He wanted her in his life. Permanently.
Ian knew this was true the second time they'd made love, but the determination only grew stronger over the next several weeks. On a Tuesday morning, he punched the button for the elevator going up to his office at Brockton and made a mental note that the day marked four whole weeks he'd been granted Maggie's favors.
Not coincidentally, it was four weeks he'd made it through work. He was well aware of the strong connection between the two. If it hadn't been for Maggie, he wouldn't have lasted a day at his job. Ian's lips twitched. If it hadn't been for Maggie, he probably wouldn't have been able to go back to work at all.
Maggie was...Maggie was...
Alone in the elevator, Ian closed his eyes. He blocked out of his mind the problems sitting on his office desk, waiting to be addressed. Instead, he filled his mind with images from the last time he'd seen Maggie.
Maggie with her lips parted and her skin flushed, lying sprawled on her fake polar bear rug. Then Maggie with her hair mussed and that ratty plaid robe tied around her, slamming a plate of Egg Beaters in front of him and snapping it was his own fault if he didn't have time to eat before he had to pick up Kathy from her soccer game and Andy from the library.
But her eyes had softened and her embrace had been warm when he'd finally had to leave her last Sunday.
In the elevator, Ian opened his eyes and released a quiet sigh. Maggie was...magnificent. Indeed, he wanted their relationship made clear in bold, uncompromising language. He wanted to go to bed with her every night and wake up with her every morning. He wanted them to be partners, dammit.
Married.
Ian squeezed his fingers into fists and then forced himself to relax them. He would have brought the matter up by now, but he could sense her uncertainty. Hell, he could smell her doubts from a mile away.
Patience, Ian reminded himself. He took a deep breath. This campaign could not be won by anything else. He had to wear down her fears, erode her misgivings. Victory would eventually arrive, he was sure, because she appeared to want to be won over.
At least that's what he told himself.
The elevator slowed as it neared his floor. With well-engineered precision, it glided to a stop, and the doors slid open. Ian walked out, quelling the little ball of dread that formed in his stomach every time he went into work, even after four weeks.
Howard was waiting in his office, sprawled in one of Ian's visitor chairs. "'Morning, Ian," he yawned.
"Good morning, Howard." The unexpected presence of his boss produced another burst of apprehension, but Ian quickly dampened it. Casually, he swung his briefcase onto his desk. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Howard straightened in the chair. "Got a call this morning from Italy. God, this time difference is going to kill me."
Alarms started to ring in Ian's head. "From the architect," he guessed.
Howard nodded. "Seems Mr. Hot and Fancy has decided to make his own trip out to Kansas City, help interview for a new local architect. Only fair since Vito was the one to fire the last guy. Anyway, he wants someone there from our office."
Ian felt a chill form in his gut. He knew what Howard was going to say next. If the principal architect thought the interview process was this important, he was going to want a principal from the construction management team. "Me," Ian said, and hoped his voice didn't sound as faint as he felt.
"I sure can't go. Besides, I'm no good at holding these prima donnas' hands." Howard grinned up at Ian. "You're super good at it."
Ian knew his teeth were in a death clench. Anything to keep his panic from showing. He hadn't been on a business trip since Raleigh. Eight hours after his return from that one, he'd collapsed on the floor of this very office with a heart attack. "When does Vito want to do this?"
"Well, he muttered something about the end of this week, sounded like he meant Thursday. That'll mean lining up a bunch of appointments in Kansas City to get it all done before the weekend."
It would mean a ton of phone calls and unnecessary scrambling in order to line up interviews and get them all done in a ridiculously compressed time frame. Ian felt pressure build behind his skull. Why did they do this? Why did people take what could be do-able and straightforward, and turn it into a mad dash?
But Ian didn't say any of that, of course. Instead he murmured, "I see," and managed some facsimile of a smile. "I'll tell Eileen to make airline reservations."
Howard yawned again and nodded. "I'd appreciate that." He lurched out of Ian's visitor chair.
The chill in Ian's gut deepened. He had to go on a business trip. No, a mad scramble of a business trip. This was, he realized, a test. Was he going to be able to handle this job or not—that is, really handle it and not just fake it?
