Busted. Maggie scrambled to come up with something that was not as personal as aftershave. “I hope you like the cookies.”
James cocked an eyebrow, and Maggie knew she wasn’t fooling him. But he opened the box and took out one. “Still warm,” he marveled before he ate it. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed, pure bliss making him look dreamy and satisfied. Very satisfied. “These are the best damn chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.”
There went her stupid blush again. “Thank you.”
Agnes came back in with the coffee and wished them both a happy weekend. Then she was gone and it was just Maggie and James.
The whole time, Maggie was trying to figure out what she wanted. Did she want him to kiss her? Did she want more than that? At what point did they cross some invisible, compromising line?
She had no idea what came next, except the stack of files on the desk.
That was a safe enough place to start, she guessed.
James stood at the side of the desk, looking down at her. “I would like you to check the names on the list and then look at the mug shots to see if you recognize anyone.” Then he sat down, looked at his computer and ate another cookie.
That said no kissing, loud and clear. So she picked up a file and flipped it over.
The time passed quickly. Every new file was a blast from the past. She didn’t know any of the girls, but she recognized them all the same. Somewhere, in a file in this office, was a photograph of her that was almost the same as all the others—beaten, bruised, strung out, dead inside. She had once felt so hopeless, and yet she was still here. She finished her stack and sat back, rubbing her temples. Why was she different? Why had she been found, when most of these girls were lost forever?
“Are you okay?” She looked up to find James staring at her, the worry obvious in his eyes.
“This is…harder than I thought it would be.” She was surprised to hear her voice catch.
Then a funny thing happened. What looked a hell of a lot like guilt washed over his face, and he was out of his chair. He shut the door behind her and then had her by the hand and was pulling her up. Before Maggie could process what was happening, James had her wrapped in a huge hug. She tensed at the suddenness of the full-body contact, but as soon as she realized that he wasn’t pushing her back against the desk, she relaxed into his arms. As odd as it seemed, this was just a hug. Tears hovered at the edges of her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry right now. She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset.
She pressed her face into his shoulder and tried to think happy thoughts. Like the fact that James was here, and his woodsy aftershave was just right on his skin. His arms felt even stronger than she’d dreamed they would, one hand just above the curve of her backside, the other between her shoulder blades. That hand was rubbing in small, calming circles. She allowed herself to enjoy this moment. It might be the only one she got.
At some point—probably after only a few seconds, but it felt longer—the embrace changed. It went from comforting to something else. Instead of small circles, James’s hand moved up and down her back. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply, as if he wanted to savor her.
Heaven help her, she wanted to be savored. But she couldn’t have sex in a lawyer’s office. She had to remember she wasn’t that kind of woman anymore.
James leaned back, his gaze intent. “Better?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. He glanced down at her lips and then back to her eyes. But he still didn’t kiss her.
She had no idea if she should be relieved or disappointed. “Yes.” And no.
“This is the last time I’ll ask you to go back to that time.” His voice hummed from deep in his chest, and Maggie swore he was purring. “Thank you for trying.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. Not a true kiss, but something that was tender and sweet and honest all the same.
All Maggie could do was stand there with her eyes closed and melt inside. This was the perfect middle ground between being kissed and not kissed. It was almost as if James knew exactly what she needed, even if she hadn’t been all too sure about it herself.
The question now was, what else would he ask of her? They had to be on that invisible, compromising line. One wrong move—hell, even a right one—would push them over the edge.
James pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Is it okay with you if I call you to give you the updates on the case?”
Huh? She blinked at him a few times.
“I want to keep the lines of communication open between us,” James said, not even a little bit ruffled by her cluelessness. “I can’t think of a single additional thing that I need clarified, but I’d like to keep you informed of what happens.”
If she lived to be one hundred and two, she wouldn’t get lawyers figured out. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to cross that compromising line—even if he was going to run up and down alongside it.
She touched her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it. “I want to hear from you, James. Call me.”
He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm at the same time that he dropped his arms from around her waist. The message was loud and clear. They were done—for now. “Trust me, I will.”
Seven
Light flashed through the window and off the TV. For one terror-filled moment, Maggie froze. Nan was at her weekly bridge club, leaving Maggie alone. Maybe someone was lost on a Tuesday night. Yeah, that could be it.
Even remembering that James had promised she’d get advance warning if Low Dog got out, she grabbed the shotgun out of the umbrella rack and pulled the curtain away from the glass in the door. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but she could see enough.
A big SUV was parked about twenty feet away, next to her garden. A man was leaning against the front of the vehicle. She could see his broad shoulders clothed in a bright white dress shirt. His arms were crossed. Then he rubbed his eyes.
Her heart began to race. James was here. And he was upset. Six days had passed since she’d last seen him, though she’d spoken to him every night on some pretext or another. Why hadn’t he called? This wasn’t good news, that much was obvious, but she couldn’t deny she felt a little thrill of excitement at seeing him anyway. Maybe Low Dog was out, maybe it was something else. Whatever the bad news was, she knew he’d kept his promise. He was here for her.
