Clumps of bubbles trailed down his chest and back and swirled into the drain, but his scotch-fueled resentment stirred to a froth. Tom cranked the handle and the water cut off. He opened the stall door, allowing the cool air to blast the ardor the mere thought of her stirred. Once the boring beige towel was anchored around his waist, he dripped his way out of the bathroom without sparing another glance. He didn’t want to stand at that pristine vanity and brush his teeth with the lonely toothbrush standing in the ceramic cup he didn’t even choose for himself.
His gaze traveled across the dustless surface of his dresser. A flat tray held a neatly paired set of cufflinks and shiny tie tacks. Tom jerked the towel from his hips and let it fall to the floor. Beige sucked. He wanted enormous bath sheets made of thick, thirsty pink, turquoise, or even purple terrycloth. The bed loomed before him, a yawning stretch of masculine anonymity in boring blue, beige, and brown. He stared into the dimly lit room. Nothing was out of place. Not one bit of clutter crowded the nightstand. Everything was exactly where it belonged. Except for him.
****
Maggie scanned the caller ID and stifled a sigh. “How did the game go? You take their Social Security checks? Are you the stud in Five-card Stud?” she asked by way of greeting.
“I don’t want to wait ‘til Sunday to see you,” Tom answered.
The note of petulance in his voice brought a small smile to her lips. Then the tears she’d been fighting back all afternoon tangled in her throat. She sniffled and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to regain a modicum of control. “I have plans with Tracy tomorrow.”
“I know; that’s fine.”
She bristled at his dismissive tone. “Thanks for your approval.”
“I’m downstairs. Let me in.”
“It’s late.”
“That’s never mattered before.”
Maggie bit her lip. The urge to rush to the door made her toes twitch beneath the sheet. The imperious demand made her feel all girly and fluttery deep in her belly despite raising her feminist hackles. Appalled by her own weakness, she twisted rumpled cotton around her hand, and sank deeper into her too-empty bed, desperate to hang onto the last shred of her resolve.
“Maggie?” She
squinched
her eyes shut and pressed her lips together, a futile attempt to resist his husky siren song.
“Not tonight, Tom.”
“Maggie, what’s wrong?”
The gentle caress of his words pummeled her, piercing the brittle shell of disappointment shrouding her heart like hollow-tipped bullets. “I’m not pregnant.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but they had the impact of a mortar shell. The ringing in her ears almost masked his sharp intake of breath. Almost, but not quite. He hesitated, just for a moment, but it stretched like an eternity. She broke into a thousand bits.
“But, Maggie… I mean, it’s early days—”
“I’m sorry,” she managed to whisper before a sob escaped and the tears broke free.
“Is that why?” She cried harder. The sound of his fist pounding the exterior door surrounded her, echoing dimly through the stairwell and apartment but with fiber-optic clarity through the receiver. “Let me in, Maggie.”
“No!” The word burst from her lips. Sob number seven thousand and sixty-two rose in her throat. “What’s the point?”
The words left a dull ache in her chest, but they seemed to stun Tom. The pounding subsided. His rough and ragged breathing filled her ears. “We just started. We knew it probably wouldn’t happen right away.”
His voice broke just the slightest bit, and it nearly did her in. Maggie tried to answer him, but the words tangled in her throat like congealed pasta. The man thought he could argue her emotional response away. Typical lawyer. She wanted to tell him to stuff his reason and logic up his tight ass. She sniffed again, preparing to do just that, but a fresh round of tears assaulted her.
“And I just… It doesn’t matter,
Mags
. I like being with you,” he continued. “I
should
be with you. We’re in this together, right? We’ll keep trying.”
She snuffled, nodding her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Kay”, she managed to croak.
A horn blared on the street below, and Tom’s voice seemed to drop a full octave. “Now let me in.”
She wiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “No. I’m a mess.”
The quiet stretched between them for a heartbeat, then two, and three. “Maybe I’m a mess too,” he cajoled. “I might need you to hold me.”
The sly smile she heard in his softly spoken words stunned her tears into submission. She took a shaky breath. “Yeah?”
“My bedroom is boring, and the pillows don’t smell like you.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never invited me over.”
A smile colored his words. “I like your place better. Besides, Fred would get lonely if we hung out at my place.”
“You could invite him too.”
“Maybe I will sometime.” Tom blew out a sigh and she smiled, picturing his finger-furrowed hair and creased brow. “I
am
sorry, Maggie. I promise I’ll try to do better with the whole impregnating you thing.”
Maggie chuckled and tossed the blankets aside. “Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”
****
An hour later, his head rested on a lilac-printed pillowcase with a fat cat perched on his stomach. He gave Fred’s ears a lazy scratch, but his attention was riveted on the woman next to him.
“It was embarrassing,” Maggie insisted.
His lips twitched. “Come on, you have to admit it’s kind of funny.”
“It’s not funny at all! She was standing there waiting for me to come out of the bathroom, and, of course, I was a complete mess.”
He shifted, giving Fred fair warning of his intentions. The cat issued his own warning by sinking his claws into the thin skin covering Tom’s sternum. Before Fred could regroup enough for an all-out attack, Tom gently dislodged him and rolled onto his side facing Maggie. “It’s funny.”
“You think everything is funny,” she complained.
He snagged the end of one tousled red curl and wound it around his finger. “Not everything. Just you.”
“It was mortifying. She totally thinks I’m a slut now.”