Howard turned at Ian's door and smiled. "At least the weather in Kansas City shouldn't be too crummy this time of year."
"Yeah," Ian said. At least.
~~~
"Let me make sure I have this right. You want the fishtail palm, two of the sago, and five of the umbrella sedge." Maggie looked for confirmation from the two middle-aged women who stood with their foreheads puckered, both still gazing at the array of plants Maggie had gathered on the packed dirt before them.
"That sounds right," admitted one of the women.
"Yep," the other woman had to agree.
"All right, then." Maggie bent to check the prices she'd scratched onto the sides of the containers and added it up in her head. "That'll be three hundred and sixty-seven dollars." Straightening, she brushed her hands on the back of her jeans.
"Here. You take Mastercard, right?" The first woman held out a plastic card.
"Sure. I'll go run this inside, then help you load your plants in your car." Maggie smiled as she took the credit card. It was nice to make a sale at the very end of a day, particularly as she was getting rather low on money. "Be just a minute."
The two women murmured acknowledgment and Maggie skipped off toward the sales building, the sales building where no check from Corporate Edges had arrived with the afternoon mail. But whatever mood this thought might have inspired in Maggie vanished when she saw who stood lounging against her counter.
"Ian." Her smile felt like it went through her whole body. The mere sight of him made her that happy. It didn't hurt that the sight of him was something else, sharp and handsome in his gray suit and bold-colored tie.
Ian's answering smile seemed slightly sheepish. "Hope you don't mind the surprise."
Maggie shook her head. Mind? She was like a puppy, wriggling in joy.
Ian's gaze went toward the open side of the building. "Are all those plants going in their car?"
"Oh, only about half of them." Maggie set the credit card in the machine and shoved it across for an impression. She managed to look away from Ian long enough to complete the job. "Last sale of the day."
"Tell you what." Ian began to shrug out of his suit jacket. "I'll help you load the plants if you'll have dinner with me tonight."
Maggie's eyebrows jumped. Inside, a little spark of anticipation jumped, too. "Oh?"
Ian's eyes went dark on her. "Just the two of us."
Maggie cleared her throat as she picked up the credit card receipt. They weren't usually able to get together, just the two of them, during the regular part of the week. Fact was, she'd been planning to start that yoga class tonight, attempting to do something for herself, just herself, for a change.
But if Ian could manage dinner, and whatever might happen after dinner...
"Sure," Maggie said softly. "I'd love to have dinner, just with you."
Ian tossed his jacket across her counter and grinned. It wasn't a completely lascivious grin, just lascivious enough to get Maggie's blood heating. "Lead me to my load, then."
"This way." Maggie turned. As she walked back out to the garden with Ian beside her, she felt little sparkles of happiness falling all around, like so much fairy dust. The phenomenon occurred whenever Ian was in her vicinity. She got happy, really happy.
Probably she radiated everything she was feeling, because the two middle-aged women she'd left frowning over their decision perked up when she and Ian arrived. The loading of their plants took place amid a lot of good-natured joking and laughter.
But a part of Maggie stood back from all this and watched in appalled disbelief. She was closing up the nursery ten minutes early just so she could have dinner with Ian. Not a thought was spared for the yoga class she'd planned to take, for any of the plans she'd made: her own plans, for her own life. Instead, Maggie ended up showering and changing quickly back at her house while Ian waited in her living room. She ended up rearranging her whole evening in order to accommodate this man.
"If it's all right, I had a particular place in mind to take you tonight," Ian told her as they left her house for his car.
Maggie smiled at him. "Whatever you like is fine with me."
God. Did I just say that? Did I just say 'whatever you like is fine with me?' True, she didn't really care where they went tonight, but it was the principle of the thing. She was acting like she didn't have an independent thought in her head.
Once in Ian's car, Maggie dismissed her inner voice of disapproval. This was ridiculously easy to do under the influence of Ian's strong male self handling the big car. Nor could any critical voices be heard when his hand settled on her back, warm and steady, as they walked into the restaurant. This turned out to be a place Maggie had never been, at the top of a fancy hotel in the nearby town of Santa Clarita.
