Читать книгу Almost Perfect - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 10

Crystal chandeliers cast an elegant glow inside the New England Garden Towers, as Jake ushered Maggie down the carpeted hallway to the Grand Ballroom. He would make it through the evening without a scratch, but he wasn’t so sure about Maggie.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“I know.” He took her trembling hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, his fingers covering hers, offering his support, his strength.

He wanted to chase her fears away, be some kind of superhero who would make everything be all right. He’d tried to do the same thing when they were kids, but it had been easier when Maggie had been a shy, studious sixteen-year-old, and he’d been a surly teen who resented the life fate had dealt him.

During those three summers they’d spent together, he’d taken her hand more times than he could remember. And he’d taught her how to loosen up and have fun, at least for a few months out of the year.

One afternoon, he’d come across her reading, alone in her room, and dragged her out to the pond. She’d been afraid to take the rope and swing across the lake the first time, but he’d wrapped his arms around her and swung with her, coaxing her to let go, to trust him.

“It’s just like swinging over the swimming hole,” he told her. “It wasn’t nearly as scary as you thought.”

“Well, this feels like I’m dangling over an alligator-infested swamp, rather than a small, secluded lake.”

He didn’t understand her nervousness. Maggie was a hell of a woman, and a man would be proud to have her as a friend or a lover.

In fact, if she weren’t such a good friend and so vulnerable, he’d suggest that they continue the lover charade when he took her home, just for tonight. But Maggie deserved more than that. More than a one-night stand with a footloose cowboy who wasn’t what he seemed.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m with you, darlin’, and we’ll make it through the evening without a hitch.”

Just ahead, Jake spotted a table where a matronly woman wearing a black, beaded gown sat with gold lettered name tags and a guest list.

Maggie cleared her throat to speak. Jake sensed her nerves had settled in her voice, so he took the lead. “Dr. Margaret Templeton and Jake Meredith.”

She glanced up at him, appreciation peeking from those soulful, brown eyes.

Maggie might have become a respected physician, but on the inside, she was still the same shy girl. He tilted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “You look beautiful, honey.”

She whispered a “thank you,” but he figured her appreciation went far beyond his compliment.

After slapping on his name tag, Jake placed a hand on the sway of Maggie’s bare back and ushered her to the open doorway.

“I can hardly take my eyes off you,” he said, letting his hand slip low on her hip in an intimate, possessive gesture.

She tilted her head, and honey-brown eyes sought his, looking, it seemed, for an indication of honesty. She would find it. Maggie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever had on his arm and certainly the most elegant. He wanted her to know it. Feel it.

Before they could step away from the doorway, a heavyset gentleman with gray at the temples strode toward them and gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek. She introduced Jake to Dr. George Walters, and the men shared the customary handshakes and greetings.

The doctor scanned Jake’s formal Western wear. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope. Texas, born and bred.”

A waiter, balancing a full tray of flutes on his arm, cautiously approached. “Excuse me. Can I offer you some champagne?”

“Yes.” Jake took a glass from the waiter, handed it to Maggie and snagged one for himself. A drink would take the edge off her nervousness, even if she hadn’t changed her mind about the evils of alcohol. When they were teenagers, he’d been hell-bent to acquire a taste for whiskey, and she’d tried her best to reform him. To an extent, he supposed, she’d made her point.

He didn’t drink for the heck of it, like his old man had done, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the taste of good bourbon or an ice-cold beer. He just kept a close count of how many he enjoyed.

Rather than taking a sip, Maggie held on to the long-stemmed flute as though needing something to keep her hands busy.

He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. “Drink up, Magpie.”

Dr. Walter lifted a gray peppery brow at either the suggestion or the nickname. “Have you two known each other long?”

“Fifteen years,” Jake said. “And now that’s she’s free of Tom Bradley, I’m staking my claim.”

His claim? Maggie nearly choked on the champagne, sending a shot of fizz up her nose.

