Can't Stop Loving You (20 page)

Maggie groaned when she caught sight of the clock. Too late to run home and change so she would, indeed, be wearing what she had on. Thank God she'd chosen a day-to-evening dress this morning. She trusted Zandra's word that it would be fine, but a shower would have been nice.

Needing a little time alone with her collection, she'd sent Zandra and the other workers home an hour ago. She freshened up her makeup, then spied a bolt of blue fabric. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

Crossing to it, she cut off a length, then sat down at one of the sewing machines and whipped up a scarf. It added a little extra pizzazz to her outfit.

She turned off the lights, but, instead of leaving, she moved to the large windows. Incredible. Not quite dark, streetlights were just flickering to life. Some windows in the buildings around her still glowed with lights, people working late like herself. Others were dark.

But down below, traffic streamed by in a steady pace. Stoplights shone red and green, making her think of Christmas. If possible, the street was even busier than when she'd arrived this morning.

She swiveled on her heel. Dress forms scattered around the room sported her creations. Some had been finished, some nearly, others in the midst of major reconstruction. Every single one carried a Maggie label. Had she ever been this excited? This terrified?

And she'd be late if she didn't leave right this minute. She grabbed her purse and briefcase, then set the security system.

When she stepped outside the building, the chill in the air surprised her and made her glad her dress had sleeves. A taxi barreled down the street toward her. She held up her hand, and it actually stopped. Grinning, she hopped into the back seat and gave the driver the restaurant's address.

Her phone pinged. Uh-oh. Had Jarvis canceled?

She brought up the message. It was from Brawley.

Want a dog?

Nope.

The next message was a photo.
He's been abandoned.

She smiled at the little dog in the big man's arms.
He looks good right where he is.

You'd love him.

He was right. She would. And hadn't she been thinking a pet would be good company?

He's in TX, I'm in NY.

I'll hand-deliver.

Her breath caught. Would he actually come to New York?

She gave herself a mental head slap. Nope. Not going there. The old “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me” ran through her head. She was nobody's fool.

2 busy for a pet
, she typed.

Brawley's next message hit hard. Four simple words.

Can we be friends?

She closed her eyes. There'd been a time when that was a given. They'd been so close, known each other's thoughts without any need for words.

She texted him back.

Don't think so.

She hit send and experienced a jolt of pain. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she tucked her phone in the side pocket of her purse. If he answered, she'd ignore it.

Tonight she was taking one more step toward the beginning of her new life.

It had been one hell of a day.

Sprawled across his bed, Brawley dug his phone out of his pocket and stared again at Maggie's message. She was a tough one to figure out. This—so cold. Yet the night of her grandfather's wedding she'd been almost too hot to touch. That dance they'd shared in the front yard had been a little slice of heaven. She'd let down her guard. Forgotten to be all bristly and standoffish.

What was she doing tonight?

It didn't really matter, did it? He scrolled through his texts and found the picture of her outside her new brownstone. Sighing, he turned off the phone and tossed it onto the bed beside him.

He rolled over and caught sight of the picture he'd taken at the wedding. Maggie, her head thrown back in laughter. Those green eyes shining with happiness.

Grabbing it, he turned it facedown. He didn't want to look at it anymore. Jamming a pillow under his head, he curled into it and fell asleep fully dressed, the stupid little dog curled up beside him, snoring.

S
tanding in front of Gotham's bathroom mirror, Maggie chewed herself out. She should never have come out with Jarvis. Huge mistake. When he'd asked her, though, she'd jumped at the chance. He would be the photographer for her new line. The stronger their connection, the better his work. Right?

She worried her bottom lip. It would have been unprofessional not to have come.

How could she figure out the correct etiquette in these situations? In Maverick Junction, she understood the rules. Knew how the game was played. But here? A fish out of water.

While a part of her found it unbelievably thrilling to sit in this elegant restaurant across the table from a veritable stranger who looked like something straight out of a girl's bad boy fantasies, she also found it unsettling.

They'd discussed work, her upcoming show, and his ideas about the photography side of it. She'd shared her plans for the future, and he'd told her about his own. His struggle to get where he was.

And right now, he had to be wondering if she'd dropped off the face of the earth. Hands wrapped around the edge of the sink, Maggie leaned closer to the mirror and stared into her own eyes, reminded herself this was exactly what she'd worked so hard to achieve. She was suffering a case of adult homesickness tonight. Period.

