She has no self-confidence. Sherri’s words came back to him, seemingly more apropos to Maggie’s behavior this morning than last night. But surely a woman like Maggie was used to male attention, wasn’t she? And how was he going to rectify the situation, convince her that he was here for more than just a professional obligation without coming across as a psycho?
It would take time. And patience. And effort. He quickly decided she was worth it. No other woman had struck such a chord within him in so short a time, and that had to mean something. After witnessing what happened to two of his brothers over the past two years, he had to at least consider the possibility that lightning had struck the Callaghan clan for the third time. For now, however, he offered what he hoped she would accept at face value.
“Call me Michael, please. And it was no trouble.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve been more than kind.”
Her eyes were doing that flashing thing again, momentarily losing focus and then slamming back with astounding clarity. It fascinated him to no end. He’d noticed the same thing last night as she sat at the bar waiting for her turn to dance. He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind right then. Maybe with a little luck and a lot of persistence she would learn to trust him with her thoughts. He had a feeling he would be on a very short list if she did.
“It’s very easy to be kind to you,” Michael said before he could stop himself. Worried that he had said too much, he watched her reaction carefully. Her eyes widened just a bit, then her facial expression softened, allowing him to glimpse the woman he had seen beneath all of the sparkle the night before. The woman that had him hanging around all night, because he had to know if he had imagined the inexplicable effect she’d had on him. He hadn’t. It was here, in spades, stronger than ever.
“You know, Michael, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone ever said to me. Thank you.” The natural warmth was back in her voice, and it spread through him like sunshine. That, he could work with.
“It’s the truth,” he shrugged, but he was pleased. “And you should eat.” He pushed the plate a little closer.
* * *
Eat? As if she could. Her stomach had so many butterflies in it at that moment she wouldn’t be able to swallow a single bite. She did manage to take a sip of coffee, though. And damn if it wasn’t the best she’d ever had. Her eyes closed momentarily as she savored the rich, full flavor. He’d already added sugar and cream, exactly the way she liked it.
“This came out of my coffee pot?” she asked incredulously. He nodded, a heart-stopping grin curving those sensual male lips yet again.
“It’s wonderful,” she said truthfully, but even that made her stomach clench in warning. She put the mug back onto the table. He glanced expectantly at her plate. She looked at it uncertainly. She didn’t want to offend him, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself, either.
“Are you feeling nauseous?” he asked.
Maggie bit her lip. Was she? No, she thought, this was different. She was fairly certain her stomach was doing that funny flipping thing because of him, not because of her unfortunate tumble.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. He pulled a small light out of his pocket and leaned over her in what was becoming a familiar move. Part of her was annoyed, but another part longed for the closeness it brought with it. At this range she could clearly see the dark shadow along his jaw and feel the heat radiating from his body. Also rather disorienting was the familiar peppermint scent of his breath, now infused with coffee, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a few of her cookies as well.
She shuddered. As gorgeous and intense as he was, it just wasn’t fair that he smelled like cookies now, too. How could she even hope to resist him for any length of time?
Her hopes that he hadn’t noticed were quickly dashed. “Are you cold? Do you have chills?” he asked, stepping back again. That move put her at eye-level with his hips. Her eyes widened as she caught a completely accidental glimpse of what his jeans held within. And that was unaroused. Oh my.
“No.” She shivered again, her face pinkening even more as she averted her eyes.
“Maybe we should get you back to bed.” Was it her imagination, or was his voice a bit lower than before? He moved in close again, his hand touched lightly upon her brow as if to check for a fever.
“Um, no, not a good idea.”
The words “we” and “bed” should not be coming out of his mouth as part of the same sentence, she decided. It made the butterflies in her stomach flutter even faster, not to mention send yet another rush of heat toward the center of her body. She squirmed uncomfortably.
Michael raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest. Odd how such a small gesture commanded such authority. Even odder was the fact that she felt the need to explain herself. As a general rule, she didn’t.
“I mean, there’s no reason I should lay around in bed all day.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I could think of a few.” One side of his mouth lifted, and she felt her face burn. Damn.
“A concussion, for one,” he finished slyly.
She finally saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. The sexy bastard was having a little fun with her! Maggie probably should have felt irritated, but she realized she had brought it all upon herself with her wicked imagination. She’d left the door wide open in blatant invitation; it was no wonder he had stepped right in.
“I don’t have a concussion,” she said firmly.
“Is that your professional opinion, doctor?” He made no effort to hide his amusement any longer.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” she said, but even she was having trouble containing the grin that threatened to show itself. “Besides, I have George to think of.”
They both looked over at the beefy hound, now dozing on a big doggie bed pillow in the far corner by the old-fashioned radiator. He could at least have the decency to back her up, Maggie thought, by looking pathetically hungry, or at the very least dancing at the back door to go out.
