CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the time Maggie returned to her apartment, Gus was sacked out on the truck seat beside her, his belly stuffed full of Grandma’s treats. While Maggie rubbed his soft ears to wake him, she wondered if her fur baby, Gus, would be the only child she could ever hope to have. There was adoption, sure, but who had the money for that? Even with all the help in the world, being a single mom wasn’t easy. Look how Cassidy had struggled before she and Mason were married. Look how fast Jake had run after just one dinner with her parents.
She couldn’t think about Jake. She wouldn’t.
After taking Gus upstairs, she came back down again and opened the bakery. Coralee’s wedding anniversary was coming up and Maggie wanted to surprise her.
She assembled the ingredients for yellow cake. At first, it was hard to marshal her thoughts. They kept tugging at her. But constructing this cake would be tricky and she had to pay attention.
Coralee loved UFOs and Coralee loved Ed. So Maggie had decided to make a UFO cake—complete with Ed’s “alien abduction.”
Okay, so maybe Maggie thought the whole UFO thing was nutty. Her mother certainly did. Every time Coralee opened her mouth to talk about aliens, Priscilla would roll her eyes and mutter “lunatic” under her breath. But that didn’t matter. Coralee deserved something spectacular.
The problem was recreating the energy beam that had sucked Ed up. Maggie couldn’t do it with sugar glass. Even if she made some, it wouldn’t support the weight of the spaceship. She thought about it while blending the cake mix, pouring it into two round pans and then putting the pans inside the oven. She got her bag of gum paste out of the freezer to thaw.
It took her three hours to finish. By then it was a quarter to eleven and the street in front of her shop was completely deserted. But a comforting sense of accomplishment nudged aside some of her sadness. She set the cake in the center of her work area and took photos of it with her smartphone, proud of what she’d done and wishing there was someone to share it with.
Maybe this is what single mothers go through with their kids, she thought. Here was this amazing, beautiful child and you were the only one who really saw, who really cared. Which was exactly why she didn’t just want children. She wanted a family. She wanted the whole three-hundred-and-sixty-degree experience of love, even if it was a fairytale.
She snapped photos from a variety of angles so she could print the best one and put it in the ringed binder on the counter. For the tractor beam, she’d used something simple: an upside-down glass. Not only was it the right shape, it supported the cardboard base that held the ship. After shaving down two round yellow cakes, she’d spackled a layer of buttercream between them, frosted the outside with silver fondant that would harden overnight into a smooth shell, and then decorated the saucer with candy “lights”.
But her moment of real inspiration came when she found a package of glow sticks left over from Halloween. She took one out, snapped it to activate the light, and then curled it up inside the base of the glass. Now little gum paste Ed, with his arms outstretched toward the spaceship, was bathed in an alien green glow.
Maggie hid the cake inside the pantry and washed the dishes. Her fun distraction was over, she realized glumly as she turned out the lights. After locking up, she started up the stairs to her apartment.
“Maggie,” said a deep, familiar voice in the darkness.
She froze. Her heart gave a forward lurch and started pounding. It can’t be, she thought. I’m imagining things.
Jake came out from underneath the stairs. Because she was on the second step, her hand clutching the rail to keep from tumbling over in shock, they were almost the same height. Tingles swept her body. Maybe she should have been furious with him, but all she felt was a hot, bright joy. The street light bathed one half of his face, leaving the other half in semi-darkness. Dark carved out a sharp wedge beneath each cheekbone and defined the curve of his lips. He wore a turtleneck and jeans. Standing next to him made her lightheaded.
But she also felt alive. For the first time since Jake had left, she felt as though she were no longer going through the motions, no longer doing her Maggie impersonation. She was Maggie. He’d come for her. Jake was here, right here.
He shoved his hands in his pockets with a bashfulness she’d never seen before. “I’ve been waiting,” he said. “And now I can’t stop looking at you.”
Her heart wouldn’t stop booming. “You could have come in.”
“I didn’t know if you were alone.” He plunged one hand through his hair and looked away. “I owe you an apology. No way I’m doing that in front of witnesses.”
Maggie didn’t care about apologies. She didn’t care about anything except touching him. She almost laughed at the sheer delight of it, the dizzying intensity. How did this feeling not kill you? How could one person bear so much desire?
“Look, I flew down here to see you,” he said. “Come back to Dallas with me, Maggie. Right now. Tonight.”
Her mouth fell open. No matter how tantalizing the proposal, all she could think about were her responsibilities here. Maggie Roby didn’t go flying off in the middle of the night. Maggie Roby had inventory. Tomorrow, she had to order supplies and tote her ledger and—
“Monday is your day off,” he said. “Don’t think I didn’t know that. I want you to see what life is like on my side of the planet. I need you there with me.”
Maggie pressed one hand to her chest. “Who’ll take care of Gus?”
