White Lace and Promises (14 page)

Funny, Maggie thought, the realization that she must now live according to a clock didn’t depress her. She was willing to get up with him in the morning and cook his breakfast and even do the dishes. She didn’t know how long this domesticated eagerness would continue, and vowed to take advantage of it while it lasted. In the morning, she would stand at the front door and send him off to the office with a juicy kiss. But from the frowning look he was giving the television, Maggie had the impression the good-bye kiss in the morning would be all the kissing she was going to get.

Glenn’s thoughts were heavy. Maggie was sitting at his side and he hadn’t so much as put his arm around her. He felt as though he were stretched out on a rack, every muscle strained to the limit of his endurance. It was pure torture to have her so close and not haul her into his arms and make love to her. If she could read only half of what was going through his mind, she would run back to California, he thought drily. No, he wouldn’t take her that night. He’d bide his time, show her how empty his life was without her, how much he needed a woman’s tenderness. Then, in time, she would come to him willingly and desire him, maybe even as keenly as he did her.

“Don’t you think we should go to bed? It’s after eleven.” Maggie broached the subject with all the subtlety of a locomotive. Sitting next to him was torture. They had hardly said two words all night. The thick, unnatural silence made the words all the more profound.

Smoothly rolling to his feet, Glenn nodded. He hadn’t noticed that the news was over. For that matter, he couldn’t recall the headlines or anything that had been reported. Not even the weather forecast, which he listened for each night. “I imagine you’re tired,” he finally answered.

“Dead on my feet,” she confirmed, walking with him toward the hallway and the master bedroom.
You’re wide awake
, her mind accused. She was on Pacific time and it was barely after eight in San Francisco.

Following a leisurely scented bath, Maggie joined him, wearing a black nightshirt that buttoned up the front and hit her at midthigh with deep side slits that went halfway up to her hip. The satin top was the most feminine piece of sleepwear Maggie owned. The two top buttons were unfastened, and she stretched her hands high above her head in a fake yawn, granting him a full glimpse of her upper thighs.

Glenn was in bed, propped against thick feather pillows, reading a spy thriller. One look at her in the black satin pajama top and the book nearly tumbled from his hands. Tension knotted his stomach and he all but groaned at the sight of his wife. But witnessing her beauty and wanting her was torture he endured willingly.

The mattress dipped slightly as she lifted back the blankets and slipped into the bed. Glenn set his novel aside and reached for the lamp switch. The room went dark, with only the shimmering rays of the distant moon dancing across the far walls.

Neither moved. Only a few inches separated them, but for all the good it did to be sleeping with her husband, Maggie could well have been in San Francisco, she decided.

“Good night, Glenn,” Maggie whispered after several stifled moments. If he didn’t reach for her soon, she’d clobber him over the head. Maybe she should say something to encourage him—let him know her feelings. But what?
Listen, Glenn, I’ve reconsidered, and although I realize that you may still be in love with another woman, I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. We’re married. I’m your wife
.… Disheartened, Maggie realized she couldn’t do it. Not so soon, and not in a condominium he probably bought with the other woman in mind.

Glenn interrupted Maggie’s dark thoughts with a deep, quiet voice. “Good night.” With that, he rolled onto his side away from her.

Gallantly, she resisted the urge to smash the pillow over the top of his head, pull a blanket from the mattress, and storm into the living room to sleep. She didn’t know how any man could be so unbelievably dense.

Maggie fell easily into a light, untroubled slumber. Although asleep, lying on her side, her back to him, she was ever conscious of the movements of the man who was sharing the bed. Apparently, Glenn was having more difficulty falling asleep, tossing to one side and then to another, seeking a comfortable position. Once his hand inadvertently fell onto her hip, and for a moment he went completely still. Content now, Maggie smiled inwardly and welcomed the calm. Sleeping with him was like being in a rowboat wrestling with a storm at sea.

With unhurried ease the hand that rested against her bare hip climbed upward, stopping at her ribs. Shifting his position, Glenn scooted closer and gathered her into his embrace. As if he couldn’t help himself, his hand sought and found a firm breast. His touch was doing insane things to her equilibrium, and she was encompassed in a gentle, sweet warmth. Savoring the moment, Maggie bit into her bottom lip as he slowly, tantalizingly, caressed her breasts until she
thought she’d moan audibly and give herself away.

Glenn was in agony. He had thought that he would wait and follow all the plans he’d made for courting his wife. But each minute grew more torturous than the one just past. He couldn’t sleep; even breathing normally was impossible when she lay just within his grasp. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but once his hand lightly grazed her hip he couldn’t stop his mind from venturing to rounder, softer curves and the memory of the way her breast had fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. Before he could stop, his fingers sought to explore her ripe body.

Maggie remained completely still, waiting patiently for him to roll her onto her back and make love to her. When he didn’t move and she suspected that he might not ease the painful longing throbbing within her, she rolled onto her back and linked her arms around his neck.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded.

“Maggie.” He ground out her name like a man possessed, and hungrily devoured her lips with deep, slow, hot kisses that drove him to the brink of insanity. Groaning, he buried his face in her hair and drew deep gulps of oxygen into his parched lungs. Again, he kissed her, tasting her willingness, reveling in her eagerness.

Her hands rumpled the dark thickness of his hair while she repeated his name again and again. Hungry for the taste of him, Maggie urged his mouth to hers, but his devouring kiss only increased her aching need.

“I want you,” he groaned, breathing in sharply.

“Yes,” she murmured, kissing the hollow of his throat and arching against him.

“Oh Glenn,” Maggie groaned in a harsh whisper. “What took you so long?” The sensation was so blissfully exultant that she felt she could have died from it.

