GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “What makes you so sure he hasn’t? I imagine he’s had plenty of reasons to over the years.”

  “Come on now. Don’t be so glum.” Henry slapped him good-naturedly on the back. “Things really aren’t as bad as you might think.”

  Preston raised an eyebrow. “They’re not? I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep in over a week.” He yawned, as if to prove the point. “And for the last five days I’ve had to see Maggie angry and upset about her bar. The one that would still be open if I hadn’t dragged her into my messy break-up with Taralynn Clarke. I swear to God if I have to face those accusing eyes of hers one more time, I’m going to run screaming into that ocean out there.”

  “Calm down, Preston. You know, I can help with the bar if you need me to. I have the tender offer almost ready.”

  “Thanks, Henry, but I expect to be hearing from Rod by tomorrow morning.” Heaven help him if he had to admit to his uncle exactly how Rod was getting the bar back open, using personal favors instead of an official investigation. That would be only slightly worse than having to admit it to Maggie. He could just picture her reaction to that. Man, would that ever be ugly.

  “Well, you let me know if you need any help,” Henry offered. “I’ll be happy to do anything I can.”

  “Thanks, Henry.” He paused for a moment, studying the endlessly wide smile on his uncle’s face. “You’re certainly relaxed and upbeat today. Happen to have a stash of happy pills somewhere I might dip into?”

  Henry beamed, as if Preston had just caught on to some happy secret. His grin widened further, until it seemed as wide as the ocean itself. “Actually, my mood is a very recent development.”

  “Recent?” Preston didn’t quite follow. “You mean since this takeover business started?”

  His obvious alarm provoked a fit of laughter from Henry. “Good gracious, no. I can assure you, I find that situation just as stressful as you do. I was referring to Tracy, that darling young woman Maggie has working for her.”

  “Tracy?” Preston could hardly believe his ears. Tracy might not be a natural blonde, but she was certainly dizzy enough to live up to the reputation of her hair color. He shook his head. “Uncle, you’re a very successful attorney. I imagine you could have just about any woman you wanted.”

  “Thanks for trying to bolster my ego.” The old man’s grin had lessened a bit. “But I am fifty-two years old, not very social, and a long way away from Arnold Schwarzenegger’s physique. While Tracy, on the other hand, is a young and beautiful woman. I’m lucky she wants to go out with an old geezer like me.”

  “Henry, you are not an old geezer.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I’ll know for sure later today when I ask her out on our second date. The second date’s always the test. A woman could go out with you once just out of curiosity. If she goes out with you twice, then you’ve definitely scored some interest on her part.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose you could be right about that.” Henry beamed like a lighthouse beacon, and he couldn’t help but envy him for it. “You certainly seem to be anticipating another outing with Mrs. Capelli.”

  “Ms. Capelli,” Henry corrected. “She took back her maiden name after the divorce. Didn’t want any more connection than necessary with that man.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, I plan to show her there’s better male company to be had than that lawyer friend of yours. Nice of him to go to Miami for the weekend by the way, and get out of my way.”

  “I’m sure he’d be less than pleased to know the consequences of his actions.” Preston paused, mulling the situation over again in his mind. He still couldn’t believe it. Rod asking Tracy out hadn’t really been much of a surprise. Downright predictable in fact. Henry’s interest, on the other hand, seemed to have come out of left field. More surprising still, unlike Rod, notorious for his womanizing ways, his uncle’s interest appeared to be real. “Aren’t you at all bothered about having to share her attention with another man?” he asked. “After all, she agreed to go out with Rod right in front of you.”

  The comment brought a spasm of laughter from his uncle. After a couple of seconds, he calmed down, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of him. “If it were anyone but Rod, I might worry about that. But your attorney’s as likely to be serious about a woman as a man is to get pregnant. Besides, Maggie told me Tracy only went to dinner with him twice, and she had cooled considerably where he was concerned after the second date. I think I’ve still got a shot at it.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the second date went too well,” Preston agreed, but he still felt like Henry deserved better than a woman who would accept a date with another man right in front of him.

  “I’m guessing he found out he still wasn’t getting her into bed and didn’t take it too well,” Henry said.

  Preston nodded. “That would sound like Rod.”

  “You see then.” Henry went back to smiling. “It’s practically in the bag. Love is in the air.”

  “Love?” He nearly choked. “Uncle, you’ve only had one date with the woman.”

  “And yet, I see potential there. She has some wonderful qualities, Preston. She’s hard-working and honest and extremely loyal. That counts for a heck of a lot in my book.”

  “I’ll grant you that. I would just hate to see you rush into something and wind up getting hurt.”

  His uncle nodded without responding further and Preston decided it was time to shut his mouth. Anyway, what the hell did he know? He was about as far from a romance expert as a man could get. Maybe Henry was onto something that still eluded him.

  His contemplation was interrupted by the doorbell, buzzing through the outdoor speakers. He immediately took the opportunity to answer it. “With any luck, that’s Rod.”

