LITMIR.BIZ

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embrace open, only putting her arms around his neck at the very end of the musical phrase.

      When he pulled back, he didn’t immediately move away. He looked into her eyes again, and smiled.

      “Perfect!” Dan shouted. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

      Maggie finished up the song on a cloud of relief and desire.

      Al, the choreographer, was nearly as much of a slave driver as Dan Fowler. Sweat dripped off Maggie’s face as they stopped for a break.

      “One of these days,” she swore as she threw herself onto the stage next to Matt, “I’m going to be in a show that rehearses in a theater that has air-conditioning.”

      The dance they were doing was a blend of athletic street dancing and graceful jazz, with several steps reminiscent of the old dirty dancing craze thrown in. Most of the steps had no body contact—instead they had to maintain eye contact. Maggie found that almost more dizzying than when Matt actually touched her.

      Almost.

      She rolled onto her stomach and put her chin in her hand. “Matt? How well do you know Dan Fowler?”

      He turned his head to look at her. “I don’t know. Well enough. I know he’s a good director—he gets the job done, and his end result is better than average. Why?”

      She shrugged.

      “Why?” Matt asked again, his eyes narrowing. “What aren’t you telling me?”

      God, he knew her too well. “Nothing,” she said.

      “Tell me.”

      She laughed. “No.”

      “Tell me.” He rolled onto his side, head propped up on one hand. She could tell from looking at him that he wasn’t going to let this slide.

      And okay. Maybe she could actually get a rise out of him. She glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot and Matt leaned in closer as she said, “Dan asked me out.”

      He laughed. “You’re kidding.”

      Was that jealousy in his eyes, or just amusement? “No,” she said. “He asked me to have dinner with him.”

      “Dinner with Dan,” Matt mused. “Do you think he takes the time to eat anything but fast food?”

      No, it definitely wasn’t jealousy. Was it possible he really didn’t care if she had dinner with Dan…? “I’ll let you know,” she said, even though she’d turned down the director.

      Matt froze. “You’re going?”

      Okay. That was a slightly better reaction.

      “Actually—” she said, but he cut her off.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to… He’s great. He’s perfect for you, Mags. He’s honest and solid and…”

      “Oh,” Maggie said.

      “Break’s over,” Dan announced.

      Matt gave her a smile as he pulled himself to his feet.

      She’d been hoping for jealousy—not for Matt to give her and Dan his blessing.

      Eleven

      At 1:00 a.m., Matt rose stiffly from his seat at the conference table.

      He’d worked muscles in that dance rehearsal tonight that he’d forgotten he had.

      The evening had been an emotional workout, too.

      The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Dan Fowler was perfect for Maggie. The guy was honest and dependable and basically decent. Not too tactful, but that was mostly by choice, since being tactful took too much time.

      Matt also knew that Dan had a strict personal policy of never, ever dating the women from his shows. His feelings for Maggie had to be pretty intense if he was willing to break his rules to ask her out. Of course that didn’t surprise Matt at all. The surprise would have been if Dan hadn’t fallen instantly in love with her.

      If he had to handpick a guy for Maggie to become involved with, Dan would be at the top of his list. It couldn’t have turned out better if Matt had planned it.

      So here he sat, sick with jealousy, knowing without a doubt that no one, not even Dan Fowler, could love Maggie more than he did.

      But he also knew that his love for her would do her absolutely no good if he wasn’t around.

      Matt stretched, knowing that he wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Instead of lying awake in bed, he might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. He went into his father’s master bedroom—the room Maggie had fallen asleep in, that first night she spent here—and into the bath, where he uncovered the hot tub.

      He tried to be quiet as he took the stairs up to his room. There was a paperback book up there he’d started reading several nights ago. He’d finish it long before dawn, but at least he’d fill a few hours.

      He paused as he reached the landing on the third floor, looking at Maggie’s closed door. Slowly, he moved toward her room, stopping outside, staring at the doorknob, wishing for the first time in years for a beer.

      If he had a beer or two or four, he could use the alcohol as an excuse for reaching out and opening that door. Without the beer, the responsibility was all his.

      Maggie sat up in bed, her heart racing. As she listened, Matt’s footsteps faded back down the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom.

      With a sigh of frustration, she sank back in the bed. She couldn’t take much more of this.

      Then she heard him coming back down the stairs, and again, she held her breath. But he went past her door without stopping this time.

      Don’t think. Just do it.

      But even as she threw back the covers and opened her door, she couldn’t help but think.

      If she went to him, and threw herself at him again, they would probably make love.

      Still, she went down the stairs, down the hall past the dining room, past the living room, to the master bedroom. The connecting bathroom door was ajar.

      Quietly she went to the door and peeked in. Matt crouched next to the tub, dipping his fingers in to test the temperature.

      She closed her eyes and pushed the door open. “Hi,” she said, and he jumped to his feet.

      He didn’t say a word. He simply looked at her.

      Now that she was actually here, her confidence faded. She crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly aware that she was wearing only her nightgown. “I heard you going up and down the stairs,” she said. “I know you can’t sleep. I can’t, either.”

      And still he didn’t say a word, didn’t move.

      “Do you want to talk?” she asked.

      Matt shook his head, no. Jeez, she always knew just where to stand to be perfectly backlit. He could see her body through her gown, and he wanted her. Man, he wanted her. He had to get her out of here. This was just too difficult.

      “I wanted to tell you that I’m not going out with Dan,” she said, pushing her hair back behind her ear and sitting on the very edge of the wicker chair. “It would just be… too weird.”

      No, Matt knew he should say, it’s okay. Dan’s a good man. You should go. But he couldn’t make himself say it.

      Maggie rolled her eyes. “I started thinking, what if my mother calls when I’m out? If you answer the phone, what are you going to tell her? Maggie’s out on a date? She thinks we’re married.”

      “But we’re not,” Matt said tightly. He forced himself to turn away from her and instead stared sightlessly

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