Looping her arms around his neck, Maggie strained upward and planted a long, hot kiss on his parted mouth. “How can any man be so blind?”

“Next time, hit me over the head.” He arched forward then, and buried himself deep within her.

Maggie moaned. “I will. Oh Glenn, I will,” she cried.

He took her quickly, unable to bear slow torture. Their bodies fused in a glorious union of heart with soul, of man with woman, of Maggie with Glenn. They strained together, giving, receiving, until their hearts beat in a paired tempo that left them breathless, giddy, and spent.

Glenn gathered her in his arms and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Her head
rested in the crook of his shoulder, their legs entwined as if reluctant to release the moment.

Maggie felt the pressure of his mouth on her hair and snuggled closer into his embrace, relishing the feel of his strong arms wrapped securely around her.

Brushing a wayward curl from her cheek, Glenn’s hand lingered to lightly stroke the side of her face. Maggie smiled gently up at him, the contented smile of a satisfied woman.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she teased.

Glenn chuckled, his warm breath fanning her forehead. “Did my tossing and turning keep you awake?”

“Not really … I was only half asleep.” Maggie lowered her chin and covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn. “Good night, Mr. Lambert,” she whispered, dragging out the words as she swallowed back another yawn.

“Mrs. Lambert,” he murmured huskily, kissing the crown of her head.

Maggie’s last thought before slipping into an easy slumber was that she wasn’t ever going to allow another woman’s ghost to come between them again. This man was her husband and she loved him … yes, loved him with a ferocity she was only beginning to understand. Together they were going to make this marriage work. One hundred Angies weren’t going to stand in the way of their happiness. Maggie wouldn’t allow it.

Within minutes Maggie was asleep. Still awake, Glenn propped up his head with one hand and took delight in peacefully watching the woman who had become everything to him in such a shockingly short amount of time. She was his friend, his lover, his wife, and he had the feeling he had skimmed only the surface of who and what Maggie would be in his life. His finger lightly traced the line of her cheek and the hollow of her throat. As impulsive as their marriage had been, there wasn’t a second when Glenn regretted having pledged his life to Maggie. She was fresh and warm, a loving, free spirit. And he adored her. She had come to him with an ardor he had only dreamed of finding in a woman. She was stubborn, impulsive, headstrong: a rare and exquisite jewel. His jewel. His woman. His wife.

The low, melodious sound of a ballad slowly woke Maggie.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Glenn said as he sat on the edge of the mattress and
kissed her lightly. He finished buttoning his shirt and flipped up the collar as he straightened the silk tie around his neck.

“You’re dressed,” she said, struggling to a sitting position and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She had wanted to get up with him, but must have missed the alarm.

“Would you like to undress me?”

Leaning against the down pillow, Maggie crossed her arms and smiled beguilingly up at him. “What would you do if I said yes?”

Glenn’s fingers quit working the silk tie. “Don’t tempt me, Maggie. I’m running late already.”

“I tempt you?” He’d never said anything more beautiful.

“If only you knew.”

“I hope you’ll show me.” She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and leaned forward. “It … it was wonderful last night.” She felt shy talking about their lovemaking, but it was imperative that he realize how much he pleased her.

“Yes, it was,” he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “I never expected anything so good between us.”

“Me neither,” she murmured, and kissed his hand. “I wish you’d gotten me up earlier.”

“Why?” He looked surprised.

Tossing back the covers, Maggie climbed out of bed and slipped into a matching black satin housecoat that she hadn’t bothered to put on the night before—for obvious reasons. “I wanted to do the wifely thing and cook your breakfast.”

“I haven’t got time this morning.” He paused, thinking he’d never seen any woman more beautiful. Her tousled hair fell to her shoulders, her face was free of any cosmetics, but no siren had ever been more alluring.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do while you’re gone?” she offered. The day stretched before her and they hadn’t made plans.

“Yes, in fact, there are several things. I’ll make a list.” He reached for a pad and paper on his nightstand and spent the next few minutes giving her directions and instructions. “And don’t plan dinner tonight,” he added. “I phoned my parents yesterday and told them I had a surprise and to expect two for dinner.”

Maggie sat on the bed beside him, and unconsciously her shoulders slouched slightly.
This was the very reason she’d come to Charleston, yet she was afraid. “Will they think we’ve gone crazy?”

“Probably,” he returned with a short chuckle. “But they’ll be delighted. Don’t worry about it; they know you and have always liked you. Mom and Dad will be happy for us.”

“I’m happy, Glenn.” She wanted to reassure him that she had no regrets in this venture.

His dark eyes were serious, and his gaze held her immobile. “I am, too, for the first time since I can remember. We’re going to make it, Maggie.”

A grandfather clock in the den chimed the hour, and reluctantly Glenn stood. “I’ve got to leave.”

“Glenn.” Maggie stopped him, then lowered her gaze, almost afraid of what she had to say. Waiting until the last minute to tell him wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I’m … Listen, I think you should probably know that I’m not using any birth control.” His index finger lifted her chin so that her uncertain gaze met his. “That’s fine. I want a family.”

A sigh of relief washed through her, and she beamed him a brilliant smile. “I probably should warn you, though, my mother claims the Kingsbury clan is a fertile one. We could be starting our family sooner than you expect.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m not going to. When a baby comes, you can be assured of a warm welcome.”

Maggie experienced an outpouring of love far too powerful to be voiced with simple words. Nodding demanded an incredible effort.

“I’ll leave the car keys with you and I’ll take public transportation. If you’re in the neighborhood around noon, stop into the office and I’ll introduce you and take you to lunch.”