Can't Stop Loving You (12 page)

“I have unplumbed depths, Maggie,” Brawley teased. “Like an iceberg, only the tip of my many talents is visible to the casual observer.”

“Oh, spare me.”

“Think I will. I want to catch a mix of casual and posed shots of the bride primping for her wedding.” He took off down the hall.

Maggie marveled at the way the expensive suit pants hugged his derrière. Whoever his tailor was, the man knew his job. The fit was impeccable, the material expensive.

Beside her, Pops tugged at the neck of his shirt, then his tie. “These are too tight.”

“No, they're not. They fit you perfectly,” her mother said. “It's nerves.”

“You'd think I'd never done this before,” Pops groused.

“You haven't,” Maggie said. “Not with Dottie. You're starting a whole new chapter of your life.”

“Hmmph.”

Annie, radiant in a one-shouldered red dress, stuck her head in the back door. “It's time, Mr. Sullivan. We need you and your son up front with Father Tom.”

Fletch wiped the palms of his hands over his tux trousers and blew out a tornado-force breath. “Still think we should have eloped. Taken a quick trip to Vegas.”

Annie grimaced. “Cash's grandpa tried that with Vivi. Considering the way it turned out…Not sure I'd go there.”

Fletch threw back his head and let out a loud laugh. “No, guess not. My Dottie's got more class in her little finger than that money-grabbing woman has in her whole body.” His smile faded. “Sorry Leo got involved with her. Vivi hurt a lot of good people, including you, Annie.”

“It's water under the bridge.”

Pops patted Annie's cheek. “And you're one hell of a woman. Cash is a lucky man.” He glanced sideways at Maggie. “Too bad somebody else doesn't follow your lead and find herself a decent, hardworking husband.”

Maggie stuck out her tongue.

His lips tilted in a smile. “Young people these days have no respect for their elders.” One hand on the door, he looked toward his son. “Let's get this show on the road.”

Sean joined him, and a camera flashed as they walked out the door.

It had barely closed when Brawley sidled near.

“Smile for the camera.”

“I'm not the one you should be taking pictures of.”

“You don't think your grandfather will want a photo of you looking like this?” He gestured toward her. “Maggie, honey, you look good enough to eat.”

She raised a brow, and he laughed.

“You're blushing, sweetheart.”

“I'm not your sweetheart.”

“You could be.”

She decided to ignore that.

“Come on, Mags. Smile for the camera.”

Thinking about her grandfather and Dottie, their newly found love, she smiled.

Click. Click. Click.

She frowned. “Enough.”

He shot her a lopsided grin, and she about swallowed her tongue. Too damn bad the man was such a jerk because he sure was easy on the eyes, and he cleaned up so well. No doubt he'd often traded his worn, torn jeans for suits in Dallas, but it wasn't a sight she saw often.

Again, she gave silent kudos to his tailor. The cut was flawless. His fancy, go-to-church cowboy boots shone like a mirror and went perfectly with the suit. With him.

He held out a hand. “You really do look incredible.”

She willed her heart to behave and dipped her chin. “Thank you.”

“That one of your designs?”

“Yes.” The pastel, flower-printed material had been a dream to work with. She ran a hand down the form-fitting silk skirt. She'd paired it with a sweetheart neckline and set it off with her new hot-pink stilettos—in honor of Dottie and her penchant for the color.

He whistled low. “If this is what you're gonna hit them with in the Big Apple, you'll have everybody sitting up, begging for more.”

“From your lips to God's ears.”

He toyed with the cocktail ring on her finger. “Thought I'd walk you to your seat. I'm guessing you have some real mixed emotions rolling around in that brain of yours today.”

“Oh, Brawley.” Her eyes misted.

“Don't you start crying on me now.” He thumbed away the single tear that spilled over. “I'm no good with that.”

She tipped her head. “You know, I think I have to disagree. The night Nathan showed up, you were great with Sophie.”

“I was there. I did what needed to be done.”

“No. You did more, far more.”

He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable.
Interesting.

That night had affected her deeply. After Brawley'd gone home, he'd called her, bit out what had happened. Later, when Sophie had filled her in on the details, the ice around Maggie's heart had cracked, gone into full glacial meltdown. Later, she'd worked hard to shore it up again. There were times like today, though, when thin fissures reappeared.

“Give me a second to check Dottie one last time.”

“Okay, but make it quick. I need to be in place when she walks out.”

“Will do.”

“While you're doing that, I'll hustle outside and take some shots of Fletch and Sean waiting for the bride. I'll be back by the time you are.”

