Logan stood and kissed her on the forehead. “I can loan you some money to help you out.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how I’d repay it. I’ll figure something out. Marc’s lawyer is trying to get a settlement of some kind from the driver who hit him. Maybe that will work out.”
“Have you spoken with Santini?”
She nodded. She’d called the lawyer just a few days ago, trying to find a way to secure the money in her trust fund, without meeting the conditions set up years earlier.
“Maggie—”
“You’re a good man, Logan. I hope Rose knows that.”
She walked out of his apartment without looking back.
****
Maggie sank onto the edge of the bed, gathering Robin Hood the cat to her chest and burying her face in the soft fur. What was she supposed to do now?
Cinnamon rubbed against her back. Maggie scooped him up, hugging both her pet and the stuffed cat.
“I’m a horrible sister. I just lost my chance to help Marc, and all I can think of is how relieved I am. Now I can be with Shamus. I just have to figure out how to explain why I didn’t tell him about Logan. And do it without making him think I’m a gold digger.” She let out a sigh. “Piece of cake.”
Cinnamon gave a loud, demanding meow.
Maggie dropped Robin Hood on the bed and carried the Siamese out to the kitchen. She fed him, filled a glass with water for herself, and brought it out to the living room.
The bridal magazine stared up at her from the coffee table.
She could still be a bride, only this time she could marry for love. First, she’d have to come clean. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and tapped Shamus’s number.
The phone rang three times then went to voicemail.
“Hi, it’s me. I really need to talk to you about something. It’s kind of a face-to-face conversation. Give me a call.”
She hit end, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.
****
Shamus and his brother-in-law wrestled the wooden shelf into place.
Jason took a step back. “Man, that looks a lot better than that crappy plastic thing.”
“It’s a lot stronger,” Shamus said. “It’s not going to collapse on you.”
Stephanie came down the basement stairs, a newspaper in one hand.
“Who’s minding the bar?” Jason asked
“Carl has it.” Her eyes focused on Shamus. Her teeth worried her lower lip. He knew that look.
“Spit it out,” he said. “Obviously something’s on your mind.”
“I’d saved the engagements page from the paper, the one from Christmas Eve, because my friend’s wedding announcement was in it. I finally got around to cutting out Reggie’s announcement to do a scrapbook page for her.”
He shrugged, having no idea why his sister thought he should be interested in a wedding announcement for someone he’d never met.
“I saw one I thought at first was for Maggie’s sister. I noticed it because of the resemblance.”
“I don’t think there’s that much of a resemblance.”
“It was her.”
“Marlie?”
She shook her head and moved closer to him. One hand clutched at his bicep. “It was Maggie.”
For a moment, the world stopped its orbit. He stared into his sister’s worried eyes. Engaged? Had Maggie been playing him?
“No,” he said as the answer came to him. “The announcement’s for Marlie. She’s getting married. She told me the announcement was in the paper right before Christmas. There must have been some kind of mix up with the picture. Marlie’s a bit of an airhead. She probably gave the newspaper a flash drive with Maggie’s picture instead of her own.”
Stephanie held the paper out to him. “It gives Maggie’s name.”
Jason took the paper from his wife and read out loud, “Margaret Elizabeth Grant.”
Shamus snatched the paper from him. His eyes moved over the words. “Who the hell is Logan Fredericks?” he muttered.
“Doesn’t Maggie work at the Matlock?” Jason asked. “Logan Fredericks is the manager of the hotel. I met him when I bartended for their staff Christmas party. Guy’s about sixty.”
“No.” Shamus handed the paper back to Jason. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but Maggie is not engaged to some other man.”
He glanced at his watch. It was after midnight. Maggie would be curled up in bed asleep by now. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to find answers.
Chapter Seven
Maggie wrapped up in a towel, wet hair dripping down her back, and hurried to grab her cell phone. Shamus’s number showed on the screen.
“Hi,” she said.
“I’m sorry, baby. I was at the bar until after midnight, helping Jason put up new shelves in the basement. They had cans of nacho cheese and jalapeños stored on a plastic shelving unit, and it collapsed. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?”
Butterflies were flying kites in her stomach. Would he understand what she had done?
“It’s more of a face-to-face conversation,” she said.
“I can think of something I’d like to do face-to-face, but it doesn’t involve a lot of talking.”
Her cheeks burned. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? We can talk for a little bit then see what comes up.”
“Oh, it’ll come up. Don’t worry.”
There was no longer her engagement to Logan to hinder them. The fire from her cheeks spread lower, warming another part of her anatomy.
“Six?” she asked.
“I’ll be there.”
****
Shamus had his keys in hand as he jogged down the front steps. He slowed near the bottom, catching sight of the woman lounging against his truck.
“What the hell are you doing here, Paris?”
“Well, good morning to you, too.”
He unlocked the truck, resting one arm across the top of the door. “Spit it out and go.”
