“Well, okay,” he admitted. “It sucks. But life’s not always fair, and it’s no big deal.” She started to react, and he put one finger on her lips. “Really. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s to know the difference between big problems and little problems. And Dan Fowler is definitely a little problem.”
The woman with the clipboard and the cat glasses poked her head out of the door. “Stone and Stanton?” she said. “He’s looking for you. Onstage, to read.”
“I want to do this,” Matt said, looking into Maggie’s eyes. “Let’s do this, okay?”
Maggie nodded, letting him drag her back into the auditorium. He took the bag from her shoulder, put it onto a seat and pushed her up the stairs to the stage.
“Take a few minutes to read it over,” Fowler called out from his throne behind the bright lights, a benevolent monarch lazily granting the peasants some crumbs from his table.
Maggie quickly skimmed the scene. And oh, God. She could feel herself start to blush. Of course. It had to be this scene. She glanced up to meet Matt’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her, then looked back at his script.
Oh, God.
“Whenever you’re ready, boys and girls,” Fowler’s indolent voice commanded.
“I read the entire play last week,” Maggie quickly told Matt. “This scene is part of a fantasy that my character is having. She’s just imagining that you’re there in her bedroom, okay?”
“Got it,” Matt said. He looked out toward the director. “We’re ready, Dan.”
“Quiet,” Fowler roared, and suddenly the room was still.
Sieg heil. Maggie couldn’t believe they were still here, auditioning for this tyrant. But then Matt read his first line, and she thought of nothing but the script.
“Lucy, are you still awake?” he read.
“Go away,” Maggie read, with weariness and annoyance in her voice.
“Hey,” Matt read, throwing up his free hand. “I don’t really want to be here. I’m just part of your overactive imagination. You want me to leave, you have to imagine me gone.”
“All right. I will.” As the script directed, she squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating for a moment. When she opened her eyes, he was still standing there, of course. “Oh, damn,” Maggie read.
“Cody Brown, at your service,” Matt read.
“What kind of name is Cody, anyway? It’s a ridiculous name for a man born in Manhattan. You sound like a cowboy or a rodeo rider. What were your parents thinking?”
“Aha,” Matt read. “So that’s why I’m here. You want to insult both me and my parents. Well, go for it, Luce.”
“I’m much too tired to be properly insulting,” Maggie sulked.
“Why else would you have imagined me here in your bedroom at one o’clock in the morning?”
Maggie looked up at Matt, her alarm not entirely feigned. He smiled, a smile that started very small and grew across his handsome face. “I know why I’m here,” he said as he advanced across the stage toward her.
Maggie stared at him, frozen in place. Was he really going to...? “No...”
“You’re wondering what it would be like to kiss me,” he read, moving closer to her. “Aren’t you?”
“No!”
As Maggie stared up at him, he came closer, until they were less than an inch apart. But he still wasn’t touching her.
Matt had the next line, but he waited a moment before reading it. The look in his eyes was remarkable as he gazed down at her, the perfect mix of nervousness and desire on his face. Oh, he was such a good actor. “You’re wondering what it would be like if I put my arms around you, like this,” he read, then tossed the script onto the floor as he did just that.
“And you’re wondering what it would be like to put your arms up around my neck.” Matt was going on memory now, but the lines were easy from here on in.
Maggie let her own script slide to the floor as she, as if almost in a trance, put the palms of both hands on Matt’s chest and slowly slid them upward. She felt him inhale, as if he found her touch exciting. It was a nice addition to what was already fabulous acting.
Her hands met behind Matt’s neck and she could feel his long, soft hair against her bare arms. She was Lucy. And this was make-believe. They were acting. Acting.
“And you’re wondering what it would feel like,” Matt said slowly, “if you brought your lips up, like this—” and he gently pulled her chin up, then tenderly pushed the hair back from her face “—and if I brought my lips down, like this...”
Maggie was expecting a gentle kiss, but the moment his mouth found hers, something exploded. She felt his arms tighten around her as he kissed her, and she kissed him, as she opened her mouth to him and...
Oh, God. She was lost.
But just as suddenly as that kiss began, it ended. Matt pushed her away from him and took several large steps to the other side of the stage.
“Well, forget it,” Matt said, his voice perfectly hoarse with emotion as he turned to look at her. “Because I’m not going to kiss you.”
They stared at each other, both breathing hard.
“Very nice,” Dan Fowler’s voice cut in. “Stick around for the dance audition.”
Maggie’s hands were shaking as she bent down to pick up her script. Matt took it from her.
“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Sure,” she lied, looking up at the man who seemed intent on turning her world inside out. “I’m...just fine.”
Chapter Five
MAGGIE DRAGGED HERSELF up the stairs to her bedroom. The dance audition had been grueling. A sane person would take a hot shower and curl up in bed with a good book. But somehow she’d let Matt talk her into having dinner with him, as they’d planned the day before.
“Nothing fancy,” he’d insisted, with that little smile that could turn her to jelly.
