by Lily Kate
Chapter 25
TYLER
The opening credits to Cinderella roll, and I wonder—not for the first time—how an entire movie got made about a girl and her shoe. Sure, there are other lessons built in, but I can’t help wondering if Jess is getting anything from the flick except a desire for clear high heels, which I refuse to buy her.
At the knock on the door, I roll off the couch and mumble to Jess to keep the movie rolling. As always, she hits pause on the remote.
“You’re going to miss it, dad,” she argues. “You can’t miss it.”
Can’t miss a movie I’ve seen a million times? Jess isn’t very girlish with her toys. She prefers Legos to Barbies and mysteries and science fiction to pony books and Baby Sitter’s Club stories. The only place her princess side comes out is with her taste in movies.
I glance down at myself, deciding that old jeans and a long-sleeved sweater is fine for whoever’s knocking on my door on a Friday night at eight o’clock. My feet are bare, and I’m unshaven—I spent the day working from home, and it’s been a stressful one. Meetings from the time I dropped Jessica off until the time I picked her up, and still, I hadn’t been able to budge Fletcher on his bookstore idea.
“Well, hello, ladies,” I say, pulling the door open. “What brings you here tonight?”
I can barely listen as Mila answers because I’m too focused on Maggie. She looks soft tonight, subdued, her lips a cherry red while her cheeks are a tickle-me-pink. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers in the air, and it’s all I can do not to take Maggie into my arms and bury my face against her neck.
“Mila has something to say to you and Jess,” Maggie says, blushing a deeper shade of pink under her already flushed face. “In case you missed it.”
“Oh, er, sorry...long day at work.” I squat lower, so I’m eye to eye with Mila, trying desperately not to glance over her shoulder to the curve of Maggie’s bare legs in shorts, or the creamy color of her skin underneath her white tank top. “What’s on your mind, Mila?”
She gives me a tight smile. “Um, Mr. Daniels...”
It’s then that I realize something is wrong. Her eyes are red and her lips are dry. “Mila, what’s wrong?”
“Jessica shouldn’t have gotten in trouble the other day.” The words spill from her lips, and I hear Jess move on the couch behind me. “It was my fault.”
“Come on inside,” I tell her, beckoning the pair into our suite. The place is starting to feel like home, I note. The fireplace in the corner has been lit, and with the smell of cookies hovering in the air, it’s perfect. A perfect picture. If only the girls were here to stay. “Now, what were you saying? This isn’t about the principal’s office, is it? We’ve already forgotten—”
“It wasn’t Jessica’s fault,” Mila says. “It was my fault. I made her—”
“Stop it!” Jessica urges. “Stop it right now, Mila.”
I look over the girls’ heads at Maggie, wondering if she has a clue what’s going on here. She seems to be watching the scene with an almost pleased sort of interest, so I take her cue and let the girls talk.
“I’m sorry—” Mila starts, but she’s cut off at once by Jess snapping.
“Stop it, Mila. Don’t say anything.”
“But—”
“Mila!”
The girls freeze in a standoff.
Eventually, Mila speaks in a rush. “I looked at Jessica’s test and got her in trouble. She didn’t want to break the rules, and the only reason she’s sticking up for me is because she’s my best friend.”
Jessica shakes her head the entire time Mila is speaking, up until the very last word. Then at once, she pauses. “What did you just say?”
“I said you’re my best friend,” Mila repeats. “You didn’t tell on me, even when I got you in trouble. You should have told Mr. McNeal I asked for help during the test.”
“I let you look at my paper,” Jessica says. “It was my fault, too. I could have said no.”
“But I asked you to let me look,” Mila shoots back. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“But...” Jessica’s lip quivers. “But you’re my best friend, too.”
“We made your favorite cookies,” Mila says. “Do you want to eat some?”
“We’re watching a movie. Do you want to stay?”
Mila looks to her mother. “I don’t know, I might have to clean my room—”
“It’s okay,” Maggie says quickly. “We’ll do it tomorrow night. If it’s okay with Mr. Daniels, of course.”
