Commitment (27 page)

“Hello?” Tom croaked.

“I woke you.” She flopped onto her bed and gazed up at the ceiling. His answering chuckle carried the same sexy rasp. The vibration of it rumbled through the phone, shivered down her spine, and pooled somewhere in the vicinity of her hoo-hah.

“Make it worth my while. Tell me you’re drunk and need to talk dirty.”

“Not drunk, but I do need to talk.”

“Dirty?”

Optimism made his voice rise to a hopeful creak. She closed her eyes, conjuring the devastating image of that stubborn cowlick coupled with his wicked smile. “Not dirty.”

“Damn.”

Plunging one hand into her hair, she raked her nails against her scalp. “Maybe later.”

He cleared the sleep from his throat. “How’d girls’ night go?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I buffed, waxed and polished her to a high sheen. Added a few red highlights to her hair too.” She blew out a sigh. “Tracy poured a gallon of wine down her throat, and we talked about porn and how to save failing marriages… Then, I took her out and bought her a vibrator.”

His breath caught. “Uh…” He gave a short chuckle of disbelief. “I’m sorry, did you say porn and a vibrator?”

The restless rustle of bedding made her smile. “Didn’t you hear the part about the highlights? They turned out great, if I do so myself.”

“What kind of vibrator?”

“Does he still love her?”

“Who?”

“Sean! Who else?”

“I’m still trying to get past the porn thing.”

“Well, catch up!” She heard a muffled snuffle and smiled, picturing him rubbing his hand over his face. “Does he?”

“Still love her?” he repeated.

“That was the question.”

“I didn’t think that was ever in question,” he retorted. “Your friend was the one with the issues.”

Maggie hissed in exasperation. “I guess I’m asking if he
still
loves her after all this…” She waved a hand, certain he’d get her meaning with or without the visual. “Because I think she’s starting to realize she still loves him, but I think she thinks it’s too late.”

He exhaled long and deep. She waited patiently as he parsed the meaning of her statement. “He still loves her, but he’s a mess, Maggie,” he said cautiously.

“I know.” The acknowledgement hung between them. “Well, I think she’s going to try. At least, I hope she is. Tracy’s kind of a mess too.”

“Yeah.”

She turned toward the empty pillow on what had become his side of her bed and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I told her I was seeing someone.”

“You did?”

“I, uh, I guess I just needed to say something about it.”

“Okay.” He drew the word out. “Wow. Way to break your own rule,
Mags
. What did she say? Did she tell you you’re crazy for getting involved with me?”

A laugh bubbled from her lips before she could catch it. “Oh! I didn’t tell her it was you.”

“You didn’t?”

She blinked, sobering instantly when she caught the edge of hurt in his voice. “I mean, not by name. I just…I told her I was seeing someone. I said that we were having a good time together,” she explained, the words sounding awkward and lame to her own ears. “I mean, I told her we were… That I’m having fun… That I’m enjoying… Crap.”

“Crap?” he prompted with a harsh laugh. “You’re enjoying crap?”

“I told her I’m seeing someone,” she said with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

“Okay. Well, thanks, I guess. Nice to be acknowledged… Kind of.”

“I don’t know what to say about us,” she blurted.

“I thought we agreed that we were in a relationship—”

“We are, but this isn’t your typical dating thing. You know? I mean, who says, ‘I’m dating a guy who’s going to father my baby for me’?”

“
The
guy,” he corrected in a growl.

“Huh?”

“Not
a
guy,
the
guy.”

“Seriously? Semantics?” She glanced at the clock. “It’s two AM.”

The tired rasp crept back into his voice. “Say whatever you like about us, Maggie, but get one thing straight. I’m not
some
guy or
a
guy. I’m
the
guy.” His tone gentled. “I promised you I’d do better.”

“You’re doing just fine, no matter what my raging hormones might make you think.”

“Yeah, well, we’re going to do this, sweetheart, so you’d better get your story straight.”

Maggie let the endearment slide without comment, but it brought a smile to her face. “We’re going to do this,” she affirmed.

Silence hummed over the line. Tom cleared his throat, but it didn’t help. His voice came out in that husky growl. “Now tell me about the porn and vibrator.”

She smiled and rolled onto his pillow. “Goodnight, Tom. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

His laugh rumbled through the line. “Call me as soon as the coast is clear.”

****

His fingers slipped through her hair. Maggie stared at the tiny white lights dotting her miniscule Christmas tree, relishing the gentle caress. Tom drew a deep breath and she smiled. The past few weeks had taught her a lot. Now she knew his rhythms well enough to know another argument was coming.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me to Sean and Tracy’s?”

She stroked his denim-clad thigh and pressed the back of her head into his shoulder. “You want to drag me into a combat zone on Christmas Day?”

“They’re okay. Besides, they’d never let on in front of company, or the kids.”

Though she could practically feel his smile, the grim note in his tone wasn’t lost on her. She gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “Sheila’s expecting me. Besides, Tracy and Sean would have a stroke if we showed up together.”

“Maybe not. You don’t know.”

“I’m willing to bet it would be a bit of a shock for them. Plus, your mother will be there, won’t she?”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t go to Sean’s on Christmas Day. She says the noise gives her a migraine.” He stroked her neck with his knuckles. “I’ll go by her place after I leave Sean’s.”