“Call somebody. There must be a million people out there who owe you favors. Now, go pack a bag. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
This was crazy. And it wasn’t even Gus that made her hesitate. One phone call and her mother would happily come and get him. But doing something this out-of-character was nothing short of terrifying. Thrilling, yes, but a lot like the first big drop on a rollercoaster where the guy pulling the levers can’t be trusted to set you down in one piece.
How many times had she wondered what Jake’s life was like in Dallas? Now here he was offering it to her.
Maybe she was dreaming. It felt as though she were. There was even a dream-like quality to seeing him there in the shadows. Every molecule in her body screamed at her to do it. To risk it. To forget who she was supposed to be and start living.
But this was more than a midnight adventure with a man who made her love-drunk. It was a turning point. A revelation. She would return to Cuervo a different woman from when she left. Once her eyes had been opened, there would be no closing them again. But if things didn’t work out, God help her, she would have to live with the memory of what she’d lost for the rest of her life.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll go.”
* * * *
Jake was thirty-one years old and had never been in love before. The more he thought about it, the crazier it sounded. Being in love was like going to a meeting about buying property that he didn’t know anything about—no notes, no Power Point presentation, no clue. He was living the lyrics to every country-western song ever written, worried he’d fuck it up and say the wrong thing. Or fail to say the right one.
There should have been an app for this, one that guided you along the tracks and prevented you from flying off them. He actually cared. How insane was that? He was so hungry to be with Maggie, he couldn’t think straight. She was food and he’d been starving for a very long time.
The drive to the airport with her riding shotgun had been an exercise in half-finished sentences and yearning. She smelled like a combination of sugar cookies and rose perfume. Whole minutes would pass where all he could hear was the car engine purring through the night and nothing else. Longing was this palpable thing between them. Words would have gotten in the way. He hated words. They trivialized the power of this moment. This hotly anticipated prelude to possession.
Jake would have preferred the Airbus since it would have gotten them back to Dallas faster, but civilian helicopters weren’t allowed at night. Still, the look on Maggie’s face when she saw his Boeing 767 on the jet way made him feel as though he could have fought Godzilla and won. She was everything he ever wanted just standing there with her eyes shining and her hair buffeted by the wind. The women he’d flown with in the past were so busy acting worldly and sophisticated, they couldn’t bother being impressed by anything that wasn’t their own reflection in the mirror.
Not his Maggie. She spun around, one hand over her mouth and said, “This is your plane? Seriously?”
On board, she shook hands with his flight crew, who looked slightly bewildered. In his circles, acknowledging the help in any but the most superficial way was considered gauche. But Maggie had lovely manners. He noticed things like that. It made him want to use nice manners, too. She made him want to be a better man.
He joined her on the couch, which faced two club chairs and a table. The windows across from them had blinds inside the glass that opened or closed at the touch of a button. Maggie had a big smile on her face as she looked around. Then she turned to him.
“No seatbelts,” she said, grinning.
“I like to live dangerously.” Private planes didn’t actually have seatbelts, at least not in the main cabin, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
Her face was close to his. His pulse slowed to a steady thrum as he zeroed in on her lips—full pink lips that would soon be swollen from his kisses. All he could think about were breathless moans and the thick musky signature of sex. Keeping his hands to himself until they got to his place was going to be way tougher than he’d thought. And judging by the look in Maggie’s eyes, he wasn’t the only one thinking that.
Her position on the couch made that flimsy skirt of hers inch higher up her thighs. The design of her blouse didn’t show much cleavage, but anyone with eyes could see she had a lot going on in there. No matter how country Maggie tried to be, there was nothing she could do to hide the sensuality that rolled off her in sugar-cookie-scented waves. It was a hypnotic, female sensuality that probably had every man eating out of her hand. If Jake had a shred of self-respect, he would have run like hell, but he was a goner.
Despite the roar of takeoff, he could have sworn he heard the sound of his blood rushing to his groin. All he could think about was Maggie’s warm breath against his skin. She was the purest temptation he’d ever known. He was rock hard and they weren’t even touching yet.
If he hadn’t manned up and rolled the dice, he wouldn’t be here right now. Breathing her. Taking in all that heat as it came shimmering off the curves and valleys of her soft flesh. He remembered filling his hands with that flesh, sliding his tongue along the length of her. Inside her. Her sweet clean taste. None of it left his erection in any doubt of what it wanted right now.
But on his own plane in front of his own crew? A mile-high club with Maggie wasn’t possible no matter how badly he wanted it. And the restless crossing and recrossing of her legs told him better than words what she was craving.
How the hell were two people who were seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off going to find the decency to wait?