As if reading her mind, Michael said, “I fed him this morning, gave him some fresh water, had him out. We played a little ball.”
She blinked at him in disbelief. “He brought you his favorite ball? The green squeaky one with the yellow star?” She couldn’t remember when the last time was George had wanted to play with anyone besides her. Painfully shy, the dog usually made himself scarce when anyone else was around. But he seemed to have taken an instant like to Michael.
“Yes.” George opened his eyes for a few moments and yawned, then laid his head back down. “He’s a great dog.”
Well, well, well. The fact that Michael had cared for George spoke volumes about the type of man he was in her eyes. As a doctor he might have felt compelled to take care of her after her injury, but there was no reason he would have felt the need to care for her dog. And the most amazing thing? George actually liked him. Twelve years of Catholic school nagged at the back of her head, peskily insisting that it had to be a sign.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He looked pointedly back at the plate again. “Now eat, please. I’m starting to doubt my culinary skills.”
“Well, we certainly can’t have you doubting yourself.” Maggie picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite. Thankfully, her stomach didn’t revolt and she took another. With each one, she began to feel a bit better. The toast was followed closely by the scrambled eggs – done perfectly, fluffy but not in the least bit runny, and the bacon. It took a while, but she managed to eat nearly everything in between sips of that liquid nectar he modestly referred to as coffee.
“This is incredible,” she said around her last bite of toast. “Geez, you’re a doctor, a bartender, and a great cook. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, winking. “This is the only meal I can make. If you are craving anything else, you’re
totally on your own.”
“Good thing I like bacon and eggs, then,” she said, then caught herself. She had no business suggesting this would ever happen again. Michael, thankfully, didn’t give any indication that he had noticed.
Chapter Seven
“Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Maggie couldn’t help but laugh from deep within the nest he had created for her on the sofa out of a multitude of pillows and a down comforter. Remotes for the television and DVD sat within reach, along with a selection of movies and books. A glass of water, along with some fresh fruit, crackers and cheese were there, too, as well as her cordless house and cell phones.
Michael had insisted on sticking around until she had emerged unscathed from a shower, donning fresh, comfortable clothes and fuzzy socks. George was snuggled up on the far end of the couch, snoring loudly. The fire was blazing, and he’d already brought in enough wood to last for several days at least.
The sound was like music to his heart. It made the pain he felt at seeing her bruising flesh and stiff movements a little more bearable.
“No, Michael,” she said, grinning. At first she had resisted just about every attempt he made to do something for her, but apparently she had recognized that he was not easily dissuaded and that it was easier to just go along with him on some things. Smart woman.
“I think you’ve thought of everything.”
Not everything. He couldn’t seem to think of a good enough excuse to stick around for a while longer. He should leave, but once again, he simply didn’t want to.
“You’re sure?” He looked around, hoping for something, anything more he could do.
“You are spoiling me rotten,” she teased. “I’m not used to this kind of attention.”
“Now, see, that’s just not right. Every beautiful woman should have a man to care for her.”
“Not all women need men to take care of them,” she said. Was it his imagination, or did her voice have a breathy quality it hadn’t had earlier?
“No,” he said slowly, drawing the word out. “I suppose that is true.” Maybe Maggie counted herself among those women. He would have to change that.
“Although,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “I have yet to meet a man who can say the same.”
“Ouch.” Michael widened his eyes in mock umbrage, placing his hand over his heart, making Maggie laugh again. “I’m quite wounded.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” When Maggie smiled, his whole body felt lighter somehow.
“But you do make a good point. A man is always better with a good woman beside him.” He let his gaze hold hers just long enough to see the lovely flush darkening her cheeks again. Her eyes lowered shyly. Something strong and powerful coursed through his veins, made his dick as hard as stone.
As much as he would have liked to continue expressing his ideas on the matter, he felt the little warning telling him not to overdo it. He’d given her enough to reflect on. He’d planted the seed of suggestion, now he just had to let it take root.
“So,” he said, firming his tone into what Maggie had dubbed his ‘doctor voice’. He hadn’t realized he had one, but if it gave her another excuse to tease him, he would ensure he used it more often.
“I’ve left you something for the pain. Two tablets every eight hours, with food if you can manage. They’ll make you sleepy, so no operating heavy equipment or driving, right?”
Her lips twitched. “Got it. Keep the tractor in the barn.”
He grinned back. “Exactly. And for today at least, consider yourself on bed rest with bathroom privileges.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little much?”
“Not at all. Concussions don’t always present themselves right away; you need to be very careful for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If you would let me take you down to the hospital we could do a quick, painless scan and know for sure –“
Maggie was already shaking her head (though slowly and with great care). “Not happening. I already told you. I’m fine, just a little sore, that’s all.”