"Jeez," Maggie whispered to Ian as the hostess led them past elegantly laid tables and expensive interior decorating. "I would have worn something nicer if I'd known..."
Ian bent so that his breath warmed her ear as he spoke. "You look great."
She was wearing a peasant blouse and cotton skirt, nothing to match the elegance of the hotel restaurant. The hostess stopped beside a table overlooking floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the entire Santa Clarita valley.
"Is this table all right?" The hostess directed the question toward Ian.
To his credit, Ian turned to give the question to Maggie. Was the undoubtedly best table in the place all right with her?
Maggie experienced a sudden bite of panic. It suddenly occurred to her that Ian must have called ahead to make reservations here. He'd probably specifically requested this nice table overlooking the view. A significant amount of planning had gone into this supposedly impromptu dinner.
The operative word being 'significant.'
The panic inside Maggie surged. Oh, she'd had glimpses, here and there, of what might be going on in Ian's head about their relationship. But surely he wouldn't— Not tonight, without any warning.
Meanwhile, everybody was waiting for her to pronounce judgment on the table.
"The table is fine," she managed to say. Then she pulled out a chair before anybody else had a chance to do it for her.
Smiling, the hostess handed them a couple of leather-bound menus, and left.
Ian held his menu closed. He leaned over the linen tablecloth with its solid silver tableware. "Is something wrong?"
"What? Wrong? Oh, no." Maggie opened her own menu breezily, then nearly swooned at the prices. Significant, all right.
"Maggie," Ian said.
Reluctantly, she looked up from her menu.
Ian was regarding her with real worry. "Something is wrong."
Something was wrong, all right. This was a place to—to do significant things, life-altering things, like propose that a woman set aside her own dreams and subsume her self in order to marry some man.
Maybe other women could do it, but not Maggie. She'd worked too hard for her independence, fought too many battles throughout her childhood in order to become her own woman. Oh, she knew she was in love with Ian. That was bad enough. She was in ecstasies every time he was around.
But marriage was something way beyond the dangers of love. It meant losing control of her own life.
She cleared her throat. "Uh, it's just...this place. So I'm wondering...is there something special I should know about tonight?" Like your birthday, maybe? Please, please, let it be your birthday.
Ian gazed at Maggie for what seemed like forever, but was probably only about two seconds. "No, there's nothing special," he finally said. "Except..." His gaze flicked away from her.
She watched him with her heart pounding hard in her throat. No, no. Please, no.
Ian pressed his lips together. He looked back at Maggie. "Except I won't be able to get together with you on Friday night. I have to go to Kansas City."
Maggie stared at him. Sweet relief wound through her. He had to go to Kansas City. Not a marriage proposal.
"Oh," she said aloud. "Kansas City. Of course, where that music center is going to be. When do you have to go?"
"Tomorrow night." Ian grimaced. "I've got interviews lined up all the way through Saturday. I won't be able to get home until Sunday afternoon."
"Oh." Maggie's relief segued into disappointment. Either with the kids or without them, she and Ian usually spent the whole weekend together.
"Yeah, it's a bummer. I really don't know how I'm going to deal with this part of the job. I—" Ian abruptly cut himself off, a strange expression crossing his face. "Never mind. Sorry to dump on you."
"No. No." Maggie reached across the table to lay a hand on his wrist. "Go ahead. Dump." Anything was fine, so long as it wasn't a proposal.
Ian looked away with a sigh. "It didn't used to bother me so much to leave the kids. In fact, it might even have been something of a relief to get away, but now..." He frowned downward. "Now, I don't want to become the absent parent again, particularly since Andy— Well, the two of us seem to be back to square one. I don't think it's going to help matters if I'm away from home half the time."
"No," Maggie agreed in a murmur. "I doubt that would be helpful."
Ian shrugged. "Meanwhile, I'm stuck. With the job site in Kansas City, it's a given I'm going to do a mess of traveling."
"Mm hm." As she watched anxiety etch lines in Ian's face, Maggie wondered if he was telling her everything. She wondered even harder when, with a last deep sigh, Ian smoothed the lines on his face. It was an obvious effort.