Jake’s blue eyes caught hers, and he gently touched her shoulder like a concerned suitor. “Are you all right, honey?”

She nodded. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Would she be able to pull off this silly act? Jake seemed so natural, so good at playing his part, but she felt like a ballerina in combat boots.

“What line of work are you in?” George asked Jake.

Maggie hoped he was just trying to make polite, cocktail-hour small talk, but she had a feeling he was digging for more information about the man who was staking his claim on Tom Bradley’s ex-wife.

“I’m a horse trainer.”

“Thoroughbreds?”

“Nope. Rodeo horses.”

“Jake owns a ranch and is one of the best horseman around,” Maggie added. Sharon had raved about his ability to connect with animals, especially horses, once referring to him as Cowboy Doolittle. And Maggie had seen it herself, years ago. “He has an uncanny way with animals.”

Dr. Walters nodded judiciously, and Maggie decided it was best they move on. “If you’ll excuse us, George, I need to speak to someone.”

“Certainly.” The doctor extended a hand to Jake. “Perhaps, later you can tell me about your ranch.”

“Maybe so.” Jake placed an empty champagne glass upon a small table by the door, then slipped his hand low upon Maggie’s back. His thumb caressed her skin, sending a swirl of heat to her spinal cord and then throughout her body.

Her reaction to his touch made it easier to play along and pretend they shared an intimacy known to lovers, which was a good thing, she supposed. But she didn’t need to lose her head. She and Jake were friends, and that’s all they would ever be. He was a Texan, through and through. And she was a dedicated physician, with a new practice waiting for her in California, a prosperous practice that would enable her to pay off the remainder of her student loans.

They mingled among the well-dressed crowd, greeted people and made polite conversation. All the while, Jake was charming and attentive. More than one woman cast a lingering gaze his way and smiled when she thought no one was looking. Jake, it seemed, caught every glance, every flirtatious smile, and sent them right back, all the while remaining attentive to Maggie. His gift, she realized, wasn’t limited to animals.

Jake was an attractive man, not just in his rugged good looks, but in his manner, his demeanor. Maggie felt as though she’d snagged the gold ring on the dating merry-go-round, and she found herself proud to be with him, at least as long as the short ride lasted.

Several times, he took her half-empty champagne flute and replaced it with a full glass. A warmth had settled into her bones, and the entire evening became much easier to bear.

Until Tom and Rhonda walked into the room.

Maggie glanced toward the doorway and stiffened. “They’re here,” she whispered.

“I was just beginning to think the evening was going to be a slam dunk.” Jake glanced at the doorway. “Let’s go say hello, then we can put it behind us, Magpie.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He flashed her a crooked smile and cupped her cheek. “You’re in good hands, darlin’. We’ll make it nice and sweet, then the worst will be over.”

Just like he’d been able to do years before, Jake had a way of cutting to the chase, of helping her face her demons. Of being the kind of friend she needed at any given time. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

She took a step forward, but he pulled her back, accosting her with a woodsy scent of musk and something else. Something she could only describe as essence of cowboy. She breathed deep, relishing his presence, his strength.

Tilting her chin with the tip of his finger, he bent his head to brush his lips upon her partially opened mouth. Once, twice. It was just a whisper of a kiss, soft and sweet, but so sensually delightful, that she closed her eyes and was swept away from the crowd and onto some hidden stage far from the reality of the gala. She doubted whether she could have been more moved by an openmouthed prelude to foreplay.

In fact, she wanted to grab him by the suede lapels and pull him closer, deepen the kiss, see where it might take them both. But she didn’t. Her staunch professionalism wouldn’t allow it.

When she opened her eyes, he flashed her a cocky, bad-boy smile. “How was that for suggesting we’re more than friends?”

Suggesting? Friends didn’t kiss like that, and even though she knew better, that slow, sensuous contact had nearly convinced her that they’d always been more than friends. Which, of course, they hadn’t. So why had his kiss nearly sent her to the moon? She tried to regain her footing. “That was some kiss.”

