LITMIR.BIZ

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closed the door to her room and undressed quickly, slipping into her bathrobe.

      There was a soft knock on her door, and she opened it cautiously, not wanting to get into another discussion with her mother about the pros and cons of an October wedding.

      But it was her little brother, Stevie, who stood there, yawning, as if he had just gotten out of bed.

      “Morning,” he said, scratching his head, making his short dark hair stand up straight.

      “It’s five in the evening. Don’t tell me you slept all day.”

      “I cannot tell a lie,” Stevie said, a weak smile on his still-boyish face. “Your evening is my morning.”

      “That’s pathetic.” She softened her words with a smile.

      “I didn’t get home last night until noon,” he told her. “That is noon, as in this morning.”

      “Are you kidding? Are you grounded for the rest of your life?”

      “It was prom night.” Her brother grinned. “It was very wholesome. I went to two different after-prom parties, and there was absolutely no alcohol served at either one. I felt like one of My Three Sons. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I’m not hung over. What a bonus.”

      “How’d it go with Danielle?”

      Stevie rolled his eyes. “Great—if my goal was for her to still not realize that I’m alive.”

      “It must run in the family,” Maggie said. “I know what you mean.”

      He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t accuse the Brockster of not knowing you’re alive. He wants to marry you. What’s doing, Mag-oid? You got a boy toy on the side?”

      Maggie smacked him on the rear with her towel. “None of your business, Dr. Love. Outa my way. I need to take a shower.”

      “Be nice to me,” Stevie said. “I came here to warn you. I overheard the ’rents talking, and it sounds like Her Royal Highness, Queen Vanessa, is coming over for dinner tonight.”

      “Oh, thank God,” Maggie said. “I’ve already got an excuse. I’m having dinner out with a friend.”

      “Lucky you, you’ll miss that magic. Give a shout when you’re out of the shower.”

      As Maggie was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the doorbell rang. It was only 6:18. She’d never known Matt to be early, but he was doing an awful lot of things differently these days.

      She stood back and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Jeans and a red tank top, sandals on her feet. Who’d’ve thought she’d ever wear something this casual to a dinner meeting with her new boss?

      A boss she happened to have the screaming hots for. And that was something she couldn’t let happen. Talk about ways to destroy a friendship. And what would Angie say?

      The doorbell rang again, and she clattered down the stairs, throwing the door open.

      “Hi.” She smiled, expecting Matt.

      Brock looked back at her, his arms filled with suitcases. Vanessa stood behind him, also laden with luggage.

      Uh-oh.

      Maggie’s sister never traveled light, but seven suitcases for a two hour dinner…?

      “My arms are breaking here,” Vanessa said, and Maggie stepped back, holding the door open for them.

      Brock piled the suitcases near the stairs, smiling at Maggie. “Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice boomed in the small foyer. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me tonight.”

      “No,” Maggie said faintly. “I didn’t.”

      Stevie came down the stairs, his hair still wet from his shower. He stared from Van to Brock to the large pile of suitcases to Maggie. Uh-oh. He was thinking the same thing she was.

      Maggie’s dad came out of the den and shook hands warmly with Brock. “Glad you could join us,” he said, then turned to Maggie. “Van told us Brock was giving her a ride over tonight, so we invited him to stay for dinner.”

      “Oh.” Maggie looked back at Stevie.

      He shrugged. “I didn’t overhear that part,” he mouthed to her. “Yo, Van,” he said out loud. “You planning to change your clothes between every bite of your roast beef?”

      “I’m staying for a while.” Van’s voice sounded brittle.

      “Oh, wow.” Stevie looked at Maggie again. They both loved their sister, but it was much easier to love her when she lived under a different roof. “What, is Mitch away on business or something?”

      “Or something.”

      Uh-oh.

      The phone rang.

      “I’ll get it!” Maggie and Stevie said in unison.

      But their mother picked it up in the kitchen. “It’s for you, hon,” she called to their father.

      “I’ll take it in the den.” He disappeared down the hall.

      “Help me get this stuff upstairs,” Vanessa commanded.

      “Yes, sir!” Stevie fired off a salute as Vanessa and Brock led the way. “She’s staying for a while,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Maggie.

      “Matt’s going to be here any minute,” Maggie muttered back.

      “Matt?” Stevie was delighted. “The friend you’re having dinner with is a Matt. Oh, boy.”

      “Dinner’s almost ready,” their mother called from the kitchen.

      “I’m going out. I’ve got a business dinner,” Maggie called back, loudly enough for Brock to hear. Except he was leaning close to Vanessa, listening intently to whatever she was saying.

      “I can’t hear you with the water running!” her mother called back.

      “What are you going to do?” Stevie whispered to Maggie. “I know—you could invite him to stay for dinner, too.”

      “Bite your tongue!”

      Stevie was laughing. “It’s the only solution. You know, this evening is turning out to be much more interesting than I thought.”

      Maggie rammed Vanessa’s suitcase into the back of his leg.

      “Ouch!” he yelped.

      “Margaret!” their father shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “I want to talk to you. Now.”

      Maggie froze, looking at Stevie. Uh-oh.

      “God, what’dya do?” he asked, sotto voce.

      “I’m almost thirty years old,” she whispered back. “Why do I feel as if I’m thirteen and I’ve left the basketball out in the driveway?”

      The doorbell rang.

      Uh-oh. “I’ll get it,” Maggie called, desperately trying to sound normal as she hurried down the stairs.

      “I’ll help!” Stevie dropped Van’s suitcase and scrambled after her.

      They both nearly crashed headlong into their father, who seemed to materialize out of thin air. He had on his fighting face.

      “Maggie, that was just Bob Andersen on the phone,” he said. “He just happened to mention that you quit your job this morning!”

      “Yo, Mags! Finally makin’ that rockin’ career move?” Stevie said approvingly.

      “You did what?” Vanessa came down the stairs, followed closely by Brock.

      The doorbell rang again.

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