Home at Rose Cottage (18 page)

R
ick emerged from his darkroom at 3:00 a.m., exhausted but pleased with his day’s work. The photos for Boston’s
Cityside
magazine were spectacular. Maggie was going to be over the moon when she saw them. If it wasn’t so late, he’d call her and take them over to her apartment right now, just so she could see for herself how she’d inspired him, how well they’d collaborated together on his first photo shoot that didn’t involve live models. He was as proud of these pictures as he’d been of some of his award-winning fashion layouts. It had been fun trying something new. It had been even more fun getting to know Maggie D’Angelo.

He loved that cozy little nest she’d made for herself in a loft space with its soaring ceiling. She’d filled it with sumptuous overstuffed furniture and sensuous fabrics that suited her passionate personality. They’d made some pretty spectacular fireworks in the huge bed with its satin sheets and down pillows. He got hard just thinking about it.

Not tonight, genius, he told himself. He doubted he could muster the energy to drive across town, much less act on the steamy thoughts racing through his head.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to get his fix of the woman who’d taken him to wild new places in bed, then followed up by cooking him a meal that he’d never forget. Maggie was one food writer who definitely knew her way around a test kitchen.

She also had a mouth on her that could drive a man insane. No, not like
that.
The woman had an opinion about everything. Sometimes Rick agreed with her. Often he didn’t, which made for some fairly lively pillow talk. He’d never before realized what an aphrodisiac stimulating conversation could be. It lent a lot more credence to the concept that great sex began in the head, rather than other regions of the male anatomy.

He grinned as he thought of the last heated discussion they’d had. It had led to some even more heated activity.

Damn. It had been nearly a week since he’d seen her, and his body had apparently been keeping track of every minute. He needed to get his head off Maggie and concentrate on something soothing, or he’d never get a wink of sleep tonight.

The one good thing about leading the kind of demanding life he led was that he’d trained himself to sleep anytime, anyplace. As he had for the past five nights, Rick dragged himself over to the cot he kept in the back room at his photography studio for late nights just like this and collapsed, asleep in seconds.

Unfortunately Maggie followed him straight into his dreams, which made for a restless night. As a result Rick was even more irritable when he walked into her office first thing in the morning, a large cup of her favorite latte in hand, only to discover that she’d taken off for parts unknown. “But
I’m
here,” Veronica offered a little too generously,
batting eyelashes that had about four coats of mascara too many. “Maybe I can help you.”

The last was laced with unmistakable innuendo. Rick dodged the offer. “Is it like Maggie to just disappear like this?” he asked her assistant.

“No,” Veronica admitted grudgingly. She was evidently offended that her overtures weren’t going to lead anywhere.

“Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will she be back?”

Veronica shrugged. “No idea.”

Rick fought to keep impatience out of his voice. “You didn’t speak to her?”

“She left a note. She said she’d be checking in and to contact her by email if anything urgent came up. That’s all I know.”

Since it was evident that Veronica was tapped out in the information department, Rick left the photos for the food layout with her, then went downstairs to an over-priced coffee shop for the breakfast he’d been hoping to share with Maggie.

Something about this whole vanishing act of Maggie’s struck him as totally out of character. Not that he was an expert on Maggie D’Angelo, but he’d hoped to be, and he’d already picked up quite a few clues about her way of handling things.

For one thing, she met most crises head-on. He’d reached that conclusion when she’d seized on his offer to fill in on one of her photo shoots for a friend who’d had to leave town for an emergency. He’d made his reputation as a fashion photographer, so lighting and shooting food was hardly his area of expertise, but Maggie hadn’t hesitated.

Nor had she wasted time berating his friend who’d left her in the lurch. Apparently she’d figured if Rick could click the shutter, he would do. She’d been surprisingly unimpressed with his résumé.

In fact, he recalled with amusement, she hadn’t trusted him one damn bit. She’d all but crawled all over him to get a peek through the lens to assure herself he had exactly the shot she wanted. Normally Rick would have been offended by the interference, but he’d enjoyed the close contact a little too much to object too strenuously.

