GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 8

  Preston cropped up in her thoughts constantly now. No matter how hard she tried not to think about him. Or about how his kiss yesterday had been just as wondrous as their first. He was a dead end, she reminded herself. Been there. Done that. What surprised her the most, however, was the twinge of hurt she still felt about it.

  She cursed Preston’s name. She could get through this mess with the company if she could just keep him at arm’s length. Like a business dealing. Which, after all, was all this really was. All she had to do was keep things in perspective. Treat it like the business deal it was and keep her personal feelings out of it.

  Which would be much easier if she weren’t driving with him to Miami this morning. He’d insisted she ride with him rather than driving herself. Even extolled the benefits of carpooling when she’d objected, and then accused her of being afraid to be alone with him for so long, lest her true feelings for him come out.

  Naturally, her rebellious nature had come barreling to the forefront then and before she knew it, she was agreeing to the transportation arrangement, proving to him he didn’t have the least effect on her. They could have flown, of course; taken the corporate jet, but Maggie hated flying. Avoided it if at all possible. And Preston knew her well enough to even bring it up. So driving for three hours it was.

  Just the two of them. In a car. Alone. For three hours.

  The thought hit her like an unwanted houseguest who, once let inside the door, refused to leave. Her stomach knotted like a sailor’s rope. Three hours was an awfully long time to be alone with him. She could already imagine the endless conversation they’d have about her supposed attraction to him, and the endless droning on and on about how important the company and this battle for it was. Because that was, after all, what mattered most to him.

  A knock on the door intruded into the scenario playing out in her mind, startling her. “Preston?” He wasn’t due to pick her up for almost an hour. When she opened the door, however, she found Tracy outside, positively glowing, and already made up from head to toe.

  “Good morning,” she mumbled. She looked Tracy over again, still curious about her sudden perkiness. “You’re certainly up early.”

  “I’m up this early every day.” Tracy dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. She was dressed in a pale cream suit she’d once said she was saving just in case a special occasion ever occurred. “I have two kids to get off to school, remember?”

  Maybe so, Maggie thought, but Tracy was more than just awake. She was up. “Okay, Tracy, spill it. I can tell you’re dying to tell me something. What’s up?”

  Tracy started giggling. “Yeah. You’re right.” She sat down next to Maggie, then jumped back up again. “Rod Skinner took me out to dinner last night.”

  Now she really had heard everything. “You went out on a date with that man? Why? Rod Skinner? I mean, I once heard Preston say the only woman Rod had ever made love to for longer than a week was his first girlfriend, who dumped him in high school. And he wasn’t even faithful to her past the first month.”

  Tracy bit down on her bottom lip, clearly not pleased at what she’d just heard. Not good, Maggie thought.

  “Rod’s not like you think, Maggie. That Casanova stuff he brags about is just show. What he really wants is someone he can depend on. He told me so. He was a perfect gentleman last night. He opened doors for me, pulled out my chair when I went to sit down, and then walked me to my door and gave me one kiss before I went inside. And that was all. He did not try to get me into bed with him.”

  Maggie listened to her friend’s details of the evening and felt helpless. She knew in her gut Rod was every bit the womanizer Preston portrayed him as. She’d seen it in his eyes, in the way he looked at both her and Tracy on the first day they’d met. But what could she say now? In light of Mr. Skinner’s purportedly perfect behavior last night? No matter what she said now, it would be unwelcome and ignored.

  “Tracy, do you have any idea how much I care about you as a friend?”

  Tracy gave her a hug and sat down next to her. “Of course I do. That’s why I wanted to share this with you.”

  She tried to appear neutral. Inside, however, she felt a tremendous desire to strangle Rod Skinner. What kind of scum would intentionally hurt a sweet person like Tracy? She couldn’t help but wonder what he was really up to, besides sex of course, since he clearly wasn’t the type of man interested in a committed relationship with a working class divorcee with two kids.

  She finally found the energy she needed to get off the couch and headed for her coffee pot. “You sound pretty excited about Rod. Does that mean you’re thinking about going out on another date with him?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s going to be just dating. Rod kept talking about the two of us having a permanent future together. He could be serious about this commitment thing, you know. He might really want a real relationship. I feel like he really likes me.”

  “Okay. But do you really like him?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only had one date with him. But, you know, he really likes me, and it could turn out I really like him, too.”

  “Did you see stars when he kissed you? Do the palms of your hands get all sweaty when you think about him?”

  “I don’t know if I put much stock in that sort of thing anymore, Maggie. You know? I got that way when I married Carl, and look at how that turned out. Maybe relationships are just supposed to be more practical than that. You know? Someone who works hard, pays the bills, doesn’t get drunk all the time or use drugs and doesn’t hit you?”

  Maggie thought about the way she felt around Preston. Could Tracy be right? Could all those stars and sweaty palms really not mean anything? She hated to think so. “Maybe they can be both,” she suggested.

  “Well, I don’t know, but like I said, I’ve only had one date with Rod. Who’s to say I won’t see stars the next time he kisses me?”

