by Elle Kennedy
“Hello, Mr. Henderson,” she said quickly, struggling to tie her apron and keep a polite smile on her face at the same time.
He appraised her with a cool look. “You’re late, Ms. Reilly.”
“I know. It won’t happen again,” she said yet again.
Without replying, he moved past her and rounded the counter, where he exchanged a few words with Matt.
She stifled another sigh. Great start to a shift, pissing off both her manager and the bar owner in less than the five minutes she was late by. Pausing at the counter, she grabbed an order pad and a tray, and turned around just in time to bump into Trisha.
Trisha?
“What are you doing here?” Maggie demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the puppet show? That’s why you took my shift yesterday, right?”
Splotches of crimson stained Trisha’s olive-colored cheeks. “Uh, I traded shifts with Kate. Lou cancelled tonight but we’re going out to dinner tomorrow so I needed Kate to cover for me.”
“Lou cancelled?”
“Um, yeah.”
Disbelief and suspicion battled for her brain’s attention. This whole shift switcheroo hadn’t sat right with her from the beginning. “There was no musical, was there?” she said slowly.
Trisha’s cheeks grew redder. “No,” she finally admitted. “But Lou and I really are going out tomorrow and it’s the first time he’s wanted to take me out to dinner in ages so I had to switch with Kate and—”
“I need to speak to both of you,” their manager’s voice interrupted Trisha before she could finish.
Linda stalked over, gesturing for them to follow her to the other end of the counter. With the Olive’s owner out of earshot, Linda fixed both waitresses with a deadly stare. “I spend two hours every week writing up a damn schedule, and I won’t have any of my employees screwing around with it at their leisure.”
Trisha’s flush deepened. “Linda—”
“Let me finish.” The manager turned to Maggie. “The next time you decide to take a personal day, you clear it with me first, understand? You don’t call Trisha and Kate and make changes to the schedule without speaking to me, Maggie.”
She swallowed. “I…”
“And you,” Linda cut in, turning to Trisha. “You don’t take anyone’s shift without asking me. Now both of you, get to work. Jeremy is here, so you had better be on your best behavior.”
“What the hell is going on?” Maggie demanded after Linda marched away. “You never cleared it with Linda?”
“You can thank me later,” Trisha shot back. “I just got bitched at by our boss so you could go on a romantic getaway with Tony.”
Tony?
Trisha hurried off before Maggie could respond. Since she was fairly certain her manager’s eyes were glued to her, Maggie gripped her order pad and headed toward one of her booths. She had to erase her customer’s order three times before she got it right, but she couldn’t force her bewildered mind to focus on work at the moment.
Trisha thought she’d gone away with Tony? Why would she think that? And how had she even known Maggie was away?
She drifted back to the counter and placed her drink orders with Matt, then curled her hands into fists as it dawned on her.
Ben.
Ben must have somehow contacted Trisha and asked her to cover last night’s shift.
The sneaky bastard!
A slow rush of anger filled her veins and made her fingers tighten over the edge of her tray. Damn him. All she’d asked when she’d agreed to give him a place to stay was that he didn’t complicate her life, and what had he done? He’d complicated her freaking life. Distracted her from her school work, stuck his nose into her job, and now her face would most likely be on every tabloid on the newsrack because of him. The attention at the airport had made her feel angry, exposed, and although she knew it wasn’t Ben’s fault the media had been waiting for them in the gate, she still blamed him just a little. She should’ve never gotten involved with a movie star. What the hell had she been thinking?
Her hands started to shake as she realized by now the entire world probably knew about her and Ben. What if the reporters started harassing her the way they harassed Ben? What if they showed up here at work, or at her apartment, or the community center? What if they dug around in her background, decided to paint her as some abandoned foster kid, or a gold-digger, or something equally horrendous?
The final thought made her hands tremble even more, which caused the tray she was holding to tilt over. The glasses on it slid around, screwing up the balance of the tray, and before she could stop it, three tall glasses of beer smashed onto floor. The glass shattered, cold liquid splashing against her ankles. She nearly gasped with embarrassment when she noticed the entire bar had gone dead silent. Customers were peering over to examine what had caused the commotion and all eyes were on her. She turned her head away from the curious stares and a second later she was on her knees, fumbling with the shards of glass with her bare hands.
A strong arm pushed her out of the way. “Careful, you’ll cut yourself,” Matt said anxiously. He’d brought a rag with him and began soaking up the spilled liquid.
“I’ll clean it,” she said, mortified by her clumsiness.
He pushed her hands away again. “Go clean yourself up,” he returned. “There’s beer dripping down your legs, Mags.”
“Let me help—”
“I can handle it.”
He looked ticked off with her and she didn’t blame him. She’d made a huge mess and she felt terrible that Matt was the one cleaning it up.
She swallowed, then nodded, then rose to her feet. She saw Trisha by the counter, watching her with concern as she walked toward the employee lounge, but her friend didn’t follow her, most likely because Trish didn’t want to make any more waves with Linda. There was a small bathroom in the back of the lounge, and Maggie headed for it, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and wiping down her beer-soaked ankles. When she exited the washroom, she found Jeremy Henderson waiting for her in the doorway.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded.