“You have a mouth made for kissing. All kinds of kisses, short and sweet, long and deep.”

At the thought of kissing Jake thoroughly, her knees nearly buckled, and heat pooled low in her belly. She quickly struggled to recover.

Jake had been a bachelor for years, and from what his sister had said, women clamored around him. He had kissing down to a science and was, undoubtedly, a master at the fine art of seduction. So he’d been able to pack something powerful into that whisper of a kiss, all for the sake of the roles they were playing.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” she said, leading him toward the middle of the room where Tom and Rhonda conversed with a waiter bearing a tray of champagne.

She assessed her ex-husband in a way she never had before and found him lacking in more ways than one. He stood several inches shorter than Jake and appeared pale and wan next to the Texan’s sun-bronzed complexion. Funny, but she’d never noticed what the indoor lighting had done to his skin. “Hello, Tom. Rhonda. It’s good to see you.”

Tom smiled, and for the very first time, she noticed his thin lips. Like a turkey’s beak. No wonder his kisses had never sent her heart spinning. He’d been shortchanged in the lip-and-mouth department, so it seemed. “How have you been, Maggie?”

“Great.” She tried to muster a sense of pride, then turned to Jake, whose full lips curled in that James Dean grin. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Jake Meredith.”

The men greeted each other, and when Tom introduced Rhonda, Jake flashed her a charming smile, working his magic, it seemed, on the pregnant pediatrician. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Rhonda smiled and cast an admiring gaze on the sexy cowboy.

“Rhonda isn’t feeling well,” Tom said, slipping an arm around his wife. “So we’ll probably only stay for dinner.”

“That’s too bad.” Maggie couldn’t conjure the least bit of sympathy. She actually hoped the woman’s feet swelled to the size of a full-grown elephant’s, and that her back ached like crazy. “The ninth month can be unpleasant.”

“Yes, but it’s also exciting,” Rhonda said. “We have the nursery all ready. You’ll have to come by and see it.”

Oh gosh, not again. Did Rhonda’s whole world revolve around Tom and the baby? Or was she purposely waving a victory flag in Maggie’s face?

Well, she could have Turkey-lips. And his baby. A man who cheated on his wife wasn’t a prize, as far as Maggie was concerned.

“Better you, Rhonda, than me,” Maggie said, referring to Rhonda’s husband, not her pregnancy.

“Some women aren’t meant to be mothers,” Rhonda said.

Maggie wished the pediatrician was wearing a stethoscope so Maggie could wrap it tight around the woman’s throat and choke her until she turned blue. The pregnant glow was hard enough to tolerate; the pregnant gloat was pushing Maggie’s professional resolve to the limit.

“Hey,” Jake said, taking Maggie’s hand and tilting his head toward the waiters bringing in trays laden with dinner plates. “I think they want us to take our seats.”

Maggie quickly nodded, ready to escape the upcoming discussion of cribs and wallpaper.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she whispered to Jake. “And quite the charmer. I think Rhonda found you attractive.”

“Maybe so,” he said, sliding her a slow smile. “There’s something women love about cowboys.”

Yes, Maggie supposed there was. Particularly, a cowboy like Jake.

“But I’ve got a hell of a lot better cull shoot than Tom Bradley,” he said, pulling her close to his side. “I know which fillies to keep and which to let go. Come on, Magpie. Let’s find us a quiet place to sit.”

They stayed only for dinner and a dance, long enough to make a gracious showing, then Maggie and Jake left and drove home.

As they strode across her parking garage toward the elevator, Maggie winced. She should have opted for the expensive black heels, rather than the fashionable strappy sandals she’d purchased to go with her evening dress. While they waited for the door to open, she curled her toes, trying to eliminate the pain her new shoes had caused.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked.

The fact that he’d picked up on her discomfort surprised her, but in the past, he’d always been in tune with her feelings. Apparently, he was just as discerning now. How was that possible?

