Maggie was falling desperately in love, losing her heart to a reclusive, tortured man.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
She blinked. "What?"
"You're shivering."
Because I'm in love, she thought. And afraid I won't be able to keep you. Their paths had crossed, but Luke seemed determined to remain alone, to punish himself for tragedies that were beyond his control.
Maggie glanced at the melting snow, at the slush around her feet. How could she help him? How could she bandage wounds that refused to heal?
"Come on," he said. "We'll go inside and warm up."
Once they were back in the loft, Luke poured two cups of coffee. He doctored hers with sugar and cream, and she found the strength to smile. Already he knew she liked her coffee light and sweet.
Bruno remained by Maggie's side. She pictured all of them – man, woman and dog – living together, happy and content.
Luke frowned, and she realized how hopeful her fantasy was. Luke was investigating her family's case, and Bruno was her temporary bodyguard. They weren't exactly a family.
"I can't stay too much longer," he said.
"It's Sunday. Don't tell me you're working today."
"No."
"Then what are you going to do?" she asked, wishing he wasn't so evasive. He'd told her about his sister, but she knew her painting had stunned him into revealing that part of his life.
He sipped his coffee. "There's just someplace I have to be."
"Where?" she pressed.
"Nothing that concerns you."
Maggie sighed. Luke's dismissal hurt. Everything he did concerned her. He was the man she loved, the dark-eyed warrior who had stolen his way into her dreams. And Maggie believed in pursuing dreams. "Why won't you tell me?"
"Because it's personal."
How personal? she wondered, suddenly suspicious. Was he seeing another woman?
Of course he was. What other explanation could there be? Men weren't always the most honest creatures. Even her father had stepped out on her mother. Although it had happened over thirty years ago, and her parents had been separated at the time, the mighty Grant Connelly had still cheated. Maggie's half brother Seth was proof of the affair.
"I can't believe you're doing this to me."
Leaning against the counter, Luke continued to sip his drink. "Doing what?"
"Cheating," she snapped. "Dating someone else."
He arched an eyebrow. "Since when have you and I been an item?"
She narrowed her eyes, deciding she would tear his lover's hair out. Strand by strand. "You kissed me."
"That's not exactly a commitment."
Hurt and anger rose, brimming like a volcano. "Are you seeing someone or not?"
He almost smiled, telling her that he found her envy amusing. That ticked her off even more. Luke treated her like a crush-crazed teenager, like a girl who wrote his name all over her notebook, doodling hearts around it. True, she thrived on the lure of romance, but that didn't make her immature.
"Damn it. Give me a straight answer."
He cocked his head. "Your eyes change color. Did you know that? They're blue when you're sad or worried. And green when you're spewing that Irish temper of yours."
"Don't change the subject," she retorted, even though she was flattered that he'd looked that closely at her eyes.
His near smile turned to a frown. "Okay. You want the truth. Here it is. I visit my mom on Sundays. I drive out to the country because she won't come to the city."
So the "other woman" was his mother. Now Maggie felt foolish. But people in love were allowed to act foolish, weren't they? "Doesn't she like the city?"
"She's agoraphobic."
Maggie stepped forward. "She's afraid of open spaces?"
"That's the literal explanation, but it's more complicated than that. She's afraid of going places that will cause her to panic, places away from home."
"Why?" was all she could think to ask.
"I'm not sure. But I think it's because she wasn't home when Gwen was kidnapped. So her way of feeling safe is to stay home, to be where she thinks she should have been that day."
Maggie drew a breath. Did Luke blame himself for his mother's phobia? Did it make him feel even more responsible for his sister's death? There was so much hurt in his family, so many sad, empty hearts. "Is she under a doctor's care?"
He shook his head. "When it first happened, I didn't know that she was having anxiety attacks. All I knew was that Gwen was dead, and my mom didn't want to leave the house anymore. She didn't tell me that she was panicking in public situations." He set his empty cup in the sink. "Once I learned what agoraphobia was, it was too late. She refused to discuss her condition with me."
