There was something she wasn't telling him. Ian was sure of it.
That night in his bedroom, he pondered the matter as he lay on the floor doing his cardio exercises. Maggie definitely had a problem, but she wasn't willing to tell him what it was.
With the hard mat of the Navajo rug beneath his back, Ian wondered if Maggie's problem was really any of his business. But he discarded the scruple immediately. If he didn't know what was bothering her, he couldn't determine whether or not it was any of his business, could he?
So he had to discover her problem.
On the floor, Ian lifted one knee, then the other. The direct approach hadn't worked: simply asking. Clearly, he now needed to try something indirect. But what?
Ian rolled to a sitting position. It briefly occurred to him he'd do better to consider his own problems rather than Maggie's. He had plenty. Not only was there the matter of his health, which was still a big unknown, but also the issue of his job. On Tuesday he'd been placed on indefinite leave. Would his boss, Howard, ever want a 'known quantity' like Ian back in the office? Who could ever trust him? For heaven's sake, Ian didn't trust himself. In consequence, he hadn't a single plan for his future.
Releasing a deep breath, Ian shook such thoughts away. They were like vultures, ready to feed on the carrion that had been his previous life. He wasn't ready to let them feed. He hadn't figured out how to become a phoenix, and rise out of his own ashes. He wasn't sure he could.
No, no, no. Much better to concentrate on Maggie. She was pure challenge...and so strong. Ian could say anything, anything, and she'd be able to handle it. Not like Sophia—precious, but delicate—Sophia.
Ian climbed to his feet. The vigorous exercises had him panting, which felt good. Still panting, he walked into the bathroom and took down the plastic container for his meds. He fished out the appropriate pills, too preoccupied to remark his resemblance to a feeble old man with his multitude of medications. No, he was concentrated on Maggie, wondering how to proceed, where to find the best 'in.'
Maggie. As long as he kept his focus there, he wouldn't have to think about himself.
Thank God for Maggie.
~~~
Maggie's weird attraction to Ian did not disappear overnight. If anything, the ripples in her equanimity grew worse than ever as she drove them both to the nursery on Friday morning.
Thankfully, Ian kept to himself most of Friday, busy trying to get Maggie's new computer to function. But late in the afternoon, he came out of the building. From a distance he stood and watched Maggie work with a customer. No doubt he assumed that because he wasn't interrupting, he wasn't disturbing a sale.
Fat chance. Maggie sensed the minute he came out the door. It was as if she'd suddenly grown know-where-he-is organs. The whole time she was trying to help Mrs. Blumenthal figure out if her flowering plum tree would look better with dwarf mountain flax or Martin's tea trees, Maggie's focus was actually on Ian. Even without looking, she knew he lounged against the side of the building, his hands in his pockets, watching her with a faint smile.
It was no big surprise when Mrs. Blumenthal left without buying a thing. Maggie had done little to help the poor woman make up her mind.
As soon as he saw Maggie's customer leave, Ian pushed off of the building. "Gotta minute?" His faint smile had grown wide.
How had Maggie spent so many years ignorant of the radiant power of Ian's smile? Somehow, she produced a smile of her own in response. Meanwhile, one of her hands jumped up and nervously pulled a curl of hair behind her ear. "Uh, sure, Ian. What's up?"
He gestured with his head. "This way."
Maggie followed him back into the building.
Once there, Ian booted up her computer with a flourish. He insisted Maggie sit in the old desk chair in front of it while he leaned over her, pushing keys and showing her how the computer could now print, access the Internet, and send faxes. Maggie could barely pay attention to his breezy instructions. Every cell in her body was aware of his masculine bulk looming behind her.
"Great, Ian." She tried to infuse her voice with an emotion appropriate to the occasion. "I didn't think you could, but you certainly managed to pull it all together."
He straightened from his position bending over her shoulder.
Maggie started to relax. He wasn't quite so close any more.
"Hey," Ian said. "I think this calls for a celebration."
