He didn’t call the next day or the day after. By the time the third day passed, her hormones had her zigzagging all over the place. Maggie wasn’t quite sure if Mother Nature was impressed with her forbearance or punishing her for prudery. Either way, as day four began she was full-tilt-boogying toward miserable, and hormones or no, Maggie knew being miserable over Tom Sullivan was definitely not smart.
Now, he was standing there, smiling, twinkling, and crinkling at her. Maggie pursed her lips, ignoring the twinge of nerves tweaking her stomach and the pang of something she didn’t want to think about pooling low in her belly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked by way of greeting. “You decide to let me wax your back hair?”
He laughed. “No. I came to give you something.” Tom reached into the breast pocket of his coat and started to remove a folded sheet of paper. He paused, his brows drawing together in consternation. “Back hair? I don’t have back hair, do I?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you aren’t Sasquatch yet, but….”
“Really?” He cocked his arm, groping at the small of his back. “Where?”
She nodded to the sheet of paper. “You were going to give me something?”
“Oh!” He presented it to her with a flourish. “Healthy, clean, and locked and loaded,” he said, recovering his boyish grin. “Reporting for duty, ma’am.”
Maggie snorted softly as she unfolded the page. She made a show of scanning the medical mumbo-jumbo then closed it again, setting the creases with her thumbnail. “Well, stand down, solider. We’re in a demilitarized zone.”
“Huh?”
She thought of the prescription bottle sitting on her kitchen counter. “It’s not the time to mobilize the troops.”
“Why not? I thought you were all gung-ho to get this going.”
“Gung-ho?”
“Hey, you were the one who started the Patton bit,” he retorted. His fingers fluttered through his hair. The cowlick popped up. The crinkles around his eyes morphed into weary wrinkles. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth.
A twinge of sympathy tweaked her stomach, only to be overpowered by a killer cramp. She snatched the last two bottles of aromatherapy bath gel from the box and plunked them on the shelf. “Yeah, well, you didn’t even give me the courtesy of a MacArthur.”
“A MacArthur?”
“I shall return,” she intoned. Snatching the box from the counter, she stalked toward the storage room.
Tom dropped the briefcase and followed her into the snug space beyond the reception desk. “You had to know I would.”
“Did I?”
“Shit, Maggie, we’re having a baby together.” Maggie didn’t answer. Instead she grabbed a box of sterile cotton sponges from the shelf and brushed past him. “And maybe I’m tired of having you slam doors in my face,” he continued, dogging her footsteps as she stopped into the first treatment room.
She shoved a handful of sponges into an already stocked drawer. The damn thing bounced right back at her when she tried to shut it. “Maybe I’m tired of you trying to push your way in.”
“If I don’t push, you won’t let me in!”
The sterile pads flew through the air when she threw her arms up in frustration. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
Tom stepped back and the confetti of cotton fell to the floor at their feet. He stared down at the square-shaped swatches. “Back to square one,” he murmured. “It’s always back to square one with you.”
Ignoring the mess she’d created, she tipped her chin up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I like you, Maggie. You’re beautiful. You make me laugh. You’re smart, strong, sexy as hell… You’re everything you should be, everything any guy would admire,” he said, the low timbre of his voice barely ruffling the quiet that surrounded them. “And no matter what you’ve cooked up in your head, I’m just a guy. My needs are pretty simple.”
“You came over here to get laid,” she muttered.
He smirked. “You really think getting laid is so hard? You think I went through what I went through this week to get my rocks off? Hell, I already did. Caught it in a cup and rushed over to a lab holding a brown paper bag like I’d packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.”
Maggie looked away, battling back the hot rush of tears prickling her eyes. He backed into the hall, his fingers trailing over the doorframe. “I thought we understood each other. I thought we wanted the same thing. A baby…A partner, a friend, someone to count on….”
“You didn’t call,” she whispered. The mental ass kicking started up the moment the pathos-laced words left her lips.
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to call. And…I was a little mad. Hell, twice you’ve tossed me out of your apartment.” He held his palms out in a gesture of futility. “You never gave me your phone number. What was I supposed to do, call you here and hope to catch you between customers?”
She pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead. “You would have had it on your phone. I called you, remember?”
Tom took a cautious step into the room. “I didn’t know if I was supposed to use it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, Maggie. Are we dating, or are we just having a baby together? Am I supposed to call you? Why didn’t you call me if you wanted to talk to me?” He reached for her but she shook her head and turned away. Warm hands closed over her upper arms. “Tell me, Maggie. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do my best, but you’re
gonna
have to be pretty clear. This hot and cold thing is messing with my head.”
“Mine too.” The tears broke free, spilling onto her cheeks and trickling to her chin. “I’m all over the place,” she whispered. She sniffled and his warm, hard chest pressed against her back. She swiped at her cheeks. “Hormones. I have to warn you, they’re only going to get worse.”
Strong arms taut with tension wound their way around her, pulling her into him, taking some of the weight. “If you can tell me you really want me here, I’ll tough them out.” His chin came to rest atop her head. He drew a deep breath. “Please, just tell me now. Do you, Maggie?”
The breath caught in her throat, tangled in a knot of hope, fear, optimism and terror. She knew he was right. She had to make up her mind once and for all. She needed to grow up, let go of her girlish dreams, swallow the lump of disappointment that lodged in her throat and get on with her life. Such as it was.
