Maggie's Refrain Page 7

  She changed into a comfy set of loungewear she bought for one of the longer trips on the tour bus with Deana. Well worn but not worn out, it was Maggie’s favorite thing in which to relax. But relaxation would not come easily. She needed some assistance.

  A fire in the fireplace, a mug of her favorite Earl Grey, and the one millionth showing of The Philadelphia Story from her DVD would soon set Maggie to rights. Tomorrow will take care of itself, she thought. In a couple of days, she’d meet with Lanie, and finally set the wheels of her career in motion.

  “Happy New Year,” she said aloud as she raised her mug in a mock toast. Shutting off the lights, she curled up and did her best to dissolve into the world of Tracy Lord and C.K. Dexter Haven.

  The spell of the movie was abruptly broken by a knock at Maggie’s front door. Jumping nearly a foot off of the couch, she wrapped her afghan around her and made a slow approach. Her first thought was that it might be Richard. He was a master of retaliation. But then she remembered Brooke with an ‘e’. The thought of the young, eager blonde playing nursemaid to his wounded nose as well as his ego put Maggie’s mind at ease. She laughed off the fear and figured he would be fine.

  Looking through the peep hole, her fear dissipated at the sight of Joe loosening his tie on the other side. Pausing to turn on the light, she collected her excitement before letting him in.

  “How you doing, slugger?” he asked playfully as he walked through the door.

  “Don’t mess with me. The feeling’s just about back in my hand,” she said. The smile in her eyes betrayed the lack of levity in her voice.

  Joe moved closer to her, his smile that familiar look of warmth and comfort. He placed his hands on her shrouded arms, and began to rub them up and down. He was in awe of how precious and young she looked with her freshly scrubbed face; her hair in an innocent ponytail.

  “You look good,” he said dreamily.

  “So do you,” Maggie said.

  “You okay?”

  Maggie cast her gaze to the floor and nodded. Her embarrassment returned, and she found it nearly impossible to raise her head. Tears sprang fresh from her eyes as she placed her injured hand over her face.

  “Hey, hey now, come on,” Joe said softly. “No tears. You did nothing wrong.”

  Scoffing, Maggie took a step backward out of his grasp. “Joe, I totally humiliated myself!” she cried. “I saw your face. You were disgusted by the whole thing.”

  Joe moved in to close the gap between them. “I was disgusted by him, Maggie. He was obviously drunk and disrespecting you. Besides,” he began, his face taking on a somber appearance as he straightened his posture for emphasis. “I would have cleaned his clock myself, you know, if I didn’t have to worry about getting Gwennie outta there.”

  Maggie’s expression turned from pained to amused. “Cleaned his clock?”

  “Oh come on. You know what I mean.”

  Maggie co-opted an East Coast accent. “What is this, New Year’s Nineteen Eighty Five, Mr. Buttafuco?”

  Joe’s machismo melted in the light of her mockery. “You know what? You are a horrible little person,” he said.

  Maggie continued her teasing. “I’m sure Richard wouldn’t have stood a chance squaring off with you, mister-big-tough-buddy-boy.”

  “You are just mean!” Joe laughed. “For the record, as lit as he was, I at least had that in my favor.” The two continued to laugh as he began to take her in his arms again. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said. “You can obviously take care of yourself. I’m proud of you. I really don’t think he’s gonna mess with you anymore.”

  “Man, I hope not.”

  “You taught me a very important thing tonight, you know.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Next time I get in a bar fight, I’m callin’ you for backup.”

  Maggie pushed him away, pretending to be offended. “That’s it…time for you to go."

  “Nuh uh,” Joe said, looking in the direction of the television. “Not when I see you’re watching The Philadelphia Story.”

  Maggie knew the hour was late and that Joe’s due diligence was complete. He’d checked on her and saw that she was fine. Reassurances were made. The two of them were fine. There was no real reason for him to stay. But she wasn’t ready for him to leave just yet.

  “You gonna be comfortable watching a movie in that?” Maggie said, regarding his suit.

