She smiled sweetly. “Could you help me take them to the basement?”
The man grunted and followed her. It took a dozen trips, but they were finally stacked safely out of sight.
“I really appreciate it.” She signed the man’s screen and gave him a generous tip.
No sooner had he driven off than the cable guy turned up. With a sigh, she briefed him on the job, then took him upstairs to the master suite.
As she hurried back along the landing to the stairs, the doorbell rang again. Who could that be now?
Her foot had just hit the top step when Jake opened the front door to reveal his visitor.
Tall and slim. Long, straight, glossy blond hair. A skintight cropped T-shirt with the Ice Cats logo stretched across her impressive chest. Skinny-leg black jeans tucked into black suede boots with three-inch heels and gleaming silver buckles.
Instantly, Maggie felt like a frump. Her lip curled at her own modest cotton blouse, her practical khaki chinos and her demure white flats.
“Hey, Bad Boy.” The husky voice floated through the air like a caress. “Longest shutout streak by a goaltender?”
Jake grinned and opened his arms. “If it isn’t the queen of the puck bunnies. Looking good, babe.”
With a throaty laugh, the leggy beauty planted a smacker on his lips.
Maggie wanted to crack Jake over the head with one of his hockey sticks. Only minutes ago, he’d been kissing her.
How could she compete with perfect looks, a perfect body and an intimate knowledge of hockey? She couldn’t. What’s more, she didn’t want to. She’d played that game with Lee and look at the price she had paid—her own identity, Emily’s safety. The cost was far too high. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Answer the damn question, Bad Boy, or pay the penalty.”
Maggie didn’t stick around to see what kind of penalty the too-bloody-perfect blonde would extract. She headed back upstairs in search of her daughter.
So much for thinking Jake was different. He may not be abusive, but he was as untrustworthy as Lee when it came to women.
Time to leave. This job was finished.
Emily came without any fuss, excited over the promise of a trip to her favorite pizza parlor. Somehow, they avoided bumping into Jake and the blonde on the way out.
Jake rang as they were being seated at the restaurant but she didn’t answer. When she saw his name on the caller ID, she turned her phone off.
Maggie stewed about what had happened all through the pizza dinner and into the long dark hours of the night. By 3:00 a.m., she’d stopped feeling sorry for herself. After all, Jake had kissed her. Had wanted her.
By 4:00 a.m., she’d worked out how to move forward. She resolved to give the new Maggie a new look. Time to dress like the person she wanted to be.
Long past time.
She finally fell asleep planning her first shoe-shopping trip.
And dreamed of Jake. Delicious, erotic dreams, beyond anything she’d experienced. Dreams that ended just short of fulfillment.
Maggie woke at seven, aching with need and determined to know the truth, even if it wasn’t favorable. With trembling fingers, she switched her phone back on.
A dozen voice mails from Jake.
“Where are you?” His deep voice washed over her like a caress. The sexy undertone throbbed with the memory of their kiss, stoking the flames of her already heated blood. “Why’d you leave without saying goodbye? We had unfinished...business.”
With each successive message, his tone grew more concerned, until he asked, “Did something happen? Are you okay?”
By the time he left the final message, he sounded bewildered. “Whenever you get this, call me. Please.”
She flicked her phone shut. After a few minutes, she replayed his messages. He didn’t sound like a man who’d casually tossed her aside for a better offer. Had she misunderstood the incident with the blonde? Had she, once again, judged Jake by Lee’s low standards?
There was only one way to find out for sure.
She opened her phone and dialed.
Jake took a while to answer. “Maggie?” His voice sounded husky with sleep.
She got straight to the point. “What’s a puck bunny?”
* * *
WHAT THE HELL kind of a question was that?
Jake shook his head, trying to jar his tired brain awake. “I’m sorry. I’m still half asleep.” He yawned, then sat up. “Are you okay? I was worried.”
“What’s a puck bunny?” she repeated, ignoring his question.
“Um...a hockey groupie.”
“I see.” Her tone was knowing, disappointed.
Her jerk of an ex had probably screwed around with soccer groupies. Damn it.
“You saw me with Jenny. Tall, skinny blonde in a Cats T-shirt.”