“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Lambert,” she shouted back, dashing to the far end of the court to return the volley. She felt like a pogo stick, hopping from one end of the clay surface to the other with a quickness she didn’t know she possessed. At the end of the first set, Maggie was so exhausted that she was shaking. Good grief, she thought, she had a tennis court at the beach house that she never used. This match was a misrepresentation of her skill.
Wiping the perspiration from her face with a thick white towel, Maggie sagged onto the bench. Glenn joined her, taking a seat beside her. “You should have told me you were this good. I’ve never had to work this hard to win.”
Her breath came in deep gasps. “That was quite a workout.” She hoped he didn’t suggest another one soon. A repeat performance of this magnitude was unlikely. The match had helped her vent her frustrations over the issue of his grandmother’s ring—her normal game was far less aggressive.
Taking his mother’s words at face value, Maggie decided the best thing she could do was patiently wait. Glenn had originally intended the ring would go to Angie, but he’d married Maggie. When he felt comfortable with the idea he’d present her with the ring, not before. Christmas was less than seven weeks away, and Charlotte was probably right. He’d give it to her then. Maybe.
Regaining his breath, Glenn leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “What did you and my mother have to talk about?” The question wasn’t an idle one. His brows were drawn into a single tense line. All afternoon he had worried about that luncheon date. Maggie had a right to know everything, but he didn’t want the information coming from his mother. If anyone was going to tell her, it would come best from him. He had thought to call and talk to his mother, and discreetly explain as much, but the morning had been hectic and by the time he was out of the board meeting, it had been too late.
Wickedly, Maggie fluttered her thick, dark lashes. “I imagine you’d love to know what tales she carried, but I’m not breaking any confidences.”
“Did she give you her recipe for my favorite dinner?”
“What makes you think we discussed you?” Maggie tilted her flushed face to one side and grinned up at him, her smile growing broader.
“It only seems natural that the two women in my life would talk of little else.” He placed his arm around her shoulder and helped her stand, carrying her tennis racket for her.
Maggie placed her arm around his waist, pleased with the way he linked her with his mother. “If your favorite meal is beef Stroganoff, then you’re in luck.”
“The luckiest day of my life was when you agreed to be my wife,” Glenn murmured as he looked down on her with a haunting look so intense that Maggie’s heart throbbed painfully. Her visit with his mother hadn’t been easy for him, she realized. He had probably spent the entire day worrying about what she’d say afterward.
Her voice grew husky with emotion. “What an amazing coincidence—that’s my favorite day, too.”
The longing in his eyes grew all the more poignant as Glenn weighed her words. If they’d been anyplace else, Maggie was convinced he would have tossed their tennis rackets aside and pulled her into his arms.
“Come on,” she chided lovingly. “If you’re going to beat me when I’ve played the best game of my life, then the least you can do is feed me.”
Laughing, Glenn kissed the top of her head and led her toward the changing room and then to the restaurant.
His good mood continued when they reached the condominium. Maggie was bushed, and although she had taken a quick shower at Glenn’s club, she couldn’t resist a leisurely soak in a hot tub to soothe the aching cries of unused muscles. This day had been their best yet. The tension eased from her sore muscles and her heart. The matter with the ring no longer bothered her. When Glenn decided to give it to her, she’d know that it came from his heart and she need never doubt again.
With her hair pinned up and a terry-cloth bathrobe wrapped around her, Maggie walked into the living room, looking for her husband.
“Glenn?”
“In here.” His voice came from the den.
Remembering the photographs inside, Maggie paused in the doorway. Tension shot through her, although she struggled to appear outwardly composed. With monumental effort, she kept her gaze from the wastepaper basket beside his desk.
“What are you doing?” She was exhausted, and it was late. She’d have thought that after a workout on the courts he’d be ready for bed.