Did he know? Could he tell that she’d finally succumbed to Matthew Fever? That was what Angie had scornfully called it back in high school when one after another pretty young girl had fallen prey to Matt’s charms and followed him around adoringly, sighing soulfully.
“Everyone gets it,” Angie had insisted.
“Not me,” Maggie had said.
Now she wondered if it were like other childhood diseases—much more dangerous if contracted when an adult.
She closed the door to her room and undressed quickly, slipping into her bathrobe.
There was a soft knock on her door, and she opened it cautiously, not wanting to get into another discussion with her mother about the pros and cons of an October wedding.
But it was her little brother, Stevie, who stood there, yawning as if he had just gotten out of bed.
“Morning,” he said, scratching his head, making his short dark hair stand up straight.
“It’s five in the evening. Don’t tell me you slept all day.”
“I cannot tell a lie,” Stevie said, a weak smile on his still-boyish face. “Your evening is my morning.”
“That’s pathetic.” She softened her words with a smile.
“I didn’t get home last night until noon,” he told her. “That is noon, as in this morning.”
“Are you kidding? Are you grounded for the rest of your life?”
“It was prom night.” Her brother grinned. “It was very wholesome. I went to two different after-prom parties, and there was absolutely no alcohol served at either one. I felt like one of My Three Sons. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I’m not hungover. What a bonus.”
“How’d it go with Danielle?”
Stevie rolled his eyes. “Great—if my goal was for her to still not realize that I’m alive.”
“It must run in the family,” Maggie said. “I know what you
mean.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t accuse the Brockster of not knowing you’re alive. He wants to marry you. What’s doing, Mag-oid? You got a boy toy on the side?”
Maggie smacked him on the rear with her towel. “None of your business, Dr. Love. Outta my way. I need to take a shower.”
“Be nice to me,” Stevie said. “I came here to warn you. I overheard the ’rents talking, and it sounds like Her Royal Highness, Queen Vanessa, is coming over for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, thank God,” Maggie said. “I’ve already got an excuse. I’m having dinner out with a friend.”
“Lucky you, you’ll miss that magic. Give a shout when you’re out of the shower.”
* * *
AS MAGGIE WAS putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the doorbell rang. It was only 6:18 p.m. She’d never known Matt to be early, but he was doing an awful lot of things differently these days.
She stood back and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Jeans and a red tank top, sandals on her feet. Who’d’ve thought she’d ever wear something this casual to a dinner meeting with her new boss?
A boss she happened to have the screaming hots for. And that was something she couldn’t let happen. Talk about ways to destroy a friendship. And what would Angie say?
The doorbell rang again, and she clattered down the stairs, throwing the door open.
“Hi.” She smiled, expecting Matt.
Brock looked back at her, his arms filled with suitcases. Vanessa stood behind him, also laden with luggage.
Uh-oh.
Maggie’s sister never traveled light, but seven suitcases for a two-hour dinner...?
“My arms are breaking here,” Vanessa said, and Maggie stepped back, holding the door open for them.
Brock piled the suitcases near the stairs, smiling at Maggie. “Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice boomed in the small foyer. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me tonight.”
“No,” Maggie said faintly. “I didn’t.”
Stevie came down the stairs, his hair still wet from his shower. He stared from Van to Brock to the large pile of suitcases to Maggie. Uh-oh. He was thinking the same thing she was.
Maggie’s dad came out of the den and shook hands warmly with Brock. “Glad you could join us,” he said, then turned to Maggie. “Van told us Brock was giving her a ride over tonight, so we invited him to stay for dinner.”
“Oh.” Maggie looked back at Stevie.
He shrugged. “I didn’t overhear that part,” he mouthed to her. “Yo, Van,” he said out loud. “You planning to change your clothes between every bite of your roast beef?”
“I’m staying for a while.” Van’s voice sounded brittle.
“Oh, wow.” Stevie looked at Maggie again. They both loved their sister, but it was much easier to love her when she lived under a different roof. “What, is Mitch away on business or something?”
“Or something.”
Uh-oh.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it!” Maggie and Stevie said in unison.
But their mother picked it up in the kitchen. “It’s for you, hon,” she called to their father.
“I’ll take it in the den.” He disappeared down the hall.
“Help me get this stuff upstairs,” Vanessa commanded.
“Yes, sir!” Stevie fired off a salute as Vanessa and Brock led the way. “She’s staying for a while,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Maggie.
“Matt’s going to be here any minute,” Maggie muttered back.
“Matt?” Stevie was delighted. “The friend you’re having dinner with is a Matt. Oh, boy.”
“Dinner’s almost ready,” their mother called from the kitchen.
“I’m going out. I’ve got a business dinner,” Maggie called back, loudly enough for Brock to hear. Except he was leaning close to Vanessa, listening intently to whatever she was saying.
“I can’t hear you with the water running!” her mother called back.
“What are you going to do?” Stevie whispered to Maggie. “I know—you could invite him to stay for dinner, too.”
“Bite your tongue!”
