Within This Frame (37 page)

Gesturing to Diane, he said, “Diane wanted to help kids. I wanted to help adults. Then we decided, why not help both? With the program we have in mind, we want to pair up kids with adults, have a buddy system, and let them encourage one another to better themselves—their mental and physical health foremost.

“I thought a show with multiple contestants was the way to go—it was brought to my attention, again by my friend, that that may cause conflict and feelings of ineptitude, so I would like to focus on only a few children and adults at a time. The word contestant isn’t even going to be used.

“This isn’t a game—this is a lifestyle. All activities are to be supervised. We want exercise programs, counseling sessions, pep talks, guest speakers, even craft time. We want this place to be a haven, a sanctuary for people, a place to learn how to make better choices, have better a self-image. I think that parts of the experience should be televised, only for promotional purposes and to get the word out. Commercials. Just enough to let people know what we’re doing.”

Lance paused and smiled a bright, white smile. “I think you know why I asked you all here.”

“Can I sign up?” Benton Jamison called from the back of the room and soft chuckles rang out.

“I hope you will,” he said. “We have a program for you, Benton.”

He slapped the side of his hand to his palm as he spoke. “Constant positivity is the difference between loving yourself and thinking you’re unlovable. I want to keep this short, so I’ll end with this: we have power. Let’s help children realize they have it too. If you’d like to hear more about the program and what Diane and I hope to do with it, don’t hesitate to approach either of us. Thank you.”

Maggie jumped to her feet, clapping loudly. Lance’s fervency, that spark of empowerment, spoke to her, made her want to take on the world and change it. Others applauded, but none as exuberantly as her. Lance found her in the crowd, smiled, and stepped away from the small platform. He was immediately flocked by dinner guests. She longed to approach him, but didn’t want to interrupt. It was his night, and he was acing it. Maggie contented herself with watching him, wonder swelling her heart.

“He’s turned into an impressive man,” Judith murmured from beside her.

Not for the first time, Maggie felt her eyes prick with tears. “Yes. He has.”

“You’re the friend he mentioned, aren’t you? The one that inspired him.”

She shrugged, a smile so wide it hurt her mouth, stretched across her lips. “I think so, yes.”

Her old friend patted her shoulder. “He has my support.”

Taking a deep breath, Maggie wiped her eyes and watched the man she loved make her fall more in love with him. The evening went by fast, most of it spent with her studying Lance from afar, but she didn’t mind. Maggie liked watching him. He repeatedly found her with his eyes, smiled, and found her again.

She slipped away from the party as night lengthened, tired from the drive and yearning for rest and Lance. Maggie took a long bath in the claw foot tub, letting the scented water wrap around her, and dressed in a slinky pink nightgown, she moved for the bed. A knock sounded at the door, soft and authoritative. Wanting to run to the door, Maggie paced herself with measured steps, one hand pressed to her pounding heart.

Maggie opened the door to a disheveled but content Lance. His jacket was gone, shirt untucked with the first few buttons undone. His dark hair was hanging partially over his forehead and he pushed it back as he smiled a sweet, exhausted smile. She squeezed the door to keep her hands from him.

“Hey, I’m sorry I was a sucky date. I just . . . well, you saw. I was hoping people would be interested, but I didn’t realize they would be that interested. It’s—this is great. Really great.” Lance dazzled her by widening his smile. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize.”

“I accept your apology.” Maggie crossed her arms and rested her shoulder against the doorframe, trying not to let the emotions coursing through her veins overwhelm her. “You lied to me.”

“Yes.” Lance paused. “Which time are you referencing?”

“There is no reality fitness show for me to co-host. That’s why you told me no.”

“Well, there was the outline for one, but no, there isn’t, not anymore. I don’t need a fitness show to impress you when I have young minds to do the work for me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He looked down. “I was scared. I was nervous,” Lance quietly added.

Maggie swallowed, her throat tight at the confession he usually denied. “If you’re not going to need a co-host, then what do you plan on doing with me?”

Lance’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what she meant.

“I want to help,” she said simply.

