Passion and Peril: Scenes of PassionScenes of Peril

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “What?” said Mrs. Stanton.

  “What?” said Mr. Stanton.

  “Matt!” said Maggie.

  He shut her up with a quick kiss. “It’s no secret that I’ve been crazy about her for years,” he told them, then looked at Maggie. “Right, babe?”

  The Stantons—all three of them—wore identical looks of shock. Matt knew not to kiss Maggie again. If he did, they’d all fall out of their chairs.

  Mrs. Stanton looked at Maggie. “But...”

  “She said yes,” Matt said, squeezing her shoulder.

  “I said no,” she countered, elbowing him in the ribs.

  “Obviously, we’re still working it out,” he said quickly, putting his hand on her knee and sliding it up her smooth, bare thigh. His shorts looked good on her. “You can understand her hesitation. She’s not sure if this is the real thing or if she’s just on the rebound.”

  “I see.” Mr. Stanton was staring at Matt’s hand, still moving north on Maggie’s thigh.

  Out of desperation, Maggie grabbed Matt’s hand and held it tightly. But that was, of course, exactly what he’d wanted her to do, since it looked as if she’d taken his hand intentionally, instead of in self-defense.

  “We’ve decided the best thing to do is to live together, see how it goes,” Matt said.

  Her parents, of course, were appalled.

  “You must know that we don’t approve.”

  “I realize that, sir,” Matt said solemnly. “But I want Maggie and I’m afraid if she goes back home with you, she’ll never make up her mind.”

  Hey. Maggie shot him a look, but he refused to look at her. The muscle in the side of his jaw was jumping, though. Matt was clenching his teeth to keep from laughing. He actually thought this was funny! She squeezed his fingers, wishing she actually had nails to dig into him.

  Her father shook his head. “Well, decision making’s never been her strong suit,” he said ruefully.

  They were talking about her as if she were a horse being sold or a child or a...a...houseplant.

  “I can make up my mind quite easily,” she said hotly. “In fact, there’s absolutely no decision here. This is ridiculous and...”

  And she stopped, suddenly realizing that if she said no, she’d end up going back home with her parents.

  They were all watching her, her parents with anticipation, Matt with one eyebrow lazily lifted, his expression carefully bland. But his eyes were sharp and he was watching her as if he were trying to read her mind.

  What would he do if she said yes? Wouldn’t that scare him to death? She smiled, imagining his frantic backpedaling as he tried to keep her mother from pulling out her Polaroid camera to snap an engagement photo to send to the society page of the Shore Line Times.

  Matt watched Maggie smile and realized that she was actually considering saying yes. The shock value would be tremendous—it would blow her parents right out of the water. Come on, Mags, say it.

  Except, God, he’d have to tell her the truth about where he’d been, what he’d been doing these past three years. If they were going to get married, he’d have to tell her all that, and more— Whoa, Stone, slow it down. This was fiction. This was acting. This was not real life.

  Still, he leaned toward her. “Say it,” he whispered.

  She stared at him.

  “Say it,” he repeated. “Come on, Maggie. Marry me.” He slid off the couch onto his knees on the floor in front of her and brought her hand to his lips as the audience—her parents—watched in undisguised shock. “Please?”

  Maggie couldn’t believe him. Oh, overacting! she wanted to shout. God, she hated improv because she was never really sure how the other actors wanted her to respond. Now, did Matt really want her to say yes, or did he want her to say no? Or was he too caught up in the drama of the scene even to think rationally?

  Didn’t it occur to him what would happen if she actually said yes?

  She looked down at Matt, still waiting on bended knee like some kind of fantasy husband-to-be. Damn him for making her wish this wasn’t just a game. She almost smacked him.

  “This is silly,” she said. “Matt, get up off the floor. We have to tell them the real truth.”

  Whatever he was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. Matt covered a laugh with a cough. “The real truth.” He pulled himself back onto the couch. “Oh, you mean the real truth.”

  She looked at him expectantly, innocently, waiting for him to take the lead. Which of course he couldn’t take since he had no idea what she had in mind.

  She threw him a bone. “The internet thing,” she said, “www.VegasWedding.com?”

  He almost completely lost it, and he covered by kissing her. In front of her parents.

  “God, I love you,” he said, with so much emotion in his voice she almost believed him, too.

  Her father cleared his throat. “What internet thing?”

  “You don’t have to go to Las Vegas anymore for a quickie wedding,” Matt explained to her parents, taking her cue and running with it. Were they actually going to believe this? “You just go online and visit the website, and you can actually get married in a virtual ceremony.” He kissed Maggie’s hand. “We did that last night.”

  “Is it legal?” her mother asked.

  “Absolutely,” Matt said. “They send the marriage certificate in the mail. It takes a couple weeks, though, because they, you know, laminate it first.”

  Her father looked as if he was going to protest, and Maggie cut him off. “Dad, I’m twenty-nine years old.”

