She bit her lip and stared at the bags printed with the dry cleaners’ name and logo. Four starched and pressed shirts hung alongside three ties clipped to a paper-wrapped hanger. Two more suits, one pearl gray and the other the same midnight blue of his eyes, completed the inventory. She secretly hoped he’d choose the navy suit the next day. With the blue shirt and the burgundy tie.
The door latch caught with a click, and Tom looked up from the brief on his lap, offering a wan smile. “Almost done.”
“Take your time.”
Maggie cleared the plastic and aluminum carryout containers from the table. He’d brought Thai. The night before dinner had been gyros, and the night before that he showed up holding a pizza box. She stowed the leftovers in the fridge, dropped the empties into the trash, and scowled at Fred.
“The dry food is good for you,” she admonished.
Fred meowed in response and Tom chuckled. “The cat equivalent of eating tofu.”
She rolled her eyes and wiped down the counters. “He didn’t need to scatter it all over the floor.”
“We’re men. We destroy what we do not understand,” he mumbled.
She draped the washcloth over the faucet and glanced up at the cabinets. A soft sigh seeped from her lips. Leaning back against the sink was the perfect vantage point. From there, she could watch him in the reflection of the decorative mirror by the door, but Tom couldn’t see her. She’d discovered the magic spot two nights before and made the most of it whenever possible. Luckily, he was unwittingly compliant. He showed up with dinner that first Monday night and stayed, accepting the whole-grain breakfast bar she offered him the next morning with a sheepish smile. The next day was a repeat, and the next… Somehow the man was now a fixture in her apartment.
In just a few minutes, he’d set whatever it was he was working on aside and flash that wicked smile. Within a half-hour, she’d be pinned beneath him, gasping for breath as he smothered her with hot, hungry kisses. In just an hour or so, he’d pull her from the sofa and crawl into her bed beside her.
He kept his hands to himself—damn him and his healthy respect for Mother Nature. Dealing with his cocky self-assurance was so much easier than the perfect gentleman
schtick
he had going. He waited for the green light, exhibiting a shocking patience she both loathed and admired. Bit by bit, her resistance was wearing thin. Not that it was thick to start. After all, the point of this whole arrangement hinged on them getting naked and getting busy as often as possible. Maggie just wished she wasn’t the one who had to make the first move. Stupid Mother Nature put her in this ridiculous position. She should let Mother Nature seduce him.
“What are you doing?”
Maggie pushed away from the sink and straightened the already perfectly aligned refrigerator magnets. “I’m just finishing up.” She pulled her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and strolled toward the living room. “You finish what you needed to get done?”
“I just needed to refresh my memory on some stuff,” he said, extending a hand to pull her to the couch.
The cushion gave way beneath her weight, nestling her into the crook of his arm. She fit perfectly. Too perfectly for a girl who didn’t really belong there. His lips brushed her hair. Maggie swallowed a sigh and placed her hand on his thigh. The muscle tensed under her palm. Her fingers reflexively bit into the taut flesh then slid higher.
His breath caught and she smiled. “Do I need to refresh your memory too?”
“No.” The word escaped him in a rush of breath.
“No?”
He covered her hand, pressing it hard against his thigh. “I remember everything,” he said, his voice low and husky. “The way you taste. Your skin is so soft… I remember the little noise you make just before you come.”
Now he wasn’t the only one with a little hitch in his giddy-up. Maggie closed her eyes and forced her lungs to expand and contract. “Do you?”
He crooked one finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, pulling away just enough to meet her gaze. “You think I’d forget?”
“I was beginning to wonder.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was just waiting for you to say go.”
“Go.” The word clung to her lips for a second too long. He trapped it there, covering her mouth in a kiss so ardent she feared she’d never draw a full breath again. He shifted, pressing a knee into the cushion and angling his body over hers. Their lips parted and she exhaled, “Tom.”
“Oh God, don’t say stop, Maggie.” His fervent whisper carried more than a hint of a plea. “Please don’t say stop.”
She pressed her fingertips to his mouth, silencing his doubts. “I’m not. I’m just asking for a slight detour.”
“Detour?”
“Bedroom.”
“Oh.” He pulled back, capturing both of her wrists and pulling her upright again. “Right. Bedroom.”
The edge of the coffee table took a chunk out of her shin, but she couldn’t have cared less. His breath tickled her cheek, hot, moist, and expectant. He kissed her hard. Suppressed desire tasted tangy on his eager tongue. A rush of pure feminine pleasure pulsed through her veins, heating her blood and raising a steamy flush on her skin. His elbow hit the wall in the hall, knocking a picture frame akimbo. They bounced off the doorframe and dove headfirst for the bed.
Clothing flew in every direction. His shirt sailed across the room and landed atop an indignant red tabby. Maggie howled with laughter as Fred growled his displeasure, and Tom tore at the button and hooks on his pants.
His zipper rasped, and she covered his hands with hers. “Easy… We have time.”
A wry smile twitched his lips. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I think I’m just afraid you’ll change your mind.”
“I thought we both decided,” she chided.
“I know.” Tom shucked the rest of his clothes then ducked his head, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and throat. “I’m just paranoid.”
She framed his head with her hands and urged him to lift his head. “Tom.”
“Hmm?”
“Tom,” she prompted. When he raised his head, she gave him a shaky smile. “We decided, right?”