“Deal.” She scurried down the hallway and tapped lightly on the bedroom door.

Lacey opened it a crack, then swung it wide when she saw Maggie. Stepping aside, she swept a hand toward her mother. “Isn't she gorgeous?”

“Oh, Dottie.” Maggie crossed the room and gathered the wonderful woman in her arms. Then she stepped back to study her. “Lacey's right. You look marvelous.”

“A wonderful young lady I know designed this especially for me.” Dottie ran a hand over the soft pink beaded jacket, the flowing skirt.

“That young lady might have a future in the business,” Maggie parried. “What do you think?”

“Not a doubt in my mind. And these buttons are perfect.” She fingered the dyed-pink buttons on the jacket's cuff and sobered. “I love your grandfather, Margaret Emmalee. I hope I can make him happy.”

“I wouldn't worry about that for a single second. He loves you right back. I fought with myself about leaving for New York because I didn't want Pops to be alone. And now he won't be. He'll have you.”

“And I'll have him.”

“Yes.” Maggie's chest tightened with emotion, and she took Dottie's hands in her own. “Now. It's time the bride takes her walk down the aisle. Fletch and Dad are waiting with Father Tom—for you.”

“Oh, my.” Dottie laid a hand over her stomach. “If I had any more butterflies, I wouldn't need feet—or shoes. They'd float me right down that aisle.”

Maggie grinned. “That would make a great scene in a Disney movie, wouldn't it? And speaking of fairy tales. Your garden is fairy-tale beautiful.”

“I know.” The soon-to-be bride let out a happy sigh. “I've been peeking out the window. Everything is perfect. It's like a dream.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Lots of people showed up, didn't they?”

Lacey came up from behind and slipped a hand into her mother's. “Did you think for even a second they wouldn't, Mom?”

“I don't know what I thought, except that I'd never be doing this again.”

“Life sometimes surprises us.” Maggie thought of the man who stood in the kitchen waiting for her. Some surprises were good ones. Others? Well, you dealt with what you were given.

She handed Dottie the bouquet of pink lilies, white hydrangeas, lily of the valley, and soft pink roses tied with a simple antique-white satin bow.

Dottie buried her nose in them. “Bitsy outdid herself. Heavenly, aren't they?”

“So is the hat,” Lacey said. A beaded, pink pillbox perched atop Dottie's blue-gray curls. A birdcage veil finished the look beautifully. “You're absolutely ravishing. You'll knock Fletch right out of that new pair of boots.”

Mother and daughter embraced.

“You ready?” Maggie asked.

Dottie nodded.

“I'll let them know.”

She walked to the kitchen and found Brawley snitching olives from one of the trays. “Get out of there.”

“Just taste-testing.”

“Olives?”

“You never know.” He held out his hand. “Come on, sugar. Let me escort the most gorgeous gal in Texas to her seat for her grandpa's big day.”

She smiled. It felt right. For today. When she put her hand in his, electricity sizzled between them. She nearly tripped.

“You okay?” His breath tickled her neck as he leaned down.

“Absolutely.”

Outside, she nodded at the DJ, then took a seat on the far side of her mother. Brawley plunked down in the empty chair beside Maggie.

“I can only stay a minute. Then I have to play shutter-bug.”

The chairs were close, and the heat from his thigh practically branded her through the thin silk of her dress.

Not willing to go there, she directed her attention to her grandfather and her dad. Both men looked incredibly handsome, the white of their shirts deepening their tanned faces. Her dad's hair still had as much pepper as salt, but Pops's hair was pure white. His mustache, trimmed neatly, gave him a dignified air. Sullivan men were lookers.

Strains of “A Time for Us,” the theme from Romeo and Juliet, drifted over the garden. Brawley jumped up and positioned himself with his camera as everyone turned.

Dottie stepped into the sunlight on her son's arm, her smile nearly blinding. When Maggie glanced toward her grandfather, the expression on his weathered face made the breath catch in her throat. To love and be loved like that. What a gift. And these extraordinary people had found this not once, but twice.

A tiny voice inside Maggie cried out for someone for herself, someone like the man who'd been sitting beside her seconds ago. She ignored it. Refused to think about it today.

When Wes and Dottie reached the preacher, Wes gave his mom a quick kiss and man-hugged Fletch. Then he joined his family in the front row.

The ceremony, brief and touching, had more than one woman dabbing at tears. Before them stood two people eager to commit to one another.

After Father Tom pronounced them man and wife, Fletch kissed his new bride soundly. A blushing Dottie grinned and wiped a smudge of lipstick from her new husband's mouth.