Damn, but the woman was stubborn. His lips thinned a little. She was lying through her teeth. He could see the pain in her eyes, see the trouble she had focusing or following anything on her right side. Not to mention the stillness with which she held herself, as if even the slightest movement was difficult. Yet she resisted him thoroughly on any and all suggestions to get checked out. He’d even assured her he would do the tests himself if that would make her more comfortable, but she refused to even consider it.
“Right. Then you won’t mind if I stop back this evening to check in on you?”
Something sparked in her eyes, then disappeared as quickly as it had come. She looked down at her hands. “Michael... Just so you know, I don’t hold you or your brothers responsible for what happened last night. It was my own fault. It was stupid and careless and clumsy, but it was an accident.”
Michael bristled as her meaning sank in. “Is that why you think I’m here, Maggie? Out of fear of litigation?”
“No, probably not,” she admitted, her shoulders lifting in the slightest of shrugs. “But perhaps you do have a little bit of chivalrous knight in you.”
Just that quickly, his irritation faded away. When it came to Maggie, he wanted to be exactly that. It defied a rational explanation, and he refused to analyze it too thoroughly just yet. She needed someone, whether she admitted it or not, and for whatever reason, he wanted to be that person. Even Maggie recognized that about him at some level. The problem was that she probably thought he felt that way about all women, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Would he provide care for another injured woman in the same situation? Absolutely. Would he stay the night, make her breakfast, and try to anticipate her every need? Hell, no.
“Perhaps. Does that bother you?”
She studied him carefully for a few minutes before answering. “No. I rather like it, actually. It suits you.”
In the span of a heartbeat, the heaviness lifted and he felt light again. “Then, my lady, I am satisfied.” He bowed deeply, making her giggle. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way - I’ve programmed my private number into your cell and house phones. I want you to call me immediately if you feel any dizziness or nausea, or if you begin to experience blurred vision.” He continued on, listing a myriad of other symptoms.
When he reached the end of his lengthy instructions, Maggie lifted up a hand and saluted him, though the little smirk she wore as she did so let him know exactly how much she intended to follow them.
Michael exhaled. Maggie was going to be a handful and a half.
He tingled with anticipation.
* * *
Maggie managed to remain on the couch for a good several minutes after the sound of Michael’s car faded away. Then she pulled back the comforter, tucking it around George with a kiss to the hound’s head.
“He’s going to come back!” she told him. “Of course, maybe he was just saying that. Maybe something will conveniently come up and he won’t be able to make it.”
George opened his big, sad eyes and gave her a look of reproach.
“No, you’re right. If he said he’s going to come back, he probably will. I just can’t read too much into it, that’s all.”
George nudged her hand.
“Still, if he’s going to make the effort, there should be a hot meal waiting for him. And a fresh batch of cookies, I think. Or even better, a pie. Everyone likes pie, right?”
George wagged his tail.
“Exactly. It’s the least I can do.”
Leaving George to nap in solitude, Maggie pulled herself up, now a woman on a mission. Ignoring the ache in her head she made her way into the kitchen to assemble everything she would need. If she moved slowly, and was very careful with her movements, it wasn’t too bad. But if she wanted to have everything ready by dinner time, she was going to have to get started.
* * *
Five minutes into hi
s drive back to the Pub, Michael was tempted to turn the car around. Ten to one she was already off the sofa, doing something she shouldn’t. He never should have told her he would be back. If he was smart, he would have simply left and called later to say he was swinging by to check in on her. Or better yet, called her once he was already on his way. That way she could have spent the day resting, believing that there was no reason she should do anything but.
He forced himself to keep going. Turning back now would only have negative consequences, and that was unacceptable. No, he had to trust that she would take care of herself. She was a grown woman, after all. She had managed most of her life without him. Surely she’d be fine for a few hours.
Michael jacked the heat up in the Jag, appreciating the heated leather seats. The temperature was dropping quickly, no doubt a result of the front that was rolling in. From the moment he had stepped outside of Maggie’s cozy farmhouse, the icy cold wind blasted into him, but he suspected the sudden chill had less to do with the weather than it did with the separation from the unusual woman who had captured his instant and complete attention.
Maggie. Even her name strummed a chord inside of him. It fit, just like everything else about her. Her humility, her sense of humor, her willful stubbornness. Michael reached out, allowing his fingers to skim over the plastic Rubbermaid container filled with the chocolate chip cookies she’d insisted he take with him. Warmth radiated outward from the center of his chest, and it wasn’t because of the heater.
The slightest hint of Maggie’s scent remained in the car. He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs as he tried to identify it. It was unique; soft, yet potent, with undertones of warmth and freshness. It conjured images of sunshine and heated embraces, homemade cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate with a touch of mint. Scents that didn’t seem to belong together, yet formed a perfect harmony, as complex as the woman herself.
House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 Page 5
