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There. A shred of sanity. She gripped it tightly and made herself step backward. “We can’t,” she said. “I can’t. I need to go.”
Alex breathed out, closed his eyes briefly, then stepped back. “Of course.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the front of the apartment. Maggie followed him warily, not quite believing that he’d given up so easily. She collected her coat from the rack in the entrance hall where it was hanging next to someone’s forgotten silver wrap. When she turned back with the coat draped over her arm, Alex was standing between her and the door, in the pool of light shed by the lamp hanging over his head. In the rich light, his hair gleamed gold, but the rest of his face was shadowed as he watched her.
She lifted her gaze up to the lamp. And the mistletoe hanging over his head.
Mistletoe.
She’d been right. It was dangerous. Poison to sanity and reason.
That was the only explanation for the maddening urge to walk closer to him and kiss him again.
Mistletoe.
Madness.
Or magic.
Just one more. What can it hurt?
She licked her lips without thinking and Alex sucked in a breath. The coat fell to the floor as she closed the gap between them and slid her arms around his neck.
This time there was nothing gentle about the kiss. This time he took without hesitation, took the chance she offered with a decisive assault on her senses that made her shiver. His mouth demanded and persuaded and teased until she opened hers in return and gave him more.
Somehow they’d crossed the room so that her back pressed to the wall. Alex curled his fingers through hers and pushed her hands up and back, holding her pinned while all the time his mouth took her over and turned the air hot and her head spinning. He pressed into her, his cock hard against her, her heels putting her at just the right height for it to settle against her and send even more pleasure spiking through her.
But he didn’t do more than that. Didn’t move his hold on her to touch her, to loosen clothing and her last grip on reason. No. He just kissed her and kissed her until she was boneless and shaking and the only thing holding her up was the weight of his body against her and the warm curl of his hands in hers.
And then, just when she thought she was either going to have to beg him to just take her or go mad, he finally lifted his mouth from hers. Stepped back. Drew a hand that maybe shook slightly through his hair and straightened his tie while she stood right where she was, not entirely sure how she was still standing upright.
Her breathing and his were too fast, too loud in the room as they stared at each other.
“So,” Alex said eventually. “Not nothing.”
“No,” she agreed when she remembered how to talk. “But still a very bad idea.” She stooped, picked up her coat, and walked past him and out of the apartment before the mistletoe could make her lose her mind again.
Very early on Monday morning, Maggie decided to try again to see her dad. She wanted to hear his side of the story before she officially started work and signed a contract with the devil. Just to see if it gelled with Alex’s. See if the Saints really were in trouble. Plus, he owed her an explanation.
It was just past eight when she pulled into the drive. She’d climbed out of bed at o’dark hundred, giving up any pretense of getting more sleep. Between worrying about her dad and obsessing over kissing Alex, she had tossed and turned the last two nights. So now she had arrived with time to spare. Early enough that Tom would be up but hopefully too early for him to have gone anywhere yet. That was assuming he and Veronica were home, of course.
Well, she’d soon find out. She pressed the doorbell rather than letting herself in. Veronica didn’t look too pleased to see her when she opened the door.
“Is he here?” Maggie asked.
“He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“I’m his daughter, not a disturbance.”
She could almost see Veronica’s retort hanging in the air. But the blonde bit back her words and jerked her head toward the back of the house. “He’s with his plants.”
Ah. That explained some of the attitude. Veronica didn’t like the time Tom spent in his greenhouse with his orchids. Mostly because it was Maggie’s mom who’d loved orchids. Tom had started keeping them alive after her mom had died and had gotten sort of hooked. Not many people in the baseball world knew about his other obsession and he liked it that way. If she’d thought about it a bit harder, she should’ve guessed that he might be hiding away with the cymbidiums and lady’s slippers, doing all the crazy things orchid enthusiasts did to baby the fragile plants along. It was a good way to shut out the real world. Maggie’s mom had used it to distract herself from being a baseball widow.
Her footsteps echoed down the back hall as she headed for the yard. The house seemed very quiet. Normally when Tom was home, all the TV sets would be on, showing all the latest sports news and, because Veronica mostly insisted he keep the volume turned down, he’d have music playing as well. But today, silence.
It made the house feel almost as strange as the offices at Deacon did. Maggie’s spine tensed as she walked, trying to shake off the sense of oddness. Damn it. Couldn’t there be one place in her life that still felt normal?
The cold air slapped against her face as she ducked out the back door and half jogged, half slithered down the paved path that led to the greenhouse. It made stepping into the heated atmosphere of the greenhouse itself almost shocking. She peeled off her coat, hung it on one of the hooks near the door next to Tom’s well-worn leather Saints coat, and tucked her scarf and gloves into the pockets.
Here at least there was music, something jazzy playing softly in the background. She was never quite sure what Tom might be listening to from day to day, but in the greenhouse he usually stuck to quieter tunes, insisting the plants didn’t like the rock he often favored elsewhere.