“The more the merrier,” I say sweeping my arm to include the television. “You’re just in time. Extra blankets are...well, this is your inn, so you know it better than I do. Fresh popcorn is on the counter, courtesy of the new handyman around here.”
Maggie gives me a wry smile at this, but the sound of our girls bouncing off to the kitchen together to feast on sugar and snacks diffuses some of the tension and ramps up others.
“Well, that worked out,” I say, taking a few steps closer. “Mila is a great girl, you know. Not many kids would come clean.”
Maggie shakes her head. “If Mila keeps one friend as loyal as Jessica all her life, she’ll be a lucky girl.”
“Maybe they can stay friends for a long, long time,” I murmur. “And if they can do it, what about us?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Sure, we can stay friends. I mean, it’s harder to keep in touch if you live in New York, but we can probably do it.”
“I’m talking about staying here. I’ve already told you I wouldn’t leave.”
She squints, probably testing to see if I mean it.
While she considers this, I consider other things. What would I do here? If I build a hotel across the street from the Lilac Inn, there’s a chance Margaret will be so pissed with me she’ll end things, and I’ll have stayed here for naught. But I also can’t sit on my ass and do nothing; I’d go insane.
The girls are back and plunked on the couch before I can continue the conversation, staring at the TV as if it will start itself. I grab a few extra blankets and tuck them around the girls, each of them armed with enough cookies and popcorn to sustain a hibernating bear.
There’s only one other sofa in the place, a love seat, and I make my way toward it. “Come on, I won’t bite,” I tell Maggie. “We can share a popcorn bowl.”
She hesitates, but there’s no other great seating in the place.
“Come on, mom, sit down,” Mila says. “You’re holding up the movie.”
Maggie makes her way over toward me, wraps a blanket around herself, and curls up on the love seat. “I’m ready.”
I click play on the remote, and the movie picks up at the title sequence. Jessica asks me to rewind so Mila can see the full thing. From the opposite end of the couch, Maggie rolls her eyes, but I do so anyway, just because I’m relieved Jess finally has a friend.
I inch closer on the couch to Maggie, but her body language is clear. Arms folded across chest, legs pushed across the couch toward me. I’m not certain if she wants to stay clear of me because it’s me, or if she’s simply trying to keep things hidden from the girls. I’m sincerely hoping it’s the latter.
I play nice for the first twenty minutes of the movie, but once I’m convinced Mila and Jess’s gazes are glued so intently on the television they’ve forgotten the bowls of popcorn in their lap, I make my move. Maggie’s cold toes have pressed against my leg since the movie started. I bring one foot onto my lap.
Maggie reacts with a knee-jerk flinch, but I’m prepared. I hold tight, meeting her eyes as I begin to rub the foot on my lap. Her hair is still damp from an earlier shower, and the scent of her shampoo and lotion have been testing my patience since she walked in the door.
She continues to resist for a moment, trying to subtly tug her foot away, but I keep the blanket over my lap and hold on tight until she relaxes, her glare fading into one of resigned enjoyment.
Her head tilts back, her eyes cl
ose, and I watch the subtle flickers of movement across her face as I gently continue to stroke her soft skin, moving up her foot to her ankle, then to her calf. When I reach her thigh, Maggie’s eyes shoot open with a warning look, but I’m prepared for that, too.
I nod toward the couch where both girls have nodded off, their heads resting against one another, and I grip her leg tighter. Maggie relaxes again, her face settling back into that blissful state as I continue the massage. Only when my hands flick a little too far north do Maggie’s eyes shoot open in alarm, then settle back into contentment when I ease into the safe zone.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off her face. The way her hair falls around those soft cheeks, her lashes brushing across her skin in sweet little lines—it makes me want to bring her into my arms and dust kisses down her neck before taking her into the bedroom to steal more intimate ones.
I’m so focused on her face that at first I don’t notice the easy rising and falling of her chest, or the soft hisses of breath as sleep settles over Maggie’s features. I only notice her lack of response as my hands massage her thigh just a little too high, expecting the death stare that tells me to back off.
