding breathless to his own ears. He prayed that she wouldn't agree.

“Says who?” she countered, tightening the grip of her legs around him, then laughing at the expression on his face.

Another kiss propelled them across the room and they tumbled together onto Maggie's bed, Matt kissing her again and again in an explosion of need and desire.

“I came up here to talk,” he tried to tell her.

“I can't talk right now,” she said, kissing his cheeks, his eyes, his lips. “I'm busy.”

He laughed. She kissed his neck, and he closed his eyes, his laughter turning to a sigh of pleasure as he touched her, as he filled his hands with her breasts, as he stroked the smoothness of her soft skin.

“It's important,” he breathed.

“I'm listening.” She trailed kisses down his chest to his stomach.

Matt felt her tugging at the waistband of his shorts, and he grabbed her wrist. He spun her over and pinned her to the bed with his body, his hands holding her arms above her head.

“Now I'm really listening.” She smiled up at him.

Unable to resist, he brought his mouth down to hers and kissed her slowly, sweetly, deeply. When he pulled back, she was trembling.

And he was, too.

“I really tried to stay away from you,” he confessed. “I know this is selfish, but I couldn't help myself because…” He took a deep breath and said it. “I love you, Mags.”

“You don't have to say that,” Maggie said quietly.

“But I do,” he told her. “I'm crazy in love with you. I have been for years. It's important to me that you know that.”

She looked searchingly into his eyes, her expression du
bious. “Matt, I'm not one of those women who have to think that you're in love with them before they'll—”

“No. Mags, I know that,” Matt said. “This isn't a line. I love you. You have to believe me. God, I've never been more sincere in my entire life.”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter—”

“It does to me. Damn it, I love you! You
better
believe me.”

Maggie stared up at Matt. His eyes held a glint of determination she'd only seen since he'd begun improving the business, and suddenly, she realized that he was serious.

He was serious.

He
loved
her.

It was a good thing she was lying down, or she'd fall over. “I believe you,” she whispered.

Relief and satisfaction flared in his eyes before he leaned forward to kiss her again. His mouth caressed hers, gently at first, then with greater need. He was on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer to her.

She was on fire. Everywhere he touched her, she burned. He stopped kissing her, and she pulled her arms free, reaching up around his neck to bring his mouth back to hers.

But he resisted. “Maggie…” His face was so serious.

She pressed one finger to his lips. “Matt, I love you, too,” she told him with a tremulous smile. “Make love to me.”

But he didn't smile back. In fact, he looked even more troubled. “There's more I have to tell you.”

Maggie pushed him off of her. “No.”

Well,
that
surprised him.

“Not now.” She crossed to the dresser and dug through her purse. Matt sat up slightly, leaning back on one elbow, watching her. “You just told me that you love me.” She found what she was searching for and crossed back to him, picking up his free hand and slapping the little package into it. “Use this and prove it.”

He looked at her in amazement. “You carry condoms in your purse?”

Maggie crossed her arms. “Oh, great,” she said in mock anger. “Now you want to talk about that, too?”

He pulled her down onto the bed with him and kissed her. Maggie wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but when she came up for air, she was no longer wearing her nightgown.

He ran his hands and his eyes over her body, and Maggie felt the familiar rush of heat to her face as she blushed. Then a deeper, more powerful heat infused her as his mouth found her breast.

She ran her fingers though Matt's long, shiny hair, arching her hips up toward him. She could feel him through his shorts, but that wasn't good enough.

He clearly thought the same thing, rolling over and, in one quick motion, he yanked them down and kicked his legs free.

Matt had dropped the condom on the bed, and now he reached for it and put it on. He really didn't need it—there was no way he could get her pregnant, and he hadn't been with anyone else in—God, it was years. But it would take too long to explain, and Maggie
had
been adamant about this not being the right time for conversation.