  He nodded. “You are. I think your living here is a mistake, and I think rushing into marriage with someone you haven’t seen in ten years is also a mistake. We would like it if you came home. That’s what we came here to say. That, and we love you.” He looked at Matt. “And if you hurt her, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

  He stood up, held out his hand for Matt to shake then gave Maggie a hug. “This is the biggest barrel of crap I’ve ever heard,” he whispered to her. “But your mother believes you. You just decide whether or not you’re going to marry this guy, and you do it fast, you hear me?”

  Maggie nodded, and he kissed her cheek. Her mother hugged her, too, and then they were out the door.

  Matt put his arm around her as they watched her parents drive away. “How about another kiss for show?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

  She elbowed him hard in the ribs. “You had your chance last night, babe,” she said. “Matt, how could you tell my parents that we were going to live together? Didn’t it occur to you that my mother might have a heart attack right there on the living room rug?”

  “And I’m telling you they weren’t going to believe that we could live here in platonic harmony,” Matt said, rubbing his side. “I can’t believe you came up with www.VegasWedding.com. It was beautiful—I wish I’d thought of that. You know, this was the best improv I’ve been in in a long time. Did you see their faces?”

  Maggie glared at him. “That was no improv, Matt, that was my life. Now my mother thinks we’re married!”

  “But it worked,” he pointed out. “You didn’t get pressured to go back home.”

  “She’s going to want a look at our laminated wedding certificate,” she said. “Jeez! Laminated. Very classy, Matt!”

  “I was thinking on my feet,” he said as she pushed past him into the house. “Give me a break!”

  She turned back to him. “Give me the keys to your car.”

  He went into the kitchen and came back with the keys to the Maserati. “Where are you going?” he asked as he handed them over. “Can I come along? After all, it is our honeymoon.”

  “Shopping,” she said. “No. And stuff it.”

  Chapter Eight

  THE SUN WAS sinking in the sky by
the time Maggie returned from the mall.

  Matt was out on the front porch swing. He watched as she unloaded one huge shopping bag after another from the car.

  “Honey, I’m home,” she singsonged.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little wife,” he said, coming to help her. “Thank God you’ve got your sense of humor back.”

  “Nothing like a little shopping to ease the soul.”

  “A little?” His arms were piled high with packages. “You’re going to be paying off your credit cards until you’re eighty years old.”

  “Your credit cards,” she said smoothly. “We’re married now, remember?”

  “Oh, good, I’ll keep that in mind later, when it’s time to go to bed,” Matt said in his best Groucho Marx imitation.

  “I was kidding,” Maggie said darkly.

  Matt wasn’t.

  “I paid cash for this stuff,” Maggie told him. “I worked at A&B for three years. Remember me? I used to live at home. I saved all my money all that time. I can afford to splurge. I wanted to splurge. So I bought myself clothes that I like.” She hadn’t bought one single corporate clone suit.

  Matt pulled a sundress out of one of the bags. “Put this on,” he said, draping it over her shoulder. “I’m taking you out to dinner. We’re celebrating.”

  She shot him a look. “Celebrating what? And if you say ‘our recent marriage,’ I’m going to smack you.”

  “How about celebrating our getting the leads in the summer musical?”

  “No kidding?” Maggie’s face completely lit up.

  “Nope.” He smiled back at her. “Dan Fowler called while you were out. You got Lucy. And I’m ‘Cody Brown, at your service.’ First rehearsal’s tomorrow night.”

  “This is great!” Maggie did a victory dance around the entry hall. “I’m so jazzed—I really, really wanted this part.”

  Matt grinned, watching her. But then she stopped and stared at him accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me right when I got home?” she asked.

  “I did. I mean, I am. I mean, this is right when you got home. So you want to go out and celebrate?” Dinner—and then maybe another, less public celebration...

  “Definitely.” She beamed at him.

  “Get dressed,” he ordered her. “I’ll meet you on the porch in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  MAGGIE PUSHED OPEN the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The last traces of the sunset were facing from the sky. Matt had lit a citronella candle and was sitting back in one of the rocking chairs, his cowboy boots up on the rail.

  “You look great,” he said simply, getting to his feet.

  “You do, too.” Maggie laughed. “I thought you only wore T-shirts and jeans.”

  He had on a pair of brown pants and a soft, white poet’s shirt with full, billowy sleeves. With his hair down, he looked like a time traveler from the past.

  “This is about as dressed up as I get,” he said. “I mean, aside from a tux.”

  It was plenty. Matthew Stone in a tux would create riots. Women would faint in the street.

  In fact, more than one female head turned as they walked into the little harborside restaurant that was only a few miles from Matt’s house.

  Maggie was much too aware of his fingers on her back as the hostess brought them to a table overlooking the water. He’s just a friend. He’s just a friend. He’s just a friend. Maybe if she chanted it silently, she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  Dinner was lovely, and Matt carefully kept the conversation on safe topics—movies they’d seen, books they’d read, and since they had ten years of catching up to do, they never ran out of things to say.