“You’re in a hurry. Late to see your girlfriend?”
“No, I’m heading to a job site.”
Paris reached out with a manicured hand and stroked a red acrylic nail across his chin. “And how is your girlfriend?”
Her mouth curved in a cruel smile. It was the look of a bully about to deliver the crippling blow.
“A friend and I were having lunch at the Matlock yesterday and who did I happen to see? Your girlfriend, the one you had breakfast with on New Year’s Day.”
He stared into Paris’s cold eyes and said nothing.
“Not even a tiny bit curious?” She sighed, holding her phone up and tilting it from side-to-side. “Well, you know me, curious as a cat. I pointed her out to the waiter and asked if he knew her. I thought maybe she was a regular. Imagine my surprise when he told me she works there.”
“I know she works there. She’s an accountant.”
“Did you know she’s engaged to be married?”
If she’d stabbed him with a dagger, the pain would have been less. She held her phone up with the screen facing him. In the image, Maggie smiled up at a slender man twice her age.
“Then I saw an older gentleman come up and put his hands on her shoulders. That’s when the waiter told me the gentleman was Logan Fredericks. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me they were engaged.”
Icy cold spider legs skittered down his spine. He stared at her, shaking his head slowly even as a dozen tiny things he’d passed off converged. The bridal magazine—hers, not her sister’s. The reluctance to have him pick her up at work. Sentences started and suddenly dropped. Most damning of all—the announcement in the paper of her engagement.
Paris laughed. “Poor Shamus. You just don’t have any luck with women.”
No, he thought. He had luck, it was all bad.
****
Maggie lit the rose scented tapers and stepped back from the table. A candlelit dinner, complete with wine. She glanced at the C
D player. The only band she knew for certain Shamus liked was Shallow Harbor, and their music wasn’t exactly soft and romantic.
The smell of stroganoff, her one specialty, filled the air.
Maggie smoothed a hand over her skirt. She’d bought sexy panties and a matching bra. If tonight ended the way she hoped, she wanted to be ready.
Maybe she should light a couple of candles in the bedroom?
Too late. The doorbell announced Shamus’s arrival.
Ordering the butterflies in her stomach to put down their kites, she opened the door.
Shamus wore jeans and a black T-shirt. He’d never looked sexier.
“It smells good, Maggie.”
“Thanks.” She walked toward the table, aware of Shamus just two steps behind.
He snagged her waist and pulled her close. His chin rubbed her hair. “Dinner’s not the only thing that smells good.”
She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck, burrowing close. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He tugged her close, nuzzling her throat. “And what would that be?”
“I love you.”
He pulled back, staring into her eyes. “You love me, Maggie?”
She peered up at him, something in his tone setting off alarms.
“And the man you’re marrying, do you love him, too?”
Her mouth turned into a desert. All the times she had tried to tell him, all the ways she had thought of to explain it to him, and now nothing came to mind.
“How did you find out?”
“Steph came across the announcement in a December paper. Then Paris showed up this morning. She was overjoyed to be the bearer of bad news.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I seem to have a gift for picking women who screw men over.”
“I tried to tell you,” she said, forcing the words through a throat narrowed with tears.
“When?”
“It just never seemed like the right time,” she stammered.
He shook his head. “You were going to have sex with me tonight.”
His words were like a slap. She had dreamed of their first night together, and with a single, angry sentence he made that dream sound cheap and dirty.
“I was going to make love to you,” she said, forcing the words past the tear-filled boulder lodged in her throat.
“What would your fiancé think of that?”
“Logan and I aren’t getting married.”
“Because he found out about us? Damn it, Maggie. I don’t like being used to screw over another man. I’ve been on the receiving end. I know firsthand how shitty it feels. Did you think I wouldn’t find out? The paper printed the announcement of your engagement. To a man old enough to be your father. A man you don’t love, if you did, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”
“I do love him. Logan is my friend. I’ve known him since I was little. When my parents were killed, Logan was the rock I leaned on. He was the one I went to for advice. Marc was a teenager. When he needed a man to talk to, Logan was there.”
“If you’re not in love with him, then why are you marrying him?”
“I broke off the engagement.”
“Why were you going to marry him?”
“We were getting married on February 19th. On the twentieth, five million dollars would have been deposited into an account for me.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “You were willing to marry for money? A big house, a fancy car, are they that important to you?”
“No, but Marc is.” Another sigh. “I told you about my brother.”
“I know he was in a bad accident, and he’s still recovering.”
“He’s lost his apartment. Who knows when he’ll be able to work again. And the medical bills. Even with insurance, they’re outrageous. I would have used that money to help my brother pay his doctor bills, pay his rent and utilities, hire someone to help him until he can take care of himself again.”
“And when the money runs out? You’ll have sold yourself to an old man.” He shook his head. “Is there any room for love in that cold, mercenary heart of yours?”
