LITMIR.BIZ

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      There was a flare of something in his eyes. Satisfaction. And something else. “Good. Because he’s…” Matt laughed. “Don’t get me started. I can’t believe you’ve been dating him for, what is it? Six months?”

      “Five months,” she corrected him. “And we’ve never actually… dated.” At least not according to Van’s definition.

      Matt knew what she was saying. “Wow,” he said. “That’s… Wow.” He laughed. “So okay. If his being fabulous in bed wasn’t the reason you were with him… Why the hell did you go out with him more than once?”

      Maggie closed her eyes. “Because he wanted to be with me,” she told him. “Because nice men don’t exactly fall out of the sky. Because I hoped he’d grow on me. Because I want a family. I want babies. Did I tell you that Angie is pregnant?”

      She looked at him, expecting to see disbelief on Matt’s face. Angie. Pregnant. Instead, he was looking at the floor, real sadness in his eyes.

      Was it possible he still loved her?

      Maggie touched his arm. “Are you okay? I mean I know it must be a shock. Angie always swore that she’d never have kids, but…”

      Now he looked perplexed. “What did you say about Angie? I think I missed something.”

      “She and Freddy are going to have a baby,” Maggie repeated.

      “No kidding? That’s great.”

      Okay, now she was the one who was confused. If it hadn’t been the news about Angie, what had made him look so unhappy?

      “Angie’s going to be a really cool mom,” Matt said. “Although I can’t picture her changing a diaper.”

      She finished her second beer and, almost magically, another appeared. She narrowed her eyes at Matt. “Are you trying to get me too drunk to talk business? Another beer and we’ll have to play pool. I won’t be coherent.”

      “I’m trying to get you relaxed,” he admitted. “You’re wound pretty tight.”

      He slid off his seat and, standing behind her, he slipped his hands under her hair and began massaging the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

      God, it felt good. Too good. Maggie felt herself get even more tense.

      “Man, you have to loosen up. Is this what being a high-powered attorney does to you?”

      No, it was what he did to her. She closed her eyes, letting his fingers work their magic, letting herself pretend that they were in an alternate time line—one where Matt was more than just a friend.

      Matt could see Maggie’s face in the bar mirror. Under his hands, her shoulders were starting to relax. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly.

      Oh, brother. That was just too inviting. He was dying to kiss her the way he’d kissed her that morning at the audition. She’d actually commended him on his fine acting job, unaware that he hadn’t been acting at all.

      He was praying that they’d both get the leads so that he’d be able to kiss her that way again and again. And again.

      It was an odd blend of torment and delight. Delight that she could kiss him and make his heart pound and his blood rush. Torment that she could seem so unaffected by it herself.

      And, oh my God, she’d never slept with Brock.

      “We should talk about work. What time do you want to start tomorrow?” Maggie murmured, her eyes still closed.

      “What time is your dinner with Brock?” he countered.

      “We made plans to meet at six,” she said.

      “Then let’s start early,” he leaned close to her ear to say. “Eight o’clock. Let’s have breakfast together, okay?”

      It was an innocent enough suggestion, but somehow with his hands on her shoulders, his fingers caressing the bare skin of her neck, it seemed like a different sort of invitation. Maggie’s heart nearly stopped when she felt him lean forward and kiss her just below her ear.

      He spun her bar stool so that she faced him.

      He was going to kiss her. Wasn’t he? As Maggie looked up into his eyes, she only saw uncertainty. Oh, boy, she was probably looking at him as if she wanted to gobble him up, which would freak him out if he’d only intended that kiss on the neck—as sensual as it had felt—to be friendly.

      “As your lawyer,” she said, half to fill in the sudden odd silence, “I recommend that we gain access to any other papers that might be in the court’s files.”

      Matt backed off. “Other papers?” He was puzzled.

      “Your father’s will states only that you must, and I quote, ‘improve the business,’ within a three-month time period. It’s much too vague. What exactly did your father mean by ‘improve the business’?”

      “Make more money,” Matt said. “That was always the bottom line for him.”

      Maggie frowned. “I’m going to need to look at the company’s yearly financial statement, as well as the last few years’ quarterly reports. As far as we both know, Yankee Potato Chip is thriving despite the recession. I’d bet that gross profits aren’t going to vary from quarter to quarter.”

      And it wouldn’t be easy to improve a healthy business in only three months. Any action made by an increased, aggressive advertising campaign wouldn’t bring about increased sales within three months. Maggie put her chin in her hand and stared into space.

      “What are you thinking?” Matt asked.

      She looked at him. “I was just wondering what could possibly be in that codicil.”

      “What’s a codicil?”

      “It’s an addendum to a document. There was a note at the bottom of your father’s will, with your father’s signature, saying that his will has a codicil. It was dated only a few weeks before he died, but it wasn’t included in the other pages you gave me. The court has a copy. We’ll need to see it,” Maggie told him.

      “You think it’s going to be any help?” Matt asked.

      “I don’t know. There’s probably a copy of it somewhere in your office. We should go back and start looking for it.” She slid off the stool and nearly landed on the floor.

      “I’ll look for it later,” Matt told her as he caught her. “I think you’re ready for a game of pool. You want to break or should I?”

      Six

      Maggie unlocked the kitchen door and went into the house without turning on the light. She was feeling wobbly from all that beer she’d had. She normally didn’t have a single beer, let alone four. Or was it five?

      It was after midnight, and her parents had gone to bed. The house was dark, so she locked the door behind her and crept into the living room and…

      And there, on the stairs, in the glow from the streetlight, was Vanessa.

      Kissing Brock.

      She was in her nightgown.

      His jacket was off and his shirt was unbuttoned.

      And it was pretty damn obvious that he’d been with her, up in her bedroom.

      “Wow,” Maggie said. “That was fast.”

      Her sister and the man who’d asked her to marry him just a few weeks ago—never mind the fact that she was intending to tell him no tomorrow—leapt apart.

      “God,” Vanessa said. “Maggie, you scared me to death.”

      Maggie turned on the light. Brock, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed.

      Vanessa,

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