Thank God the flight to Dallas was only forty-five minutes. It took him another forty-five minutes just to drive his second-favorite car, the Jaguar, back to his penthouse on North Harwood. They could have gone up to his weekend getaway, but that was in Marble Falls and there was nothing in this life or the next that could have made him wait a second longer. The minute they set foot inside the elevator that took them from the parking garage to the first floor of his place, her fingers were in his hair. Her lips were pressed against his. She gave a soft laugh and he groaned and pulled her closer, slanting his mouth against hers.
She tasted the way sin tasted, if you dipped it in sugar. The erection that had been siphoning off brain cells since the moment he’d set eyes on her tonight painfully reasserted itself. He slid his hands to her hips and pressed her against him, loving how she shivered in response. How she squeezed herself against him as though trying to climb on top, and good holy Christ he wanted her to. Getting inside her had been a sick, feverish obsession since forever. If he didn’t, he wasn’t going to make it much longer. Bad things happened to people who waited too long. Bad goddamn things…
But the instant he’d been given a taste of her, he wanted it all. He wanted to lose what was left of his mind inside her. Every earthy, intimate, kinky thing he could think of came rushing to the forefront of his imagination.
When you loved someone, there was no holding back. No playing it safe. There could be no half measures.
The elevator pinged and the doors glided open. Maggie barely broke contact. Even with her mouth on his, insatiable and devouring, her fingers swept up the inside of his turtleneck and slowly started peeling. Impatiently, he finished pulling off his sleeves, dropped the turtleneck on the floor, and then her hands were tugging at the zipper of his pants. Every time she brushed against him, he lost a few more brain cells.
The idea that Maggie baked cookies and cuddled babies during the day but had all these wicked, wanton urges at night made it a thousand times hotter. He didn’t know where to start with her, toes up or lips down. Reaching for her chin, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, gently sucking her tongue and biting her lips so softly. Her little whimpers brought out the animal in him, made him want to go faster, harder. Made him want to demand. But he had to curb that instinct. He had to keep things slow and gentle while still holding nothing back.
They were in the living room now, continuing to shed clothes, shoes, socks. While he still had his jeans on, he dragged her into the bedroom, hit a wall switch, and heard the raised fire pit in the center of the room erupt in flames. Maybe it was a bit obvious. He didn’t care. Maggie would like it and she was all that mattered. If she’d told him she wanted to make love inside the Eiffel Tower, he’d have bought it for her.
Sweat built on his skin as he slowly undid her blouse and then pushed it down her shoulders. He trailed his fingertips across the tops of her breasts, which spilled out of a white satin bra. Still the good girl, his Maggie, with her prim, innocent colors. He’d see what colors she liked after he got through with her tonight.
She watched him watch her, and he was fascinated by how her eyes darkened, how she bit her lip so delicately. Helplessly. The scent of her arousal filled his head, driving him a little crazy. Reaching inside her bra, he drew out one soft breast, teasing it, licking and nibbling, knowing she couldn’t stop the needy noises that escaped her. While his lips grazed one nipple, his thumb and forefinger pulled the other. And there she was, barely able to stand, her breasts displayed before him.
Heat rushed through his body when he unclasped her bra. He couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off those dusky pink nipples, marveling that with one pass of his thumbs, they instantly sprang to attention. They were warm and supple and he loved how her eyes closed and her head dropped back. He wanted to learn her body, to study it like a map and navigate its waterways.
Jake didn’t know for sure, but he bet her ex sucked in bed.
Well, good. More for me, he thought hotly. All for me.
Her eyes opened, dazed and foggy, to watch him push her breasts together so he could work on them at the same time. When she met his gaze, heat exploded between them. His body tightened in one long erotic pulse. And Maggie was so overloaded with sensation, she cried out, which made him suck harder.
But she had on too many clothes. Jake found the zipper on her skirt and skimmed it open, exposing more of her body to his hungry gaze. She wore white lace panties. Somehow they didn’t seem so innocent now.
He left the skirt on the floor, the last in a trail of clothing that led out the door. The bed was only a few feet away. He had no time to consider how they got there because Maggie came alive in his arms, her lips searching his, her palms on either side of his face.
“So beautiful,” he murmured after laying her on the big mattress. Her hair was flung across his pillow, her eyes glowed, and he continued kissing her mouth, her throat, her collarbone, while throbbing against his inseam. He couldn’t get enough of her. As much as he needed to be inside her, he just as selfishly wanted to keep stroking her silky skin, so different from his own, smooth where he was rough, soft where he was hard.
Supporting himself on one elbow, he grazed her nipples again and then wended his way down to those wispy little panties that he could have torn off with one flick of his hand. She was writhing, clearly not meaning to, thighs rubbing together, legs pedaling. Watching her made his entire body go up in flames.
She was just so willing—as honest about her needs as she was about everything else. He wasn’t used to that. The women he’d slept with may have been familiar with the mechanics of sex, but what they gave wasn’t much. Maggie gave it all—heart, body and soul. When she reached for him, just the touch of her hand sent an earthquake through his body.