"Does she go out at all now?"
"A little bit, but never very far. She has a live-in housekeeper. Someone who shops and runs errands for her."
Someone, Maggie suspected, Luke had hired.
He checked his watch. "I better hit the road. It's a long drive." He reached down and parted the dog, then looked up at Maggie. "Don't go anywhere without Bruno."
"I won't." She walked Luke to the door. He turned, and they stared at each other, but only for a moment.
When he entered the elevator, she watched him depart, wishing she had the courage to tell him that she loved him.
Maggie headed for her studio, Bruno on her heels. She gazed around the room and locked onto the painting she'd yet to title – the watercolor of the little girl who looked like Gwen.
How did you know? Luke had asked her. How did you know that we buried her with her favorite toy?
Maggie studied the tiny horse fluttering from the child's outstretched hands. She remembered painting it, feeling each delicate wing come to life.
"Are you Gwen?" she asked the painting, tears filling her eyes. "Did you slip into my subconscious because you wanted me to fall in love with your brother? To touch his heart? To heal his soul?"
Maggie wanted that, too. But she didn't know how to reach Luke, how to prove that they belonged together.
Bruno cocked his big, fawn-colored head, and Maggie smiled through her tears. "I'll think of something," she said to the dog, the child and the tiny winged horse. "I'll find a way to make Luke mine."
* * *
On Monday morning, Maggie entered Rey-Star Investigations attired in an emerald-green suit and gold jewelry. Bruno, the dog she'd come to think of as a big, furry accessory, strode beside her. She'd bought him a jeweled collar that made him look less like a bodyguard and more like a pampered pet.
Carol glanced up from her computer and smiled. "Hello, Ms. Connelly. Oh, my, who's your handsome friend?"
Maggie introduced Bruno and explained that Luke had gotten security clearance for the mastiff to accompany her to the office.
"May I pet him?"
"Of course."
Carol came around her desk to fuss over the dog.
Bruno gazed up at the buxom blonde and drooled.
When Maggie entered Luke's office, she was smiling. He, on the other hand, sat at his desk, wearing his usual scowl.
She removed her overcoat. "Good morning."
He lifted his gaze and looked her over, those dark eyes traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her Italian pumps. "You're late," he said.
"Bruno wanted to sleep in."
"Very funny." He glanced at the dog, then back at her. "In the future, I expect both of you to be on time. Now go to your own office and get to work."
She thought about the files on her desk, the drudge of paperwork. "I'm having a cup of tea first." After releasing Bruno from his leash, she walked over to the bar and pressed the red spigot, filling her cup with hot water. Digging through an assortment of teas Luke kept on hand for his clients, she chose chamomile, hoping it would soothe her nerves. She'd stayed up most of the night plotting her strategy. And this morning she intended to enforce a carefully developed plan.
She sweetened her tea, then took
a seat and crossed her legs. Eyeing Luke over the rim of her cup, she studied him. He looked like what he was – a former Green Beret, mature, highly skilled, superbly trained. Not that she didn't admire his military background or the fact that it made him a more effective P.I., but it also made him a difficult civilian to deal with.
Luke was an expert at unconventional warfare. Which was why she had devised a challenge with which to bait him. All is fair in love and war, she thought, placing her cup on the edge of his glossy black desk.
"I'd like to make a deal with you," she said.
He released an impatient breath. "I suppose you want to come in at ten instead of nine every morning."
"This doesn't have anything to do with me working here."
"Then what's it about?" He checked his watch, telling her that she was wasting valuable time.
"I want the opportunity to heal that tortured soul of yours.
He looked up from his watch, his narrowed gaze latching onto hers. "What the hell are you up to? Is this a joke?"
"No." This is my heart, she thought. Everything I have to give. "Let's face it, Luke. You're a tense, troubled man. If you're not angry, you're sad."
He gave her a pointed look. "And you're going to turn me into Mr. Chipper?"