“Sheila doesn’t think you’re a slut.”
“She thinks
you’re
a slut,” she countered.
“True, but you didn’t tell her it was me,” he pointed out. Cocking his head, he peered down at her. “Why not?”
She gave his chest an ineffective shove. “It’s nobody’s business.”
Rolling onto her, he squelched her yelp with a hard, fast kiss. “So, you’d rather let her think you were crying in the bathroom at Haven House because you were scared some nameless, faceless guy accidentally shoved a bun in your oven?”
“I just said I thought I was pregnant! She assumed I was upset because I might be baking a bun, not because I’m not.” She trailed her fingers over his shoulder. “I just don’t want to jinx things before anything even happens.” He winced when she jabbed his bicep. “You’re not so anxious to tell everyone, either. Has your mom said anything about Mrs. Murphy?”
He nipped her earlobe, tugging the tender skin with his teeth. “Not yet, but she may be saving it up for a full frontal assault tomorrow.”
“Such a lovely relationship you have,” she said with a sigh.
“It works for us.”
“Mama’s boy.”
He snorted. “Hardly.”
Maggie trailed one fingertip along his jaw. “You’re a good son.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You take good care of your mother.”
“I don’t have a choice. She won’t deal with Sean, and George won’t deal with her anymore.”
A puzzled frown creased her brow. “I still don’t get what her problem is with Sean.”
Tom did his best to smooth the lines of worry away with a kiss. “That is a mystery for the ages.” He heaved a sigh and nuzzled her tangled curls. “He looks like our dad. That’s the best I can figure.”
Maggie stiffened beneath him. “That’s not Sean’s fault.”
“Nope.” Tom reared back and cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t say it was logical. I just said it was my best theory.”
“Crappy theory,” she muttered.
“Crappy mother.”
“What are you going to tell her about us?”
“As little as possible.”
Her scowl deepened. Fixing her with his best assessing lawyer stare, he narrowed his eyes. “You know she treats Tracy like crap, and Sean
married
her,
Mags
.”
“God forbid some slut touch her precious Tommy.” She gave a dramatic shudder and rolled her eyes. “Her perfect, virginal baby boy.”
“What? You want me to tell her all about you? How we’re trying to have a baby without being married? Christ, I can’t even imagine how many rosaries that’s going to rack up.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, he pushed up, relieving her of some of his weight. “I’m not going to lie to her. I’m not
gonna
lie to Sean or George either, for that matter, but I’m not going to volunteer testimony. When it comes to letting my mother in on my life, I am definitely a hostile witness.”
“No one is asking you to lie.” She gave him a shove, trying to dislodge him. He laughed a short, bitter bark, set his jaw, and held his ground, causing Maggie to put a little more muscle behind her efforts. “Get off me.”
“No.”
She grunted with the strain, but the effect was still the same. Well, not quite the same. Her wiggling was turning him on. All the more reason for him to stay put. She huffed, blinking as she fixed him with a defiant glare. “I didn’t say you had to lie to them. Maybe it’s just best not to advertise our…arrangement.”
“Relationship,” he corrected. “We’re in a relationship, Maggie. People are going to find out. Particularly, if we ever leave this apartment together.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do that,” she challenged, breathless and flustered.
“You think we can hide out indefinitely? People are going to notice, Maggie. I am going to get you pregnant, you are going to have a big, round belly, and one day a baby is going to come out of that big, round belly.” He knew his tone was a tad too patronizing, but he couldn’t help himself. Maggie could get his Irish up faster than any woman he’d ever known. “People just might notice,
Mags
.”
She planted the heels of her hands on his shoulders and shoved. Golden shards of anger shot daggers from her emerald eyes. “Get. Off. Me.”
“No.” Tom smiled but refused to yield. “Christ you’re beautiful,
Mags
.”
“I hate you.”
He shook his head, an affectionate smile curving his lips. “No, you don’t.” Tom stifled further protest with a hard, fast kiss. “I’ll tell her when there’s something to tell. No need to get her all stirred up.” She growled low in her throat and he chuckled. “I do love stirring you up, though.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits when he settled his weight on her again, nestling his erection into the curve of her hip. Her snarl turned into a smug smile. “You’re not getting any tonight.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want you.”
“I do hate you sometimes.”
He laughed and shook his head, flipping onto his back and taking her with him. “That’s okay. I’m crazy about you. I figure it’ll all balance out.”
Maggie pushed her hair back from her face, rolled her eyes, and glared down at him. “Would you stop arguing with me and go to sleep?”
He grinned. “I’m not tired, and I can’t help it. I love baiting you. You always chomp right down on the hook.”
“You want me to chomp down on what?”
His smile widened when she smoothed his cowlick and nipped at his bottom lip. Tom closed his eyes, a smug smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Sweetheart, you can chomp any part of me you want.”
Maggie retaliated by pressing a pillow over his face to stifle his laughter.
Chapter Fourteen
Tracy cradled the empty wine bottle like a baby. Maggie pulled it from the crook of her arm and eased a throw pillow under her friend’s head. She covered splayed legs with an afghan and stepped back, surveying her passed-out friend with a critical frown. Her guest snorted in her sleep and an affectionate smile curved Maggie’s lips. She tiptoed away from the sofa, snagging her cell phone from her purse as she stole from the room. Pressing a speed-dial key, she closed her bedroom door as the call connected.