  Maggie felt sick inside. Watching Tracy carry on like a schoolgirl was like watching a lamb go to the slaughter. Even if Rod wasn’t like Carl, it didn’t mean he would be faithful to Tracy, or even consider the relationship anything more than a fling once he’d gotten her into bed with him. “I know you didn’t ask for my advice, Tracy, but please, take your time where Rod’s concerned. Make him earn your trust.”

  Tracy followed Maggie into the adjoining kitchen. She was still bouncing around like a teenager just discovering hormones. “Maggie, I am very lucky to have you as a friend, but you don’t have to worry about me. Really. I have no intention of getting into another bad relationship. I promise you. And like I said, Rod behaved like a perfect gentleman. Well, except for….”

  “Except for what?”

  Tracy’s eyes gleamed. “Except he was a little insistent on getting me to go out with him, and he did kiss me once before he even asked. And man, can he kiss.”

  “I should hope so with as much practice as he’s had.”

  Tracy stopped bouncing. “I don’t think you’re really being fair, Maggie. You haven’t known Rod any longer than I have. You’re judging him without getting to know him first. Rod says Preston just tells women those stories about him so they’ll go out with Preston instead of him.”

  Maggie halted her coffee making. Rod’s explanation to Tracy about Preston’s stories didn’t suit her any better than Preston’s description of Rod. For Tracy’s sake, she knew it would be better if Rod’s explanation was true, and Preston’s stories were false, but she doubted it. She didn’t have to know Rod Skinner very long to know him. The man was a Don Juan inspired disease. He had no obvious morals, and no clear priorities other than advancing his own position and enjoying himself. And if he was making such a hot and heavy play for Tracy, there had to be a reason why.

  She said nothing to her friend, though. Anything more she said at this point would only sound shallow and petty to Tracy’s ears, and hurt her feelings. Rod, on the other hand, now there was a person she could lay down the law to. And not give a damn wh
at he felt about it.

  “I hope everything works out the way you want it to, Tracy. I really do.” She was going to strangle Rod Skinner. And probably not stop there.

  Through the background noises of a humming refrigerator, a bubbling coffee maker and a blowing air conditioner, she heard the doorbell ring. Preston. For sure this time. Her body went rigid. She wondered if he knew about his buddy’s play for Tracy.

  “Maggie, do you want me to get it?” Tracy asked.

  She shook her head. She was already up and nearest the door. “No, but thanks. I’ve got it.”

  Unfortunately, she’d already opened the front door before she remembered what would have been a perfectly adequate reason to let Tracy answer the door. She was still dressed in her sleeping gown. A gold, silk chemise that landed mid-thigh and would only serve to encourage Preston’s accusations she regretted their break-up.

  He stood staring at her like a little boy at a peep show, his eyes nearly as wide as his gaping mouth. Good grief, he looked like he was about to start licking her. “Good-morning,” she said. Her entire body warmed with a blush. “And you can close your mouth now. As I recall, you’ve seen me in less.”

  He nodded his head, but still stared. “Not lately.”

  “And not again for a very long time. Like the next ice age.” Now that she’d brought the subject of her state of undress out into the open, she had no desire to let it continue. She exited to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  She went to her closet and picked out the most conservative looking, below-the-knee dress she could find. Navy blue with a wide, white collar and pleated skirt. With her hair done up in a bun, and a minimum amount of make up on, she had always thought the dress made her look like an old maid. She’d always wondered what had ever possessed her to buy the dress. Couldn’t even give it away for fear of admitting she owned it, and pretty much kept it just in case she ever had a really bad first date, and needed to scare the guy off if he came sniffing around for date number two.

  It should work just fine.

  Chapter 19

  What had ever possessed Maggie to buy such an ugly dress, let alone wear it? Preston had never seen her present herself in such an unappealing manner before. The dress was hideous. It hid her gorgeous figure like she’d stepped inside a box and looked like it’d been crafted sometime around the turn of the last century. She couldn’t possibly think the boardroom had become that conservative.

  If she were trying to keep him at a distance, however, not even that dress would do the trick. He still longed to reach out and caress her; still fantasized about their lovemaking. No puritan attire in the world could change that. He kept his stirrings to himself though, and spent their drive time discussing art and the many museums they’d visited in their youth, things he considered “safe” subjects.

  “You surprise me, Preston,” she said. “We’ve been on the road for almost three hours and the only topics you’ve talked about are art, music and our childhood.”

  He glanced at her, dragging his gaze briefly away from the road. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, except I’m afraid you might bite your tongue off if you go too much longer without bringing up business.”

  He grinned; that half-grin he used when he was amused, but hated to admit it, and shook his head. He couldn’t resist baiting her. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I can think of better things to do with my tongue than bite it.”

  She blushed crimson. “You mean use it to produce inane banter, right?”

  “No.” He had her on the hook now, and he wasn’t about to let her wriggle off. He glanced again at her, stealing her gaze and holding it with an intensity that transcended the brief moment when their eyes met. “Actually, I had something a little more interesting in mind. If you don’t remember, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.”

  “Preston, if we weren’t halfway between Homestead and Miami, I swear I’d get out and walk.”