  Joe was momentarily dissuaded before his memory was suddenly jogged. He snapped his fingers. “Mom gave me some clean laundry when I took the twins to stay with her,” he said. “It’s still in the trunk of my car. And before you say anything, yes, sometimes my mother does our laundry. Well, actually, her housekeeper does.”

  Maggie shook her head in disbelief. She was already caving in. “Bathroom’s upstairs,” Maggie said, resigned. “I’ll fix some popcorn if you’re game?”

  “Perfect,” Joe said enthusiastically.

  Maggie walked into the kitchen, still chiding herself for conceding so readily. Placing a pan on the stove, she suddenly stopped. Without the afghan around her, she was quickly reminded that while her loungewear was more than appropriate, the fact that she wore nothing underneath was not.

  “Whoops,” she said. “Big girl…no bra…that’s not happening.”

  She ran to the laundry room to see if there might be one in the dryer. Thankfully, there was. She donned it quickly and awkwardly before returning to the kitchen.

  Standing in Maggie’s immaculately plush bathroom, Joe found the tones of lavender and pale gold alluring; the design of the curtains, the walk-in linen closet, the vanity and stool all revealed a woman’s touch without being, as young Gwen might term it, “too girly.” He picked up one of the clear, delicate bottles of perfume that sat on a small gold corner shelf on the counter. Relishing the sharpness of the sandalwood fragrance, he could tell that this was the scent she loved most. Closing his eyes, it was if she were standing right in front of him.

  Maggie knocked on the door. Joe opened it, wearing only the sweatpants. He had his T-shirt in one hand, preparing to put it on.

  Maggie was speechless. The sight of this man, who was, despite nearing the mid point of his forties, in particularly good shape, practically made her knees buckle underneath her. Dark brown hair, with flecks of gold and grey made perfect wavelike patterns across the olive tones of his chest and stomach.

  Not knowing what she might be thinking, but hoping it was something good, Joe’s posture straightened, the slight paunch in his stomach drawing in ever so slightly.

  The adolescent nervous laughter returned for both of them. “Hey, was just about to call down for some hangers for the suit,” he said. “What did you need?”

  Maggie looked confused. “What?”

  “You knocked. What did you need?” He couldn’t suppress his smile, knowing he was making her nervous.

  “Oh yeah, right. I was just going to tell you where the linens were, if you needed them,” she said. “Um…the uh, hangers?” she pointed to a door behind her. “There should be some good ones in there.”

  “Okay, Thanks.”

  “And I was gonna go pop some popcorn for your chest…I mean…the movie, so um…I’ll just…meet you downstairs.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  Joe stepped out into the hallway. He leaned against a wall and folded his arms.

  Okay, please put that t shirt on right now, or I’m gonna have a friggin’ heart attack, screamed her mind.

  “Come here,” he said. He was tired of waiting. He wanted her in his arms at that very moment.

  “What?” she asked, trying to sound as though she were in control.

  “Come here,” he said slowly. His tone was commanding. Dark. Incredibly sexy. The sound pulled her in, and she didn’t try to fight. He took her face in his hands, and she placed her hands lightly on his forearms.

  As it was the first time, there was a slow dance between their lips as the kiss began. But this time, there was no self-
consciousness, no guilt. They took their time in finding their perfect fit; and once they did, they found themselves back at the edge of that jagged cliff, preparing to fall into the fantastic unknown.

  Joe’s arms went from her face to her hips as he engulfed her completely. Maggie wrapped her arms around Joe’s neck, the feel of her chest against his sending her into total delirium.

  His kisses moved from her mouth down to her neck, sending a shower of sparks from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. She could feel herself slipping away, willing her feet to the bedroom that was a mere three yards away.

  She was just about to give in when Joe placed his hand on a wall to brace himself, inadvertently knocking down a framed picture behind Maggie’s head.