He smiled across the table at her. "I'm sure it'll work out," he claimed, "one way or another."
"Sure." Maggie smiled as he grasped her offered hand. Clearly, he wasn't ready to talk about whatever was actually bothering him. She could respect that. Boy, could she respect it. "So," she asked, and grinned. "What's good to eat here?"
"You think I've ever been here before?"
They both laughed. Indeed, Ian made sure after that to be a good companion, keeping the mood light, even festive. She ordered a nicoise salad. He had Chilean sea bass. They each had a glass of Chai tea.
Not that they tarried over dinner, however. Maggie hadn't forgotten they wouldn't be able to get together on Friday, maybe not until the weekend after that. Ian clearly hadn't forgotten this salient fact, either. He was efficient in dealing with the check and getting them back on the road toward home.
Nor did they dally once Maggie opened her front door and they were safely and privately inside.
"When is Andy expecting you back?" Maggie murmured, once Ian's lips gave her a brief moment in which to speak.
"I told him not to expect me until after he'd gone to bed." Ian took her mouth in a deeper, more serious kiss. "We can take our time."
And yet they didn't end up taking their time. Kissing and clutching, they made their way to Maggie's bedroom, where they disposed of their clothes with great rapidity.
But as Ian maneuvered Maggie onto her bed, she found herself reminded of the moment in the restaurant when anxiety had lined his face. There was something a bit frantic going on here. Something behind the determination with which he was getting her on her back, underneath him, receptive.
He was doing too good a job of seduction however for Maggie to stop and question him. She was soon a wanting puddle, her mind filled with nothing but need for him.
It was always like this, actually. She always went a little crazy toward the end. Always ended up submitting completely, like some fading damsel to her dashing knight. And it always felt...good.
This time, though, Maggie felt something in addition to the familiar climbing pleasure as Ian moved inside her. A darker emotion was working here. The emotion almost seemed like despair, as if—as if maybe he didn't think they were going to be like this again.
Maggie felt a stab of her own despair at such a thought and clutched him close. They came together in one grand paroxysm.
Maggie huffed out a breath of release and pulled him even closer. They stayed that way for a little while, locked in each other's arms, then Ian groaned, and moved his weight to one side.
Maggie blinked and her brain wavered back into focus. Something definitely was bothering Ian. Since that something had so obviously moved into their lovemaking, she now felt the right to pry.
Rolling on one elbow, she looked over at him. "Hey."
"Hey," he replied breathily.
"So." Maggie made a two-finger caress on his chest. "You want to tell me what that was about?"
Ian raised his eyebrows.
Maggie tapped her two fingers in a reprimand. "You're upset."
Ian's eyebrows lowered again. He regarded Maggie for a long time. "I'm not upset," he said at last. "At least, not with you. It's this— I don't know, Maggie."
He shifted up to lean on his own elbow. They were face to face, then, at the same level. Ian took a deep breath. "There's so much up in the air in my life, so much I can't control. See— Well— It's just I'd like at least one thing nailed down." And he gazed hard at her, as if she was supposed to know what he was talking about.
Maggie did know. Bone deep in the part of her she was trying to save, she knew exactly what he was talking about. Fear arrowed through her. He wasn't supposed to bring that up. By avoiding a discussion of it at the restaurant, he'd led her to believe all was safe. Discussing it now wasn't fair.
Maggie pulled the sheet close to herself. "Oh, I don't think—"
"Come on, Maggie." Desperation laced Ian's voice. "Let's be— You know how I feel about you. Serious. Really serious. I'm completely in love with you."
Maggie's attempt at retreat stalled. A part of her determination slipped away.
Ian took her arm. "Being in love with you, well, for someone like me that leads to only one thing." His dark eyes stared earnestly into hers. "I'd really like to marry you, Maggie."
The words froze her nascent melting. He'd done the forbidden: asked her to marry him.
The fear that jumped into her throat might not have been strictly logical, but it made perfect sense to Maggie.
Marriage. This was how her mother had ended up dominated by her father. It was how Sophia had ended up dominated by Ian himself, for that matter. The institution clearly did something to a woman. Maggie was already situated so precariously on a precipice of subservience that entering marriage would send her hurtling right off the edge. She'd utterly lose herself. It would complete a process already much too far along.
