Can't Stop Loving You (24 page)

“Thank you, Daddy, for coming all this way for me.”

“It's not every day our little girl makes history.” Her dad's arms, warm and reassuring, enveloped her. “How could we not share it with you?”

She hugged him back. “I love you.”

She stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant waving as her friends and family climbed into cabs and headed to their hotels.

And then it was just her and Brawley.

The night echoed around them. Taxis, horns, and sirens. Neon signs. Jostling people. A full moon directly above the spire of the Empire State Building.

“Brawley—”

“Maggie—”

They laughed.

“Go ahead. Ladies first.”

“I really am glad you came today. Thank you for that and the lilacs and for my little scissors.” She patted her purse where she'd tucked the charm safely away.

“You're welcome. For everything.”

He reached for her hand, and she took his, aware of the energy radiating off him. His warmth seeped through her. This man did things to her insides that no one else ever had.

“Here's the thing, Mags. I'm wondering if you and I could hang up the gloves for a day.”

“But—”

“Today was good.”

Confused, she said, “Yes, it was.”

“I'd like to spend a day as
unguarded
friends. Friends who don't have to weigh everything they say before they say it for fear of offending, of stepping on toes.” He tipped his head and studied her.

“We've been doing that a long time, haven't we?”

“Yes, ma'am. And I generally end up having my head bitten off and handed to me on a silver platter.”

“Have I really been that bad?”

“You've had your moments.”

She laughed. “Yes, I guess I have.” She laced their fingers.

“I'm thinking I could skip my conference tomorrow.”

Her brow arched. “Like you did today?”

He chuckled and raised her hand to his lips.

She wondered if real women actually swooned. At this moment, she considered it a strong possibility.

“Yeah, like I did today. I'll skip my conference
another
day. Let's do New York, Maggie. Let's play tourist. The two of us. We can ride one of those double-decker buses, take the ferry to Staten Island, climb the Statue of Liberty, and eat pizza in Times Square. Let's do it all.”

After a stunned heartbeat, she said, “I'd like that. I never did get my play day. Not even when Mom was here. Zandra and I already decided we'd indulge ourselves. Take a day off to chill, then hit it hard again.”

Without warning, he kissed her, long and deep.

Rattled, she fought for equilibrium. “Um, will you, ah, pick me up?”

“Yep.”

“Bring food…and coffee.”

He nodded, then hailed a cab for her. When it pulled to the curb, he opened her door, helped her in, then walked off down the street, whistling.

Maggie waved as they passed him.

She had a date tomorrow. With her urban cowboy.

T
rue to his word, Brawley showed up at her door the next morning with coffee and a bag of fresh bagels. Dressed in jeans, a crisp blue shirt with cuffs rolled up to show off his strong forearms, and his signature dark glasses, he made her awfully glad she was the one seeing the town with him today.

He could have commanded a fortune as a male model.

He held up the bag. “You have a toaster, don't you?”

“I sure do.”

She led him inside.

He let out a slow whistle. “This is nice, Red. Really nice.”

“I love it. My first place.”

He moved around her apartment, taking in the layout and décor. Stepping to the sofa table, he studied the photos she'd arranged there.

He picked up one of him and her with Ty's boys. “When was this?”

She felt foolish and wished she'd put it away before he came. “Sophie took it. The day Trouble got into, well, trouble…with the rattler.”

“That could have turned out badly. We got lucky.” He set it down. “This is your first home alone, isn't it?” he said. “You've been with your folks or Pops.”

“Pathetic, huh?”

“No. Unselfish. I understand why you went to Lone Tree instead of moving out on your own. You're a good person, Maggie Sullivan.”

Heat flared over her face. “Don't paint any halos on me.”

“Oh, no!” He laughed. “I'd never do that. You're far from angelic.”

She punched both him and the button on the toaster.

They sat in her tiny kitchen and ate breakfast, talked about their agenda for the day. Brawley cleaned up while she fetched her purse and shoes.

She'd decided on black capris and a black-and-white geometric top. If they intended to crawl all over the city, dark seemed her best option.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then let's get this show on the road.”

An hour later, hands raised overhead, the wind blowing her hair, Maggie enjoyed the sights from the top of a double-decker sightseeing bus. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so carefree. Beside her, Brawley grinned, whipped out a camera, and took a picture of her.

She groaned. “Lose that thing.”

“No way. I'm a tourist.”

She snorted.

True to his word, Brawley bought tickets for the ferry to Liberty Island and climbed all three hundred fifty-four steps with her.

“Bet you're glad you wore sneakers today, huh?” He glanced down at her feet. “Sure do love those legs in heels, though.”

“So not practical for today.”

