Eleven
At 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 dining 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