"What?" Her heart took a sideways leap as Ian moved around to face her. She met his eyes and could barely think. "Uh...celebrate?"
He laughed, apparently oblivious to her inner chaos and perched his hip on the side of her desk. "I didn't want to tell you how close I came to giving up. And, yeah, I know dinner and the kids'll be waiting. But how about...a cup of fancy coffee? Or, wait, you like those chai teas, don't you?"
Maggie blinked. He knew she liked chai tea? Ian had paid that much attention? "Chai tea," she said, blankly. "Sure."
Ian grinned.
He could be nice, Maggie noticed. Considerate. Ian.
At the café, he opened the door for her. Once inside, he put a hand on her arm to ask where she'd like to sit. Asking, not telling. And his hand, so very there on her arm. She could feel the healthy heat of it and sense his underlying strength.
But I don't go for strength, the whole macho bit, Maggie reminded herself. She couldn't deny, though, that at least her body was going for it. The blood was rushing through her veins.
"Um, how about over there?" She pointed to a small, wrought-iron table in the center of the café.
Ian hesitated a fraction of a second, just long enough to tell Maggie he'd noticed she'd picked a table with considerably less privacy than the number available in more comfortable nooks and window crannies. But he didn't argue. "Okay." Still holding her arm, he led the way over.
Very considerate, Maggie thought. One might almost say...sensitive.
She did a mental head shake. 'Sensitive' and 'Ian' were two words she wasn't used to putting together in the same sentence.
He pulled out her chair, an antiquated courtesy she decided not to complain about for it meant he let go of her arm. Meanwhile, she forced her shoulders to relax and her breathing to even. Ian hadn't figured out her infatuation problem last night. He wouldn't figure it out now—that is, if she could calm herself down.
"So. Shall I get you a chai tea, or do you want something else?" He paused above her.
"Oh, a tea will be fine."
But he didn't immediately leave for the counter to order her tea. "You're okay, right?"
Maggie blinked up at him, alarmed. "I'm fine."
Thank God: his answering smile was relieved, a bit sheepish...and entirely credulous. "Okay. I'll be right back."
Maggie's heart beat very fast as she watched him stride purposefully toward the counter. This whole business was awful and ridiculous. She was nervous—with Ian. But only because he'd been behaving so very unlike Ian, or at least the Ian she used to know.
Maybe that meant this weird infatuation wouldn't last. As the shock of his heart attack faded, Ian's confidence—and arrogance—would return. His whole unlikable personality would return.
When that happened, Maggie wouldn't like him any more. There was no way she'd remain attracted to a man who behaved like her father.
But in the meantime, there had to be something she could do to attenuate this insanity. For heaven's sake, she was staring in fascination at his broad shoulders as he stood at the counter to give their order.
She shifted her gaze ever so casually when he turned to head back to their table, as if he were no more interesting to her than the vase of silk flowers centered on the tabletop.
"Our drinks should be up soon." Ian settled in the chair across from her. "Not exactly champagne, but..."
Looking up, Maggie rolled her eyes. "But taking over twenty-four hours to set up a computer system doesn't exactly merit champagne."
Ian lifted a shoulder. "Which is why we're about to drink tea and a decaf cappuccino." He smiled.
Relaxing a little, Maggie chuckled in response.
"You know, I hadn't thought to ask." Ian lightly tapped the tabletop. "Has this little deal of ours been messing up your social life?"
Maggie's relaxation vanished like an ice cube in hell. "Excuse me?"
Ian smiled crookedly. "Sorry. I didn't bring that up as a fishing expedition but more as an apology. It didn't even occur to me I might be, oh, I don't know...poaching?"
"Poaching?" The term was so antediluvian it took Maggie a moment to understand. Her eyes widened. "Since no man could own me, you could hardly be 'poaching.'"
"No, of course not. Right." Ian's eyes flicked away. "But it's a fact I've been monopolizing your time. So I just wanted to say I'm sorry if that's...made things difficult for you."