Together, they strolled down the rose-strewn path to the Beatles' “In My Life,” the song both a fond remembrance of those who had been such a part of their lives and were now gone, and a nod to the future and their new love.

Brawley, taking a break from shooting pictures, leaned against the rough bark of one of Dottie's magnificent shade trees. The girls may have had less than a week to pull this wedding together, but they'd done one heck of a job. He'd been to some pretty elaborate weddings but couldn't remember ever seeing a happier bride and groom.

When Dottie had walked across the yard to where Fletch waited for her, Brawley swore she'd nearly floated. And wasn't he waxing poetic?

If so, it was Maggie's fault. The woman was a vision. Her dress made him think of peppermint ice cream. She made him hungry.

An arm slipped through his. Rita Sullivan.

He sniffed the air. “You smell great.”

“Thank you. I have to say, Brawley, you're looking awfully handsome today, all spiffed up. Nice suit. What happened to your tie?”

He grinned and pulled the rolled-up silk from his pocket. “A man can only wear one of these for so long before he starts to get itchy.”

“Guess so.” Her gaze roamed the garden. “Not many ties in this group.”

“Nope.”

“I couldn't help noticing you watching my Maggie.”

He cringed. Had he been that obvious?

“You still love my little girl, Brawley Odell?”

Responses to that flew in and out of his head. He rubbed his jaw but could come up with no good answer. Kind of like a woman asking if her outfit made her butt look big. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

So he settled on the truth.

“Yes, ma'am, I do. Always have. And I'm afraid I always will.”

“You planning on doing something about it?”

He hesitated again, then shook his head. “I can't, Rita. I can't hold her back. She's following her dream, and that's the way it has to be.”

When Rita opened her mouth to argue, he said, “I think we've all recognized right from the start Maggie was something special. She has a gift, and she's been given a chance to fly with it. I couldn't stand in the way of that—before or now.”

Her brow furrowed in question.

“So where do Pops and Dottie plan to spend their honeymoon?”

“Aren't you the clever one?” She patted his cheek. “Don't think for one minute I don't know what you're doing, but I'll let you get away with it this time. Austin. They're going to Austin for a few days.”

Thankful she'd allowed him to change the subject, he chatted with her another few minutes before someone called her away to see about cutting the cake.

Time for
him
to cut his losses. But damned if he could.

M
aggie sat on the front porch steps, staring up into the night sky, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. The day had been long—and oh, so special.

She slid off her shoes and wiggled her toes. Ohhh, that felt good. Pops and Dottie had driven away in a flurry of birdseed. A full moon shone, forming lace patterns across the lawn as it filtered through the large trees in front.

Voices drifted from the back of the house where a few guests lingered. Soft music floated on the night air and mixed with the scent of flowers, both from Dottie's gardens and the impressive centerpieces Bitsy had created.

All was well with the world.

Footsteps sounded on the walk, and she turned to see Brawley coming toward her.

“Mind if I share your stoop?”

Maggie's heart stuttered. The man was movie-star handsome. Rugged. Moonlight glinted off his thick, dark hair. Her fingers itched to bury themselves in it, and she had to fight to keep both hands in her lap.

He stood, waiting for permission to sit. Always the gentleman.

No. Not true. He hadn't been a gentleman when he'd dumped her all those years ago.

“Not at all. Sit.” She swept the skirt of her dress beneath her.

Their shoulders bumped as he dropped onto the step.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Exhausted.”

“It went well, Red. Everything was top-notch.”

She smiled. “It was, wasn't it?”

When he reached for her hand, she drew it back. Without a word, he tucked his own into his jacket pocket.

“Can we ever be friends again, Maggie?”

“I don't know.”

“I thought we took a step in the right direction last night.”

“Brawley, I enjoyed dinner with your family. But one good night doesn't outweigh the past.”

“I understand that.”

“And what happened after dinner—”

“We kissed,” he said.

She swallowed. “Yes, we kissed. That shouldn't have happened.”

“I'm gonna beg to disagree on that.”

“Whatever. That's your prerogative. The thing is, it's not possible to wipe the slate clean. To pick up and go on as if the past never happened.”

“Why?”

She met his eyes. “You have to ask?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Truth? I'm not sure I can trust you.”

He flinched. “I'm sorry.”

“Me, too.”

He looked skyward, his eyes moving as he studied the stars. “It would take a miracle to make up for everything I've done wrong. I understand that. I made a stupid decision, then compounded it by not admitting it. My only defense is that I was nineteen and foolish.”

If he only knew. For about five seconds, an overwhelming urge to tell him everything battled inside Maggie. She pushed it back. The time for that had long passed.

