Chapter 20
Waking up beside him had been just as good as she had imagined. Actually, it had been way better than she had imagined.
Heat roared over her like a brush fire as she recalled their early morning lovemaking and the kiss they’d shared at her front door before they’d gone their separate ways. The promise they’d made to see each other again tonight only kept those flames banked and ready to burst to life again.
As she entered the conference room just outside her office, she fanned her cheeks to dispel some of the warmth and laid out her team’s campaign materials on the table. When her brain and body hadn’t been occupied with Owen, ideas had been whirring around in her head, set loose in part by Owen’s comments about who should be in the commercials. She added color prints of the photo of her mother and her in the Savannah Courtyard to each team member’s papers. She had snapped a photo with her smartphone before coming to work.
As her team trudged into the room, she smiled and said, “Thank you for all your hard work. I really think we’re close on this one, and with just a few more tweaks, we can think about getting the print and TV ads in place and develop the social media campaigns to get the word out.”
There were some grumbles from the team, but they each dutifully sat and picked up the photo and the notes that she’d had Sheila prepare earlier that morning.
“The first ad with the boxes on the porch is spot-on. I even think we should make it more of a spoof, maybe with the boxes flying wildly against the door and porch. Spilling open or maybe a crash like glass breaking.”
“Told you so,” one of her team members said and jabbed the colleague next to him with a quick elbow.
“Funny is always good. We can work on that,” said Tim, the head of the team.
“Wonderful. I think that as good as funny is, awakening emotions is also great. Think the Budweiser Clydesdales kneeling across from the New York City skyline after 9/11. Think John Lewis and their amazing annual Christmas messages.”
“Yeah, one year, I tried to get my friend in the UK to get me one of those damn penguins, but it was impossible,” said Sarah, another young member of the team.
Maggie pointed at her and said, “Right. So picture this.” She waved her hands like a sorceress conjuring a spirit. “A black-and-white photo of a mom and daughter sharing high tea. Slowly, the people in the photo come to life and join together to say, ‘We are Maxwell’s on Fifth. We’re here to help you make memories that will last a lifetime. We’re here to make you part of the Maxwell family.’”
Silence followed, and she didn’t dare look at them just yet. She was too lost in her memories and the vision she’d had for the commercial. She pressed on.
“The woman serving tea behind my mother and me is Mildred Evans. She runs the kitchen now, and her granddaughter is with us for the summer. The security guard off to the far left is Jim Matthews. He’s getting ready to retire, but his son just left the U.S. Marines and is joining us soon. All of you are part of the Maxwell’s family, and I want people to see us. Know that we are here for them and to make their dreams come true.”
Inhaling deeply, she finally faced the half dozen young men and women who made up the team, unsure of what their reactions would be. Judging from the combination of thoughtful glances and smiles, it looked like the campaign might fly with them.
“I know my idea needs tweaking.”
“It’s a great idea. We could even work up videos for social media with stories from our employees, telling us about their experiences at Maxwell’s. Have a contest where people can share pictures of the new memories they’re making or their old photos of fun times at the stores.”
A flurry of ideas soon turned into a blizzard of creative plays on her words and the concept. Looking over at her team head, Tim, she said, “It looks like you don’t need me anymore. If you can have something for me in the next few days and work up a budget for it, we can move on this.”
Worry clouded Tim’s face. “This may be costly, Maggie. All those videos—”
She laid a reassuring hand on Tim’s shoulder, as much to bolster herself as him. “You worry about the creative. I’ll worry about the money.”
With a reluctant nod, Tim said, “We’ll have everything ready in a few days.”
“Perfect.”
Which meant she only had a few days to try to find the financing to continue the renovations, order inventory, and pay for the advertising she hoped would start the turnaround for the stores.
* * *
Owen had never imagined how nice it would be to wake up next to a woman day after day after day. He’d never been in that kind of relationship and had never really wanted to be. But a week later, after spending the night with Maggie at her home in Sea Kiss, he began to see the appeal. Or maybe it was that somewhere deep inside, he’d known that he’d loved her forever, and every meeting with her had only confirmed that she was the one for him. Maybe that was the reason that no other women he’d dated in the years since then had measured up enough for him to commit to a long-term relationship.
Not that you could call the last seven days since their first lovemaking long term. But they’d spent so much time together as kids, and they’d had that magical summer-night kiss at eighteen. They’d worked together for years on various Sea Kiss committees and had seen each other at assorted business functions.
This morning, she was tucked against his side, her thigh thrown carelessly over his, her arm and hand resting along his torso while she used his shoulder as a pillow.
He breathed deep, inhaling the scent of her. Flowers. Citrus. Sex.
Even now as he lay there, half-awake, savoring the quiet of a Saturday morning in Sea Kiss, memories of the last few days together roused passion. Made him want to forget sleeping in so he could wake her.
But she beat him to it as she raised her head, skimmed a kiss along his jaw, and murmured a drowsy, “Good morning.”