  “Temptation’s that strong, is it?”

  He could tell he’d finally flustered her, because she shut up. He chuckled. It wasn’t often someone got the last word on her, but occasionally he could still figure out which buttons to push.

  He leaned back against the seat in unwanted sexual frustration. Even in that ugly dress and sporting some librarian-type hairdo, she’d made him hard until he ached. “You were wrong about us being only halfway to Miami,” he said, pointing to a road sign coming up on the right. “We’re only ten miles away. What do you say we stop and grab a bit to eat? My stomach’s starting to remind me we left your place without breakfast.”

  “Mine, too,” she said, but without seeming very enthused.

  “We don’t have to stop if you don’t want,” he offered.

  She shook her head and stared out the car window. “No, it’s okay. We’ll stop.”

  “Good. I’m really hungry.” And for more than just food.

  He drove until he spotted an elegant, turn of the century house that had been turned into a restaurant. Cars jammed the parking lot, even at eleven o’clock in the morning. The building faced a lovely stretch of lawn landscaped with red roses and swaying palm trees. The grounds had been carefully tended and designed to convey a sense of decorum and taste. The place looked like it would do for breakfast.

  He parked in the closest non-handicapped spot he could find. The way she had chosen to present herself still bothered him, and he wondered if there was some subtle way he could get her to change. Maybe stop in a boutique once they reached Miami and buy something more suitable.

  “You know,” he said, as they crossed the parking lot toward the stately white building, “you might want to take advantage of some of the shopping and niceties of the city while we’re here. You could probably find some really nice suits and business casuals. Maybe even get your hair done.”

  It was clear from the smug smile she flashed him he’d said the wrong thing somewhere along the line. She looked as if she were chuckling about some inside joke that he wasn’t privy to. Events were not unfolding the way he’d hoped. What he’d anticipated as a long, cozy opportunity for seduction was fast becoming a jail term.

  “Do you realize this will be the first breakfast we’ve shared together since the day after our engagement party,” he said, unable to stop himself from bringing the subject up.

  Another smug smile. He could kick himself. Especially when she failed to respond. She was either totally immune to him, or dangerously tempted. He preferred to think it was the latter. It would be nice to know his hormones weren’t the only ones playing ping-pong.

  “I guess you don’t really have much use for all the corporate attire anyway,” he said. “I assume the people living in Key West wear pretty much whatever they feel like. Probably dress in shorts and bikinis most of the time.”

  She grinned. “Not entirely. Everyone does get dressed up for Hemingway Days.”

  This time, he chose not to respond. He’d seen pictures of the way people in Key West dressed for Hemingway Days. Fishnet and fins, as he recalled. Although, he’d sure as hell rather see her in fishnet right now than that god-awful dress.

  They’d crossed the parking lot now and stepped onto a long porch where tables had been set up outside and relatively few diners were seated. Maggie walked over to an empty table near the corner of the porch and took a seat. “Why don’t we just sit out here? It would be a shame to stay inside on such a beautiful day.”

  Great. So much for all those ideas he’d been having about sitting at some quiet corner table inside, where they could play footsies or something. “Fine.” He took a seat opposite her at the table. “We’ll sit outside. Just do me one favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  He couldn’t resist any longer. He walked up behind her and pulled the hair clip from her bun. Her lustrous black hair rolled down her back in a single wave. It was like watching a shampoo commercial. He itched to run his hands through it the way he used to when they were ma
king love, but settled for tucking her long bangs behind one ear. “Your hair looks so much better this way.”

  His awe lasted only a moment, however, before she spun around, ire written all over her face. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what? Are you really that upset I touched your hair?”

  “Of course you don’t get it. You could never be happy with just me. What you really want is a nice corporate version of me to go with your CEO title.”

  Her accusation hit him harder than a sucker punch. He handed her the hair clip. “Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I just like the way you look with your hair down.”

  Her lips set in a tight line. “What you want is irrelevant. I am the one who will decide how I look. Good or bad.”

  He’d heard that clipped tone before. In fact, he’d heard it quite a lot right before she’d called off their engagement and they’d parted ways. He remembered thinking at the time he should be glad she’d left. Except, he wasn’t. His life had felt empty ever since. And his bed had felt even emptier. No matter how many other women he’d put into it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did overstep my bounds, and I apologize.”

  She lifted her gaze back to his. The luster of her turquoise eyes held his attention hostage. “Thank you. I’m sure that admission didn’t come easy for you.”

  Her tone had softened only slightly, but he noticed she’d made no attempt to twist her hair back on top of her head. Was all the ire perhaps feigned for his benefit?

  He noticed a waitress standing right behind him, giving them both a skeptical look. “Did you all want something to eat?”

  He cleared his throat. Why was it all his breaches of etiquette happened when he was with Maggie? “Yes,” he told the girl, who waited with her pad of paper and pen in hand. “I’d like some coffee. Two eggs, over medium, hash browns done crisp, but not burned, bacon done the same way and wheat toast. With real butter. Maggie, honey, what would you like?”

  “Coffee. Half a grapefruit and pancakes. And feel free to use margarine if that’s all you have.”