His harsh voice sent a cold knot of dread to her gut. The tall, balding man was absolutely seething as he entered. He was tailed by Linda, whose expression displayed both concern and disapproval.
“It was an accident,” she said shakily. “I lost my grip and…” She drifted off, hating the pleading tinge to her voice. “It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t happen again,” Henderson snapped back. “You’re fired.”
She stumbled backwards. “What? You’re firing me because I dropped a tray?”
Henderson’s features hardened. “I’m firing you because you’ve displayed some inappropriate behavior as of late, according to Linda.” He lifted his hand to tick off each angry point with his fingers. “You changed the weekly schedule to suit your own personal needs.” He lifted another finger. “There was a complaint made about you.” Another finger. “You were late for work.” Another finger. “And you just caused a scene in front of a room full of customers. Clean out your locker, Ms. Reilly.”
“Mr. Henderson—”
“Don’t argue with me. The bar has already been getting bad reviews, and the scene out there did not help the Olive Martini’s reputation. You no longer work for this establishment, Ms. Reilly. Is that understood?”
She blinked back the hot tears prickling her eyes. “It’s understood,” she finally muttered.
“Good. Now clean out your locker.”
It was only ten o’clock when Ben let himself into Maggie’s apartment with the key she’d given him in the cab. He’d gone back to his brownstone to pick up some clothes, but when he’d found a lone reporter lurking on the curb he quickly hopped in a cab and headed right back to Maggie’s. He hadn’t expected her to be home from work until later, so he was surprised to walk in and find her sitting on the couch. Even more surprised at the sight of her puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
>
In a flash, he crossed the room and dropped next to her on the couch.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he said roughly, pulling her into his arms. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.” She gulped and then eased out of his embrace. “I got fired tonight.”
“What?”
“The owner of the bar fired me.”
Ben grew silent, a wave of uneasiness climbing up his chest. He couldn’t imagine why a dedicated worker like Maggie would ever be canned. His throat tightened at the memory of how he’d gone behind her back to cancel her shift, and he wondered if maybe that had something to do with it. Oh Christ, had he gotten her fired?
“Maggie…” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I have something I need to tell you.”
She pinned him down with a hard look. “I already know. You got Trisha to take my shift. Don’t worry, your little trick wasn’t the only reason I was let go.” She snorted. “I’ve been late a couple times. Oh, and I dropped a tray.”
He faltered. “You dropped a tray.”
“Yep. Broke a couple of glasses, spilled some beer on the floor.”
“You were fired for that?”
“To quote the owner, I ‘caused a scene’.”
“That son of a bitch.”
She gave a small sniffle, and more tears welled up in her eyes and coated her thick lashes. “That son of a bitch was signing my paychecks. And now…” The tears overflowed and slid down her cheeks.
“Now what?”
The look she gave him made his heart ache. “Now I can’t pay off the rest of my tuition. I still owe the college for this semester.”
“I’ll pay it.” The words flew out before he could stop them.
“You’re not paying my bills.” She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I’ll figure out a way. Maybe the bank will give me a loan.”
“Let me handle it.”
He was begging now, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing when she looked at him with so much pain in her eyes. He couldn’t stand by and watch her cry.
“No, Ben.”
“Goddammit, Maggie, just let me take care of you.”
She didn’t answer.
“You can’t do it, can you? You can’t let anyone else carry some of your burden.” He exhaled slowly. “Why the hell won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you let me in?”
Rather than answering the question, she just wiped her eyes again and frowned. Myriad emotions flickered in her eyes, anger and confusion the most dominant, but rather than say whatever what was on her mind, her face became expressionless and she stumbled to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she burst out. “I need a hot shower.” Without another word, she left the room.
Maggie closed her eyes and let the warm water slide over her face, easing the ache in her swollen eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. To her, tears had always been a sign of weakness, vulnerability. She hadn’t felt vulnerable since she was child, and it bothered her that she was crying over losing her job. People lost their jobs all the time, it was a trivial fact of life. It wasn’t the end of the world.
Only it wasn’t trivial to her. Her job at the Olive paid her bills. Her savings were nonexistent, and with exams coming up it wasn’t likely she could find another job in time to pay the rest of her tuition. She was already accruing late fees like crazy, since she hadn’t paid the amount in full at the beginning of the year like most students. Without her job, how could she pay the college?
She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a terry-cloth robe over herself, she belted it tightly and reached for the door handle, but paused before turning it, wondering if Ben was still out in the living room. Wondering if he’d start needling her again about letting him help her.
God, she didn’t want him to help her. And besides, a part of her was still so bitter about his involvement in her firing. Why the hell had he gone behind her back and messed around with her work schedule? How had he convinced her to leave town for two days? Why couldn’t he just go away?
You don’t want him to go away.