Maggie couldn't help but smile. "Not exactly."
He leaned back in his chair. Today he wore various shades of gray. The gunmetal tie and a charcoal jacket reminded her of a rainstorm. He would never be Mr. Chipper.
"I'm going to teach you to stop punishing yourself," she said. "To live life and have a little fun."
"As opposed to suffering with inner demons?"
"That's one way of putting it."
"I see. And what do I have to do in return? Sign my name in blood?"
"No." She reached for her tea and took a dainty sip, giving herself a moment to form the words. Suddenly her heart pounded so hard, she feared it would burst through her blouse. "I'm offering you a dare. A marriage dare," she added, emphasizing the challenge.
He came forward in his chair. "Excuse me?"
"You have to promise to marry me if I can make you stop hurting. If I can save you from your pain." He needed so desperately to live, she thought. To experience hope and joy and the beauty love had to offer.
Luke couldn't decide if she was on the level, so he assessed her body language, and when that didn't help, he went right for her eyes.
They were as green as her suit, which told him nothing. Rather than reveal her emotions, they reflected the color she wore. He wondered if she had camouflaged herself on purpose.
"A marriage dare?" he asked, struggling to comprehend her logic.
"Yes," she responded, giving nothing away. Luke leaned his elbows on the desk. Maggie Connelly could have just about any man she wanted yet she'd zeroed in on him. Why? What made him so appealing?
The challenge, he realized. She thrived on challenge, and he was the biggest contest of all. The aloof detective, the confirmed bachelor. She considered him the unattainable prize.
"I accept," he said, deciding he'd beat her at her own game. "But I'm adding another clause. I'll promise to marry you if you can save me, but you have to do it before the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve."
She gave him an incredulous look. "That's less than a month away."
"Take it or leave it, Cinderella. Those are the terms." Maggie chewed her bottom lip and glanced at Bruno. The dog looked back at her. "I want it in writing, with Bruno as our witness."
She was turning to a dog for support? Clearly she was in over her head. "No problem. You type up the contract, and I'll sign it."
"Once you commit, you can't back out," she said.
"I won't need to," he told her.
She headed to her office to draw up the contract, and he returned to the file on his desk. Not even a muse named Maggie could save Lucas Starwind from his demons.
* * *
Chapter 5
«^»
Luke, Maggie and Elena Delgado Connelly gathered around the table in the conference room at Rey-Star Investigations, studying the reports Elena had given Luke months ago.
Elena was the Special Investigative Unit detective the Chicago P.D. had first assigned to the case, and although she was no longer on active duty, Luke had asked her to come in. He intended to check and recheck the facts, giving Maggie the benefit of discussing the case with Elena – the only cop who had been entrusted with the truth about the cancer virus.
The women, of course, already knew each other on a personal level. During the course of the investigation, Elena had become a member of the Connelly clan, falling in love with and marrying Maggie's twenty-seven-year-old brother, Brett.
Luke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't intend for that to happen to him. In spite of the "marriage dare," he wasn't going to marry Maggie Connelly. Nor was he going to fall in love. Or have babies, he thought, glancing at Elena's four-month-old daughter.
Madison Connelly sat on her mother's lap, chewing the corner of a manila envelope. Luke was doing his damnedest to ignore her, but she kept watching him, mimicking his every move.
He'd never felt so self-conscious in his life.
He ran his hand through his hair; she reached for the fancy headband in hers. He frowned; she made an odd little scowling face.
"I bought a book on child development," Maggie said, causing Luke to glance her way.
What was she up to now? he wondered. Trying to add a baby clause to the marriage dare?
"Within two months Madison might be crawling," she went on, smiling at her niece. "Or giving it her best shot."
"She already is," Elena proclaimed. She laughed and bounced the baby, who seemed enthralled with the conversation. "Sometimes she actually manages to move backward."
Like a diaper-clad caboose, Luke thought, chugging along in reverse.