  He made his way through the kitchen where, true to bachelor form, last night’s dishes still occupied the sink. He hurried through the living room. He and Henry each had their respective piles of socks littering the floor. Empty bottles of beer still sat on the coffee table and a half-eaten bag of potato chips, half spilled out of the bag, was on the couch. Glancing at the mess, Preston made a mental note to call a cleaning company before he invited Maggie over later on, and then opened the door.

  Of course, it was Maggie. She had her long black hair pulled back into a pony tail and had skipped the morning make-up session. The t-shirt she wore had been tucked only halfway into her blue jean cut-offs. In her hand, she held a rolled up newspaper. Red, swollen eyes gave away the fact she’d been crying.

  “Maggie?” He instinctively pulled her close to him. She smelled like soap, like she’d just gotten out of the shower, and her damp hair soaked through the fabric of his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “You haven’t seen the new edition of Nick’s paper yet, have you?”

  He shook his head, a sick kind of feeling settling over him. “No. Why?”

  She pulled away from him and unrolled the newspaper she held, offering it to him. “Here, see for yourself.”

  The headline jumped out at him, as blaringly obvious as the blast of a bugle. Charity Ball Site Closed Down Due To Drugs. A picture of Rio Beach was on the front page, with smaller insets of Preston and Maggie. The picture of Maggie was grainy, obviously taken at a distance and without her knowledge. It showed her walking across the parking lot, her hands at her side and clenched into fists. Clearly, the picture was intended to show her in a negative light.

  Preston tasted rage rising in him. “God damn you, Nick. I’ll sue your fucking ass for this!” He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit Nick. He wanted to rip the man’s fingers from his hands, gouge out his eyes and rip out his tongue. Leave him utterly unable to communicate ever again.

  He wondered once again why the hell he had ever taken out Taralynn Clarke in the first place. If he had just never taken that first call, never accepted that first date, none of this hell would be happening right now. God, why did he have to be such an i
diot? He could have taken out anyone else. Should have taken out anyone else.

  He pulled Maggie back close to him. “I am so sorry. I would give anything in the world to be able to undo this for you.”

  She trembled in his arms. He sensed she was holding back a flood of tears, and part of him wished she would just go ahead and shed them. “Maggie, I don’t want you to worry about this,” he said. “I will make Nick print a retraction.”

  She continued to hold herself stiffly in his arms. “You can’t make someone retract what is a matter of public record, Preston. Face it. My charity ball is as dead as my bar is right now. And all my hopes for the children’s home right along with it.”

  Chapter 38

  Maggie sat alone in her bedroom, having refused all of Preston’s attempts at consolation. She had delivered her message as planned, and then left. She was too mad right now to remember she had forgiven him for getting this war started with the Clarkes. The only thing she wanted right now was to strike back.

  Mentally, she reviewed a few things she wanted to get off her chest, and then dialed Nick’s number. When he answered, she didn’t bother wasting time with any pleasantries. “I’m having a hard time trying to figure something out, Nick. I thought perhaps you might help me.”

  A pause greeted her on the other end of the line, followed by a hesitant cough. “I’ve been expecting your call, Maggie. And don’t bother threatening me with any lawsuits. You can be damn sure I checked this story out before I printed it.”

  “Oh, I’ll just bet you did. Let me guess, you talked to a Mr. DeSantis, and Taralynn Clarke told you to call him.”

  Another pause. “That doesn’t make the story any less valid.”

  “Doesn’t it? Tell me something, Nick, when did Taralynn tell you about my bar?”

  “On Tuesday. Why?”

  “What time on Tuesday?”

  “In the afternoon sometime. Does it really matter?”

  She knew it! There was no way Taralynn Clarke could have known about her bar on Tuesday afternoon, unless she had been the one to set it up. “I thought so.”

  “Look, Maggie, I both like and respect you, but I am not going to argue about this with you. Tattletale is my paper and I am the only person who’s going to decide what gets printed in it.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. She recognized the same feelings in Nick for his paper that she had for her bar. It was more than money. It was an identity. A means of self-expression. Which was why she still held respect for Nick, even though she often disagreed with him. Empowerment and self-expression, however, were not what angered her. There was still a fairness issue lacking in his actions.

  “I’ll grant you that editorial decisions are yours,” she finally answered. “But in all fairness, don’t you think you might have given me a chance to respond to the allegations?”

  “Okay, you could have a point there.” His tone was unmistakably conciliatory. “Honestly, though, I didn’t really think you’d cooperate with the story, given the angle I was going to be taking.”

  Her anger with him rose anew. “Which leads me to my next question, Nick. Why exactly would you do so much damage to your own potential story? Don’t you still want the exclusive on my charity ball? It’s going to be a little harder to give you that now that you’ve trumpeted the closing of my bar to the entire world.”

  “It’s going to be impossible for you to give me the story with your bar closed anyway, Maggie. Whether I printed the story or not. Don’t you think I’d considered that before I put my latest issue to bed?”

  “Evidently, you did. You seem to have thought of every angle.” What else was there to say? How could he be so selfish? How could he ruin a charity ball meant to give hundreds, if not thousands, of abused children some hope in their young lives? Were money and advancing their own personal agendas all anyone in this damn world cared about?