The death stare never comes, but when I realize the reason why, I collapse against the back of the couch. “Perfect,” I mutter. I try to tantalize a woman with the exhilarating use of my massage skills, and I get a big pile of zzzz’s.
I stand, determined to move Maggie into my bed and the girls to Jess’s room, but after a few attempts to unsuccessfully move them, I give up and tuck them gently underneath blankets. Instead, I retire to my bedroom. I won’t be able to sleep, not with Maggie spread out on my couch just paces away, so I hop in the shower and force myself to think about work.
The work thoughts don’t stick around. In fact, the thoughts of Margaret come back so intense, so strong, that I have to cut my shower short. I angrily storm out of the shower, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to get any work done around here, let alone sleep, with thoughts of Maggie swirling around in my head.
I wrap a towel around my waist, open the bathroom door, and am startled to find Maggie standing in the doorway to my bedroom. The kitchen is visible behind her, and beyond that, the living room.
“Er—sorry,” I tell her, backing into the private master bathroom. “Did you need something? I’m sorry if I woke you—”
She steps through the door and closes it behind her. Then, with a determined look in her eyes, she clicks the lock shut. Only the glow from the bathroom spills out into the room, meshing with the silvery starlight spilling across the bed.
“You left me on the couch,” she says, sounding annoyed. “I expected more from you after that massage.”
“More?” I raise an eyebrow, keeping my voice down. “I tried to give you my bed, but you clung to that couch like it was a life preserver.”
She flashes me a quick smile, and I halfway wonder if I’m dreaming when she asks, “May I?”
I stutter forward, shutting the bathroom light off and cinching the towel closer to my waist as I stumble forward into the bedroom. I feel like I’m seventeen all over again and clueless about what happens next.
“Uh, sure,” I mumble, watching those bare, long legs of hers as she climbs into bed. Her skin is pale against the sheets, though her face is radiant. There’s a confidence in Margaret Marshall that wasn’t there when I left Harp’s Haven years ago, a particular beauty that comes from knowing what she wants—and going after it.
“Surely you know what to do next,” she chides, laughing softly. “You’ve got a woman in your bed, Tyler Daniels. We’ve already slept together—this shouldn’t be a surprise.”
“But—” I glance toward the bedroom door.
“I can be quiet.” She raises an eyebrow in a challenge. “Can you?”
Margaret...” I move across the room, hesitant. Every atom in my body is screaming for me to climb into bed next to her, but there’s one organ—my heart—that’s holding back. “You know I think you’re gorgeous, and I want nothing more than to climb in next to you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Something, anything.” I run a hand through my damp hair. “It should be obvious the way I feel about you.” I lean forward, so close my breath skims her cheek. “I’m not sleeping with you unless you have feelings for me.”
“What sort of deal is that?” She hisses, still keeping her voice low. “Of course I have feelings for you, Tyler. I’m trying to keep this casual for you.”
“There’s nothing casual about this,” I tell her, gesturing between us. “I told you I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“What am I supposed to do about it?” Maggie says, her eyes pleading. “We can’t follow you to New York. Our life is here.”
“What if I stay? What if we build a hotel right across the street? You won’t be pissed that we’re competition?”
The fire burns brighter in Maggie’s eyes. “Try.”
“Excuse me?”
“Try!” she shoots back, and then lowers her voice. “You can build your shiny buildings, or your corporate bullshit, but you can’t build the Lilac Inn. You can’t create what we have here, and I’d like to see you try. If you think we should be worried about you...” She pauses for a low laugh. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
I raise my eyebrows. Margaret is every bit as feisty as before. Smart and driven and gorgeous, and I’ve never wanted her more than I do now. There’s a burn in her eyes that’s passion for her town, her career, her inn. I’m selfish; I want it all for me.
“How can I be more clear?” I bring myself over her on the bed, pressing her back until she’s resting against the pillows. “I want you more than anything.”