Tom had always been too wrapped up in himself to give much notice to Maggie. In the evenings, he’d always asked for a head-and-neck rub, stating how stressful his day had been. Maggie’d had plenty of stressful days, but she’d never asked for any special attention.

“Just an uncomfortable pair of shoes,” she said, not wanting to complain. “It’s no big deal.”

They rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, and she led the way to the little apartment she called a temporary home.

Jake took the key from her hand and unlocked the door. “Go inside and make yourself comfortable.”

She’d intended to, but his suggestion took her aback. It had a slight, seductive sound to it. Or maybe he was just being nice, and her imagination had read seduction into his words.

This was Jake, her old friend, she again reminded herself. But the ex-rodeo star had, according to his sister, acquired more than his share of gold buckles along with a host of female fans eager to join his fan club.

Loyal childhood friend or sexy ladies’ man? She tried to reconcile the two images, but found it difficult.

“Take off your shoes,” he said, his voice intoxicatingly smooth, like a velvety shot of whiskey.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m going to give you a foot massage.” He bolted the door, which gave her an odd, anticipatory sensation, one that was sexually charged, at least on her part. Surely, he didn’t mean to seduce her, because she wasn’t sure how much of a struggle she’d put up. And a one-night stand with an old friend would certainly complicate her life.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be all right, once I get out of these shoes.” She dropped her purse onto one of the barstools that faced the mirrored bar in the living room, then removed the sandals that had blistered her feet and placed them in the seat, next to her evening bag. “I’ll be fine as soon as I can run around barefoot.”

Jake slipped off his suede jacket and draped it over the sofa. Then he removed his bolo tie and undid the top buttons on his shirt, revealing a dark patch of chest hair. She really shouldn’t stand there and stare at him, but she couldn’t remember when she’d last watched a man undress and found it so interesting, so arousing. So tempting.

He strode toward the living-room window and gazed out at the brightly lit Boston skyline. Her interest followed his. Stars glittered in the sky, offering a magical ambiance that she’d never known the plain apartment had.

“It’s a pretty view,” he said, “if you like big city sights.”

“You’re right.” Maggie studied the evening panorama, amazed that she hadn’t noticed it before.

He turned slowly, then his gaze swept over her, lingering, it seemed, upon her face. She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. What did he see? What was so interesting?

She cleared her throat. “Would you like to have something to drink? Coffee? An after-dinner liqueur?”

He studied her as though the offer had surprised him. She wasn’t sure why. It seemed a friendly thing to suggest, even though she’d already drank more this evening than she had the past year.

“I guess you finally acquired a taste for alcohol,” he said.

“Not really. I enjoy an occasional glass of wine.”

“And champagne,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Only when someone fills my glass.” She nodded toward the mirrored bar that graced the sunken living room. “The liquor belonged to Tom, but he left it behind when he moved out. He and Rhonda are on a health kick, so he says. I’ll probably pour it all out rather than pack it all up and move it again.”

He nodded sagely, as though he understood much more than she’d told him. He’d always had an amazing ability to read a person, to reach under the surface. She wondered what he saw in her.

“How about a glass of wine?” he asked. “I’ve never been partial to fancy liqueurs.”

“Sure. I hope you like a dry white. It’s all I have.”

She started toward the kitchen, but he strode forward and placed a hand upon her shoulder to still her steps. “Don’t bother, Maggie. I’ll get it. Just take a seat in the easy chair.”

He’d already reached the kitchen and had begun opening the cupboards before she could argue.

“Wineglasses are in the dining-room hutch,” she said. “And a bottle is chilling in the fridge.”

In no time at all, he’d prepared two drinks, then brought one to her. He nodded toward the chintz-covered easy chair and matching ottoman. “Now, sit down and put your feet up.”

She should have declined, but for some reason, a foot massage sounded incredibly nice. And luxurious. She padded across the room and took a seat, sinking into the softness of the chair Tom hadn’t liked.