  Maggie used the time it took to retrieve the fallen photo to gather her wits and strengthen her resolve. “Looks like it’s okay,” she said of the photo. Examining it closely, she returned it to its place on the wall. Still facing the wall, she closed her eyes and drew in a breath. She exhaled and turned to face him.

  “Joe…”

  “I know, I know. Too much.”

  “No,” she said breathlessly. “Not too much. Just too fast. Now, I’m going to make the popcorn, and please, for the love of God….put that shirt on.”

  Maggie placed a tray with a large bowl full of freshly popped corn and two matching tumblers full of soda on the coffee table. “The Philadelphia Story has got to be one of the best classic films ever” she said.

  “Couldn’t agree with you more. Great call, West.”

  “Glad you like it, because you don’t get a say. My house, my rules.”

  “You are a cold-hearted woman. Quit hogging the popcorn, pass the bowl.”

  Maggie hesitated, pretending to offer the bowl, quickly jerking it out of his reach. His reflexes proved to be faster as he finally caught it.

  “Dude, you’re spilling it!” she laughed.

  “Stop whining, watch the movie,” he replied.

  In a rare moment of assertiveness, Maggie grabbed Joe’s hand and looped it around her shoulders. The move caught him pleasantly off guard. He paused for a moment and kissed her on her forehead as he drew her more securely to his side.

  Chapter 8

  From the moment she left the party, Sissy’s mind was in overdrive. In truth, she did feel a slight twinge of pity for Maggie’s dress getting smeared, but she wanted to kick herself for leaving without Joe. It wasn’t that big of a tragedy, after all.

  The call she made to him around 1:30 that morning was more of a means to check on his whereabouts, but she’d already purposed within herself that she would pretend to care about Maggie’s state of mind. When his phone eventually went to voice mail, her paranoia soared through the roof. She managed to keep her emotions under wraps however, as she helped Gwen get settled in for the night.

  When Sissy woke the next morning, a small stain of disappointment was already beginning to spread in her spirit. The first thing she did was check to see if Joe had returned her call. There was nothing displayed but a series of congratulatory text messages from colleagues, lauding her efforts on a successful party.

  Gazing out into the gray and silver tones of the cold January morning, she hugged a large, down-filled pillow to her chest and let out a small groan. She wasn’t sure which was frustrating her more: not knowing exactly what was happening between Maggie and Joe, or the fact that she was allowing this fixation to eclipse her own professional triumph. In all her life, she had never been one to allow her feelings for a man to derail her in this fashion.

  But Joe was just too good to let slip away, and while in the back of her mind she knew her desire for her brother-in-law seemed a bit sordid on some level, she still felt as though she were the only person worthy of his affection; almost as if she was destined to be Grace’s heir apparent.

  What was it about Maggie West that was so important to Joe? And why couldn’t he see that woman was absolutely and completely wrong for him?

  The evening’s events merely proved her case: Maggie and that boyfriend of hers seemed to generate drama wherever they went. Not just last night, but that whole thing at Thanksgiving. As far as Sissy was concerned, Maggie and Richard should just go off and leave her family in peace. They deserved one another.

  Her thoughts raced as she turned on her side in her bed and gripped the pillow even harder. Joe wouldn’t dare debase himself with someone so common. He wouldn’t do that to Grace. He wouldn’t do that to his kids. He wouldn’t do that to….

  The fabric of her chiffon dressing gown flowing gently behind her, Sissy rose and made her way down the hallway to her guest bedroom. The morning light came through the window, heightening the brilliance of the all white furnishings.

  Sissy loved the clean, uncomplicated nature of white. She saw it as a blank canvas on which she could create any visual she desired. White empowered her…be it clothing, décor…or skin color.

  A smile came to her face as she walked over to the bed. Gwen was still sleeping peacefully in a room she’d come to adore. She always felt so grown up whenever she got to hang out with her Aunt Sissy…the finest clothes, restaurants, parties. Her own bedroom with her own private bath was her favorite part of the stay.