Maggie narrowed her eyes and regarded Ian closely. He appeared to be sincere. "There's no difficulty. I'm not seeing anybody."
"Ah." His gaze returned to hers. "Not, uh—pardon me if I have the name wrong. I'm trying to remember what the kids told me. Wasn't there a Paul?"
"Paul and I parted company a while ago." Paul had wanted to get married. Fond as Maggie had been of the kind-hearted veterinarian, she couldn't imagine marrying him. To be accurate, she couldn't imagine tying herself to any one particular person. She led her own independent life.
"Ah," Ian said again, looking at her.
"What?"
A corner of his mouth rose. "It occurs to me we're both a couple of date-less singles."
Maggie raised a brow. "Speak for yourself."
"Oh." Ian's head tilted. "Then you are seeing somebody, after all."
"No."
"But—?"
Maggie tossed her head. "I don't discuss my status in terms of a man. Whether I'm dating one or not. It's degrading."
"Hey, wait a minute. Aren't we discussing my status in the same way, whether I'm dating a woman or not?"
"Uh." He almost had her on that one. Maggie had to think quickly. "It's—it's not the same thing. Anyway, you aren't really single. You're a widower."
Something flickered in his eyes. "Ah."
"The fact you've been married," Maggie persisted, "makes it different."
He paused. "I'm not sure I'm following your argument."
Maggie waved a hand. How had she gotten into this mess? "You pledged yourself to someone. So you're not single, you're...encumbered."
Laughing, Ian agreed, "You can say that again."
Maggie scowled. "I'm not talking about the kids."
"No?" Ian looked inquisitive. "Then what do you mean?"
With a sigh, she looked away, trying to think. The subject of dating and encumbrances made her head whirl—but it was also a perfect opportunity to throw some distance between them. "You...had a relationship with my sister." Yes, yes! Remember that! "A long-term relationship. A committed relationship. A relationship that would still be going on right now this very minute if she hadn't been killed."
Silence fell over the table. Ian watched Maggie with a very dark, intent gaze. "Yes," he said softly. "That's true."
Maggie made herself look at him, made herself look into his eyes. She wanted to see his feelings for Sophia there. She wanted to remind herself he'd been Sophia's husband, he'd belonged to her.
And Sophia, sweet and submissive, had belonged to him, in a way Maggie would never want to belong to a man.
Ian gazed straight into Maggie's eyes. There she saw the emotion she'd been expecting, grief and love. But the sight acted on Maggie in a way she had not expected. Instead of feeling distance yawn between them, instead of feeling all the old walls rise again, she felt the remaining obstructions between them start falling until she was zooming right into the center of him.
He had loved her sister, just as she had. Well, okay, he'd loved her in a different way, a possibly not-so-great way, but still he'd loved her, and this was something they shared.
"You have a point," he went on, in the same calm, soft tone. "I have been married. It does make a difference."
Yes, it made a difference, but not the kind on which Maggie'd been counting. She was falling deeper, going under. He'd loved her sister. This fact didn't separate them but rather brought them together.
Ian leaned over the little table. "You're right. I am 'encumbered.' There isn't a day that goes by I don't remember I'm not married any more and why not. There isn't a day goes by I don't think about Sophia and wonder..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head.
"Wonder how things would have been, if only...?" Maggie finished for him.
With a wry smile, Ian leaned back. "Not any big surprise I'm still single and without a date, huh?"
With her own smile, Maggie shook her head, then stopped smiling when she realized what he'd just admitted. There'd been no other woman in his life since Sophia.
Still smiling, Ian asked, "So what's your excuse?"
Maggie blinked. "Pardon me?"
"Why aren't you involved with anybody?"
Maggie's mouth opened. Since she'd probed his situation, it made sense he'd probe hers, but she still felt flustered. "I thought I explained that." She cleared her throat. "I don't require a man to complete my life."
Ian laughed. "No, but you might require one for some other purpose."