"So how does it feel to be a full-time mommy?" Maggie asked her sister-in-law.
"I don't know if I can describe it." Suddenly the other woman looked soft and dreamy with her tawny-brown hair and pastel-colored sweater. "I loved my job, but Madison and Brett are my life. Family means everything."
She rubbed her cheek against her daughter's head. The tender gesture made Luke's heart ache. He had vowed long ago not to have children. He couldn't face each day wondering and worrying if his kids were safe. Gwen's kidnapping had taught him a painful lesson he'd never forget.
As the child leaned into her mother, he noticed the syrupy expression on Maggie's face. Luke decided he'd had enough.
"Excuse me, ladies, but do you think we could get back to work?"
All three females narrowed their eyes at him. He assumed his tone of voice, rather than his actual words, had irked little Madison. He almost apologized, then chose to hold his ground.
This was a business meeting not a baby convention.
Elena recovered first. She opened a file and glanced at the contents inside. Handing it to Maggie, she said, "This is Rocky Palermo."
"The Kelly hit man?"
Elena nodded, and Luke leaned over Maggie's shoulder, grateful their meeting was back on track. The man in the picture was broad-faced, his black hair scalped in a military-style cut. The scar that ran down the side of his neck protruded like a pale vein.
"Take a good look," Luke told her. "He could show up anytime, anywhere. Rocky is the Kellys' prime enforcer." He saw her shudder, so he touched her hand, running his fingers over her knuckles. "He's responsible for killing King Thomas and Prince Marc."
"Even in disguise, Rocky could be recognizable," Elena added. "He's willing to change his appearance, but not to the degree of altering his physique. He's proud of those muscles and likes to show them off."
"That figures. A conceited hit man." Maggie lifted the picture and held it next to her face. When she lowered it, baby Madison squealed.
That started a game of peekaboo with Maggie at the helm and Elena beaming with maternal pride. Luke found himself in the middle, not kno
wing what to do. The baby shifted her gaze to him, searching, he assumed, for his approval.
She was a pretty little thing, a munchkin with a cap of black hair and expressive blue eyes. She wore a girlish ensemble of lace, denim and bows. Tiny white shoes, polished to a perfect shine, encased her feet. Frilly socks flared at her ankles.
Somehow, she made Rocky Palermo seem insignificant. She'd reduced the hit man's picture to a goofy, hand-clapping game.
Luke decided she deserved the attention she was getting. He flashed her a masculine smile. She rewarded him with a toothless grin.
And at that moment, at that surprisingly tender moment, he wondered how it would feel to be a father.
But as an image of Gwen's bruised and battered body came to mind, he drew a rough, gut-clenching breath.
Turning away, Luke glanced out the window. A gray haze covered the sky, floating across the city like a dark cloud.
There was no point in fooling himself. He could never handle being a parent.
* * *
Maggie opened the door, and Luke entered her loft. She'd given him the security code to the parking structure and a key to her home, but he hadn't been inclined to use either.
He frowned at her, an expression she'd come to know well.
"You're not ready," he said, stating the obvious.
Maggie stood before him in a silk robe. She'd done her hair and makeup, but she hadn't chosen her wardrobe yet. "I just have to get dressed." And she was nervous about their outing. Today she was meeting Luke's mother.
She glanced at her half-eaten breakfast on the dining-room table. Without thinking, she picked up her plate and set it on the floor.
Bruno gobbled up the remains, and Luke's jaw nearly dropped.
"You've been feeding that dog table scraps? Damn it, Maggie, I told you not to give him any junk. I promised his trainer you'd keep him on a strict diet."
Maggie knew the dog would be returned to his trainer once this case was over, but she couldn't resist spoiling him.
"Eggs aren't junk. They're protein."
Luke eyed Bruno critically. "He looks like he's put on a few pounds. That's not good, you know. Mastiffs tend to get obese." The detective studied the dog from another angle. "You're not giving him snacks, are you?"
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