She wrinkled her nose. “How can she not want to see her grandkids on Christmas?”

“It can get a little chaotic.”

An indelicate snort propelled her from his embrace. “The kids aren’t little anymore. What are you going to do when our kid is born? Hide out at your Mommy’s house?”

He held his palms up in surrender. “Whoa! Whoa! I’m going to Sean and Tracy’s, remember? You’re the one who won’t come out of hiding.”

“I’m not hiding! I spend Christmas with Shelia every year.” A flash of humor lit his eyes and she lashed out, swatting his arm. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I love getting you riled up.” He launched himself from the end of the couch and tackled her against the opposite arm. “You’re so hot when you’re steamed, Maggie.”

“You should know. You manage to piss me off about once a day.”

He pinned her easily. The flirty dimple in his cheek winked at her when he flashed that boyish grin. “I was going for twice a day. I’ll have to work on my game.” He kissed her slow and soft, his lips lingering against hers. She caught his breath and hung onto it, clinging to his broad shoulders. “I don’t like the thought of you being alone on Christmas,” he whispered.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Sheila,” she whispered back.

“I want to be with you.”

Maggie turned her head and squinted at the clock on the DVD player. “You will be with me on Christmas. It’ll be Christmas in just another thirty minutes. You weren’t planning on leaving, were you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.

Stretching beneath him, she tangled her legs with his, watching as his eyes darkened with awareness. “Except to bed.”

“To bed.”

Her smile came slow and sure.

“You’re so damn easy.”

****

Sheila emerged from the kitchen of her elegant Lake Shore Drive condominium holding two generous glasses of white wine. She stopped short of Maggie and narrowed her dark eyes. “You’re definitely not pregnant?”

Maggie blinked in surprise but quickly recovered, flashing a saucy grin. “Not that I know of.”

Rolling her eyes, the older woman relinquished one of the glasses into Maggie’s eager grasp. “I’d think at your age you would have learned how to avoid those little scares.”

The wine was cool, crisp, and fruity, and slid down her throat like melted butter. Maggie gulped half the glass then lowered it with a gasp. “You don’t need to worry about that, Sheila. I’m fine.”

The older woman sank gracefully onto the plush cushions of the cream suede sofa, cradling her glass between her palms. “Well, you seem much better,” she conceded. Still, her shrewd brown eyes focused on Maggie intently. “Thank you for helping today.”

Employing far less grace and elegance, Maggie dropped down next to her friend. “I love Christmas morning at Haven House.”

A smile lit the older woman’s eyes. “It is wonderful, isn’t it? For one day they forget the fear and the worry. One magical day when they all feel safe and happy.” She sighed. “Makes you wish every day could be Christmas Day.”

“They
are
safe and happy, and that’s because of you.” Maggie toasted her friend with her glass.

A pink flush rose in Sheila’s cheeks. “Because of
us
,” she corrected. “Everyone at Haven House.”

Maggie let her head fall against the back of the couch and stared at the professionally decorated tree positioned in front of the panoramic windows. Closing her eyes, she conjured up the image of the little Charlie Brown tree perched on her end table. “You never told me, how was your Christmas party?”

Sheila snorted and toed off her glossy black pumps. “The usual… Cocktails and canapés. I picked a few pockets, of course,” she added with a smug smile.

Maggie shot her a knowing glance. “I’m sure you did.”

“I love holiday guilt. It carries us almost through to Independence Day.”

“How appropriate.”

Sheila smiled and tapped her glass with her fingernail. “I think so.” Leveraging herself from the sofa, she padded toward the kitchen. “The usual? Moo
shu
with extra egg rolls?”

“Perfect,” Maggie called after her.

“I’m ordering extra pancakes. I love ordering Chinese take-out on Christmas. Roasted turkey is for the birds.”

Maggie sank deep into the couch and raised her glass. A smile curved her lips as the cool, crisp wine wet them. She let the barest sip linger on her tongue before setting the glass aside. The tight muscles in her neck sang out as she stretched. Her toes curled in her shoes. She sighed and kicked them off.

“There! Dinner is on its way,” Sheila announced as she strolled back into the room. Maggie peeped at her through her lashes and grunted her approval. The plush cushions barely shifted when Sheila reclaimed her spot. “So, who’s the guy?”

Her eyes popped open. The tension she’d released sprang back, pulling her muscles as taut as a bow. “Guy?” she squeaked.

“Whoever it is that’s putting that glow in your cheeks,” the older woman said, waving her hand impatiently. “You say you aren’t pregnant….”

“Yet,” Maggie muttered before she could stop herself.

Sheila’s sharp gaze locked on her like a laser beam. “Yet?”

“I’m trying to have a baby.” The admission came out in a whisper. Maggie braced herself, absorbing the shock and worry that flitted across her friend’s face. “On purpose.”

“I see.” Sheila quickly schooled her features, lacing her fingers together on her lap. “Well, I guess I didn’t need to stuff those condoms in your bag,” she said at last.

“Condoms?”

“You know I keep a bowl of condoms in the office. While you were playing Santa, I shoved a handful of them into your purse.”