“Brawley, you've been doing what you want.”

“I've been missing you.”

She couldn't squelch the laugh that forced its way out.

“You think that's funny?” He sounded offended, actually looked hurt.

“Come on, Brawley. I saw the pictures of you at that fund-raiser with Annie and Cash…and Ms. Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, who was spilling out of her dress and all but crawling down your throat.”

“Rachel? No, she wasn't.”

“Yes, she was. Annie had pictures of you two dancing. And Rachel was only one of many.”

The flicker in his eyes warned her she'd said too much.

He leaned back, resting on one elbow. “You been following my social life, Mags?”

Exasperated, she sighed. “Hardly. I'm just saying that, to be honest, you really didn't look like you were suffering all that much.”

“One evening. A public one.”

She snorted.

“What? You want me to wear a hair shirt and shave my head?”

“No.” Before she could stop herself, her fingers ran through his thick, dark hair. “I love your hair.”

He grabbed her hand, brought her arm to his lips, and kissed the inside of her wrist. She was really, really glad she was sitting down, not at all certain her legs would have supported her right then.

She'd been watching him, thinking about him these last few days. She hated what he'd done to her. The way he'd done it. She'd convinced herself she hated him. But despite that, she wanted him, and that really pissed her off. This week, that want had grown to gargantuan proportions. She could barely think, couldn't sleep.

Maybe she should give in to those needs one more time. Maybe she'd built him up in her mind, fantasized what they'd had. Reality couldn't possibly come close, and once she proved that to herself, she could shut the door on that part of her past.

On Brawley.

Then, again, giving in might prove fatal.

When he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she caught his hand in hers.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I want to see what a country boy turned city slicker's hand looks like.”

“City slicker?”

He started to pull his hand away, but she grabbed it back. “What's this?”

“A scratch.”

“Scratch my eye. Brawley, this is a nasty cut.”

“It happened while we were tearing down a wall at the clinic. One of the triplets took a good whack, and my hand was where it shouldn't have been. I tore it on a nail snatching it away.”

“You ought to see a doctor.”

“Maggie, I am a doctor.”

“An animal doctor.”

“Doesn't matter. A cut's a cut. I'm fine.”

Without thinking, she carried his hand to her lips. Kissed it. Then she dropped it like it was on fire. “Sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He jerked her to him. “Well, sugar, I do mean this.”

He'd have kissed her socks off if she'd been wearing any.

She worked a hand between them. “You're dangerous to me, Brawley. My Kryptonite.”

“I've changed.”

Her lips curved downward.

“I have,” he insisted.

“Again, I'm remembering that bosomy brunette on your arm in Dallas.”

“I've never claimed to be a saint.” He ran the toe of his boot over the stair.

She laughed. She simply couldn't help it.

He scowled at her, and she sobered. “I can't be around you, Brawley.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me want more. Too much more.” She stood. “I'm joining the others.”

“Uh-uh. No way. You can't tell me something like that, then walk away.”

She shrugged.

“Let's declare a cease-fire for this weekend, Maggie. I don't want to spoil what's left of the wedding.”

“The bride and groom are gone.”

He lifted his brows.

“Fine. A temporary truce.”

“Absolutely.” He dared to grin.

The music changed from a fast song to Michael Bublé's “The Way You Look Tonight.”

Brawley stood and took Maggie's hand in his. “Dance with me here in the moonlight.”

“I don't think—”

“Good. Don't think. Just dance with me.”

She let him lead her into the grass. “I'm barefoot. Don't you dare step on my toes.”

“Have I ever?”

“No.” She sighed when he pulled her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest and listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart.

The music, the moonlight, the soft night air wrapped around them. For this short moment in time, she'd let herself enjoy.

One dance led to another.

His head dipped, but she turned, and his lips grazed her cheek.

“Everything's under control here,” he whispered into her ear. “Can you leave?”

“Brawley—”

“It's okay. I'm not stealing you away to ravage you.”

“Darn.”

His head whipped around so fast, she thought he'd surely need a chiropractor. “What?” He stared into her face.

Her tongue shot out to lick suddenly dry lips. Leaving with him had bad idea written all over it. “I was kidding, Brawley. Joking around.”

“Oh. Okay. You sure? Because if you want to ravage or be ravaged—”

“I'm positive.”

“If you change your mind—”

Her chest tightened, but she gave him a small poke in the arm. “I won't.”

“Gee, don't try to let me down easy or anything.” He held out his hands, palm up. “Seriously, though, I want to show you my office, the clinic. We've finished all but the last few details. A crew's coming in tomorrow to take care of those.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yep. Overtime pay.”