He trailed his hand up and down her back and kissed her forehead. “You wanted to sleep in, remember?”
“Hmm,” she replied and moved her hand down to encircle him. Sucking in a rough breath, he held back a groan as she stroked him and said, “Still want to sleep in?”
“Hell no,” he said and reached for her, but she moved down his body and took him into her mouth, blasting away any thoughts he might have had. All he could think about was the way her mouth moved on him and her hands caressed him, urging him on. Dragging a rough groan from him as she did something wickedly delicious with her tongue that had him bucking up off the bed and nearly coming undone.
“Maggie, please,” he said, reaching for her, wanting to be buried deep inside her when he came.
“I want that too, Owen,” she said and climbed up into his lap and positioned herself over his erection. He scrambled to cover himself with a condom he grabbed from the nightstand drawer, and she guided him to her center and then slowly sank down on him, a long sigh escaping her as he filled her.
It felt so good. Almost too good. It had never been this good before, and he suspected it would never be as good with anyone else.
He loved her, and maybe he always had. That just made this situation way more complicated and dangerous for both of them.
She met his gaze when she started to move, riding him. Drawing them higher and higher with the roll of her hips until she tired and he effortlessly shifted her onto her back. He hiked her legs up to deepen his penetration and, with a few strong strokes, vaulted them over the edge.
The quiet after the storm was broken only by their rough breaths that returned to normal little by little and the slight sighs of complaint as they eased apart only to tuck tight into each other again.
He must have dozed off, since it took her gentle nudge and the smell of maple syrup and bacon to revive him.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling. A silky peach-and-cream rob
e was wrapped around her enticing body.
He sat up and grinned at her as she placed a breakfast tray over his lap and he found the source of the heavenly aromas.
“It smells great,” he said, admiring the perfectly made waffles swimming in butter and maple syrup that sat beside slices of crisp bacon.
“I hope it tastes great too, since Mrs. Patrick gave me lessons on how to make them. I actually think I’m getting the hang of this cooking thing.”
“I’m sure it will be tasty.” He dug in, and with a loud hum of appreciation, he confirmed just how good the food was.
Maggie ate hers with gusto, and he appreciated that she wasn’t afraid to eat what she liked. He’d never been a fan of stick-figure fashion types and much preferred Maggie’s womanly curves. Especially now that he’d had firsthand experience with just how wonderful they were.
Beneath the protection of the breakfast tray, blood rushed into his privates, but he strangled that desire because he wanted her to know it was about more than sex.
“Want to do some surfing later?” he asked, because thinking about sports was one way to dim his desire.
Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Klutz, remember? But I’ll join you on my bodyboard.”
Which he’d settle for, because it meant getting to see her in a bikini, which was almost as good as seeing her naked. Maybe better, because while other guys might catch a glimpse and ponder what was beneath the strategically placed fabric bits, he was lucky enough to know. Lucky to be able to touch and taste all that amazing femininity.
It didn’t take long for them to finish breakfast, dress, and take the tray back down to the kitchen where Mrs. Patrick was sitting and reading the paper.
“Don’t you two look happy,” she said with a wink.
“Yeah, we are,” he said, wrapped an arm around Maggie’s waist, and drew her even tighter against him.
On the way out to the patio through a back mudroom, Maggie grabbed a beach bag sitting in a cubby and a bodyboard from a nearby storage area. Together, they walked over to his family’s garage, where he took down his surfboard from its holder on the wall. It was just a short stroll across the mansion’s great lawn and down the private boardwalk to the beach.
There were already a number of people out and about, enjoying the pleasant day. The lifeguards had marked off the areas for swimmers, and they trudged over to the red-flagged area where surfers and anglers could compete for positions.
Luckily, there weren’t any fishermen out and only a few surfers, since the waves were a little choppy and not all that big. Only two or three feet, with an occasional larger swell. Not ideal, but you had to take them when you got them on the Jersey Shore.
They spread a blanket and towels out on the sand and strode into the water together. For late summer, the water had a bit of a chill thanks to a westerly wind, but it was refreshing.
“I’ll float and watch you for a while,” he offered, not wanting to take any risks since the lifeguards weren’t protecting this part of the beach.
She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I’ll be fine.”
He eyed her dubiously. “Klutz, remember?” he said, repeating her earlier words.
“Not on my bodyboard,” she teased.
Before he could react, she pushed off and dove into the waves, paddling out to where she could catch a wave and ride it in. He stood there for her first ride, impressed with how she perfectly timed the wave and rode it all the way back to shore, throwing in a neat barrel roll in the middle of the ride as if to show him she knew just what she was doing.
Tossing his board into the water, he climbed on and paddled out. Floated on the ocean’s surface with the board as he gauged the waves and how they were breaking.
Maggie took another ride in, executing a 360 on the crest of one wave before wiping out close to shore. She popped up, dripping and laughing, her board back under her arm.