“It could be months, or even years, before anything comes of it. There is a lot to figure out yet,” Lance warned, never looking away from her. The fatigue was there, but an alertness straightened his stance.

One shoulder lifted and lowered. “You’ll let me know.”

As he studied her, light hit his eyes and blazed across his face. Lance nodded, his mouth curved in a smile. He looked down, the smile growing as he turned his face away. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

Maggie took a deep breath, shaking from what she was about to say. “And right now, what do you plan on doing with me?”

Lance went still, carefully lifting his head. Maggie stared back, her lips parted, heart hammering against the wall of her chest. Time disappeared as they looked at one another. She wanted him to step into her room. His smile came back. Maggie wanted Lance to stay. As though knowing her thoughts, he winked at her.

“Well,” he said slowly, pushing past her and entering the room. “I know I plan on spending the night with you.” Lance unbuttoned his shirt. “Unless you tell me to go?”

She didn’t move or speak, frozen by the heated way he looked at her.

“Are you going to tell me to go?”

“No, I’m not going to tell you to go,” Maggie said, closing the door. Pulse fast, stomach knotted up, she met his darkened eyes.

“Perfect,” he said in a rough voice. “That makes everything easier.”

Lance took off his shirt and chucked it to the floor, his expression determined. The undershirt went next, thrown behind him with total disregard. It landed on the large rose-painted vase near the window. Then Lance strode for her, stopping inches from her and firmly gripping her face between his hands.

“I’m going back to Ohio, you’re going to Iowa.” It was a reminder, and a question.

Maggie dug her fingers into his shoulders and nodded. She knew. If that one night was the only night they got to share again, she wanted to take it, and treasure it, and never forget it.

“Maggie.”

She frowned at his serious tone, looking into fierce blue eyes.

He stared at her, everything about Lance saying he was sincere. “It was real.”

“You’re not supposed to make someone cry before sex,” she protested, her eyes burning at his words.

“I figured if we got the crying out of the way now, there would be less chance of it later.” His full mouth lifted in a partial smile.

Maggie moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him to her. She closed her eyes and forgot to think, letting touch and need alone guide her. The heat of his body mixed with the scent of his skin was maddening. Maggie wanted more than his lips, more than his body, more than one night. More than was offered. Maggie wanted all of Lance.

It was sensual, his body strong and fit, eyes storm-filled, lips alternately firm and coaxing. They moved around the room in the dizzying dance of lovers, eventually ending on the bed. Clothes and inhibitions gone, Lance ended his months-long abstinence. Maggie smiled against his shoulder at the thought, then quietly laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he panted, going still. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep laughing.”

She laughed harder, moving in a way that made his head drop forward as a moan was pulled from him. “I’m just glad I could help you return from the solitude of celibacy.”

“You’re going to continue to help me tonight, many times,” Lance told her, proving the truth of his words.

Later, in the dark, they lay together in the bed, miles and miles from one another’s homes and yet right where they should be. Maggie’s heart was broken, but it didn’t hurt. It was splintered in a good way—the way that a past love could reawaken, even if only for an impermanent span of time. She’d loved Lance as a young woman, but loving him as a grown one showed her things she hadn’t realized as a teenager. They never would have worked then.

They’d had to end, but endings eventually turned into beginnings.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, an arm holding her to his side.

She went still, tears filling her eyes and spilling over to drip to his bare chest. It was hard for him to say that when they were young, but he’d said it then without hesitation, without provocation. Without Maggie saying it first. Lance wiped away her tears with his thumb.

“Crying before and after is a bad sign.”

Maggie laughed shakily and kissed his collarbone. “Don’t tell me goodbye, okay?”

“I won’t,” Lance promised, and sometime during the hours while Maggie slept the dreamless slumber of a woman at peace, he left.

LANCE—2000

L
ANCE DIDN’T KNOW
whose house they were partying at, but Donovan had assured him he knew someone there. Not that it mattered to Lance. The basement was finished, and had white carpet—bad choice, in his opinion—with tan walls. Whoever lived there was an outdoorsman, the wall mounts of antlers, various animal heads, and fish making that clear. Lance used to want to do those kinds of things with his dad, but his dad was always too busy.