Blood rushed traitorously to her face. Oh! If he only knew. Rattled, she blurted, "Why...I could say the same about you!"
Ian's laughter died. But he was still smiling as he murmured, "Touché."
Looking into his eyes then felt like going under the influence of a drug. He was thinking about the same forbidden subject she was. Never had Maggie been so aware of his animal presence: the potential of his well-formed lips and the strength with which his jaw might move.
A heavy heat built under her skin and she jerked her gaze away. "Say, I'll bet those are our drinks sitting on the counter." She spoke a little too fast. "You sit this time. I'll go get them."
Maggie didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that Ian actually let her go get the drinks. She didn't like to think he might have become as discombobulated as herself by that conversation.
One of them acting crazy was quite enough.
~~~
Ian felt dazed as he accompanied Maggie through the café's parking lot back to his car. It couldn't be the coffee making him feel this way, it had been decaf. Clearly then, it had been the conversation.
"I guess we're not going to be too late," Maggie mumbled, fishing in her purse for Ian's keys.
As they'd spent barely twenty minutes in the café, Ian didn't think this statement bore discussion. But what a twenty minutes. He felt as though the huge burden he'd been carrying for the past three years had just been lifted.
Amazing. Simply talking about Sophia's death had made him feel...so much better.
Perhaps he should have talked about it before now. But would the conversation have had the same effect?
Ian tilted his head and regarded Maggie, now having found his keys and sticking the appropriate one into the driver's side door. To be honest, he didn't think he could have talked about Sophia with anyone but Maggie. Or at least it wouldn't have been as helpful. Being Sophia's sister, Maggie understood, and she was strong, strong enough to take hearing some heavy-duty angst.
Maggie opened the car door and reached in to unlock the other doors. "Hope Mrs. Granby isn't going to be pissed off."
Ian paused before opening the passenger door. Over the roof of the Cherokee, he told Maggie, "We don't have to worry about Mrs. Granby."
"Hm?" Maggie tossed her purse into the car.
"We don't have to worry about Mrs. Granby," Ian repeated. "She isn't there."
Maggie's head came up. "What?"
Inwardly, Ian grimaced. He supposed he should have warned her about this before they stopped for tea and coffee. "Basically, Mrs. Granby quit."
"What?"
"Uh, let's get in the car." Preferring to discuss the matter in private, Ian opened his car door and climbed in.
Maggie scrambled in, too, and fixed her gaze on Ian. "What happened with Mrs. Granby?"
"Well, there was more to the conversation than you heard yesterday when I told her she didn't have to come. In fact, she was relieved and asked me if I really needed her altogether. Seems she had an offer for a full-time position, babysitting—as she called it—a 'real child.'" Ian paused. "A two-year-old."
Maggie was giving him the wide-eyed stare she'd been giving him a lot lately. "So...you're letting Andy babysit?"
Ian released a deep sigh. "Kind of a passive surrender to circumstances, but...I started to see your point about Andy, especially after he babysat with no problem yesterday. I have to let go a little. Trust him more. He is getting older and, well, I suppose I've been having trouble acknowledging that fact." He sucked in his lips. "It's a scary sort of thing to acknowledge."
Maggie simply stared at him.
Too much, Ian thought. He'd given her too much of his angst this time. This time she was going to tell him to handle his own emotional problems.
"Ian." She cleared her throat. "That's..."
He winced. "Long overdue?"
Her sober expression turned into a laugh. "I was going to say 'very mature of you,' but 'overdue' covers it just as well."
Ian felt himself relax. Maggie could handle a confidence of his here or there, an admission of weakness. She was tough. "No one can accuse you of lacking honesty," he told her.
Oddly, her smile froze. "Um, I try." Turning, she switched on the ignition. It was almost as if she wanted the powerful hum of the Cherokee's motor to put a pause to any more talk.
Ian frowned and replayed the conversation. She only tried to be honest? What could be preventing full honesty?
His eyebrows shot up. Her problem, whatever it was, the one she wouldn't tell him about.
