LITMIR.BIZ

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always been the kind to skip out on problems, not Maggie. But Jake was the last one in the world to say anything about leaving old memories behind. “How much time do we have before this hoopla?”

      “Just enough time to go home and change clothes.”

      Twenty minutes later, Maggie unlocked the door and let Jake into her home—a small, renovated apartment she’d temporarily moved into. The place was clean, with white walls and shell-colored carpet.

      Another woman might have hung a brightly colored, artsy print on the wall, put a vase of flowers on the barren fireplace mantel, but Maggie hadn’t gone to the trouble.

      What did it matter? She’d be moving to the West Coast soon and had no reason to decorate or entertain anyone.

      Jake glanced at the stark white walls. “Nice place you have.”

      “I suppose it needs a bit of color,” she said, wishing she’d put a little more effort into decorating.

      “I’m used to motels. If the place is clean, all I need is a soft bed and somewhere to hang my hat.”

      A bed. And a place to hang his hat.

      Maggie’s senses tingled, and she struggled to recognize a bit of the teenage boy she used to know. She saw only brief glimpses.

      Who was this man who would spend the weekend with her?

      This is Jake, she reminded herself. Some things didn’t change. “Come on in. I’ll show you the guest room.”

      Boots clicked upon the hardwood floors, chasing an odd sense of masculine presence over her like angel fingers strumming across harp strings.

      She led him to the spare room down the hall, and as he dropped his bag on the guest bed, a flood of sexual awareness washed over her. Where had the short, gangly teenager gone?

      “I’m wearing what I have on,” he said.

      Her eyes swept over him again. Cowboy boots, denim pants and a suede jacket were a far cry from what the other men would be wearing, but on Jake they looked great.

      He reached into his tote bag and removed a black bolo. “This is as black-tie as I get.”

      She didn’t doubt that for a minute. If he didn’t mind walking into a formal affair dressed like a rebellious cowboy, she wouldn’t complain. She actually fancied herself on his arm. “You look fine to me.”

      “I’m glad.” He slid her a lazy smile, one that made her pulse zip and skip like the stones he’d taught her how to skim across the surface of the old swimming hole.

      “Well,” she said, “I’d better get dressed. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be long.”

      But getting dressed took much longer than she’d anticipated.

      She’d wanted to look her best because El Baile Elegante was a big event, one all of her colleagues would be attending. An event at which she believed they would be watching her, checking to see if her professional demeanor would falter when Tom and Rhonda entered the banquet hall. Of course, she was nervous.

      But for some reason, knowing that Jake was in the living room, waiting to escort her to the gala, had her nerves even more on edge. Jumpy. The butterflies in her stomach had grown to an angry swarm.

      She fidgeted with her hair for ten minutes, trying to sweep it up in an elegant coiffure, but the silky strands wouldn’t stay put. She finally gave up and let it fall naturally to her shoulders. And even though she’d been putting on lipstick for years, her hands trembled and she had to reapply the lip liner three times before she was reasonably satisfied.

      Maggie stood before the bathroom mirror and sighed. She’d done the best she could, under the circumstances. Now, if she could just hurry the evening along, get it over with and go back home, she’d be okay.

      She entered the living room wearing a formal-length, black gown, with a scooped neckline in front. The other side plunged, revealing a V-shaped glimpse of her back. She had a strange urge to run down the hall and grab a wrap, something with which to cover herself, but it had been an unseasonably hot September day, and the evening promised to be humid and warm.

      “Definitely worth the wait,” Jake said. His appreciative grin complimented her in a way Tom never had. It both pleased and unnerved her further.

      “Thank you.”

      As she fingered the strapless purse in her hands, his gaze locked on to hers. “What kind of fool would leave you?”

      A part of her desperately needed to believe her ex had been a fool. “Tom Bradley, stockbroker extraordinaire.”

      “Remind me never to let him invest any of my money.”

      She smiled, grateful for the support, but too rational to believe she hadn’t erred, that she hadn’t somehow been at fault. She should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent it. “I’m sure part of the blame was mine.”

      “What part?”

      “I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “My mom couldn’t seem to make a marriage work. I didn’t have much of an example.”

      “What about TV reruns?” he asked, stepping closer. “Ward and June had a heck of a marriage.”

      Maggie laughed. That’s what she liked about Jake. He had a way of making her troubles vanish, like he had all those years ago when they’d slipped away from the ranch and gone fishing in the creek. Or when they’d sneaked out late at night and gone for a hike.

      She’d missed him, his fun-loving spirit and easy smile. “You’re right. The Cleavers had a perfect relationship. Now I realize what I did wrong.”

      He grinned in that cocky way of his, only this time more grown-up, more provocative. “What did you do wrong?”

      “I didn’t do the dishes while wearing pearls, a dress and heels.”

      “Maybe you should have skipped the dress and just worn the heels and pearls. It would have made me come home.”

      She swatted his arm and countered with a playful smile. “There’s more to a relationship than sex.”

      “My best relationships have been based on great sex. What else is there?”

      “Kids and picket fences.”

      Jake slowly shook his head. “Babies are scary.”

      “Not to Tom. About two years ago he started asking me about having a child. I wasn’t ready then. Children have very important needs, and a doctor who’s still paying off student loans doesn’t have time to spend stay-at-home, quality time with them.” She blew out a ragged breath. “Now, Rhonda Martin, another pediatrician in my office, is expecting his child.”

      “So,” Jake said, settling into a more serious tone. “What are you going to do when this evening is over? Rhonda will still be expecting a baby, and you and Tom will still be divorced.”

      Maggie unsnapped her purse and withdrew the car keys. “I’m going to start packing boxes for my move to California. A friend from medical school referred me to a respected pediatrician in Los Angeles who is retiring. I’m going to take over his practice.”

      “Atta girl.” Jake chuckled. “Moving on has always worked for me.”

      “That’s the way I see it, too,” she said, heading toward the front door. “I’ll be leaving day after tomorrow, even though I don’t start work for two more months.”

      “Why so soon?”

      “Because Rhonda and I work together and maintain a cordial business relationship at the office. For some reason, people feel inclined to invite me to share in the celebrations, parties and good wishes. And the truth is, I can’t stand the thought of receiving another invitation to a baby shower, even though I politely decline each one.”

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