  As they were finishing dessert, the waitress brought over a florist’s box and handed it to Maggie with a smile—and an appreciative glance at Matt.

  Maggie gave him a quizzical look, but he just smiled.

  She untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

  A dozen roses—deep red and gorgeous. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Only eleven,” he said quietly. “You make it a dozen.”

  There was a card among the flowers, and she opened the tiny envelope.

  Make Love To Me Tonight was printed in plain block letters on the card.

  She looked up at Matt. His face looked mysterious in the candlelight. Shadows accentuated his cheekbones, giving him an exotic look. His eyes glittered slightly, looking more golden than usual in the dim light.

  Maggie felt like crying, because she knew exactly why he was doing this.

  But she must have hidden what she was feeling, because he reached across the table and took her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her softly on the palm.

  It was the perfect thing for him to do. He was perfect. Everything was perfect. Except none of this was real. He was only doing this out of pity.

  “Matt,” she started, but he shook his head.

  “Don’t say anything now,” he said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  He tossed a small wad of bills onto the table and held out his hand for her. She let him lead her out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk that led to the marina.

  The sky was clear and the moon was up.

  Maggie shivered in the cool air, and Matt moved to put his arm around her shoulders, but she sidestepped him.

  He caught her arm. “I made a mistake last night,” he said, breaking their silence.

  “Matt, I know—”

  “Wait. Just hear me out, okay?”

  She nodded, moving over to the railed fence that lined the edge of the seawall. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looked at the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the water.

  “I was trying to be noble,” he told her. “I thought I was protecting you. But I was wrong, and I want to rewind and take it from the hot tub, okay?”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Come on, Maggie, look at me.”

  Slowly, she turned.

  “I want to make love to you.” He pulled her toward him. She didn’t know how he did it, but he actually managed to make his eyes hot with desire.

  “Matt—”

  “I’ve wanted to make love to you since we were in high school,” he said as he pulled her close, as he kissed her neck, her throat, her jaw.

  “Please stop,” she said weakly. If he kissed her on the lips, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop.

  And then he did. His lips found hers, and he kissed her slowly, languidly, his tongue exploring her mouth and...

  Maggie smacked him on the butt with the cardboard flower box. He let go of her, staring as if she were insane.

  Maybe she was. Anyone who would willingly stop a man from kissing her like that had to be more than a touch crazy.

  “I know what you’re doing.” She backed away so that there was distance between them. “I thought you’d try something like this. When you found out today about Vanessa and Brock... You feel sorry for me and you’re trying to make me feel better.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so—”

  “It’s not working,” she told him. “You can turn off the act.”

  “This isn’t an act.” He reached for her, but she brandished the flower box again. He laughed. “Maggie, I swear—”

  “And I’ve kissed you often enough onstage to know that you can play the part of the passionate lover with your eyes closed and both hands tied behind your back.”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “Please, Matt,” Maggie begged. “I’m exhausted. I don’t want to fight with you right now. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

  He shook his head and started to speak but stopped himself. Without another word, he led her back to his car.

  They drove home in silence
, but as he pulled into the garage, he looked at her. “It’s not an act.”

  “Good night,” she told him, and nearly ran into the house, into the room she’d claimed as her bedroom.

  She locked the door behind her. But she wasn’t sure if she was locking him out—or herself in.

  Chapter Nine

  MATT’S EYES OPENED as the sun streamed into his tower bedroom.

  He glanced at his clock: 6:19 a.m. Four hours of sleep. Not bad. Not great, but not bad, considering...

  Maggie was only one floor beneath him, but after last night, she might as well be a million miles away.

  He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to ignore how much he wanted her, trying to figure out how he’d be able to return to his status of friend after tasting her lips. But he’d done it before. He’d fallen desperately in love with her more than ten years ago and he’d survived.

  Or had he?

  Matt had spent the night alternately praying that it would simply be a matter of time before she came to him and praying that he would have the strength to keep his distance from her.

  It was probably a good thing that she’d told him no last night.

  It was ten days and counting until he was scheduled to go back to the hospital for a checkup. He’d all but decided not to go, thinking it was little more than a visit to a high-tech fortune-teller. Whether he was going to live for one year, ten years or a hundred years certainly mattered to him, but knowing wouldn’t change the way he lived his life.

  Except now everything had turned upside down, and now he desperately wanted to know.

  He pulled himself out of bed.

  He had work to do.

  * * *

  MAGGIE GRABBED AN apple from the refrigerator, still humming the melody from the summer musical’s closing number.

  The first rehearsal—a read through of the script—had gone well, except for the fact that she’d counted seven different times she was going to have to kiss Matt onstage. Each kiss would have to be set up, blocked and rehearsed. Over and over again. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.