Beer in hand, he scanned the crowd of mashed bodies in the softly lit room. The furniture was pushed to the sides to allow space for dancing. Loud, fast-paced music surrounded him, pulsed in his ears like it came directly from his head. Donovan was off with his latest conquest—a daughter of one of his father’s previous clients—and Lance had no clue where he’d gone.

A brunette sidled up to him, flipping her straight hair over her shoulder. She smiled at him, brown eyes shining from too much alcohol, and possibly something stronger. Her perfume was potent and made him think of vanilla, but it wasn’t pleasant.

She poked his arm with a sharp fingernail. “You’re Lance Denton.”

“Yep.” He looked at the mass of dancing bodies and sipped his beer. He wasn’t in the mood for adoring fans, and as soon as he found Donovan, he was leaving.

“I’m Jessie. I watch your show all the time—well, not
your
show, but the show you’re on.” She waved at a friend and turned back to him. “It’s so crazy you’re here. Did Maggie Smiley come with you?”

Lance’s hand froze near his mouth and then he emptied the can, setting it down on the mantel behind him. “We’re not dating anymore.”

“Oh, I know. Everyone knows. That was, you know, big news for a while.” She laughed. It was a shrill sound that made a shudder crawl along his back. “I just thought that since you were both here, maybe she came with you. I can’t believe you’re both in my house. How weird is that? Wow. I feel special.”

Jessie smiled. “You’re still friends, right? I mean, you have to be, working together all the time. That would be hard. Breaking up and then having to see each other like that. How do you guys do it?” She shook her head, looking sympathetic.

He stared at her, willing her to shut up, but also wanting to know why she thought Maggie was there. “Maggie’s here?”

Jessie started to answer, but a commotion pulled their attention to the middle of the room. There she was, dressed in a thin, tight black top and black jeans with purple boots, dancing with two guys. A circle formed around them, people cheering and whistling.

In one upraised hand she held a beer, the other resting on the shoulder of the guy in front of her. Her hair was pulled up, baring her slender neck. She looked wild, and crazy, and stunning. Maggie tipped her head back and laughed when the guy behind her grabbed her hips and ground against her.

His hands went into fists and Lance’s skin heated up. He moved a step forward without being aware, and then forced himself to remain where he was. Lance took a deep breath, and another. She wasn’t his. Maggie could do whatever the hell she wanted. He did. The tick that formed under his eye said he wasn’t okay with her doing what he did.

“I guess you found her,” Jessie said quietly, worriedly eyeing him. “Are you okay?”

“I need a beer.”

“Oh. Sure. I’ll get you one.”

Lance clamped a hand on her wrist when she turned to go. “I’ll get it.”

Jessie’s eyebrows lowered. “Yeah. Okay. Go for it. They’re—”

“I know where they are.” Lance let go of her and strode for the bar.

Beer was no longer going to cut it, and he switched to plain vodka. It burned his throat and warmed his chest. Lance had four shots before going in search of Donovan. His head felt foggy, but not enough to wipe Maggie from it.

He found his friend in a darkened bedroom, half-dressed and in the process of opening a condom wrapper. “I’ll be out . . . soon,” he told Lance. “Or not soon. But . . . eventually. Give me an hour, tops.”

The girl lying on the bed beneath him giggled and pulled him to her, kissing Donovan like she wanted to suck off his face. Lance closed the door on them, restless and agitated.

A redhead stopped him on his way back to the main party, fondling him and offering drugs. He shook his head, pushing past her. Drugs weren’t really his thing and right then the thought of sex made his stomach roil. He kept seeing Maggie, sandwiched between two men, and it was screwing with his head. He wanted to bash in their faces, and he wanted to grab Maggie and run.

A slow song came on and Lance looked up to see Maggie a few feet away with a different guy, their bodies close as they swayed on their feet. He snorted and shook his head, positive it was cosmic payback for him to have to witness that. The song changed and he lost sight of her. Lance took two more shots, his anger giving way to sorrow as the booze flooded his system.