What Were You Expecting? (25 page)

I’m sorry to bother you. Believe me, I’d leave you alone forever if I had my way, but

we’ve been flagged by NSCIS. Please meet me at Beck’s office at 8:00pm Sunday night.

He winced as he read and re-read the text.
I’d leave you alone forever.
This was Maggie, whose sunny smiles and teasing ways were the brightest spot in his life. This was Maggie, to whom he was married, the woman who owned his heart, to whom his soul cried out. This was Maggie, who he’d love every moment of every day until the day he died. And goddamn it, he’d finally started clearing a path to her, only to find out she wasn’t waiting for him anymore.

His heart ached with sorrow and frustration, and he swallowed painfully, turning the key and pointing the van toward his dark and empty home. As much as he’d tried to prepare himself for her scorn, now that he was faced with the probability that he’d lost her, he had no idea how in the world he’d be able to bear it.

Chapter 12

Maggie shifted in her seat for the tenth time, checking her watch before looking up at the conference room door again, ears straining to hear the front door open and the sound of Emma Branson greeting Nils.

Beck glanced up from the two stapled packets in front of him and turned slightly so that his knee nudged hers.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” she answered crisply.

She had dressed with studied casualness, but the careful observer would notice that her hair was down, she was wearing light makeup and her linen blouse was a little dressier and dipped a little lower in the front than the t-shirts she wore almost every day.

“Tonight’s just about going over the process and setting up your meeting times. It’s going to be okay.”

“Sure,” she agreed. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans then folded them on the table as she looked at the lone chair across the table from them.

“Maggie. I’m right here and I’ll stay for as long as you need me. It’s going to be okay. I mean it.” Beck reached over gently and covered her hands with one of his. “I promise.”

She heard the front door open and she was sure the sound of her heart was audible to Beck, it was so loud in her own ears. Her eyes were riveted on the conference room door, which swung all the way open and then…there he was.

She gasped softly, drinking him in after a month apart. He stood tall, taking up the entire doorway, eyes locked on Maggie’s. He’d changed since leaving: his hair was almost white from so much time in the sun and his face was clean-shaven, but there was a fairly prominent tan line where a beard would have been until recently. He was altogether darker, harder and bigger, somehow, though that might just have been her heart seeing perfection because it was him. He wore creased khaki pants and a Sunday dress shirt in the same light blue as his eyes that made them seem ten times brighter than usual, obvious and hypnotic. Her lips twitched because she realized that he’d dressed up and—
Oh. My. Good. Lord.
—he looked delectable.

Beck’s hand squeezed hers, bringing her back down to earth and reminding her that when Nils left her a month ago, it was Beck who’d been there for her. She flipped her hand over, pressing her palm against Beck’s and lacing her fingers through his, without dropping Nils’s eyes. She watched his glance flick to their hands, then back to her face. He didn’t wince or grimace or show any other sign that he was bothered, but the arm behind his back dropped to his side where a bouquet of wild flowers wrapped in cellophane hung dejectedly beside him.

“Oh,” she whispered, looking at them for a moment, then back up Nils.

And then the strangest thing happened.

Instead of growling or frowning at her, his face softened as he watched her. The tenderness he’d always tried so hard to conceal was etched into every line of his tanned face. It made her body tingle. It made her want to cry.

He finally stepped forward, pulling out the chair across from her with his free hand and set the flowers on the table in front of her before sitting down.

“Nils,” said Beck in a measured voice.

“Beck,” said Nils, dropping Maggie’s eyes to look at Beck. His eyes snuck a quick glance at their joined hands, then back up to the lawyer’s face.

“Glad you could make it tonight.”

Nils slid his eyes languidly to Maggie and purred, “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Should we just get down to it?” asked Beck. “Here’s what’s hap—”

“Heya, Maggie May,” said Nils, tilting his head to the side, totally ignoring Beck, still holding her eyes with his unbelievably beautiful blue ones.