  The conversation with Nick wasn’t getting her anywhere, unless you counted discouragement as a destination. She felt even worse now than she had before she’d called him. “What would it take for you to print a retraction?” she asked. “Do you want me to sleep with you the way Taralynn did? I might be able to swallow my disgust long enough if it helped out the children in the end.”

  He sighed. “Believe it or not, I don’t make editorial decisions based on who I’m having sex with, and I only sleep with women who want to sleep with me. Besides, you wouldn’t do it anyway.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “So what do you want?”

  “I’ll tell you what.”

  She heard what sounded like a pencil tapping on his desk.

  “You’re right that I owed it to you to get your side of the story. So if you want to prepare a response for me, I’ll print it in my next edition.”

  “Done,” she agreed readily. “I’d suggest you start preparing a headline to confirm that my bar is open and the ball will go on as planned.”

  “You make it happen, Maggie, and I’ll print it. That’s the only deal I’m going to give you.”

  “That’s the only deal I need.”

  Hanging up the phone, her enthusiasm was quickly tempered by the bite of reality. She had to get her bar re-opened. Now.

  Chapter 39

  Preston had never fully understood Maggie’s reasons for leaving him in Miami, but he understood perfectly her reasons for rejecting his embrace and leaving him standing alone at his front door. And he felt all the worse for it.

  If regret alone could kill a person, he’d for damn sure be dead right now. He had been the one to drag her into the middle of something she never wanted any part of.

  Now she had lost her bar.

  And he had lost her.

  Again.

  He had to be a man about this. Had to make things right again. He owed her that much.

  He managed to walk the length of the few houses that separated his rented place from her house, without consciously being aware of it. Steeling himself, he rang the doorbell. With any luck, this apology would go a little better than the last one.

  She opened the door, looking much the same as she had when she’d shown up at his house, only now she had her t-shirt tucked all the way into her shorts. It never failed to amaze him how beautiful she was without the least bit of primping. Those round turquoise eyes of hers seemed to stare into the very essence of his soul. He’d always felt like she knew him better than he knew himself.

  “Maggie, I owe you an apology. What happened to your bar is completely my fault.”

  She looked him over skeptically and shook her head. “Why don’t you come in? I’ve got some cold lemonade if you’re thirsty.”

  “Thanks. That sounds great.” He noticed that, unlike his place, hers was cleaned and straightened up. Yeah, he definitely needed to call a cleaning service and get his place whipped into shape.

  She poured two glasses of lemonade, handed him one and headed out the sliding glass doors that looked out onto the ocean. “It’s a nice morning to sit outside, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. It was also less private, and therefore, less likely she’d let him near her.

  Looking over the patio furniture, he counted two deck chairs and a patio table with four matching chairs. Nothing two people could sit together on. She sat down at the table, so he sat in the chair beside her. Apparently, that was as close as he was going to get.

  “I talked to Nick,” she said. “He’s giving me the opportunity to print my side of the story about the bar closing in his next edition.”

  He scoffed. “Mighty generous of him, wasn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Knowing Nick, I’m sure he just looks at it as another publicity opportunity for his paper. But that’s okay, because my story is going to be about my charity ball, and how it went off without a hitch; leaving people to wonder what that nonsense about my bar being closed down was all about.”

  That attitude was classic Maggie. Stubborn and defiant to the last. He nearly choked on
his lemonade trying to not to laugh. Instead, he splashed the drink down his chin, and then sat there looking like an idiot, while trying to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, because she hadn’t brought out any napkins. Smooth one. The smile she gave him, however, made the embarrassment almost worth it. “Leave it to you to land on your feet, Maggie.”

  “If that’s really where I’ve landed.” She got a distant look in her eyes and then shuddered, as if shaking off the thought. “Here, let me get you a napkin. I’ll be right back.”

  She got up, ran into the kitchen and was back with a napkin before he had time to gather his thoughts. He wiped off his face and hands and decided to take a stab at idle conversation. “Would you believe my Uncle Henry has got the hots for your friend Tracy?”

  Maggie smiled, as if the news delighted her. “I know! Isn’t it great? Now if you can just keep your slimeball buddy Rod away from her, I think she and Henry might actually get together.”

  Preston’s surprise kept him from thinking before he spoke. “How can you even say that?” he asked. “If she’s really deserving of Henry, it wouldn’t matter whether Rod was around or not.” Surely she couldn’t argue with that. “Besides, she’s at least twenty years younger than he is and they have very little in common.”

  The glow dimmed swiftly from her eyes, her indignation obvious in the tight set to her jaw. “Oh, you mean because she doesn’t come from a rich family? Or because she’s divorced and has kids? Or both?”

  Okay. He had definitely said the wrong thing. But, she wasn’t being fair. She was assigning a meaning to his words he hadn’t intended. “I should have known you’d take my objective comments and turn them into signs of prejudice.” Why did she always have to disagree with every word that came out of his mouth? “Look, Maggie, I didn’t come over here to argue with you.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  She had her arms crossed over her chest and leaned back in the chair. Yeah, she was pissed. Of all the damn topics of conversation he could have brought up, he would have to pick that one.