Jake handed her a glass of wine, then straddled the ottoman. His knees corralled her feet. “Do you have any lotion?”

Kama Sutra oil came to mind, but she quickly whisked the naughty thought away. If she wasn’t careful, she’d embarrass them both with some crazy suggestion that would screw up a perfectly good friendship. No pun intended.

Good grief, she’d thought about sex more this evening than she had in the past year. What was it about Jake that made her mind stray in a sexual direction? Was it because the sensual cowboy knew how to treat a lady? Or was it her own fascination and curiosity?

“You have pretty feet. They’re soft and smooth. I like the polish.”

“I just had a pedicure,” she said, as though needing an explanation. “Because of the strappy sandals.”

“I hope you tipped her well. She did a great job.”

As he kneaded her foot, she found herself slipping back into the softness of the chair. She closed her eyes, relishing each deft movement of his fingers, his thumbs. And suddenly she wanted his hands to continue up her leg. The massage, at least in her mind, had turned into a sensual rub. And if it hadn’t felt so darn good, she would have told him to stop.

Jake watched Maggie slowly unwind and relax; the foot rub had helped. He’d given his share of massages in the past, with other women and usually as an act of foreplay. He’d offered one to Maggie as a token of friendship, not as a means to get her into bed. But it had a strange effect on him. He wanted to stroke her calf, work his way to her knee, along the inside of her thigh. Coax her into a state of arousal.

Her eyes opened, and she grazed him with a heated glance, one that told him she, too, was finding the massage far more stimulating than either of them had intended. Had she been any other woman, Jake would have known exactly what to do, what to say. But with Maggie, the words stuck in his throat.

He placed her foot on the ottoman, then picked up the other and continued to work. He’d hoped changing feet, and not progressing up her leg would ease the powerful urge he had to take her in his arms, to carry her to bed. But it hadn’t.

“You’re incredible,” she said.

He thought she meant his hands, but her eyes told another story, one he wasn’t prepared to pursue. Not if he wanted to wake up in the morning without any regrets.

Shoot, not that he’d regret making love to Maggie. But she was the one he was worried about, the one who’d been hurt, the one who needed time to mend. And Jake was the last guy in the world who could help her. She deserved more than a one-night stand, and that’s about all he could offer her.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

She lifted a brow, as though his experience bothered her. “Sharon said you had a slew of women chasing after you.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never made any promises about love and forever, but that doesn’t seem to keep women from wanting to change my attitude and my lifestyle.”

“And you have no intention of doing that?”

“I’m honest with the women I date. I’m not the marrying kind, but I do believe in one-on-one relationships until they don’t work anymore.”

“I guess having a family has curtailed your love life.”

Talking to Maggie about sex, or the lack of it, seemed strange. “I intend to provide those kids with the best home and family I can, even if it means hiring the right people to give it to them. And I’m not about to drag a ‘slew of women’ through their life. If that means a steady diet of celibacy, then I guess that’s what’ll happen.”

“You’ll be a good dad for them.”

“I don’t think so, but I’m going to try.”

Jake’s cell phone rang, interrupting the conversation he hadn’t wanted to continue. As he pulled the phone from the clip on his belt, apprehension dropped like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He hoped it wasn’t Rosa calling. His biggest fear was that something would happen to the kids he was supposed to protect.

Glancing at the lit display, he recognized the number and swallowed hard. It was Rosa, and she wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

Had Sam taken another tumble and cracked his noggin? The last one had blackened his little eye and required stitches.

Did Kayla have another fever? About a month ago, she ran a high temperature and lay around the house like a rag doll. Just a virus, the doctor had said, but the whole experience had scared Jake senseless.

He couldn’t eat or sleep when the kids were hurt or sick. Things like that hit him hard. He just wanted them to stay happy and healthy.

“Hello, Rosa.”

“It’s not Rosa, Jake. It’s her daughter, Sara.”