"I was supposed to take a yoga class tonight," Maggie blurted.
"What?"
"I was supposed to take a yoga class." Maggie pulled out of his grip. "But I didn't. Because I wanted to be with you, to please you."
Ian looked utterly baffled. Of course he was. He couldn't imagine that he might have impinged on her life, or that she even had one separate from him. "A yoga class," he repeated, clearly lost.
"That's right, and I didn't take it. Isn't that enough? Isn't it enough I'm that far gone?" She sat up straight. "That should be enough for you."
Staring at her, Ian, too, pushed himself to a sitting position. "Isn't it enough—? You skipped a yoga class for me?" He looked astounded. "I don't care if you skip yoga or not."
"That's exactly it." Pressure built behind Maggie's forehead. "That's the problem. You don't care. About my life. What I want to do. What I want to be. Except insofar as it affects you."
Ian was staring at her gape-mouthed. "What?" he whispered.
"You asked me to marry you, as if—as if that could possibly be in my best interest," Maggie stated.
The shock on Ian's face said that he'd never considered marrying him could be anything but in Maggie's best interest.
Maggie pulled the bed sheet tighter against her chest. "I refuse to be controlled by anybody, Ian. Not even you."
His eyes widened as he stared at her. "I'm not asking to control you."
The pressure behind Maggie's forehead got worse. "I'd like to know what you are asking, then."
He waved a hand in the air, obviously reining in his temper. "A life shared. Commitment— Dammit, Maggie, you know what I'm talking about."
Panic clogged Maggie's throat. He made it sound good, equal, like something that might actually work. Terrified she might start to believe him, she blurted, "I'll tell you what I know. I know the kind of life Sophia led."
That stopped him. Indeed, her words produced a ringing silence.
For a second or two, anyway. Then Ian's face went dark. His voice lowered to a rough whisper. "Tell me, Maggie. What kind of a life did Sophia lead?"
Maggie's throat was so tight she could barely breathe. She could feel Ian's anger, but she refused to be cowed by it. "She lived under your thumb, that's how she lived. Unable to make a single decision for herself."
Ian's lips were thin lines. "I agree with you. She was unable to make a single decision for herself. It was absolute hell for her to make decisions. So I did it for her. She depended on me for that."
Maggie stared at him, her heart pounding like a jackhammer.
Ian leaned toward her. Somehow, his voice went even rougher. "You're really reaching if you're trying to make out your sister was unhappy with me."
"I'm not," Maggie whispered past the clog in her throat. "She wasn't."
Ian's lip curled. "Easy for you to criticize, from the outside. The fact is you know nothing about it. In fact, you know nothing about having a relationship with a man at all."
Maggie's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"You accuse me of being a tyrant. I know what you're really saying. You think I'm like your father. In fact, you think every man is like your father. You can't see anything else."
Maggie stared at him, her fury rising. "I do not," she retorted. "I've had relationships with men. Plenty of them."
Ian's eyes were hard on her. "Oh, sure, you've had boyfriends—and they were 'boys,' every one of them."
Maggie gasped.
"You've never been with a man who dared to stand up to you."
Maggie could only gape at the man. The nerve!
Ian pushed off of the bed. He was naked, but that didn't seem to detract from his raw angry power. "Now I know what happens when the man you're with exhibits an ounce of self-determination. You punish him. No wonder you've always been single."
Maggie sat up very straight. "And now I know what happens when the woman you're with refuses to be pushed around." She was trembling with fury. The nerve. The nerve. "You can't handle it."
Ian hopped into his pants. He grabbed his shirt and shoved one arm through a sleeve. "I should have known," he muttered. "I should have known."
"Make that ditto for me," Maggie shot back at him. "I knew, I knew what you were all about."
Ian shrugged his other arm into his shirt. "Don't get up," he said. "I know the way to the door."
Maggie did not get up. She sat there in helpless fury as Ian swept out of the room. She was so angry she was trembling. The next moment she heard her front door open and then slam shut.
Good riddance, she thought, still trembling. Good riddance.