So, what would make a strong, opinionated woman suddenly vanish into thin air? Fear, he concluded. He’d beat a few hasty exits himself when a relationship had gotten too hot, so he recognized the symptoms. Heaven knew, their relationship had gotten hot fast, but for once he didn’t seem to be the least bit inclined to run. That made it all the more annoying that Maggie had.

Come to think of it, though, he should have anticipated this. He’d detected hints of vulnerability in her eyes from time to time while they were together, but had never called her on them. Obviously he should have.

What the hell, he concluded as he finished his coffee. It wasn’t too late. He had a few days to kill before his next assignment, and there was nothing he liked more than the thrill of the chase. Wherever Maggie had gone, he’d find her.

Maybe this thing of theirs would burn itself out like every other relationship in his life, but a tiny part of him seemed to be clinging to the surprising hope that it wouldn’t.

Maggie sat in the backyard swing at Rose Cottage with a glass of the finest Merlot and waited for serenity to steal over her. The Chesapeake Bay was calm, the
evening balmy. She’d been here for an entire two hours and she was ready for some inner peace, dammit!

Unfortunately an image of Rick Flannery kept sneaking into her head. He had wickedly clever hands, and she could all but feel them on her skin. Despite the perfectly comfortable summer temperature, she shivered.

This simply had to stop. She was not going to become another one of Rick’s conquests. Okay, it was a little late for that. But she absolutely was not going to be one of those foolish women who thought their amazing encounters amounted to anything more than fabulous sex. She was not going to get involved with him. She was not going to get her heart broken. The tabloids were littered with the names of women he’d left behind. She had too much pride to join that list.

Normally when she had something on her mind, she retreated to the kitchen and cooked, but she couldn’t seem to summon up the energy to bother. Besides, the cottage’s air-conditioning barely stirred the air, much less cooled it. When she’d called to announce her impending arrival, Melanie had warned her that it needed to be replaced, but Maggie had waved off her concern.

“I’m used to test kitchens with a couple of ovens going full blast. I’m not worried about the heat,” she’d said. “If it gets too oppressive, I’ll check on putting in central air.”

“Really? How long are you planning on staying?” Melanie had asked cautiously.

“As long as it takes,” Maggie had replied grimly.

Unfortunately, based on the way she was feeling after just a few brief hours, she had a hunch she could be here weeks, maybe months. Inner peace seemed a long way off.

She sighed and took another sip of the excellent wine,
then glared at the Chesapeake Bay as if it were somehow responsible for not doing more to soothe her.

The sound of a car’s engine caught her ear, but she didn’t bother to move. Nor did she budge when two car doors slammed. It was bound to be Melanie and Mike and his daughter, the irrepressible Jessie. Maggie had known perfectly well that she wouldn’t be able to hide out from them.

Fortunately Melanie was the least likely of all of her sisters to pester her with intrusive questions. And Mike was a man of few words. With any luck, the only one doing much talking would be the little six-year-old chatterbox, who’d wormed her way into Maggie’s heart when Maggie had come down for the wedding just a few weeks ago.

Sure enough, it was Jessie who rounded the corner of the house first, coming at full throttle in Maggie’s direction.

“Aunt Maggie,” she hollered excitedly. “I didn’t know you was coming.” She crawled up on the swing and flung her arms around Maggie’s neck. “Did you bring me a present?”

Maggie laughed. “Of course I did. How could I possibly come to see my very favorite new niece without a present?”

“Where is it?” Jessie asked.

“Still in my suitcase, but we’ll go in and get it in a minute.”

Jessie beamed at her. “I missed you,” she said, snuggling closer. “I’m glad I got a mommy with lots and lots of sisters to be my aunts.”

Maggie sighed at the feel of the warm little body next to hers. Her sister was so damn lucky to have found a man like Mike who came with a ready-made family. There was
nothing Maggie wanted more, which probably explained her tendency to fall head over heels in love in a heartbeat. She was desperate for that elusive happy ending, but she always managed to choose precisely the wrong men to provide it. Besides, desperation was never a good way to start off a relationship. That was another tendency she needed to tame.

“So, has she wheedled a present out of you yet?” Melanie called out as she and Mike strolled in their direction.