Maggie tucked the shotgun back in between the umbrellas, careful not to bump it. When she flipped on the porch light and opened the door, he straightened up. Even at this distance, she could see the sorrow in his eyes. For a selfish second, she wished she had on something fancier than a plain black broomstick skirt and blue long-sleeved T-shirt—something he’d like.
“James? What is it?” She took a step toward him, holding out her hand.
“Maggie.” He sounded as if he was choking on her name. “I shouldn’t have come—but I had to see you.”
Her bare feet carried her down off the porch, a few steps into the cool dirt—and a few steps closer to him. “What happened? Is it…?” She was afraid to ask if it was something with the case, but she didn’t know what else would bring him out here.
“The case is fine. Your testimony is still sealed. No one has to know you’re a part of it. I…” He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. “I had to talk to someone, and I can trust you.”
He could? Part of her brain tried to tell her it could be a trick—he might be trying to manipulate her emotions. But it didn’t feel that way. She went to him and looked up into his eyes. He was hurting.
She touched her hand to his cheek. His eyes squeezed shut and he took the kind of deep breath that meant he was choking down pain. She knew how that felt, too. “Come inside,” she whispered, taking his hand. “Tell me what’s happened.”
His eyes still shut, he nodded and followed her into the kitchen. He didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t let go of his.
Maggie’s heart was pounding. This was dangerous, but
for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out if it was the good kind of danger or the bad. James’s unscheduled arrival—on the night he had to remember Nan wasn’t home—set off warning bells. But he wasn’t making a move on her. She wanted to believe—desperately—that he really needed her.
When they got into the kitchen, Maggie released his hand and busied herself making tea. James leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his eyes unfocused. What he did next would tell her if he was a man she could believe in or not.
Making tea wasn’t exactly a plan, but she made it work. She got the kettle on, the two nicest mugs out and scrounged up the few packets of fake sugar to display next to the sugar bowl. Maybe she should offer him something to eat? She was digging around in the fridge for the lemon pound cake she’d made yesterday when James cleared his throat. “When I was a kid, I didn’t spend a lot of time with my parents. Dad was always working, and Mother…well, she was busy.”
“Were you alone?” That didn’t seem right. She’d been more or less abandoned, but surely rich people didn’t do that to their kids.
“No. I had the same nanny from when I was two until I was eighteen. She raised me.” His voice caught, and Maggie’s heart broke a little bit.
She knew how this story ended. Something had happened to the nanny. “Tell me about her.”
“Her name was Consuela. She was from Costa Rica. My mother hired her before Zoe Baird got her nomination for attorney general pulled for hiring illegal immigrants.”
She hated to interrupt him, but… “Who?”
“Sorry. Back in 1993, a woman didn’t get to be attorney general because she’d hired immigrants as nannies and chauffeurs without the proper paperwork. Of course, half of D.C. had undocumented aliens running their households and raising their children. I had Consuela.”
“Oh.” Nannies and chauffeurs. Attorneys general and future presidents. For a moment there, Maggie had felt close to him. Now the distance seemed gulf-size again. Their worlds were too different. He could trust her and she could like him, but when it came down to it, there was no way in hell she could do anything more than make him tea. She wasn’t sure she should even be doing that.
“My father had started moving up the political food chain. I convinced him that we needed to make Consuela legal—green card, taxes, the whole thing. By the time Dad went before congressional committees, all he had to do was apologize for a hiring oversight.”
“You were how old?”
James gave her a weak smile. “Ten, I think. I learned a lot about how the world worked then.”
No wonder he was going to be president one day—he’d been outsmarting congressional committees since he was in middle school. But at this moment, he didn’t seem like the leader of the free world. He seemed like a regular guy who’d lost someone important.
“She was this quiet, tiny woman with quick, black eyes. She’d never finished school in Costa Rica, but she helped me with all my homework.” He brightened. “I used to joke with her that she should go up to get my high school diploma with me because she’d earned it, too. She drove me to all my games…” His brief joy faded as his voice caught.
“She sounds like a special woman.”
“She died. Her heart gave out. Two weeks ago. I…” He looked up at her, his eyes wet. “I just found out today. I missed the funeral. I didn’t get to say goodbye. And when I asked my mother why she didn’t tell me, she said, ‘It was just the nanny.’” His tone changed to something high and tight—and mocking. Anger flashed over his face, pushing back his sorrow. “Like she couldn’t even be bothered. Consuela was more my mom than Mother was, and I…” Just as quick as it had come on, his fury dissolved.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. She knew she shouldn’t, but she went over to him and slid her arms around his waist. He had comforted her in his office without crossing the line—surely she could do the same? Besides, he’d said it himself—no one would ever know she’d testified. They were friends. Friends were there for each other.