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her lipstick and flicked it across her lips. So why did she wish it was Brawley waiting for her?

Damn! Why couldn't he have waited another couple months to return home? She'd have been gone and wouldn't have missed what she'd never had. Except she
had
had him. Once upon a time, long, long ago.

She shook her head.

She had an exciting new life. And part of that newness sat at a white-cloth-covered table twiddling his thumbs waiting for her. She exhaled sharply. Everything would be fine. Better than fine.

A smile on her face, she left her temporary refuge.

Jarvis stood as she approached, an expression of relief on his handsome face. “You're incredibly beautiful, Maggie.” He held her chair for her. “I'd love to shoot you sometime.”

Her smile broadened. “I'm assuming that's with a camera.”

“Of course.”

“Back in Texas, when you talk about shooting something…Well, enough said, huh?”

Rather than answer, he took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Would you like dessert? Another coffee?”

She patted her tummy. “No, thanks.” She took in the ambience. “This was wonderful, Jarvis. Back in my small hometown, we have two restaurants, three if you count Ollie's in Lone Tree. Believe me, they're nothing like this.”

“Would I like it there?”

She tilted her head, gave it some thought. “You know, I think you might—for a short time. Then you'd miss the cosmopolitan scene. Maverick Junction is really in the boonies.”

“And you love it, don't you?”

“Yes. I do. But this?” She held out a hand. “I love this, too. I confess it's going to take a while to get used to all the people, the noise, the nonstop of it all.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“I'd be a liar if I said no. My parents, my grandfather, my friends. Yes, I miss them. But it's only been a day since I left. I don't have my sea legs under me yet.” She smiled. “Besides, they're all flying in for my show.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You can meet them then. And my friends Annelise and Sophie have both agreed to walk the runway for me.”

“Annelise.” Jarvis's forehead creased in thought. “Is that Annelise Montjoy?”

“Hardeman now, but yes. She started this whole crazy ride when she wore one of my designs to a fund-raiser in Dallas.”

“An incredible gown.”

“You saw it?”

“The world saw it, Maggie, and was brought to its knees.”

She blushed. “I think that's a total exaggeration, but thank you.”

Jarvis shook his head. “It's not. Those pictures popped up and had everybody asking the same question. Who is Maggie Sullivan, and how can I get my hands on her and her designs?”

She laughed. Jarvis was easy to talk to.

“Besides family and friends, anything else you miss back home?”

She frowned. “Anything else?”

He chuckled. “My attempt at subtle. I'll go for blunt. Do you have a guy back home? Someone waiting for you?”

“Duh.” She raised a hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I don't get out much.”

She shook her head and another wave of melancholy washed over her. “No. No one at home.” Her heart pinched as she remembered Brawley's parting kiss.

“Good to know. But I have to wonder then, what the hell is wrong with the men in Maverick Junction?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why aren't they swarming around you? Are they all blind?”

She grinned. “Hardly. I've been pretty busy.”

“Still. It makes no sense to me that a woman like you doesn't have half a dozen men chasing her.”

The waiter returned with Jarvis's credit card. He signed the charge slip and slid his AmEx into his wallet.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Thanks for dinner.”

“You're very welcome.”

He stood, then came around the table to slide her chair back for her. He took her hand as they walked together from the restaurant.

After they hailed a taxi, she slid across the seat, and Jarvis got in, moving across till their hips touched. Resting his arm on the back of the seat, he gave the driver her address.

As they pulled away from the curb, he wrapped an arm tightly around her, and Maggie found herself uneasy again. She wasn't sophisticated enough for this man.

Yet she felt totally at ease with Brawley. She had no problem telling him exactly how she felt, good or bad. And Brawley could match this urbanite step for step in social graces. In Dallas, he'd mixed very easily with the city's elite.

Still, he was Brawley.

Jarvis broke into her thoughts. “I had a nice time tonight.”

“Me, too.”

Both remained quiet as the taxi fought its way through the still-heavy traffic, wending street by street to her new apartment. Before Maggie realized exactly where they were, the cab pulled over to the curb.

“We're here already?”

Jarvis nodded and asked the cabbie to wait. Opening the door, he got out, then reached in to help her.