Ian slid a glance across the car at her. She had her perky profile turned so she could back up the car, her auburn curls falling down her back. Since he'd been occupied today in setting up her computer, he hadn't been able to devote full attention to discovering what troubled Maggie.
Her face swiveled forward again and her work-roughened hand shoved the gearshift into forward.
Ian felt one corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. Correction. He had discovered at least one thing her trouble was not. A man. The other corner of his mouth twitched upward as he recalled the look on her face when he'd suggested a man might have, after all, some use to her. A chuckle threatened to rumble up from his chest. Priceless.
Ah, Maggie. She was her own kind of treasure.
Ian's amused smile took a long while to fade. His determination to figure out what was bothering her, however, correspondingly expanded. He owed her big-time. Besides, he was not yet ready to stare his own problems in the face. Who knew if he'd ever be ready for that?
Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he'd take steps to find out if the source of Maggie's trouble was financial.
~~~
"You have an adult taking care of you," Maggie told Ian the next morning. "You don't have to come with me to the nursery today."
"What?" Ian glanced over his shoulder toward his study, where Jake, the father of Kathy's friend, was already puttering around with Ian's computer and apparently waiting for him. To Maggie's eye, Ian seemed vaguely bewildered, as if the situation weren't perfectly clear.
Maggie would go into work while Ian stayed home and entertained Jake.
"Andy can't complain you're alone," she clarified.
"Oh." Ian nodded. "That. Right." He sucked in his lips. "But don't you—?"
"I don't need anything." Except to avoid being alone with him. Since the previous evening and their heart-to-heart talk in the café, Maggie had decided this was imperative. Their intimate conversation had caused her insanity to bleed over from the physical into the emotional realm.
But it wasn't going any further than that. In fact, if she could make it through the weekend without any more private talks with Ian, she could stop this thing in its tracks. On Monday morning Ian had his one-week post-procedure appointment with his cardiologist. His restrictions would be lifted, and Maggie could go home. Once it sank in for Ian that he wasn't going to die, he'd revert to type. Maggie's whole stupid infatuation would disappear.
"See you later." Waving, Maggie went out the door.
On Sunday morning it wasn't as easy, however. Over the breakfast table, Andy threw a fit.
"What do you mean you're going to the nursery today?" he demanded when Maggie casually mentioned as much over her tea.
"Of course I'm going to the nursery." Maggie tried to project calm determination in the face of Andy's red-faced anxiety. She lifted her cup for another sip. "Just like I went yesterday. I have to be open on the weekend. That's when most of my customers come in."
"But— But—" Andy spluttered.
Ian looked amused. "But—who's going to take care of me?"
Maggie flashed him a frustrated glance. "Nobody needs to take care of you. Tomorrow, just a few hours away, you'll be able to drive and everything—once you see your doctor."
A strange expression crossed Ian's face, almost fear.
Surely he would be allowed to drive and everything after seeing his doctor, Maggie thought, suddenly considering the matter. But just in case, she added, "Anyway, you aren't alone today. You have both Andy and Kathy with you."
Ian scrunched his lips to one side while Andy turned even redder.
"Not me," he argued. "You can't count on me to be the responsible one."
"And I'm much too young," Kathy piped up, then shook her head as if she'd temporarily gotten lost. "Never mind. Nothing's going to happen to Dad. He's fine now. Don't you remember, Andy? They fixed him up at the hospital."
Andy threw his sister a dark look. "They did their best to fix him." He seemed to will Kathy to understand, without spelling it out for her.
Still wondering about that fleeting expression on Ian's face, Maggie lowered her cup of tea slowly. "Look, Andy, the whole bit about your father not driving was just a precaution, exactly like we already explained to you. And once even that precaution is lifted, it means the doctor considers your father to be as healthy as anybody else."
But even as she spoke, she wondered. Would it mean that? Was being able to drive a litmus test for general health?
