Suzanne Brockmann – Irresistible Attraction: Scenes of Passion / Midnight Seduction / Beyond Control (страница 17)
“Well, sort of,” she told him. “But it’s not what—”
“I’m very impressed. I’m also very glad I called. Mom and Dad are on their way over.”
“Oh, God!” Her eyes met Matt’s and from the look on his face, she knew he’d heard what Stevie had said.
“I’m going to shower,” Matt told her. “I left some clothes for you in the bathroom.”
“They’re coming out to have a little chat, if you know what I mean,” her brother said. “Hang tough. And don’t let ’em get close enough to throw the straitjacket around you.”
“Very funny,” Maggie said. “Stevie, thanks for calling.”
“Anytime. Good luck. And don’t forget to practice safe sex.”
She and Matt had had the safest kind of sex there was—none. But if he wanted to keep their relationship limited to friendship as he’d claimed last night, why was he sleeping in her bed?
Maggie hung up the phone and went into the bathroom. She drank directly from the sink faucet, trying to rehydrate and make her head feel a little less like it was about to explode.
She dressed quickly—her underwear was mostly dry, but everything else was still damp. She put on Matt’s clothes—which made her look like a kid playing dress-up. And her hair…
Nothing like falling asleep with a wet head to create a noteworthy style. Her only chance at looking seminormal was to put it into a ponytail.
She went in search of Matt who surely had a vast collection of ponytail holders.
Following the sound of running water, she went up a huge curved staircase to the third and then the fourth floor.
The fourth story of this old house wasn’t a full floor. There was a very small landing at the top of the stairs and a single door. Maggie knocked, but there was no answer. She tried the knob and the door swung open.
Another door was off to the immediate right. The bathroom —she could hear the sound of the shower. More stairs led up, and she climbed them.
It was the tower room, large and airy. Its octagonal walls were all windows. There were no curtains, only miniblinds and they’d all been pulled up.
Sunlight streamed in from all angles, and the hardwood floor gleamed. The woodwork around the windows was white, as was the ceiling and all the furniture and the spread on Matt’s double bed. There wasn’t much color in the entire room. There didn’t need to be. Nature provided all the color anyone could possibly want.
The view was breathtaking. The sky—and there was so much of it—was a brilliant blue. She could see the deep blue-green water if she looked in one direction. When she turned she could see the gentle hills that led into town, covered with the new green leaves of early summer. The white steeple of the Congregational Church peeked up over the treetops.
A wind chime of fragile white shells hung in front of an open window, and it moved in the breeze, creating a delicate and soothing cascade of music.
The bathroom door opened, and Matt came into the room. Maggie blushed—he was wearing only a white pair of briefs.
“Nice room, huh?” he said, unfazed at the sight of her, as he rubbed his hair with a towel. He made no attempt to cover himself, as if it were entirely normal for her to be there in his room while he was in his underwear.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I’m actually looking for a ponytail holder.”
“In the bathroom drawer,” he told her.
She went down the stairs. The bathroom air was still heavy with moisture, the mirror steamed up despite the fresh air from an open window. It was a modest little room, nothing like the bathroom with the hot tub, downstairs.
She fished through a drawer jammed with combs and razors.
“I think you should tell your parents that you’re going to live here for a while,” Matt told her, coming to stand in the doorway.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She used his brush to attempt to tame her hair. “And I don’t think my parents will, either.”
“I’ve got eight empty bedrooms,” he pointed out. “They don’t have to fear for your virtue.”
And neither did she, obviously. Maggie put his brush back on the edge of the sink.
“Mags, we have to talk about what happened last night,” he said as if he could read her mind.
“What’s to say?” She pushed past him and headed down the stairs to the main part of the house. “Except I guess I should probably apologize. And thank you. I would have been
She would have been
Matt followed her down the stairs.
She turned to face him. “You
His expression was unreadable.
The doorbell rang.
“We should talk more about this later,” he said. “Right now it’s showtime.”
He brushed past her as he went down the stairs, and Maggie had to cling to the thick oak banister, shocked at the way her body responded to even such casual contact. It was a symptom of Matthew Fever.
Could she really live in a house with him? Without embarrassing herself further? On the other hand, could she pass up the opportunity to be near him?
And she wanted to be near him—desperately. Maybe it would pass. Maybe this illness would leave as quickly as it had struck.
Her parents were dressed in their church clothes. They peered at Matt and Maggie through the screen.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stanton,” Matt said graciously. “Please come in.”
“Maggie, are you all right?” her father asked.
Her mother came and hugged her. “My poor baby. Get your things. We’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Maggie told her.
Her father glanced at Matt. “Honey, we want to talk to you, and it’ll be much easier at home.”
“Anyone thirsty?” Matt asked. “I’ll go get some lemonade.”
“No,” Maggie said sharply. “I’m not thirsty and neither are my parents.”
“Mags, I was trying to be polite—give you some privacy.”
“We don’t need privacy.” She turned back to her parents. “I’m going to stay here for a while.”
Her parents both started talking at once.
“Margaret, I understand how unhappy you must feel about Brock and Vanessa—”
“Vanessa’s gone to Brock’s,” her father told her. “What’s she’s done is inexcusable. It’s not fair that you should be the one to leave. And moving here seems rather sudden and—”
“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Matt has lots of room here, and he offered me a place to stay. We’re friends, Dad. It’s like me moving in with Angie.”
Her father glanced at Matt again, this time sizing him up. “You don’t really expect us to believe that, do you?” He turned to Matt. “Maybe you should get that lemonade, son.”
But Matt, thank God, knew that she desperately didn’t want to be alone with her parents. “Sure,” he said easily, but then turned to Maggie. “Want to give me a hand?”
She nearly bolted toward the kitchen.
“Go on into the living room,” she heard Matt say, before he followed her and shut the kitchen door behind him.
“What’s this with Vanessa and Brock?” he asked, as he crossed to the cabinets and took out four tall glasses.
“I got home last night just in time to see Brock kissing Vanessa good night,” she told him, sitting at the kitchen table and putting her head in her hands. “She actually slept with him.”
Matt swore. And then he put a couple of aspirin on the table in front of her, along with a glass of water.
“Thank you. Apparently Brock’s been interested in Van all along,” Maggie told him. “She and I had a little confrontation.”
“What a jackass,” he said. “So that’s what last night was about, huh?”
Maggie nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I was too stupid to notice that I wasn’t the one he really wanted.”