Stevie was laughing. “It’s the only solution. You know, this evening is turning out to be much more interesting than I thought.”
Maggie rammed Vanessa’s suitcase into the back of his leg.
“Ouch!” he yelped.
“Margaret!” their father shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “I want to talk to you. Now.”
Maggie froze, looking at Stevie. Uh-oh.
“God, what’dya do?” he asked, sotto voce.
“I’m almost thirty years old,” she whispered back. “Why do I feel as if I’m thirteen and I’ve left the basketball out in the driveway?”
The doorbell rang.
Uh-oh. “I’ll get it,” Maggie called, desperately trying to sound normal as she hurried down the stairs.
“I’ll help!” Stevie dropped Van’s suitcase and scrambled after her.
They both nearly crashed headlong into their father, who seemed to materialize out of thin air. He had on his fighting face.
“Maggie, that was just Bob Andersen on the phone,” he said. “He just happened to mention that you quit your job this morning!”
“Yo, Mags! Finally makin’ that rockin’ career move?” Stevie said approvingly.
“You did what?” Vanessa came down the stairs, followed closely by Brock.
The doorbell rang again.
“She quit her job at Andersen and Brenden.” Her father shook his head in disbelief.
“Will someone please answer the door?” Maggie’s mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“I’ll get it,” Maggie said again, hurrying to reach the door before her mother got there. She took a deep breath and pulled it open.
Matt was standing there, wearing his usual jeans and white T-shirt, his hair loose, looking like a dream date from a music video. “Hey,” he said with that smile that lit his entire face.
She reached for his hand and pulled him into the foyer. His smile turned to surprise as he saw her entire family staring at him.
“Everyone,” Maggie said in her best stage voice. “I’d like you to meet my new boss, Matthew Stone.”
“Oh, my God,” Vanessa said.
“Your new what?” Brock asked as he sized Matt up.
“Intense.” Stevie was impressed.
“Close the door, dear,” Maggie’s mother said, her voice faint with shock, “or bugs will come inside.”
* * *
MAGGIE SAT AT the dinner table, buzzing with nervous energy. How did this happen? She’d thought she’d been in control. She’d intended to stick to her plans and go out with Matt. After all, it was business, right? Instead, they’d ended up here, in one great big, hostile room.
She looked across the table and met Matt’s tranquil gaze.
Well, the entire room wasn’t hostile.
“You have how long to do what?” her father was saying as her mother passed Matt a plate heaped with mashed potatoes, vegetables...and a large slice of roast beef.
And he was a vegetarian. She opened her mouth to protest, but Matt caught her eye and shook his head very slightly, taking the plate with a graciously murmured thanks.
“We have a fiscal quarter,” he told her father. He seemed entirely at ease with the fact that everyone was staring at him. “And I’m not really sure what I have to do in order to inherit the business.” He smiled at Maggie. “That’s one of the things we’re meeting to discuss later this evening.”
“Let me get this straight,” Vanessa said. “You’ve actually hired Maggie to do...what?”
“She’s going to be
both my lawyer and my business advisor,” he said.
Maggie glanced down the table at Stevie, who was looking at Matt in something akin to shock. Her brother looked at her, realization in his eyes and a rapidly growing grin on his lips.
Oh, damn. Stevie had figured out that Matt was the man who had come up in their earlier conversation. What was that phrase Stevie had used? Boy toy.
She looked down the table at her brother, promising him with her eyes that the wrath of Satan and the winds of hell would be nothing compared to her if he let this one slip. He smiled at her and made a zipping motion across his mouth.
Yeah, you’d better keep it zipped, junior....
“Maggie, aren’t you hungry? You haven’t touched your plate,” her mother said.
She stared down at her dinner, her appetite gone. Her stomach churned nervously at the sight of roast beef congealing in a puddle of gravy. “Um,” she said.
Brock slipped his arm around her shoulders and he gave her a squeeze. “You know how girls are,” he said. “Always dieting.”
Matt sent Maggie a disbelieving, amused look. She knew what he was thinking. Girls. Brock’s feminist awareness quotient was a shade lower than a Neanderthal’s.
And she really wished he wouldn’t touch her.
“I’m curious as to why you didn’t discuss Matt’s job offer with Brock before you took it,” Vanessa asked. “I mean, you are planning to get married, aren’t you?”
And now everyone was looking at Maggie.
But oh, my God, she was not going to turn Brock down in front of her entire family.
“Um,” she said.
Steve had his glass of milk in his hand, and Matt, who was sitting right next to him, elbowed him.
No one else saw it. Just Maggie.
But the milk went everywhere. “Whoops,” Stevie said as Vanessa jumped up to avoid getting drenched.
“Clumsy me,” Stevie said as Maggie’s mom ran for the kitchen towel.
Matt threw his napkin down to start soaking up the spill. He looked up at Maggie and smiled as Stevie kept on making noise. “Wow, how did that happen?”
No one was looking at her anymore. Thank you, she mouthed silently to Matt.
Passion and Peril: Scenes of PassionScenes of Peril Page 5