“I’ve got a few odds and ends to finish up here. I’ll only be a few minutes,” he answered without looking up, scribbling across the top of a computer sheet. When he did glance up he was surprised to find Maggie standing in the doorway as if she were afraid to come into the room.
“I’d appreciate a cup of coffee.”
Maggie shrugged. “Sure.”
“Maggie.” Glenn stopped her. “Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong?” she echoed. “What could possibly be wrong?” Just that I’m such a coward I can’t bear to look and see if those snapshots are still there, she chastised herself, turning toward the kitchen.
“I don’t know.” Glenn’s puzzled voice followed her.
The coffee took only a minute to make. Maggie stood in the kitchen, waiting for the liquid to drain into the cup and told herself she was behaving like an idiot.
She pasted a smile on her lips as she carried the mug into his den and set it on the edge of the desk. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Glenn murmured, busily working.
Maggie straightened and took a step backward. As she did, her gaze fell to the empty receptacle. Relief washed over her. He had gotten rid of them. She wanted to dance around the room and sing.
“Glenn.” She moved behind his chair and slid her arms around his neck.
“Hmm …”
“How late did you say you’d be?” She dipped her head and nuzzled the side of his neck, darting her tongue in and out of his ear.
Glenn could feel the hot blood stirring within him. “Not long. Why?”
“Why?” she shot back, giggling. “You need me to tell you why?”
Scooting the chair around, Glenn gripped her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. A brilliant smile came over her as she slid her arms around his neck.
Glenn’s mouth twisted wryly as he studied her. He didn’t know what had gotten into Maggie today. First she had surprised him on the tennis court. Then she had behaved like a shy virgin outside his door, looking in as if his office was a den of iniquity. And now she was a bewitching temptress who came to him with eyes that were filled with passion. Not that he was complaining; he’d never get enough of this woman.
Maggie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt so that she had the freedom to run her hands over his chest. She reveled in simply touching him, and pulled the shirt free of his shoulders. His muscles rippled as she slowly slid her hands upward to either side of his neck. Unhurried, she branded him with a kiss so hot it stole his breath.
“Maggie,” he whispered hoarsely, intimately sliding his hand between her legs and stroking her bare thigh. “Maybe I haven’t got so much paperwork to do after all.”
Smiling dreamily, Maggie directed his mouth back to hers. “Good.”
Chapter Eight
Two weeks passed, and Maggie grew more at ease with her marriage. She realized that a silent observer to their world would have assumed that they had been married for several years. Externally, there was nothing to show that their marriage wasn’t the product of a long, satisfying courtship. It didn’t seem to matter that Glenn hadn’t declared his love. He respected her, enjoyed her wit, encouraged her talent. They were happy … and it showed.
Maggie greeted each day with enthusiasm, eager to discover what lay in store for her. She purchased several cookbooks and experimented, putting her creativity to work in the kitchen. Glenn praised her efforts and accepted her failures, often helping her laugh when it would have been ea
sy to lose patience. In the early afternoons, if there was time, Maggie explored Charleston with Glenn’s mother and came to appreciate anew what a wonderful woman Charlotte Lambert was. They never spoke of Angie again.
South Carolina was everything Maggie had known it would be, and more than she’d ever expected. She was thrilled by the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century paintings that displayed regional history in the Gibbes Museum of Art and explored the Calhoun Mansion and the Confederate Museum, examining for the first time the Civil War from the Confederate point of view. One hundred and fifty years after the last battles of the war had been waged, Maggie felt the anguish of the South and tasted its defeat.
Her fingers longed to hold a paintbrush, but she satisfied her urgings with a pencil and pad, sketching the ideas that came to her. Charlotte was amazed at her daughter-in-law’s talent, and Maggie often gave Glenn’s mother her pencil sketches. At Sunday dinner with his family, Maggie was embarrassed to find those careless drawings framed and hanging on the living room wall. Proudly, Glenn’s eyes had met hers. They didn’t often speak of her art, and Maggie basked in the warm glow of his approval.