“Not yet,” he told her. “Ladies first, remember?”
It wasn’t easy not to rip and rip and fuck and destroy. He wanted to rut her until the world burned. Instead, he slid his hand across the gentle swell of her belly and then dipped it inside her panties. Her breath caught. She opened her eyes and gazed at him with something like wild, delirious hope. Her eyes were dark, surrounded by feathery lashes, and the trust he saw there—trust that he would and could complete the mission—filled him with determined pride.
I know where you live, he told himself. I never stopped thinking about it.
Electric sparks raced up his spine when his fingers coaxed her apart and he made contact. God, she was wet. She coated his fingers, which made it easier to do what she needed him to do. He watched her, seriously worried now whether he was going to make it all the way to the sex part. Scorching wetness surrounded his fingers as he rubbed and teased, sometimes fast, sometimes just skimming the surface of those slick folds. But seeing her pelvis roll as she tried to control the relentless onslaught of sensation was almost more than he could take. That naughty pink tongue of hers touched the center of her upper lip. As badly as he wanted to get inside her, he didn’t want to miss this: Maggie twisting and moaning because he had her world in his hand. He had to clench his jaw just to stop himself from coming. One tap against the bed and it would be over.
She apparently had plans of her own though because she reached inside his open fly and pulled him free. He was hard, throbbing hard, and when her fingers closed around him, a wave of such intense heat crashed over him, he groaned out loud.
He kept his fingers circling the pearl at the top of her wet pink flesh, lightly, lightly, although the control was costing him. Pressure built inside his cock. She gazed at it, lips parted, and then her back arched off the bed and she cried out.
Watching her come was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She contracted, pulsing, and practically gushed over his hand, nearly setting off his orgasm, too. Her breath whooshed out in choppy bursts. Her feet arched. He let her ride it out, which she did. Fiercely. No attempts at sexiness, just naturally so fucking sexy.
He’d never been so moved before. Crazy fantasies he’d had about her, sure. But he never expected to feel this sense of love or worship, the trust that she alone had given him.
She looked at him hazily, her cheeks flushed, nipples taut, her hand full of the thick column of his damp, pulsing flesh. Then she lifted onto one elbow, inched down the bed and took him in her mouth.
He almost died on the spot. Sensations sparked all the way up to his stomach and flared to his overheated pulses. His good girl was doing something very, very bad, but Jesus Christ, was it hot. So hot.
Mind blown, he watched her close her mouth over him, surging up and down his shaft. She rubbed the head with her puffy lips and then sucked some more.
The vision of him filling her mouth was burned into his mental flipchart of Sexiest Things Ever. His heart pounded in a fast, uneven rhythm. Then she locked eyes with him, sheathing just the tip of his aching cock. Slowly, slowly she stretched her mouth over him and he made some kind of unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, all his attention on the intense drugging pleasure she was giving him. He crushed the bedcovers in his fist while her tongue dipped down his length and then swirled around the head.
But when he gently thrust inside her mouth, his inner warning bells went off. It might take all the willpower he had, but he was just too close. This had to stop.
“Not like this,” he said in a strangled voice.
She pulled back, her lips deliciously swollen. “But I want to,” she said huskily.
Baby, you are digging my grave.
He hauled her up and rolled his hips against hers, his balls so full they ached. Why were her panties still on? After stripping them off and throwing them aside, he yanked open the nightstand and scrabbled around in the drawer for a condom. He needed something to slow him down anyway. She watched, panting a little, as he fitted it over the head and then smoothed it all the way to the base. He balanced his weight on his knees, positioned himself at her soft wet entrance and in one long push he was in.
He looked at her beneath him, her eyes glazed but mutely pleading. He vowed to make her come again. A thousand times. Until she combusted. But she was so slick and tight, and as he went deeper, pleasure surged through him in waves. Her breasts quivered with every thrust.
She was beautiful. Warm. Alive. And he knew then that he didn’t have to hide from her. He didn’t have to put up any walls. For the first time in his sad, peculiar life he wanted to say how he felt. He wanted to tell her everything. Give her everything. It was safe—not safe in a boring way, but safe in a way that made everything, everything possible.
Bracing his weight on his elbows, he moved higher so there was contact with her clit. She dug her nails into his shoulders, hard enough to make him wince. He loved it. That’s right, baby. Dig in.
She whispered his name, moaned it, and he increased his rhythm, plunging in and out, feeling her squeeze him like a fist.
Then she came, fluttering around his cock, back arching as she strained against him. He buried his face in her hair and he came, too, burst after burst of soul-wrenching pleasure, his hoarse cries mingling with her softer ones.
Even as they collapsed on the bed together, all he could think was more.