Maggie's tongue shot out to lick suddenly dry lips. She had no idea what to expect. Stupid. Jarvis was a colleague, someone she worked with. Tonight had been business.

She turned to him. “Thanks so—”

His lips came down on hers.

Surprised, Maggie opened her mouth to protest. Jarvis took advantage and slid his tongue inside.

Her mind reeled. Jarvis's kiss was pleasant. Very skilled.

And she felt nothing. His kiss didn't set her on fire the way Brawley's did. She didn't find herself wanting more. Wanting to tear this man's clothes off and take.

Jarvis lifted his head and studied her. “Should I apologize?”

“What? No! Of course not. It's just—I didn't expect that.”

“Really? I'd think that even in Maverick Junction, Texas, a nice meal out, a beautiful woman, a red-blooded man, the moonlight—” He pointed to where it peeped out behind a cloud. “Seems to me the evening would end like this or with the woman asking that man in for a cocktail or another cup of coffee.”

He trailed off, and Maggie knew exactly what he hoped for. She might be small-town, but she doubted even in the city every first date ended up with a roll in the hay or the boudoir as the case might be.

Was Jarvis taking advantage of her vulnerability, or was he truly interested? She couldn't tell and that bothered her.

If Brawley was here, he'd punch the guy's lights out for even suggesting it. But then she wouldn't be with Jarvis if Brawley was here, would she?

And she'd done it again. She had to quit inserting Brawley into every situation.

“Jarvis,” she started, aware she needed to tread lightly. They'd be working closely on this upcoming show. “Right now isn't a good time. I think, at least until the show is over, we need to shy away from any personal relationship and keep things on a professional level.”

“Nothing says we can't do both.”

“I'd prefer we didn't.”

An uneasy silence ensued.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I won't push. But when we put the show to bed, I intend to do the same to you.”

Oh, geez.
Her breath caught. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

He laughed softly. “I believe I've shocked you, Maggie Sullivan. We're not through, you and I. We could be very good together.”

Looking over his shoulder at the taxi, he said, “Run on in. I'll stay until I hear the lock snap into place.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Go on now.” His voice deepened. “Pleasant dreams.”

Like a cowardly lion, she did exactly that. She hurried up the stairs, gave him one quick wave, and ducked inside, throwing the lock behind her.

Upstairs, she let herself into her apartment, then simply collapsed against the door and closed her eyes. She stood there a good five minutes, trying to decide exactly what had happened.

Kicking off her shoes, she dropped her purse onto a chair and flopped down on the sofa. She wouldn't have gone to bed with him tonight under any circumstances. She wasn't into sleeping around. Never had been.

The apartment was too quiet. She turned on the stereo system and fussed with it till she found a country station. Dierks Bentley. “Thinking of You.” The same song she and Brawley had danced to at Bubba's.

She grabbed a pillow off the sofa and threw it across the room. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She had to exorcise the man from her mind. He didn't belong there. He'd left her without any warning. Left her pregnant and hurting. Scared and heartbroken.

And now he was screwing this up, too!

Well, damned if she'd let him. No siree.

Time to go to bed. Tomorrow would be another long, busy day. As she started down the hallway, she heard her phone signal an incoming message. Digging it from her purse, she saw it was from none other than Brawley.

Fine. Nothing said she had to read it. She'd hit delete and it would be gone. Just like that. Her traitorous finger, though, opened the message.

Settling in okay?

Not as well as I should be, she wanted to scream, because you're haunting me. Instead she typed,
Does it really matter?

His answer came quickly.
Of course.

Shouldn't u b asleep?

Can't. Took a late nap. Wide-awake now.

What do u want, Brawley?

I'd start with being your friend again.

Don't think that's possible.

A long distance friendship, Red. What can it hurt?

She sat cross-legged on the bed, chewing her bottom lip to a bloody pulp.
It can't hurt a thing
, she typed.
Because I have no feelings for u.

Yes, u do
, came his response.
U don't like me. Negative, true, but a feeling nonetheless.

Good night, Brawley.

She closed her phone and slid out of bed. Fifteen minutes later, face scrubbed, teeth brushed, and wearing her favorite pajamas, she turned out the light. Willed sleep to come. Refused to acknowledge the tear that slipped down her cheek and onto her pillow as the moon shone through her window, the same moon that shone on him in Texas.