Judging from the blush on Melanie’s cheeks, they’d stopped for a few kisses en route. After all, this place was where they’d fallen in love. They were bound to get a little nostalgic, especially in the garden that had brought them together and where they’d been married.

“I told her we’d go inside and get it in a little while,” Maggie said, giving her sister an amused grin. “Don’t pout. I brought something for you guys, too.”

“A cake?” Mike asked, his expression hopeful.

Maggie laughed, despite the sour mood she’d been in before their arrival. “Doesn’t your wife ever bake for you?”

“No, thank goodness,” he said fervently.

Jessie sat up. “She does, too,” she protested loyally. “She bakes us cookies.”

Melanie scooped Jessie up and gave her a squeeze. “Thank you, my precious angel. I haven’t burned a batch in ages and ages, have I?”

“Just the edges,” Jessie said, drawing a resigned, I-told-you-so look from her father and a protest from Melanie.

Maggie grinned. “The truth at last.” She regarded her brother-in-law with amusement. “What’s it worth to you to have me bake you a cake?”

“Depends on what kind and how good it is,” he replied. “Let’s negotiate.”

“Sour-cream cake, fudge frosting,” Maggie offered.

“I’ll stop by and water the lawn.”

Maggie shook her head. “Not good enough.”

“Neither was the cake.”

She knew what he was angling for. “If you want that triple chocolate threat cake, why don’t you go see your friend Pam?”

“She says now that I’m married, she’s not baking for me anymore,” Mike said. “Those cakes were all bribes to try to get me to date her friends.”

Melanie tucked her arm through his. “Want to go back to being single?” she inquired sweetly.

He gazed at her, his lips curving into a slow smile. “Not a chance.”

Maggie gave him a thumbs-up. “For that, you get a triple chocolate cake that will be more decadent than anything Pam ever made you.”

“I suppose you still want something in return,” he said suspiciously.

“The name of an air-conditioning contractor.”

“Deal.”

Jessie, who’d been silent for an astonishingly long time, piped up, “I want my present now, please.”

Maggie stood up and held out her hand. “Since you asked so sweetly, let’s go get it.” She glanced at her sister. “You two coming, or do you want to wait here?”

“We’ll wait here,” Melanie said, her gaze on her husband’s face as if she still couldn’t quite believe how lucky she was.

“Shall I bring you both a glass of wine? Or would you rather I stayed inside for, say, an hour?”

Melanie regarded her with a frown. “Forget it. I know
what you’re up to. Bring the wine,” she said. “Then Mike can take Jessie down by the water, and you and I can have a nice long talk.”

“Now there’s something to look forward to,” Maggie muttered sourly.

Inside, she popped open her suitcase and retrieved a brightly wrapped package. “For you,” she said, handing it to Jessie.

Her niece promptly sat on the floor and started tearing off the paper. When she saw the pink makeup case inside, she gasped. “How did you know this was what I wanted more than anything in the whole wide world?” she asked, gazing with awe at the pastel lipsticks, bottles of matching nail polish and lighted mirror.

“A little bird told me,” Maggie said. “Now, remember, it’s just for when you play dress-up.”

“I know,” Jessie said with exaggerated patience. “I can’t go out of the house looking like I’m all growed up. Daddy won’t let me.”

“Your dad just doesn’t want you to grow up too fast,” Maggie told her. “And he’s right. Life gets complicated soon enough as it is.”

Jessie regarded her with confusion. “Huh?”

“Never mind, sweet pea. Take that out and show your mom and dad. I’ll be right along with the wine.”

After Jessie had gone, though, Maggie leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. She was in no hurry to go back outside and face her sister’s questions. She doubted Ashley had filled Melanie in about Rick. Ashley would never betray a confidence, but she would rally the troops to make sure that Melanie was looking after Maggie and providing a shoulder to cry on if Maggie decided she needed it.

In addition, her presence here alone was probably
enough to alert Melanie that something wasn’t right. Maggie was a city girl through and through, and lovely as the scenery was around this part of Virginia, there was nothing close by that fit Maggie’s definition of civilization.