Tom nuzzled her hair. She felt him take a deep breath. As if he needed to drink her in. Like he was parched, and if he had her scent he’d be able to go on. Move forward. And she could move forward with him. Take the chance. The biggest gamble of her life.
She shifted, and he tightened his hold. She chuckled and pushed on his arms, loosening them just enough to turn and face him. His lips twitched. Those dark blue eyes narrowed expectantly, fanning the tiny crinkles again. He wet his lips. She could see the wheels turning in his head and another argument forming in the depths of his eyes. Maggie covered his warm mouth with cool fingertips and shook her head. His lips pursed into a soft kiss, sealing the deal whether she was ready or not.
Maggie was aware that in his own way, he was asking her to share her life with him. All she had to do was say the word. Two words actually. The same two words she’d been dreaming of saying since she was a little girl. Gathering all of her courage, she looked him in the eye and whispered, “I do.”
****
The dreamy look in her eyes when she whispered ‘I do’ should have sent him bolting for the door, but it didn’t. Instead, Tom found his feet rooted to the ground. He waited a full minute, just holding her in his arms while ticking off the seconds in his brain. Panic didn’t bubble in his gut. His well-honed instincts for fight or flight failed him. The only sensation that registered was her soft warmth melting into him, cloaking him in calm.
A renegade tendril of red hair escaped her low ponytail. He tucked it behind her ear, his knuckles grazing her cheek and jaw. The fuzzy buzzing in his brain was back. Unable to work past it, he gave in to the low hum, gathering her closer and groping for a safe topic. “Are you hungry?”
She caught the edge of his lapel between her teeth and gave it a tug, her answer muffled by his jacket. “Starving.”
“Chinese? Pizza? Thai?”
“Perfect.”
“All of the above?” he asked as she pulled away.
“Any, not all.”
She took his hand to lead him from the room but he pulled back. “Wait.” When she turned, he gestured to the cotton-cluttered floor. “Are we going to leave this?”
Maggie huffed and rolled her eyes, bending to scoop up a handful of the decidedly un-sterile sponges. “Are you some kind of neat-freak?”
He laughed. “Not really. I was only thinking about your clients.” He gathered as many of the white squares as he could reach. “We need to stop bickering.” Straightening to his full height, he found her propped against the table grinning at him. He waved a handful of cotton at her. “Too much clean-up involved.”
“I like bickering with you.”
“I noticed.” He tossed the squares into a tiny trashcan. “Wouldn’t be so bad if there were make-up sex involved…”
In a blink, she had him up against the wall and the sponges she gathered fluttered to the floor again. She pinned him with her lush curves. Not that he was resisting. Hell, he forgot how to breathe. Her lips parted, her eyes grew dark and heavy-lidded. She moved, sliding against his body, slow and sinuous, grasping his hands and pressing them to the cool wall.
He ducked his head, trying for a kiss, but she eluded him. Hot, moist breath tickled his throat. His Adam’s apple seemed to swell along with the rest of his body, pressing against the knot in his tie. “Maggie,” he rasped, wondering if it would be his last word.
Her finger slipped under the knot, gently tugging until she loosened it another inch. “You need to lighten up.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she wriggled again, eliciting a groan instead. “Yes, ma’am.” Panting, he wrapped one arm around her waist, binding her to him. “Whatever you say, ma’am…Just don’t stop.”
He feinted to the left then ducked right, his lips fastening on the smooth skin just beneath her ear. Her pulse throbbed against his tongue. She smelled like sugar cookies and cinnamon. He laved the tender skin with his tongue. Sweet and spice. The scent suited Maggie to a tee.
“I’ve been dreaming about you, Maggie.” His voice rumbled in his chest, trapped there by lack of oxygen and Maggie overload. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”
A strangled moan, half plea or half protest, it didn’t matter. “Can’t…Period…” The words escaped in a breathy rush. “Supposed to start taking the
Clomid
…”
Undeterred, he caught her ear lobe between his teeth, a low growl of frustration punctuating the gentle bite. He set her away from him and glanced down at his heaving chest, wondering if he’d ever draw a peaceful breath again. “Just tell me you want me too,” he said, not daring to glance up. “Tell me you feel it. Tell me it’s not just me.”
“I want you too.”
The quiet calm in her voice stilled his jangled nerves. He met her frank gaze. “You feel it too.”
“I just pushed you up against a wall,” she pointed out.
His nod gained momentum as certainty sank in then stopped abruptly. The back of his head
thunked
against the wall. He clamped his jaw then had to concentrate on working it free again. A niggling voice in his head told him she didn’t feel the same pull he did. She pushed him up against a wall, but she never said she felt it too.
“So, uh…Chinese?”
“You don’t have to…If you don’t want to stay—”
“We’ve got some things to go over.” He raised one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Might as well eat.”
****
Maggie plucked a pea pod from the container and popped it into her mouth, her lips closing around the chopsticks. She flipped over another page of the document he’d pulled from his overstuffed briefcase and scanned the last paragraph, watching him watching her out of the corner of her eye. He clutched his fork so tight she feared it would bend. “What’s the matter? General
Tso
fighting back?”
Tom gave his head a shake and plunged the fork into the container. “No, just zoning out.”
“Got a pen?” she asked, extending one hand palm-up.
He flinched. “You can’t sign it now. You need to have an attorney look it over,” he said, clearly aghast.