James’s chest shuddered as he drew in a breath, then he folded her into his arms and buried his head into her neck. “I didn’t have to be anyone else with her. She didn’t care if I became president or if I worked in a grocery store.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “She was proud of me, no matter what.”
Maggie remembered what Rosebud had said—that James’s great gift was to see people as they really were. “I like you just the way you are, James. I always have.”
He pulled her in tighter, until the whole of her front was pressed against every inch of his. “I trust you, Maggie. I need you.”
Maggie felt the span of muscles under his shirt. Instantly, she was aware of him in a new way, a way that sent nervous shivers up her arms and down her back. A strange tension coiled around her, not in her belly as if she was nervous, but lower and tighter.
She was no virgin, obviously. But these feelings—these sensations—they were new and more than a little overwhelming. In the best way.
She should let go of him this very instant. Right now. This was the moment when they either crossed the line or backed away from it.
But backing away would mean letting go of him, and letting go of him would most likely mean never having this moment again.
Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was just being there for a friend—maybe it was both. Whatever it was, Maggie didn’t pull away. She couldn’t, not when he needed her so much. Not when she needed him, too.
So she ran one of her hands up his back until her fingers tangled with his hair. He exhaled against her skin, the warmth sending another wave of shivers down lower. “I need you, too.”
Dear God, had she really said that out loud? Part of her brain scrambled to slam on the brakes, but before she could change her mind, he pressed his lips against her neck. That single touch weakened her knees and her resolve.
Then James pulled back. For a searing second, he looked her in the eyes, and she saw the battle in his gaze. He slammed his lips into hers with an emotion that was both desperate and furious. His teeth clipped her upper lip, the pain in direct contrast to the sheer thrill of the thing. He was kissing her. He liked her. Part of her brain swooned. A kiss, a real kiss. Despite how rough it was, something in her quivered with need. He’d taken this kiss. She wanted him to take another.
Her mind and body wanted to give him that kiss, and maybe something more. To hell with being compromised.
Her thoughts made a jumble look calm and organized. Yeah, she’d wondered what sex would be like now, as Maggie Eagle Heart—what being loved would be like. It’d been so long, Maggie thought. What if she never got another chance? What if this was it?
Then he took that second kiss, pulling her body against his until she could feel more than the hard planes of his chest, and she lost the ability to think at all. His tongue thrust into her mouth, tangling with hers until she wasn’t just quivering with need. She shook with it.
He took that as a yes. His hands slid down and cupped her bottom. He picked her up and spun her around until she was all but sitting on the counter.
“Oh, Maggie.” His voice was something low and dangerous, but he didn’t stop as he kissed her for the third time. This time, his lips moved over her chin, down her neck and then he pulled the V of her shirt away, revealing her basic white bra. That, too, was pulled aside, and she was exposed to him. His mouth closed around her nipple.
She couldn’t help it. She leaned back and braced herself by wrapping her legs around his waist to give him more. He made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, and then her other breast was being sucked with that furious need. Between the feel of his mouth and her own intense desire, her nipples went rock hard.
His teeth scraped the sides of her breast as he jerked her skirt up. Then he undid his pants and pulled the crotch of her panties to one side. Then he was against her. Then he was in her.
The suddenness of the sensation drew a long, ragged gasp from her throat. Once James was deep inside he
r, he pulled her off the counter. His arms wrapped underneath her as he lowered her body more firmly onto his, and then he did the unexpected again. He kissed her. While they had sex.
And she liked it. Oh, Lord, she liked it. She forgot about what she’d been and what she was and let herself just be here with this man. He rocked his hips up and back as he lifted her up and down, using the counter to brace them both. The whole time, he kissed her lips, sucked on her tongue and kept repeating, “Oh, Maggie,” over and over in that low, dangerous voice.
Her body responded. Heat rushed between her legs and surrounded him where their bodies met. With each thrust, tension tightened her thighs around his waist, her arms around his neck. This was what she wanted.
Her head fell back, and he fastened onto one of her breasts again. The intensity—that wasn’t something she’d expected to feel. She’d expected the skin-on-skin contact, sure, but she hadn’t thought it would make her blood pound so hard, make her want to cry out with aching desire. She hadn’t known sex could feel this freeing. That she could like it this much.
Unexpectedly, the coiling tension that held her body tight around his snapped back on her. This time, she did cry out as the climax threw her forward. Only his body stopped her from falling to the floor.
Then, as suddenly as he’d entered her, he pulled out with a roar that was muffled by her hair. Moisture trickled down her legs.
So different was all she could think. So good. But the featherlight satisfaction of a long-awaited climax turned into a dead weight that pulled her down off her cloud. No condom. Oh, no.
She looked at James, who had apparently come to the same conclusion. “I, uh, I pulled out,” he stuttered as he set her down.
Maggie rushed for the bathroom. Because her panties had stayed on, they’d taken the most direct hit, but paranoia had already set in. How could something that had felt so very right seem so terribly wrong just seconds later?
A Man of Privilege Page 7
