Irresistible Attraction: Scenes of Passion / Midnight Seduction / Beyond Control. Justine Davis

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      Maggie was gone.

      He’d walked right past her—she was curled up in the middle of the bed. It wasn’t his bed, but she probably didn’t know that.

      He sighed, moving closer, but then realized she was fast asleep.

      She clutched the sheet to her chest, and her dark hair fanned out against the white pillow. He stood looking down at her, at her long, dark eyelashes that lay against her fair skin, at the smattering of freckles that ran across her cheeks and nose. She looked like the teenage girl he’d first met so many years ago.

      As a seventeen-year-old boy, he wouldn’t have been able to resist shedding his own clothes and climbing into that big bed with her.

      As a thirty-year-old man, he swore softly, then picked up the towel she’d dropped on the floor. He carried it into the bathroom and hung it up to dry, tossing the clothes he’d brought with him on the back of a chair. He covered the tub and turned off the light.

      Okay. Leave. Walk away. Go upstairs.

      Instead, he came back to look at her in the light from the hallway.

      Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed. He’d leave in a minute.

      God, he was a fool. He could have had her, made love to her. He could have been lying next to her right now, basking in the afterglow.

      But tomorrow was coming with a vengeance. And tomorrow they both would’ve had to live with the consequences.

      Maybe he could make her fall in love with him. Maybe. And wouldn’t that be nice. Then she’d be in love with someone who could make her no promises. Maggie wanted a family—babies and a husband who was going to stick around. Matt could give her no guarantees.

      But he knew what he wanted. For the first time in years, he was certain. He wanted her. After all this time, he still wanted her.

      He remembered the day more than a decade ago that he’d realized he was in love with Maggie Stanton. He’d been shocked, horrified, disbelieving. The great Matt Stone, slayer of hearts, did not fall in love. Then, as time passed and he realized that he had, indeed, succumbed, he’d had to face the fact that she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend.

      When he’d left for college, he’d partied hard, sure that now that he was away, he’d forget about Maggie. It was only a high school crush, right?

      He’d dated a long line of long-legged blondes, he’d drunk hard and had been horribly unhappy.

      Somewhere down the line, he’d stopped missing her.

      At least he thought he had.

      Matt reached out to touch her. Her skin was so smooth, so soft. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, inhale her….

      He’d leave in a minute. Really.

      But he swung his legs up onto the bed, leaning back, resting his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder, and she smiled in her sleep and snuggled against him.

      He knew then that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he put his arms around her.

      Tomorrow Maggie would wake up and find him there. And if she still wanted him in the light of morning, there’d be no holding him back, regardless of the consequences.

      Seven

      Maggie awoke to the sound of the window shade rubbing against the sill in the gentle ocean breeze.

      The room was dim, but bright sunlight seeped in around the edges of the shade. She could tell from the brightness that it was late morning, possibly even past noon.

      She stretched and her leg bumped something very solid and memories from the night before came roaring back to her.

      It was indeed Matt, lying beside her, fast asleep. His long hair was tangled around his face. He was on his side, one arm tucked under his head, his legs kicked free from the sheet. He was wearing a pair of shorts—what a relief. Maggie was hyperaware of her own lack of clothing.

      She’d tried to seduce him last night, but he’d refused.

      Her face heated. She’d thrown herself at him, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to be anything more than friends.

      So what was he doing in bed with her?

      The phone rang, suddenly, shrilly, and Matt stirred. His eyes opened and focused on her for one brief moment before he turned and picked it up from the bedside table. “Hello?” His voice was husky from sleep. He sat up, pushing his hair out of his face, swearing softly. He listened for a moment longer, than handed the phone to Maggie. “It’s your brother.”

      “Stevie?” she said, clutching the sheet to her. Her own voice was rusty sounding, and God, her head was throbbing.

      “Yo, Mags,” he said, wonder in his voice. “Are you guys still in bed?”

      “Well, sort of,” she told him. “But it’s not what—”

      “I’m very impressed. I’m also very glad I called. Mom and Dad are on their way over.”

      “Oh, God!” Her eyes met Matt’s and from the look on his face, she knew he’d heard what Stevie had said.

      “I’m going to shower,” Matt told her. “I left some clothes for you in the bathroom.”

      “They’re coming out to have a little chat, if you know what I mean,” her brother said. “Hang tough. And don’t let ’em get close enough to throw the straitjacket around you.”

      “Very funny,” Maggie said. “Stevie, thanks for calling.”

      “Anytime. Good luck. And don’t forget to practice safe sex.”

      She and Matt had had the safest kind of sex there was—none. But if he wanted to keep their relationship limited to friendship as he’d claimed last night, why was he sleeping in her bed?

      Maggie hung up the phone and went into the bathroom. She drank directly from the sink faucet, trying to rehydrate and make her head feel a little less like it was about to explode.

      She dressed quickly—her underwear was mostly dry, but everything else was still damp. She put on Matt’s clothes—which made her look like a kid playing dress-up. And her hair…

      Nothing like falling asleep with a wet head to create a noteworthy style. Her only chance at looking seminormal was to put it into a ponytail.

      She went in search of Matt who surely had a vast collection of ponytail holders.

      Following the sound of running water, she went up a huge curved staircase to the third and then the fourth floor.

      The fourth story of this old house wasn’t a full floor. There was a very small landing at the top of the stairs and a single door. Maggie knocked, but there was no answer. She tried the knob and the door swung open.

      Another door was off to СКАЧАТЬ