He blinked then nodded slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “We did.”
“You sure about this?”
His smile was chased by a weak chuckle. “
Mags
, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
“I mean the, uh…possible result.”
“Probable,” he corrected, pecking a soft kiss to her lips. “I plan to do my
damndest
to knock you up, Mary Margaret McCann.”
Maggie couldn’t stifle her smile. “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you, Sully?”
He laughed and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Her hair shrouded her face as she pushed up, straddling his trim hips. His fingers were warm and gentle against her cheeks, brushing the curtain of crazy curls back and tucking them securely behind her ears.
“I just want to make my intentions clear.”
“Crystal clear,” she mumbled, tossing her head back.
His fingers trailed down her cheek skimming her jaw, tickling her throat, and teasing the curve of her breast. “We’re
gonna
make a baby. Beautiful babies, Maggie,” he whispered, and she was a goner.
****
Tom fixed his gaze on the water stain above her bed. “Sorry.”
It was his third apology in as many minutes. With a wince he realized his remorse officially lasted longer than the act. Maggie chuckled and rolled onto her side, her fingers ruffling the line of hair that led to his crotch. She kissed his bare shoulder, but the soft laugh shredded the tattered remains of his ego.
“It’s not funny.”
She propped her head on the heel of her palm and grinned at him. “It
is
funny,” she insisted. “Stud…” He freed his ankle from the tangled sheet and shifted his weight, preparing to roll off the bed, but Maggie flung herself across his chest, preempting the move. “
Nuh
-uh.” She smoothed the hair on his arm with butterfly light strokes of her fingertips. “I’m taking it as a compliment.”
He
squinched
his eyes shut. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just been a long time since I rode bareback.”
She laughed as she pecked a line of soft kisses across his chest. “You’ll get the hang of it, cowboy.”
“Damn right I will,” he growled. He had her on her back before she could land the next kiss. Her throaty laugh filled the room, reverberating off the walls and wrapping him in a shroud of promised pleasure. He cupped one full breast in his hand, testing the weight of her soft flesh in his palm and kneading impossibly silky skin with his fingers. His found the sweet spot just below her ear and sucked gently. Maggie shivered and he smiled. “I just need practice. Lots and lots of practice.”
“Planning a trip to Carnegie Hall?”
He cruised the slender column of her throat, nipped his way along her collarbone, and staked a claim on the curve of her shoulder with a playful, smacking kiss. “Planning to make that up to you in every way you can possibly imagine.”
She teased the line of his spine with her fingernails. “I don’t know if you noticed or not, seeing how you were all wrapped up in your performance issues, but I wasn’t complaining.”
He raised his head and peered into her grass-green eyes. “You were laughing.”
Her response was a negligent shrug. “It was funny.” She traced the curve of his bottom lip and he almost moaned. The pad of her finger felt as soft as a flower petal. The fragrance of her skin rose off her heated body, dulling his senses while setting every nerve ending in his body on high alert. “Super-stud, Tom Sullivan, and his alter ego,
Quickdraw
McGraw.”
His brow knit. “Now, hold on there, Baba
Looey
….”
“
Whatcha
gonna
do? Sic El
Kabong
on me again?” she taunted.
Tom ran his hand over her ribcage as if committing the lush lines of her curves to memory. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and a tremor of laughter shimmied through him.
“What?” Maggie gave his hair a tug to get his attention, which only made him laugh harder.
He nuzzled her ear and pressed against her. “
Olayeee
,” he crooned in a husky rasp.
She squirmed, immediately responding to his body’s battle cry. “Wow. For a guy of your advanced years you have incredible restorative powers, Sherriff McGraw.”
“And don’t you forget it, Baba
Looey
,” he drawled in an exaggerated Texas twang. He pulled her thigh up to his hip and froze, poised on the brink. Brushing the tangle of wild red curls back from her face, he smiled before branding her with a hard, hot kiss. His eyes closed and he sank into the embrace of her body once more. “Don’t you forget it….”
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie pursed her lips and took a step back, surveying the shelf with a critical eye. With a decisive nod, she reached for the neatly stacked cans and plucked two from each row.
Tom peered into the basket. “Go easy on the turkey and giblets. I think he likes the cod, sole, and shrimp ones better.”
Cocking a brow, she turned a cool glare in his direction. “Now you’re telling me what flavors my cat prefers too?”
He flashed a smug smile. “Yes. You like the non-fruity yogurt better and Fred is into seafood.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Who asked you to come along?”
“I have the car, remember?”
“I have a cart. I would have been perfectly happy to do my shopping at the market near my apartment.”
He waved a paper-wrapped baguette like a white flag. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have this delicious seventy-trillion grain artisan bread to go with the two dozen packages of boil and serve pasta we’re buying at a drastic discount because I have a shopper’s card.”
“Who is this ‘we’ you keep talking about? Do you have a mouse in your pocket?”
His grin widened and his springy cowlick bobbed when he nodded eagerly. “Yes, I do.
Wanna
see?”
Maggie suppressed a smile as she turned back to the expansive selection of cat food the suburban grocery store offered. “Please.” She gave a sniff of distaste and tried to distract him with an airy wave of one hand while reaching for two more cans of the cod, sole, and shrimp flavored cat food. “Been there, done that. Hasn’t done me any good.”