  The meticulously custom designed bathroom had the feel of an island bungalow. Shutters on the windows and silk foliage all around lent to the tropical air. Faux marble steps led up to a sunken bathtub large enough for at least three people, complete with Jacuzzi jets and an oversized bath pillow against the side. Thin, gauzy material hung from the ceiling above the tub like a canopy.

  Gwen would light practically every candle in the room, put on some music, and luxuriate as though she were a European princess. She never needed to pack a bag, as Sissy always had some fabulous new pajama set, and something for her to wear the next day.

  The twins were always welcome, but they preferred to stay with their grandmother, who had among other things, a life-sized play house where the two children would often invite their friends for full-day play dates.

  For Sissy, however, it was all well and good. She loved doting on her eldest niece. But she knew that eventually, if her plans were ever to come to fruition, she’d need to gain the love of all three children, not just Gwen.

  If she could just eliminate that fly in the ointment…Maggie West.

  Sissy tilted her head to the side, and stroked Gwen’s hair. She made a decision to try and call Joe again.

  It’s 7:30, she reasoned internally. Surely he’s up by now.

  Chapter 9

  Sissy was right. Joe was awake. But he was much too occupied with the fact that he’d been able to simply hold Maggie for an entire night. At one point, he got up to get a blanket to cover them, bringing them even closer together. Maggie had, at another point in the night, shifted her position so that they were lying face to face, still wrapped up in one another.

  And this is how Joe awoke; to the smell of her hair as her head rested on his chest and arm, to the warmth of her body as she snuggled against him like a small child. If he could have, he would have chosen to never move from that spot again.

  Maggie made a soft little sound as she began to stir. Instinctively, Joe kissed her on her forehead.

  “Morning,” she said, her speech muffed by his chest

  Joe laughed. “Good morning. How you doin,’ kiddo?”

  Hand over her mouth, Maggie looked up with sleepy eyes and said, “Aside from what I know is ferocious morning breath, I’m pretty good, thanks. You?”

  Joe’s head tilted back in laughter at her silliness. Pulling her hand away he said softly, “I’m good.”

  They shared one of the sweetest, most decadent kisses that either one of them would ever know. It was then and there that Maggie decided her favorite time of the day to be kissed would be at dawn’s early light; no pretense, no artifice. Just real, raw life, brought together by the beauty of genuine affection.

  “Wow,” she said, when their lips finally parted, �
�You are amazing. I love…”

  The two of them froze for a moment as those tiny words escaped Maggie’s heart.

  “I…I mean, I love that you got this great blanket,” she stammered. “That was awfully thoughtful of you. She tried to get up from the couch casually, but nearly stumbled over the coffee table.

  Joe tried not to laugh, and Maggie pretended not to notice. “I’m gonna need some coffee, I think,” she said. “As you can see, I can’t function well without it. You want some?”

  Joe rested his head on one hand and gave her a skeptical smile. “Sure. Coffee sounds great,” he said.

  He looked impossibly handsome in that moment, his hair mussed just perfectly in that Hollywood leading man in the morning kind of way. “Great,” she returned, just a tiny bit too cheerfully. “I’ll get some on right now.”

  Out of Joe’s line of sight, Maggie rolled her eyes at herself. Idiot! She thought. “Don’t understand why you didn’t just put all your cards on the table, Maggie…” she muttered under her breath.

  Hoping she’d not done too much damage, she began fixing the coffee quietly.

  While part of him thought the whole thing was sweet, there was another part inside Joe that was actually happy that she didn’t complete her sentence. They were, in fact, the right words…this just wasn’t the time. He knew if there were any declarations to be made, they would come in a moment that wasn’t fueled by emotions and passion. It would be at a point where it was least expected and certainly not influenced, bidden or coerced by circumstance.

  It would happen organically…and the timing would be appropriate.

  Maggie was curious as to whom Joe could be speaking at such an early hour. She was reaching for mugs for the coffee when she realized he was in conversation.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he said as Maggie put the mug on a coaster in front of him. He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss and mouthed the words “thank you” as she curled up in a corner and watched him.