“So you'll be able to open Monday?”

“Right on schedule.”

“I'm glad.”

“Me, too. Here's the thing.” He caught her hand in his before she could pull it away again. His thumb circled over the back of it, and she closed her eyes.

“You're going to be leaving, Red, starting a new business of your own. You, above all, understand how much this means to me.”

Still, she hesitated.

“Come on. Take a ride with me and look at the place, for Pete's sake. No monkey business.” He paused, tilted his head. “Unless, of course, you change your mind and insist.”

That beautiful, unrestrained laugh he loved bubbled up and out of her, spilled through those lips.

How could he stand to watch her walk away? How would he bear being here without Maggie? Again he wondered if coming home had been a mistake. Maverick Junction without Maggie Sullivan would not be the same place.

But then, he'd left her, hadn't he, all those years ago? He'd expected her to go to design school, though, so it was different, wasn't it? He'd thought they'd end up together again.

“Let me get my purse.”

When she disappeared inside, he prayed she wouldn't change her mind.

Sean Sullivan chose that exact moment to walk around the front of the house. “You seen my daughter?”

Oh, boy
. “She went in the house for her purse.”

“Why?”

“We're gonna take a ride.”

Sean's hands curled at his side. “You think that's a good idea?”

“I want to show her what we've done at the clinic.”

“Uh-huh.” He seemed to be fighting with himself. “Rita tells me I need to mind my own business. That the two of you will either work things out or you won't. That Maggie's a big girl now.”

Brawley waited.

Sean shook a finger at him. “I don't care how old she is. She's my little girl. Always has been, always will be. You hurt her before. Don't do it again. I'm keeping my eye on you.”

With that, he headed back to the festivities.

Brawley leaned against the porch railing, chewing on Sean's words. He'd been warned.

In no time flat Maggie sailed out the door, purse slung over her shoulder.

Brawley, hand on her back, walked her to his Tahoe and held the door for her. He didn't have a clue why she'd decided to go with him. Curiosity? Nostalgia? Whatever. He didn't care. All that mattered was Maggie sitting beside him in his vehicle for the first time in way too long.

As he drove down Main Street, one hand on the wheel, the other arm propped on his open window, he hoped someone, anyone, saw them. He'd won the lottery. He and Maggie together again on a Saturday night.

Every store along the street was locked tight, windows dark. The good people of Maverick Junction not still at the wedding were home, doing whatever they did on Saturday nights to unwind from a long week's work and activities.

As he turned onto the side street that led to the clinic, he reminded himself he'd be a fool to assume her agreeing to come with him meant she'd had even the slightest change of heart. Most likely, it signified absolutely nothing. On the other hand, there was the slightest chance it meant she hadn't totally closed the door on him.

She had agreed to a truce, after all.

One thing he did know. He was alone with Maggie. The SUV's interior smelled of her. Feminine and sensual. Sexy.

Maggie, Maggie, you make it hard on a fellow.

The second Brawley pulled into the parking lot, Maggie saw the new sign, an oval of dark wood, the carved name painted white.
DR. BRAWLEY ODELL'S ANIMAL CLINIC.

A surge of pride swelled in her.

“It's what I've always wanted.”

“You surprise me.” She undid her seat belt. “I honestly thought you liked the big city.”

“I did. For a while. But this—” He swept his arm to encompass the building, the grounds.

“Why didn't you come back sooner?”

“I didn't want to get in Doc Gibson's way. Didn't want to compete with him. He had a good practice and made a good living. I'm not sure there's room for two vets in town.”

“So the timing's right.”

“Yeah.” His gaze burned into her. “Except you're leaving.”

She hopped out rather than answer. “You've given the old building a fresh coat of paint.”

“Inside and out.” He unlocked the front door and ushered her ahead of him, then flicked on the overheads.

Maggie stood for a minute, taking it in. “You've made more than a couple changes. Wow.” She ran the toe of her shoe over the flooring. “That ghastly green linoleum is gone.”

“Yeah, one of the first things I ripped out. Had to have been the ugliest ever made. Sure hope Doc got it cheap.”

She grinned. “And new countertops. You moved the reception over a bit.”

“It'll keep Bobby Sue out of the direct path of the door. Before, anytime somebody came in or left, she got blasted either by the heat or the cold.”

“Good for you for caring.”

“When the help's happy…” He shrugged. “The biggest changes are in the back.”

As she started down the hallway, Maggie let out a happy squeal. “You arched the opening into the office.”