Passion and Peril. Suzanne Brockmann

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СКАЧАТЬ he said. “Really? That’s kind of scary.”

      Maggie laughed. “So what kind of business are you in these days?”

      “The inheritance business,” he told her. “Can you meet me tonight for dinner? I’m going to ask you to do me a giant favor and I’d rather not do it over the phone. I need the opportunity to use visuals—you know, so I can properly grovel.”

      He did sound exactly the same. “How giant is this favor?”

      “It’s about twenty-five million dollars giant.”

      Maggie choked. “What?”

      “I really want to wait and talk to you about this in person,” Matt said. “How about if I pick you up at six-thirty?”

      Maggie looked at that new stack of files on her desk. “Let’s make it later. I’m going to be here for a while, and I was hoping to hit the health club tonight. I want to go to a class that ends at eight. Is that too late?”

      “That’s right. Tonight’s that dance class you like to take. I’ve seen you over there, you know.”

      “You’re kidding. You saw me at the club and you didn’t bother to say hello?” Maggie couldn’t believe it. “Thanks a million.”

      “You didn’t see me?” he asked.

      “If I had, I would’ve said hi. Jeez, Matt.”

      He laughed. “It makes sense that you wouldn’t recognize me. I’ve put on some weight.”

      “Really?” Maggie tried to picture Matt carrying an extra fifty pounds around his waist. Oh, dear. He was probably balding, too. No doubt it was his cosmic punishment for being too gleamingly handsome as a seventeen-year-old.

      “Look, why don’t we meet at the club?” he asked. “We can get something healthy to eat in the café.”

      Maggie snorted. “Yeah—since when do you eat anything healthy, Mr. Cheese Fries?”

      Matt laughed. “I’ll see you a little after eight.”

      * * *

      THANKS TO THE files on her desk, Maggie missed the dance class. It was eight-fifteen before she pulled into the health club parking lot.

      And there he was. Her jungle man. Hanging out right by the door, leaning against the wall. Dressed in jeans and that white T-shirt, just like in her fantasy.

      Only this was real.

      He was just standing there, as if he were waiting for her. And she was going to have to rush right past him, because she’d already kept Matt waiting.

      Boy, she hated being late.

      But as she moved toward him, the jungle man pushed himself up and off the wall. His hair was down around his shoulders, shiny and clean. His shoulders and chest were unbelievably broad, and the muscles in his arms actually strained against the sleeves of his T-shirt.

      His face was twice as handsome as she’d imagined—although the twilight still made it hard to see him clearly.

      He smiled as she drew closer, and she realized that his cheekbones were indeed a work of art. And his chin and his smile with those gracefully shaped lips, and those golden-brown eyes that were—oh, my God!—Matthew’s eyes...

      Maggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been completely speechless. But she sure as hell was speechless now.

      Matthew.

      Her fantasy jungle man was actually her old buddy Matthew.

      He’d put on some weight, all right, but it was all solid muscle.

      “Hey, Mags,” he said—Matt’s voice coming out of this stranger’s mouth. He was laughing at her. He knew damn well that she’d noticed him in the club but hadn’t recognized him.

      Come on, Maggie. You’re an actor. Act.

      “Hey, Matt,” she said, her voice coming out perfectly matter-of-fact. “I’m sorry I’m running late.”

      “That’s all right,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re here. You look great, by the way.”

      “I still look fourteen,” she told him. “You look great. God, Matt, I’ve seen you around here for days, but I didn’t know it was you.”

      “Yeah, well, I’ve changed a lot,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious.

      Maggie had to look away, suddenly uncomfortable with this new man-size Matthew Stone. Somehow, she’d been expecting the kid she’d known in high school. This man was not only taller and broader, but he’d also lost the nervous energy that had ruled the teen. Young Matt had never sat still for longer than a few minutes, hopping from chair to chair around the room, smoking one cigarette after another.

      This man exuded a quiet strength, a steadfast calmness. And that was really why she hadn’t recognized him—never mind the long hair and muscular body.

      Matt smiled at her, not one of his old devil-may-care grins, but a gentle smile of genuine pleasure.

      “I really missed you,” he said.

      “I missed you, too,” she told him. “But right now I have to visit the ladies’ room. It’s a long drive from New Haven at this time of night.”

      “No problem. I’ll go up to the café. Want me to order you something?”

      “Yeah, thanks,” she said as he held the door open for her. That was a new one, too. Matt—holding a door? “Will you get me a salad?”

      “Italian dressing on the side,” they both said at the same time.

      Matt grinned. “Some things never change.”

      Chapter Three

      WHEN MAGGIE WALKED into the café, Matthew was standing at the juice bar, talking to three healthy, young college girls. What was it that he’d said? Some things never change.

      He turned as if he’d felt her eyes on him and quickly excused himself. Coming toward her, a smile lit his handsome face. “Hey.”

      Their food had already come out, and he pulled her by the hand to a table. And held her chair for her.

      She looked up at him as she sat, half expecting him to pull it out from underneath her, so he could laugh as she hit the floor.

      But he just smiled at her, and sat down. Behind a huge salad and a plate of steamed vegetables. The hamburger kid was eating vegetables.

      “Before we get down to talking about twenty-five-million-dollar favors,” Maggie said, “I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to this past decade.”

      And where was the beer? Even at seventeen, Matthew Stone never sat down to eat dinner without a cigarette СКАЧАТЬ