burned on Maggie’s skin like steam in a sauna.
‘Will, do you have Daniel with you? Why didn’t you say? You didn’t need to come with me to see Matthew. I assumed he was at home in Arizona with Alison.’
‘Home in Arizona is with me,’ he answered slowly. ‘I have custody now. And Daniel is why I need to make this move.’
‘Listen, can we rewind the tape right back to where you first came up to me with those lovely flowers?’ Maggie caught up to him just as they reached the car, parked precariously in the steep, rutted driveway. She touched his arm, but let her hand drop again at once. ‘Daniel is the reason you were late, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, Daniel is the reason I was late,’ Will agreed patiently. ‘I didn’t want to leave until he was asleep, and he wouldn’t settle. But is there any point in explanations?’
There was a sceptical lift and tilt to his head. It showed off his firm jaw. The reflection of a nearby streetlamp glittered in his dark eyes and sheened on his short hair.
‘The point,’ she answered, struggling for a firm, steady tone, ‘from where I stand, is so that I don’t have to spend the next three months confronting my worst weaknesses when I think back on how unfair I’ve been to you tonight. I guess maybe it’s not surprising that you think I hate you. I don’t. But I—I don’t know what gets into me when you’re around, Will Braggett.’
She knew she was blushing, and prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim, bluish light of streetlamp and moon.
‘So if you don’t hate me…?’ he said softly. Left the sentence unfinished quite deliberately, she could tell. There was a new light of interest and curiosity in his dark eyes.
Oh, damn, and she couldn’t even begin to say it! She feared, though, that it was written all over her face. Did he want her to say it? Was he guessing, or did he know?
Her lower lip was trembling, and so were her knees. Her widened eyes swam. Will’s fresh male scent filled her nostrils once more, and his warmth drew her like a magnet. They faced each other, motionless, and the sharp edge of old, unsated and unwanted desire swelled inside her to screaming point.
He did something to her. He always had. Her limbs softened with wanting. Her jaw was wired tight with the tension of fighting it. Her tongue grew barbs whenever she spoke, to keep him from guessing. She fought what she felt by fighting him, but her dreams betrayed her. Her nerve-endings betrayed her.
They had for years, and they were doing it again now. She was so close to reaching out to him, touching him, using her body to beg for his. Didn’t have room in her mind to think about how he’d react, how he was reacting already.
This is why I married Mark, she suddenly understood. A man I loved, but didn’t desire. Because I was so afraid of how I’d felt about Will for so long. Afraid of how this desire might have weakened me and changed me. It would. Still, after all this time, it would. I guess I kept seeing my father, and all his torrid, pitiful affairs. Not to mention my mother, and her unmet needs. And I was afraid of wanting a man I didn’t respect. I didn’t respect Will then. Has that changed?
‘Perhaps it’s best described as grudging esteem,’ she managed finally, her voice deceptively light.
It was a typical Maggie-to-Will answer, and he recognised it as such. The tension of awareness between them had broken now. Maybe he hadn’t guessed after all. Please, let it be that he hadn’t guessed!
He turned and made his way around to the passenger door of her car.
‘Interesting choice of words,’ he said. ‘Esteem. A word that reeks of old-fashioned primness, with an aura of keep-your-distance. And grudging! You’ve always begrudged everything you felt about me, Maggie, as if I wasn’t even worth the effort of your anger. Except once. When we sat by the pool and talked for four hours straight and for once you forgot to fight.’
She sighed and spread her hands. ‘I won’t apologise again. You’d only laugh, and you’d be right. Apologies only go so far, don’t they? But let’s go back to the hotel. Tell me about Daniel. Tell me why you want to leave Arizona. Tell me what you’d have to offer my practice. I won’t fight with you. I’ll try. You’re right. I’m sick of making the effort.’
‘Sure. Yeah. OK.’
But he was silent as they drove until she prompted, ‘Will?’
‘Listen,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m not asking you for any favours here. I’m a competent, experienced professional, with an impeccable track record and brilliant references. I have other options. So if you’re going to pull that let’s-see-whose-IQ-is-the-highest routine with me—and I don’t just mean tonight, Maggie, I mean ever—then I’m out. And, please, don’t bore me with denials. It’s what you used to do to me all the time.’
Of course, it was true. It shamed her.
‘And I probably lost every time,’ she finished, half to herself.
He laughed roughly. ‘Oh, no! You won. Plenty of times, Maggie Lawless, you won!’
‘Fifty-fifty at best.’
‘Never again,’ he stressed. ‘I’ve spent too much of my past wondering what would happen to my poor, damaged ego if you decided to try just a little harder.’
‘You mean I got to you?’ She was incredulous. ‘You mean you cared? I thought—’
‘Did you?’ He twisted in his seat and studied her face. ‘You never realised that half of—most of—how I responded to you was an act?’
‘No. I didn’t. And a lot of the time, Will…’
‘Yes?’
‘I—I was acting, too.’
He clicked his tongue against the side of his mouth and muttered, ‘Points to me that I never knew I’d won.’
‘We’re giving that up, remember?’ she reminded him softly, with a laugh in her voice. Maybe she needed to reassess every exchange she’d ever had with this man. ‘Tell me about Daniel.’
‘When did you find out?’ Maggie asked, some minutes later.
Their waiter placed a towering creation of puff pastry, custard, cream and fresh berries in front of her and the steaming richness of fresh coffee reached her nostrils. She ignored both cup and plate at first. Her gaze was riveted on Will’s serious face. His eyes were completely hidden by a screen of black lashes as he stared down at the table, and his mouth was tight.
‘I first felt that something wasn’t right when he was just a few months old,’ he replied. He prodded his own chocolate mousse cake with a fork, then looked up. His eyes seemed darker than ever. ‘It was summer. Practically every building in Arizona is air-conditioned, but whenever we were outside with him in the dry, intense heat for anything more than a few minutes, he’d just wilt, and we could see he was overheating. He had a couple of summer colds and he’d get feverish and his temperature just wouldn’t go down.’
‘Scary,’ she murmured.
‘He was hospitalised once, with suspected meningitis. Fortunately, that was a false alarm. I wanted to