Her stomach flip-flopped in riot, making her sex clench and her breath quicken. He was so bold, so direct, staring at her like her body was a place he’d visited, a place he’d spent time. It made her hot and uncertain, because it was so unlike him. Which made her realize that there was something else different about him, though she guessed she’d be on the short list of people who noticed. His eyes. His eyes that were always so hard and wary were…easier, somehow. Though not carefree, at least less tortured.

“Welcome home,” she said softly, still trying to figure out the differences in him, wondering what had engineered them.

And then the second strange thing happened.

His lips curved up into a grin. Then they passed a grin and segued into a smile. A
sexy
smile, accompanied by a low chuckle.

Now, Maggie had known Nils for four years. He didn’t do sexy smiles. That was Lars’s department. Or Erik’s. For Lord’s sake, even Paul’s now and again. But, Nils? No. His grins were occasional and even when she managed to wheedle one out of him, they didn’t quite reach his eyes, which almost always maintained their stony reserve. Not this one. This one backed up the heat behind his eyes, making her breathless, making her want to rip her clothes off and offer herself to him on top of the conference table. Her mouth watered and her throat went dry and she swallowed nervously. She looked down at the table sharply to see her fingers playing with her Claddagh ring, twisting it around and around. When had she unlaced her fingers from Beck’s and pulled her hand away? She had no recollection.

She looked up at Beck beside her and his eyes were cool and a little hurt. “Now that we’ve all said our hellos, should we get started?”

Maggie glanced at Nils and he shrugged, his massive body relaxed and easy in the smallish conference room chair. With a confident smirk he nodded, “Sure, Beck.”

***

Beck pushed a packet toward Nils, launching into his plan to get them up to speed on each other’s personal history by September 4, just in time for their Stokes interview. They each had a thirty-page packet of questions to fill out that detailed all manner of information—their childhoods, friends, and family, job history, education history, religious beliefs, and general interests. Beck walked them quickly through the packet, explaining that they needed to be honest and thorough in their answers. He said they’d have three days to fill out the packets and asked if Nils could meet that deadline.

“All of these questions,” he asked. “By Wednesday?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Beck. “Starting Wednesday night, you’re going to need to start studying. After you’ve absorbed the information, you’re going to have to start spending time together, casually, conversationally, so that this information feels organic.”

Nils glanced at Maggie, whose knuckles had whitened around her pencil when Beck said the words “spending time together.” He could tell she was thrown off by his appearance, by the flowers and especially by the smile he’d pilfered from his brother’s arsenal. He didn’t want her off kilter, but it was better than anger and far better than scorn.

As Nils and Lars had unloaded the van last night, Nils had paid extra attention to Lars’s way of moving. His smiles and grins and intonation. When Nils finally got upstairs to his place last night, he took a long shower, thinking the whole time, “What would Lars do?” and the pieces started coming together. Lars would charm her. Lars would wear light blue—like he always did around new girls—and he’d bring flowers. Lars would keep his voice playful and offer a few of those wink-’n’-smile sunny grins that girls loved so much. He’d smirk and stay calm and generally just ooze relaxed confidence. And while Nils didn’t necessarily feel the sort of relaxed confidence that Lars owned so effortlessly, he realized that his time away from Gardiner had been more productive than he’d originally thought. Sorting out some of his feelings about Veronica had taken a measure of weight off his shoulders.

“Mr. Westman?” called Emma Branson from the doorway of the conference room, hand held over the phone.

“Yes, Emma?”

“Mrs. Sparrow’s on the telephone for you. She’s…um, well, she’s yelling some angry words, and I just, well, land sakes, I don’t know what to…” Emma’s free hand fluttered around her neck and she looked down at the cordless phone like she was holding a snake.

“Send her call through to me in my office,” said Beck, looking annoyed. He stood up, giving Nils a hard look. “Please bring Mr. Lindstrom and Miss Campbell some pencils. And—and coffee, if they want some. I’ll, uh…” Beck looked at Maggie from the doorway behind Nils. “I’ll be back as soon as I take care of this.”