Meanwhile, Ian sat playing with a piece of dry toast and not helping at all. Surely he didn't particularly want to get dragged out to her nursery today if he didn't have to.
Or did he also think he needed adult supervision? Had he not been feeling well? Was he worried about the result of his doctor's appointment?
Feeling less certain now, Maggie nonetheless struggled to hold onto her argument. "Your father doesn't need a babysitter, Andy. Any more than you do."
Andy pressed his lips together. "Okay. All right. But—that's after tomorrow. After he sees the doctor." Andy lifted his chin. "Until then, he needs someone with him, someone adult."
Ian looked up then, gazing at his son with clear admiration. Or was it relief?
Oh, dear. Perhaps he truly wasn't feeling a hundred percent. Maybe Ian himself was worried about being left alone?
"Oh, all right," Maggie gave in. She felt a dagger of fear at the idea of anything happening to Ian. "But if I have to watch your father, then you and Kathy will have to help run the store."
"No problem," Andy said, visibly relaxing.
"That'll be fun!" Kathy agreed and licked muffin sugar from her fingers. "When are we leaving?" For some reason, she looked at her father for an answer.
To his credit, Ian passed the ball to Maggie. "That's up to you. When should we leave?" He smiled.
Maggie was pretty sure it was a smile of relief. "Just as soon as everyone's finished breakfast," she said, addressing the whole family sitting at the table. Perhaps it was for the best that Ian spend one more day at the nursery, she decided, if he were still feeling shaky.
It was pure coincidence that her decision also meant she got to spend one more day with him. It didn't mean she actually wanted additional time with the man. Of course not. She wasn't self-destructive.
~~~
"Ian, you stay in the building here and help Kathy man the register." Maggie sounded like she meant business. "I'm going outside." Her lips pursed. "With Andy. Who's going to help me spread fertilizer."
"Sure, sure." Ian had no idea why she was making such a big deal out of who would be where or why she was sticking Andy with fertilizer duty. For his part, he intended to fiddle with her new bookkeeping application. He only had this one day now to confirm that it was something financial bugging her. Yesterday while at home with his friend Jake, he'd puzzled over the matter and decided finances had to be Maggie's secret issue.
"I like the register," Kathy said and plopped onto the stool behind the outdated machine.
"Good, good," Maggie muttered. With one final, odd glance toward Ian, she left the building to meet Andy outside.
"I don't know why Aunt Maggie is so annoyed." Kathy gazed after her.
"Me, either." Ian settled into Maggie's old office chair. But he was about to find out.
As Maggie's bookkeeping program booted up, he leaned forward, scanning the data. Oh, it occurred to him he might be overstepping the bounds in looking through the nursery's accounting, but he had a powerful hunch it wasn't privacy that prevented Maggie from confiding in him but pride and, perhaps, embarrassment.
In any case, if she was in trouble, he intended to do something about it.
This would have been true even if it weren't so much easier to concentrate on Maggie's problems than his own. He was deeply grateful to her for the past week. But it was a fact he couldn't steer close to any of his own problems. They'd overwhelm him if he let them into his brain. Tomorrow he had his first post-procedure doctor's appointment. That alone sent the old fingers of dread into him. What if the angioplasty hadn't fixed his problem, after all?
But even if his heart appeared to be recovering, he wouldn't rest easy. How could he ever consider himself the same as before: strong and reliable? How could he feel sure he wouldn't collapse again, probably at the exact moment everyone was most counting on him.
With a frown, Ian pushed the whole subject out of his mind. Slitting his eyes, he began scrolling through Maggie's financial data: back one month, two, six.
It didn't take long before he could feel himself relaxing.
To make matters even better, he noticed from the corner of his eye Kathy pull a dog-eared paperback from her backpack. His daughter was actually reading.
Smiling, Ian scrolled back yet another month in Maggie's finances. He could hear her outside, instructing Andy about fertilizer.
Oh, tomorrow—with all his problems—would come, but he'd figure out how to deal with that...tomorrow.