Panic backhanded him. Why couldn’t Rosa talk? Were Sam and Kayla okay? “What’s wrong?”

“The kids are fine,” Sara said. “But my mother is in the hospital and in a great deal of pain. The doctor said it’s her gall bladder and that she needs surgery. When can you come home?”

“I’ll try to fly standby first thing in the morning.” Jake glanced at Maggie, who sat attentively, her eyes intensely watching him. “Can you stay with the kids until I get home?”

Sara agreed, but asked him to hurry since she had to return to school on Monday morning.

When he hung up the phone, Maggie squeezed his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“Rosa needs to have surgery. I’ve got to get home.”

“Are the kids okay?”

“Yeah, Sara, her college-aged daughter, is with them.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Was it? That’s not the way he saw it. As long as Kayla and Sam were with someone other than Jake, they were fine. But what would happen when the poor kids had to depend on him to look after them? The thought of being more than a visiting uncle scared the devil out of him. What did he know about being a father? It’s not like he’d ever had a decent role model.

“Jake,” Maggie said. “You’re pale. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He looked at her, unsure of how much he wanted to admit and deciding not too much. “I don’t know anything about kids. How am I going to take care of them without Rosa?”

“Hire someone.”

“Who?” he asked, unsure of who he could trust or depend on to do right by the kids.

“How about Rosa’s daughter?”

“Sara has to go back to Rice University on Monday morning. She’s got a test or something.”

“I could come and help with the kids,” she said, “at least for a month or so.”

“I’ll be okay,” he said, hoping he could convince her, even if he couldn’t convince himself. He glanced at the phone in the kitchen. Maybe he should call the airline and find an early-morning flight back to Texas.

“Why don’t you let me come help?”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why not? You need help. I’m available for about six weeks, just long enough for Rosa to recover from her surgery.”

Her offer was appealing, even though he was hesitant to risk having her find out he wasn’t good at dealing with kids, that Kayla was angry at him most of the time. Still, he needed help. And he wasn’t sure where to find someone he could trust.

Shoot, having a doctor to watch over Kayla and Sam would be a godsend. They’d never get hurt or sick. Or if they did, she’d cure them in a heartbeat. Pride battled his desire to see the kids in good hands.

His reluctance to accept her help still hovered around him. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I owe you one, now.” A smile dimpled her cheeks, and her caramel-brown eyes glimmered. “I was dreading this evening more than you’ll ever know, and you helped me through it.” She stood. “I can’t fly to Texas with you, because I have some things to take care of first. I’ll have to get the moving and storage people to come earlier than I’d planned.”

“And you’ll need to pour out all that liquor,” he said.

She smiled. “That, too. And besides, I’m going to drive. I’ll need my car in California.”

He swallowed hard. How long would he be alone with the kids? An hour sometimes seemed like forever. Could he manage without help for a day or two? “When do you think you’ll arrive?”

“By Thursday or Friday. Will that be all right?”

“Sure.” It would have to be. “No problem.”

Had he really agreed to have her come and help? To move in with him and the kids for a month or so? To be in such close proximity that she’d see how useless he was as a father? To have her learn that his cavalier attitude masked his shortcomings? He’d always made it a point not to let women get close enough to see his flaws, to find him lacking.

She pulled her foot from his hand, offering him a glimpse of her bare inner leg, the inside of her thigh that he’d wanted to touch, to stroke. Desire stirred, and he shifted his legs so she wouldn’t know.

But he knew, and it brought about a whole new worry.

He hadn’t had sex since he’d moved in with the kids. How was he going to handle the sexual attraction he felt, if she came to stay for a month or so?

Keeping a woman at a distance was hard to do once she’d shared a man’s bed. There was no way he could let himself get involved with Dr. Maggie Templeton. Not sexually.

She stood. “Why don’t I show you to the guest room. Since you need to wake up early, you’ll probably want to get some sleep.”

He nodded, although he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.

Or any of the nights to follow.