“Take your time,” said Nils, glancing at Beck from over his shoulder before turning his gaze squarely on Maggie.

Maggie gave Beck a weak smile as he left the room and Emma bustled in with a cup of pencils. “You want coffee?”

“Sure,” said Maggie. “I’ll take a cup, Emma.”

“Sure,” said Nils, giving Emma a Lars Lindstrom-style smile. “Me too. And thanks, Emma.”

Emma simpered, blushing and reaching up to pat her tightly curled gray hair. “Oh, well, I’ll just…” She turned and headed out the door, closing it with a quiet click.

Maggie reached forward and grabbed a pencil, keeping her eyes down as she started filling out her questionnaire.

She was angry and hurt. He could tell that. What he didn’t know was how serious she was with Beck. That handholding had made his spirits take a dive, until she’d pulled her hand away and Nils had watched Beck’s face change quickly from smug satisfaction to hurt annoyance. Whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t solid yet. Which had made Nils practically sigh with relief. He wanted Maggie in his life. He still had to figure out how to get her there.

He reached for a pencil, tapping it on the edge of the table as he read through the first page of questions:

Where were you born?

What year?

What do you know about the circumstances of your birth?

Were your parents married at the time?

Nils rolled his eyes. Why was Beck giving them these questions in a packet like a test? Couldn’t he and Maggie learn the answers just as well if they were sitting across from each other at a restaurant while he occasionally rubbed his leg against hers under the table?

“Keep makin’ that racket and I’m leavin’,” she ground out and the sound of her voice surprised him.

“Maggie,” he said gently, cajolingly, still channeling Lars, “We don’t have to meet here. Why don’t we ditch these questions and go to the Blue Moon? I’ll buy you a burger and you can tell me all about where you were born.”

“I dinna think so,” she said without looking up at him.

“This is silly. I know you’re mad at me but—”

“Mad at you?” She snapped her neck up and furious green eyes met his. “I’m not mad at you, Nils.”

Then she looked back down at her paper, using her pencil like a dagger on the page.

“Oh, well that’s a relief, because I could have swor—”

“I think you’re a first class jackass and I wish I had married Paul that night. Or Beck, for that matter. Yes, Beck. He’s such a good, fine man. But, mad at
you
? No. Not a bit.” She whipped the finished page up and tucked it under the rest, attacking the next set of questions with gusto.

“Maggie, can we talk about what—”

“No, Nils. The time for talkin’ is long gone.” Her pencil made a scratching noise as she answered the questions like a woman on a mission. Her lips were tightly pursed and her posture—erect and uncompromising—probably felt as uncomfortable as it looked.

He looked back down at the page, clenching his jaw and willing “growly bear” Nils not to make an appearance.

“Park was beautiful,” he said, tapping the pencil eraser lightly against the packet, tilting his head to get a better look at her eyes, but they were downcast and he couldn’t make them out. “Group was nice. Had a lot of time for thinking.”

“Good for you.”

“Want to know what I was thinking about?’

“Not in the least. Not one bit.” She rubbed the back of her neck for a moment and Nils actually considered getting up, circling the table to stand behind her and rubbing it for her. But he didn’t. He’d never seen her this angry. Never.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I was—”

“The
wrong idea
?” She flashed her eyes up at him, throwing her pencil on top of the packet and slapping her hand on the table. “Let me be clear. I couldn’t give a handful of shite what you were thinkin’ about, laddie. I’m verra sorry that yer stuck doin’ this with me, but all ye have to do is answer a handful o’ bloody questions. That’s all. I dinna want to know about yer bloody group or yer bloody park or yer bloody thoughts about the mistake you made kissin’ me that night. So, pick up your pencil and answer the feckin’ questions so ye dinna have to suffer my company any longer than need be!”