For his part, Glenn was happy, happier than he ever imagined he’d be. In the afternoons he rushed home from the office, knowing Maggie would be there waiting for him. Maybe he hadn’t married her for the right reasons, maybe what they had done was half crazy, but, he thought tenderly, he wouldn’t have it any different now, and he thanked God every single day that he’d acted on the impulse. Maggie gave his life purpose. In the afternoons she would be there waiting. And the minute he walked in the door, she’d smile. Not an ordinary smile, but a soft feminine one that lit up her dark eyes and curved the edges of her mouth in a sultry way that sent hot need coursing through him. In his lifetime, Glenn never hoped to see another woman smile the way Maggie did. Often he barely made it inside the door before he knew he had to kiss her. He would have preferred to react casually to his desire for her, but discovered that was impossible. Some days he couldn’t get home fast enough, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to burst in the door, wrap his arms around her, and carry her into their bedroom. He couldn’t touch, or taste, or hold her enough. Glenn felt he’d choose death rather than a life without her. Angie might have possessed his heart, but Maggie had laid claim to his soul.
He wondered sometimes if she had even an inkling of what she did to him physically. He doubted it. If she wasn’t pregnant soon, he mused, it would be a miracle. The thought of Maggie heavy with his child, her breasts swollen, her stomach protruding, produced such a shocking desire within him that it was almost painful. The feeling left him weak with wonder and pride. They’d have exceptionally beautiful children.
For the first time, Glenn understood his brothers’ pride in and awe of their children. At thirty, Glenn hadn’t given much thought to a family. Someday, he had always thought, he’d want children, but he hadn’t put faces or names to those who would fill his life. With Maggie he envisioned a tall son and a beautiful daughter. Every man wanted an heir, and now he yearned for a son until some nights he couldn’t sleep thinking about the children Maggie would give him. On those evenings, late, when his world was at peace, Glenn would press his hand over her satiny smooth stomach, praying her body was nurturing his seed. A child would cement Maggie and him so firmly together that only death would ever separate them.
Their evenings were filled with contentment. Only rarely did he bring work home, lingering instead in front of the television, using that as an excuse to have Maggie at his side, to watch her. If he did need to deal with some paperwork, she sat quietly in his den, curled up in a chair reading. It was as though they couldn’t be separated any longer than necessary and every moment apart was painful.
Maggie enjoyed watching Glenn in his home office more than any other place. He sat with simple authority at his desk while she pretended absorption in a novel, when actually she was studying him. Now and then he would look up and they’d exchange warm, lingering glances that left her wondering how long it would be until they could go to bed.
When they did head toward the bedroom, it was ridiculously early. The instant the light went off Glenn reached for her with such passion that she wondered if he would ever get his fill of her—then promptly prayed he wouldn’t. Their nights became a celebration for all the words stored in their hearts that had yet to be spoken. Never shy nor embarrassed, Maggie came to him without reserve, holding nothing back. She was his temptress and mistress. Bewitching and bewitched. Seduced and seducer.
Maggie had assumed that the fiery storm of physical satisfaction their bodies gave each other would fade with time, not increase. But as the days passed, she was pleased that Glenn’s constant need equaled her desire for him. Each time they made love, Maggie would lie in his arms thinking that their appetite for each other would surely diminish, and knew immediately that it wouldn’t.
In the mornings when she woke to the clock radio, Maggie was securely wrapped in Glenn’s arms. He held her close and so tight she wondered how she had managed to sleep. Some mornings Maggie felt the tension leave Glenn as he emerged from the last dregs of slumber and realized she remained with him. It was as though he feared she would be gone. Once assured she was at his side, Glenn would relax. As far as Maggie could tell, this insecurity was the only part of his relationship with Angie that continued to haunt him. One hundred times each day, in everything she did, every place she went, Maggie set out to prove she would never willingly leave him.