“Then have me. I’m in your bed, I clearly want you, and you clearly want me.”
“No.” I ease back, my hands coming to rest on the sheets around Maggie. “I want you to admit you care about me and mean it. Admit this means something to you. If this is about sex for you, I’m calling the deal off.”
Her eyes blaze at me, still heated from our talk moments before, but there’s a softness in them now. Her fingers reach for the edge of her shirt, and she’s trembling as she pulls it over her head. Next, her fingers reach for her shorts and she wriggles out of them, leaving her in a matching set of thin, lacy lingerie.
If I hadn’t already been aroused, I would be now. It’s a valiant effort in self-restraint to keep my hands off her, but I’ve named my terms. I can’t back down now, no matter how tempting she looks.
“What’ll it be, Maggie?” I ask quietly. “I’m not negotiating on this.”
“Tyler,” she whispers, inching closer to me. “I’ve never stopped caring about you. And now to see Jess, and to get to know her...of course I care about you—both of you. But I can’t say—”
“Don’t say anything more.” I cut her off with my mouth, pressing it against hers.
Those teenage nerves are gone and my fears that this game is one-sided have vanished. I can feel how much she needs me, and it’s just as much as I need her. We tangle in a minor power struggle as our lips meet and we embrace, and we wrestle for the top position.
I win easily, looping one arm behind her and easing her onto the bed. Resting a hand on her chest, I let my thumb flick over her nipple. It silences her instantly. A gasp is lost in her throat as her eyes close and her back arches.
I lean forward, my lips at her ear. I whisper, just barely audible. “You said you could be quiet.”
She sets her teeth in a gritted line—another challenge. My hand covers her breasts, massages and teases until she’s pressed against me, the lace between us threatening to snap. I slide one hand behind her back and release her bra.
Once that’s discarded on the floor, I lower my mouth, teasing, kissing, toying over her skin until her hands fist through my hair and yank hard. A single moan slips from her lips as I run a kiss along her inner thighs.
With deft hands, I slide her pantie
s down and discard them. Then I return to savor her, trailing kisses gently up her leg to her thigh, her stomach, her ribs. As she struggles to stay quiet, her breath turns to machine gun bursts, sharp and needy.
I hesitate, her hands quivering against my hair, before finally, I press a kiss to her core.
She sighs, an intimate, gentle sound, and relaxes, her trembling hands holding even tighter as she tugs my hair against my scalp. My fingers dig into her hips as I demand more, faster and faster until she grits out a hoarse warning.
“Stop.”
I obey.
“Up here,” she commands. “Now.”
I’d argue, but I want her more than anything. Reaching to the nightstand, I grab for a foil packet.
“But—” she frowns. “I’m on the pill, and last time—”
“I figure it’s safer this way,” I tell her. “Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“It’s just...safer.”
“But last time...”
“Last time, I don’t know—I lost control. I was just too desperate for you. It’s never happened before,” I admit. “But it’s just not worth the risk. I swore the day Jessica was born that I wouldn’t bring another baby into the world who doesn’t have two committed parents.”
“Oh, Tyler—”
“It’s not you; I trust you, but...” I shake my head. “It’s about the baby. Jess deserved more than she got.”
“Tyler.” She blinks, pained. “She is so lucky to have you.”
“Forget it. I didn’t mean—”
“Quiet,” she insists. “You are the best father she could ask for.”
My heart thumps, and I feel an uncomfortable sensation. Too vulnerable for my liking.
“Now,” she whispers in my ear. “Please.”
Her small hands find me, then her lips press gently against my neck. As she guides me toward her, I recover and resume control, holding her naked body against mine. I inhale a deep breath of her, hardly believing this is reality.
When we connect, I feel it with every fiber of my being. Easing into her slowly, I savor every second of it. My eyes try to close in pleasure, but I force them to open, meeting Margaret’s gaze as bliss fills her eyes with each gentle thrust. Our stares lock, intimate, and this completeness is seared into my brain, chaining us together for an eternity.