“I was doing it because of love.”
He supposed that was true, but it was for love of her brother, not the man she had planned to marry.
She reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked away. “There’s nothing more you have to say that I want to hear.” He turned, heading for the door.
“Shamus, please—”
“Try to maintain a little dignity.”
The door closed behind him, leaving her alone with her shattered heart.
Chapter Eight
Shamus sat on a stool near the end of the bar. Stephanie looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Rum and coke,” he said.
She fixed his drink, slid it across the polished surface, and leaned down, folded arms resting on the edge of the bar.
“I’m guessing you confronted Maggie about the announcement.”
He gave a harsh laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “I was stupid enough to imagine coffee with her every day…kids.”
“Shamus Kevin Garvey, are you drunk?”
“Not yet, sis, but I plan to be.”
“You’ve never been much of a drinking man. Shamus—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I can find somewhere else to drink.”
She shook her head. “Stay here. At least I’ll know you’re safe.” She held out her hand. “Now hand over your keys.”
****
Maggie stood in the middle of the kitchen fishing through her purse. “Great. It’s turning out to be a perfect end to a perfect week.” Maybe she should cancel her appointment. The way things had been going since Monday… She fought off thoughts of Shamus and their breakup. The red heart on the fridge caught her eye. She needed to toss it in the trash, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it.
“What are you looking for?” Marlie asked.
“My keys.”
Marlie walked over to the dining room table and scooped up Maggie’s key ring. “Calm down. Why are you so uptight and where are you going?”
“I have a meeting with Mr. Santani at six.”
“Our lawyer? I thought you already talked to him about Marc, and he said his hands were tied.”
“I’m going to talk to him again.”
She started for the door. The house phone rang. She checked the caller id just in case it was the lawyer.
The call was from The Roost. For a moment her heart grew light, then reality set in. Shamus would call from his cell. That meant the caller was probably his sister, ready to scream at Maggie for hurting Shamus.
“Lock up,” she called over her shoulder, letting the phone ring. As the door closed behind her, she heard Marlie say, “Hello?”
****
Shamus opened the door to find Stephanie standing there. He knew that look all too well. It was the one she used to get when they were kids and she was babysitting. She’d turned it on him every time he’d misbehaved. Over the last fifteen years, he’d watched her turn it on her kids more than once.
“When was the last time you shaved?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“And tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.”
“I don’t care.”
“Men.” She shoved her palm against his chest pushing him out of her way.
“Steph—”
She stomped to the middle of his living room and turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Hush. I’m talking. You’re listening. I’ve watched you mope around for almost two weeks. You say it’s good riddance to Maggie, but any fool can see your heart is breaking. I called Maggie last Friday. I’ve spent the past week thinking about what I learned—waiting to see if you’d pull your head out of your butt. Maggie was going to marry Logan Fredericks in order to help her brother.”
“She was marrying for money, not love.”
Stephanie lunged forward and popped him on the side of the head. “Stop acting like a damn fool. Shut up a
nd listen. She was marrying for love. The love of an older sister for her younger brother—the brother she helped raise. Don’t you get it? Are you that selfish?”
“Selfish? She was going out with me when she was engaged to another man.”
“Yeah. You are my baby brother. I love you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Maggie feels the same way about her brother. If anything, they have a stronger bond. When their parents were killed, she petitioned the court for custody of her brother and sister. I had a baby when I was twenty-two. I had my husband to rely on. I had you even though you were only nineteen. I still had Mom and our grandparents.
“Maggie was twenty. Who did she have to help her when things were hard? Her brother was fifteen. I have a fifteen-year-old. I love her, but believe me there are times I’d like to strangle her. When I need to step back from my daughter, I have Jason to deal with her. Who did Maggie have? She was big sister and Mom rolled into one. Can you image how protective she is over her brother and sister?
“If you needed a kidney, I’d give you one of mine. I wouldn’t have to think twice. Maggie was doing the only thing she could think of in order to help her brother.”
A knot formed in his stomach. “Did Maggie tell you that?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to Maggie. I called her house to speak with her last week and got her sister. She explained it to me. She also told me that Maggie loves you. That’s why she couldn’t bring herself to tell you the truth. She wanted those moments with you. She knew once she told you it would be over.”
She gave a little laugh. “The heart from New Year’s Eve? The one you hit with the dart? Maggie still has it on her fridge. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
The knot rose to his throat.
“Decision time,” Steph said. “Which are you going to hold onto? Your anger or your love?”
Chapter Nine
Maggie sat on the couch, a book in her hands and Cinnamon on her lap. She’d picked a murder mystery in an effort to avoid thinking about the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and to keep from dwelling on her thirtieth birthday being only six days away.
When the doorbell chimed, she put down the book and scooted the cat off her lap. She didn’t even bother to check the peephole before pulling the door open.
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