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what? Nick didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't get her out of his mind.
He couldn't believe he'd only known her for three days, because it seemed like she'd been with him
forever. She occupied his thoughts, filled his senses. No matter where he was, he had only to close his
eyes to see into the emerald-green depths of her gaze, had only to breathe deep to catch her sultry,
earthy scent.
Feeling a bit like a sappy romantic, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the tissue with her
lipstick kiss. He folded it into a near perfect square, then absently rubbed it over his lips.
For days, he'd ached to touch her, hold her close, feel her body crushed against his. Their kiss after his
party had tempted him almost beyond belief. But tonight, dear God, tonight had nearly been his undoing,
and all they had done was dance.
All they had done? He groaned, leaning back against the firm cushions and staring at the ceiling. No,
no, no. To the casual eye, perhaps they'd only swayed in the rain, but Nick knew better. Somehow,
they'd danced with Deenie's fairies, and they'd shared something magical. A something that Nick wanted
to explore, even as he wanted to run from it.
With a drowsy murmur, she stirred on the couch, stretching out like his cat, then curling back up as she
snuggled against a pillow, her toes just grazing his thigh.
Nick froze. Or perhaps he melted. Either way, he forced himself to remain perfectly still as the electric
current her touch generated flowed through him, thrilled him. Aroused him.
He fisted his hands, sure that if he didn't, they would move of their own accord to caress her legs. Even
though she now wore his sweatpants, rolled over five times at the waist, the image of her well-formed
calves shoved its way into his mind.
He'd known that letting her into his house would be a mistake, and he'd been right. By welcoming her
into his home, he'd let her into his heart. And, God help him, he didn't know what to do now. Except fight
to keep his head on straight, and his hands to himself.
She shifted again, rolling onto her belly, the friction of her feet against him sending waves of lust roiling
though him. When she finished adjusting, she snuggled back against her pillow, her hair mussed, a tiny
smile gracing her lips. Her toes now dangled between his legs. Her ankles caressed the curve of his thigh.
And right there, so close he had only to move his hand, the perfect curve of her rear tormented him.
Only when he gulped in air did he realize he'd been holding his breath. Knowing he was playing with
fire, but unable to help it, he reached for her. His hand grazed the fleece, barely touching, but Nick was
sure he could feel the warmth from her body. He longed to be consumed by that heat. Her heat.
Like the box did Pandora, Maggie tormented him. He longed to touch her, stroke her. More than
anything, he wanted to hear her whisper in his ear Nicholas and know that he'd brought her to the
heights of passion. But this all was a box he just couldn't open.
With a little yawn, Maggie woke, her head turning as her eyes sought his, delight evident in her deep
green gaze. She nibbled on her lower lip, and then her mouth curved into a smile. "Do I look funny?"
Nick laughed. "Hardly. You look beautiful."
Her forehead crinkled as she frowned. Then she rolled over and swung her feet to the ground, reaching
for a hand mirror Deena had left on the coffee table.
"You're sure? I really don't look funny?" Maggie asked again, peering into the hand mirror.
Funny was the last word Nick would use to describe her. Beautiful, exotic, wild. But not funny.
She ran the edge of her finger under her eye and scowled at her reflection. "I'm all smeared."
"Well, I'm no expert, but you're not supposed to sleep in makeup." He couldn't hide the amusement
that laced his voice. She was right she was smeared. But even with eyeliner spread under her eyes, she
looked amazing.
"I fell asleep watching you."
Nick laughed. "Now there's a rousing endorsement for my potential as a fun date." He regretted the
words the instant they left his mouth. No way should he be thinking about her as a date.
"Are you fun?"
Nick sighed, shrugging off the question. The sad truth was, he hadn't thought about fun in a long, long
while. Hadn't had time for it. What little fun he'd had in the last year or so he'd stolen from his sister, or
from Hoop. Except for one or two working jaunts to London or Paris, his last real vacation had been five
years ago, and even then, he'd insisted that the hotel set him up in a suite with a computer and a fax
machine.
So no, the Nick Goodman who'd framed his kindergarten diploma, the Nick Goodman who used to
play on the Barristers softball team, the Nick Goodman who at one time had actually sung in a karaoke
bar that Nick didn't hang much around these parts anymore.
But that wasn't something he wanted to admit to Maggie.
"Nicholas?" When he looked up, she continued. "Thanks for coming home tonight."
"Where else would I go?"
"Early, I mean."
"What makes you think tonight was early for me?" It's not like she knew him well enough to know his
habits, and, Lord knew, he hoped his idiosyncrasies weren't that transparent.
"Nothing, Nicholas," she said, but her mouth twitched as if she had a secret. "It's just a ... um . . .
hunch. I would trade money that you usually don't come home until very late."
What was she talking about? "Trade money?"
"That's wrong?"
"That's bizarre." Inspiration struck. "You'd bet. Is that what you mean?"
Grinning, she bounced a little on the sofa cushion, clearly delighted that he'd understood her. "Yes. I'd
bet."
"Well, you'd win that bet." That's for sure. Nick was probably the one person in Los Angeles who
thought the traffic was a breeze. Even on the 101, there just weren't that many cars on the road when he
usually went home.
"That's what I mean. Thank you for coming home early." She leaned forward, her hands and knees on
the sofa cushions. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she crawled forward until she was right beside him.
Then she laid down, her cheek pressing into his thigh, the back of her head tucked against his hip.
Somehow, he managed not to jump simply from her touch, but every cell in his body ignited. Forget
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