As she threw it back into the water and swam out for another ride, he realized he could stop worrying about her. She was a happy mermaid in the water.
He wasn’t able to catch a lot of waves thanks to their choppiness, but those that he did surf provided nice rides and allowed him to show off a little of his own expertise to Maggie, who took some time off from her bodyboarding to float in the water and watch him. When the cold of the water finally started robbing too much of his body heat, he waved at Maggie and pointed to the beach.
She nodded, and they snared the next wave in to shore. They hauled their boards up to the blanket and lay side by side under the rays of the midafternoon sun, warming themselves and chasing away the chill of ocean.
After long minutes, she rolled onto her side to look at him. “That was fun, but I know what else might be fun,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows.
He leaned up on an elbow and liked seeing the playfulness and joy on her features. “I can tell that I’m going to like your idea of fun.”
“Definitely.” She jumped to her feet, pulled on a cover-up, and held her hand out to him.
He stood and delayed only to gather up their towels, boards, and the blanket before taking hold of her hand. They strolled up the sand and across the short stretch of boardwalk. Walked up the great lawn and into the mudroom to drop off their things. As she grabbed her cell phone from her bag, it started to ring. She glanced down at the number and lost all trace of the happiness that had been on her face just seconds earlier.
“Everything okay?” he asked at the obvious concern on her face.
“I hope so,” she said and swiped to answer the call. She stepped out into the kitchen as she listened to the caller.
He followed her, trying not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to hear the letdown in her voice or see the way her shoulders fell in obvious disappointment as she ended the call with, “Thank you. I understand.”
He came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t ask if everything’s okay because it’s obviously not.”
She shrugged and wagged her head dejectedly. “Just business.”
Even though they’d gotten past their truce not to discuss family or business, he knew better than to push. If she wanted to talk about it, she would when the time was right.
“How about we get cleaned up? Decide what to do about dinner?”
Her back still to him, she nodded and didn’t wait for him to head up the stairs and into her bedroom. He followed a few paces behind, giving her the space that he thought she might need.
In the room, she dispiritedly yanked off her cover-up and dropped it to the floor on the way to the bathroom. He picked it up, folded it, and placed it on the bed.
Ambling into the bathroom, he stood behind her as she kneeled by the large, two-person Jacuzzi she had started filling. He laid his hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. “It’ll be okay,” he said, offering comfort, wanting to ease her distress, but she said nothing and rose.
She faced him and laid her hands on his chest. “I appreciate it, Owen, but I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” Maggie said, her mind obviously still in that numbed state that takes over when something bad happens. “Let’s get clean,” she said, reached behind her, and unhooked her bikini top.
“Let’s,” he said.
Chapter 21
The pleasant warmth of the water enveloped Maggie, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Owen’s body surrounding her. The hard wall of his chest was a perfect pillow along her back as she rested against him. His thighs and arms hugged her, keeping her close while he trailed a soapy washcloth across the swells of her breasts.
“That feels so good,” she said, wanting to purr like a cat at the gentle and sure stroke of his hand. He had nice hands, strong with long, blunt fingers that had the delicate but sure touch of an artist.
“You feel good, and I have to say, I like your idea of fun,” he teased
, clearly wanting to restore the lighthearted mood they’d been sharing before the call.
“Mmm” was all she said, appreciating what he was trying to do. Aware that at some point or another, they’d have to talk about it.
She should have expected what the answer would be. She had known it was a long shot that the hedge fund on her list of white knights would lend her the capital she needed to go ahead with her plans. That left just two names on her list. Ryder Pemberton and Owen. Or maybe it was better to say just Ryder, because she’d never believed in mixing business and pleasure. Owen definitely fell into the pleasure category and maybe more. The maybe more was scarier than she had imagined, because the thought of losing him…
Owen hadn’t pressed after the call, appreciating that it wasn’t the right time. Maggie wasn’t sure that there would ever be a right time, so maybe now was as good a time as any.
“The call was from Gold Shore Asset Funds. I had reached out to them for financing, but they’re worried that if we keep on burning through money like we’ve done the last year, the value of the store locations won’t be enough to cover the losses. I guess they thought I wasn’t a sure enough risk.”
* * *
Owen didn’t know whether she’d really heard what she’d said. That she wasn’t a sure enough risk. Not Maxwell’s, but her, because she was the heart and soul of the stores. But she was a sure enough risk as far as he was concerned.
“How much do you need?”
She shook her head. “More than you can manage.”
“Bullshit. If I were you, I’d have me on your list. Don’t deny it.”
“Of course you’re on my list. The very last name on the list,” she admitted with a reluctant shrug. In a flurry of motion, she eased from the tub, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around herself like armor against him.
He surged out of the water, tugged a towel off a nearby rack, and swathed himself in it. He followed her out to the bedroom, where she had picked up her clothes and sat on the edge of the bed, holding them in her hands like someone sleepwalking and unsure of what they were doing.
One Summer Night Page 17