Life fell into a comfortable pattern, and the third full week after Maggie arrived in Charleston, the condominium sold. Maggie met Glenn at the door with the news.
“The realtor was by with an offer,” she said, draping her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his.
Glenn placed his large hands on her hips as he kissed her. “As far as I can see, we should be able to make the move within a week, two at the most,” he commented a few minutes later, as he curled an arm around her shoulders and deposited his briefcase in the den.
“A week?” Now that she was here, Maggie would have welcomed the opportunity to settle in South Carolina. California, Denny, the beach house seemed a million miles away, light-years from the life she shared with Glenn here.
“You sound like you don’t want to move.” He leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his long legs at the ankles.
“South Carolina is lovely.”
“So is California,” Glenn countered. “You don’t mind the change, do you?”
In some ways she did. Their time in Charleston was like a romantic interlude—the honeymoon they’d never gotten. They were protected from the outside world. No one knew who Maggie was, or cared. For the first time in several years she was a regular person, and she loved it. In Charleston she had blossomed into a woman who boldly met a passerby’s glance. She explored the art galleries without fear that someone would recognize her. No one came to her with get-rich-quick schemes, seeking naïve investors. No one rushed to wait on her or gain her attention or her gratitude. However, Maggie was wise enough to know that those things would follow in time.
“No,” she told Glenn soberly. “I don’t mind the move.”
He turned, sorting through the stack of mail she had set on the desktop, smiling wryly. Maggie wanted to stay in Charleston for the same reasons he wanted to move to San Francisco. They were each looking for an escape to problems they would need to face sooner or later. For his part, Glenn chose the West Coast more for nostalgia than any need to escape. San Francisco felt right, and Charleston held too many painful memories.
“Will you want to live at the beach house?” Maggie’s one concern was that Glenn might not like her home. Her own feelings toward the house were ambivalent. On some days, it was her sanctuary, and on others, her prison. She liked the house; she was comfortable there, but she didn’t know that Glenn would be.
“Sure. Is there any reason you’d want to move?”
“No, it’s just that �
��” The telephone rang and Maggie paused as Glenn lifted the receiver.
After a moment, he handed it to her. “It’s for you.”
“Me?” She felt her heart rate accelerate. She’d given specific instructions that she wasn’t to be contacted except for her brother. And Denny would call only if he was in financial trouble.
“Hello.” Her voice was wispy with apprehension.
“Who was that?”
“Denny, are you all right?”
“I asked you a question first. It’s not often I call my sister and a man answers the phone. Something’s going on. Who is it, Maggie?”
“I’m with Glenn Lambert.”
A low chuckle followed, but Maggie couldn’t tell if her brother was pleased or abashed. “So you and Glenn are together. Be careful, Maggie, I don’t want to see you hurt again.” He hesitated, as though he didn’t want to continue. “Are you living with him?”
“Denny,” Maggie had been foolish not to have told her family sooner. “Glenn and I are married.”
“Married,” he echoed in shock. “When did this happen?”
“Several weeks ago.”
A short, stunned silence followed. “That’s sudden, isn’t it? Linda and I would have liked to have attended the wedding.”
“We eloped.”
“That’s not like you.”
“It wasn’t like either of us. I’m happy, Denny, really happy. You know what it’s been like the past few years. Now don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t,” she assured him.
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
Denny had her there. “Not yet. We’re planning to tell them once we’re back in San Francisco.”
“And when will that be?” His words were slow, as if he was still thinking.
“A couple of weeks.”
He didn’t respond, and the silence seemed to pound over the great echoing canyon of the telephone wire. Denny hadn’t done a good job of disguising his reservations. Once he saw how good this marriage was for her, she was sure, he’d share her happiness. Her brother had been her anchor when she broke up with Dirk. He had seen firsthand the effects of one painful relationship and sought to protect her from another. Only Glenn wasn’t Dirk, and when they arrived back in San Francisco Denny would see that.
White Lace and Promises Page 13