She ignored that taunting little voice in her head, telling herself that of course she wanted him to leave. Tonight proved that he was a complication, a distraction she couldn’t afford. He might have given her the best sex of her life, but was it worth all the headaches? The reporters who surrounded them in the airport? The loss of her job?
No, it wasn’t worth it at all. She’d worked too hard to have all her goals threatened by a damn movie star.
She strode out of the bathroom, determined to tell Ben it was over. That it was time for him to face the press. Time to stop using her as an excuse to hide out. Time to uncomplicate her life. But when she entered the bedroom and found him sitting on the bed, the speech she’d prepared died on her lips.
He looked so damn upset that her chest squeezed a little. His broad shoulders were slumped over, his handsome features creased with worry, and when he looked up at her approach, the remorse flickering in his cobalt blue eyes was unmistakable.
He stood up and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Ben—”
“No, listen to me.” He stepped closer and touched her chin with one warm hand. “I’m really sorry about the way I fucked everything up. I’m sorry about those reporters at the airport, and I’m really sorry I tricked you into going to the Bahamas with me.”
“Ben—”
He cut her off with a kiss, his lips softer and gentler than they’d ever been. She tried to focus, tried to tell him that it was time they parted ways, but the feel of his hot mouth on hers was too distracting. Seeing as she’d just lost her job, the last thing she should want to do was have sex, but her body instantly responded to Ben.
“Let me make it up to you,” he murmured into her mouth.
She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him the only way to make it up to her was to leave, to take his complications elsewhere and let her work it out on her own, but her desire for him was too damn strong.
One last time, a little voice pleaded inside her head.
She shouldn’t listen to that voice, she knew that. Falling into bed with Ben, even if it was just one last time, wouldn’t make the situation any better. She still wouldn’t have her job, the press would still be sniffing around her, Ben would still be asking her for things she wasn’t sure she could give. Sex wasn’t going to change that.
Yet she couldn’t ignore her body’s need for this man. And when his blue eyes locked with hers and asked an unspoken question, she couldn’t seem to say no.
So she nodded.
Without another word, Ben led her toward the bed and slowly peeled the robe off her body. Then he lay her down on the patterned bedspread and kissed her again. He kissed everywhere. Her lips. Her nipples. Her stomach, her thighs, her clit.
As his tongue dragged across every inch of her, all the events of the night dissolved and fled her body in the form of a soft whimper.
Silently, Ben removed his own clothes and lowered his body on hers.
Their gazes collided, and what she saw in his blue eyes stole the breath from her lungs. He looked turned on and contented and even a little vulnerable, which made her heart do flip-flops in her chest.
“Maggie,” he finally said, his voice coming out hoarse, ragged.
She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. Instead he started to move inside her, his pace a languid rolling rhythm that had her gasping with impatience. He ignored her tiny whimpers, the way she gripped his buttocks and tried to pull him deeper inside her.
“There’s no rush,” he whispered, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes.
He resumed the slow pace and she wasn’t sure how long they lay there, how long he rocked inside her and made love to her. Minutes could have ticked by, hours even, but Maggie didn’t care. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed, and she almost purred, breathing in Ben’s spicy masculine scent.
Sh
e kissed his chest, running her tongue along his collarbone, meeting his gentle thrusts with the measured rise of her hips. And just when she thought she’d pass out from ecstasy, he withdrew his shaft and slid down between her legs, pressing his lips to her swollen clit. Licking, sucking, until she cried out from an orgasm so intense a wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Ben didn’t let her recover, nor did he resume his lazy pace when he slid back inside her. “Now we can rush,” he muttered, thrusting into her so fast and so hard that an astonishing second orgasm seized her inner muscles.
She cried out again. Stunned, unprepared for that second explosion of pleasure. A moment later, Ben shuddered and came, finally allowing himself his own release.
He kissed her forehead, and then gently rolled off her to dispose of the condom. Staring at his sinewy, sweat-soaked back, Maggie bit her lip to stop herself from asking him what just happened. Sex happened, yes, but something between them had shifted. Something that scared her, yet exhilarated her at the same time. Something she couldn’t explain with words, or label, or even analyze.
And for the first time in her life, Maggie wondered if that something might just be love.
Chapter Twelve
Maggie didn’t wake him before she slid out of the apartment the next morning. She knew it made her a coward, knew she should’ve woken Ben, maybe even talked about what happened between them last night, but she wasn’t ready to face any of it yet. Something had changed last night and she knew he’d felt it too. It showed in the way he’d held her after sex, the way he’d tenderly stroked her hair and fallen asleep with his head against her breasts. The entire exchange had been so damn intimate that she didn’t even know what to make of it. It worried her. So much that she was leaving the apartment without a word and heading to the community center despite the chicken pox risk.
She just couldn’t be around Ben right now. Last night, when the L-word had floated its way into her head, she’d been stunned. And scared. Really scared.
She’d never been in love before, never allowed herself to feel anything even remotely close to it, and that she’d somehow dropped her guard around Ben was terrifying. She was supposed to hate him for messing around with her job, for complicating her entire life with his sexy smiles and drugging kisses.