They stood side-by-side taking in the view from inside Lady Liberty. When his arm slid around her waist and he drew her close, she laid her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply. He smelled so good. So Brawley.

“I like the easy way you slide between mile-high stilettos and cowboy boots, Red. It keeps things interesting. I'm never sure which woman is going to show up.”

“I hadn't thought about it.”

“I have.” They stood another moment, enjoying the closeness. His lips close to her ear, he asked, “Ready to head down?”

She nodded.

On the ferry, headed back to the mainland, Brawley leaned against the rail and watched as the colossal statue grew smaller. “Three-hundred-and-fifty copper pieces shipped in two-hundred-and-fourteen crates. Now that's what I'd call some assembly required. A parent's Christmas Eve nightmare.”

“And batteries not included.” Maggie grinned. “You know what surprised me most? That the copper surface is only two pennies thick. That's pretty amazing.”

“Yet there she stands, guarding our harbor.” He laid a hand on his stomach. “I'm hungry. Time for lunch.”

They took a cab to Times Square to find Brawley's pizza.

She fed him a piece of pepperoni from hers. When his lips closed over her fingers, she caught her breath. “Brawley—”

“Maggie?”

Clearing her throat, she started to remind him they were friends today. Period. But the words stuck, wouldn't pop free. She shook her head.

“Forget what you were going to say?”

“Something like that.”

He hand fed her a bite of his sausage pizza. “Having fun?”

“I am, yes. I'm having a great time.” She planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Is there anywhere you're not at home, Brawley?”

His forehead creased. “That's a strange question.”

Carelessly, she shrugged one shoulder. “You always seem so at ease. So comfortable with who you are.”

He smiled. “I'm happiest when I'm riding a horse in the Texas hills. I'm probably most at home in the clinic working with my animals. But, yeah, I'm okay with all this, too. I like cities and what they have to offer. I enjoyed my time in Dallas.”

“You looked good yesterday.”

“So did you.” His voice deepened. “What do you say we grab a couple tickets for one of the off-Broadway shows?”

They did. They laughed, she cried, and when it was over, Brawley saw her home, then, after a
very
friendly kiss, he left to go back to his hotel.

She stood in the center of the sidewalk and watched his taxi weave through the traffic. Today had been wonderful. She'd rediscovered the Brawley she'd grown up with, an older, easier version of the boy she'd fallen in love with. She missed him already, and wasn't that a kick in the pants?

Heading inside, she told herself to get used to it. This was her new reality. It included more perks than she deserved, but it didn't include Brawley.

Well, she'd take a shower, change into her pajamas, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would be busy. She hoped. Owen had texted her several times during the day, and sales appeared to be through the roof.

She'd just turned on the shower when her phone pinged. She opened Brawley's text.

My last night in NYC, Mags. Flying out in the morning. Miss me?

She did. Her fingers flew over the keys.

Dinner at 8. My place. Unless you have other plans.

She hit send and waited. Nothing. No response.

Disappointed, knowing it was for the best, she took a quick shower, then sat down at her computer. She scanned the orders flooding in. Owen was right. The collection was a hit. Bigger than she'd ever imagined.

Yet her heart was heavy. How pathetic!

Her phone beeped.

Missed your message earlier. Am I still welcome?

You bet.

She raced into the kitchen. What would she feed him? She opened one of the containers of leftovers from the other night and sniffed it. Probably not.

A mad dash to the corner deli netted everything she needed.

Brawley showed up right at eight.

“Hungry?” she asked when he walked in.

“Yeah. But not for food.” He leaned in, kissed her neck. “Maggie, sweetheart, I need you.”

“Dinner can wait.” She moved into his arms, met his lips.

They fell onto the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs.

Panting, laughing, she pulled back. “I have a bed.”

“How far away is it?” he breathed.

By the time they made it to her room, Brawley had both their shirts unbuttoned. He picked her up and gently placed her on the bed, then knelt and very slowly removed her shoes. His hand ran over each foot, a finger gliding over the arch, making her moan. His lips followed, and she thought she'd die.

Oh, he'd been good in high school. But since then? He'd undoubtedly earned a doctorate in the art of lovemaking.

One side of his mouth kicked up in a wicked grin. “Margaret Emmalee Sullivan, I want you to the point of aching. I want you in every way possible.”

He lowered himself to her, melding his body lengthwise to hers, pressing her into the bed. His hand slid between their bodies and peeled her top from her, his knuckles grazing her breasts.

And then he kissed her. Kissed her till she was drowning in it.

She met him and demanded more.

“It's been so long, Mags.” He breathed the words into her ear.

“I know.”

He laced their fingers, stretching their arms overhead, exposing her body to him. His breathing ragged, he said, “Now.”

Maggie nearly cried when he entered her, when they became one again after all the years. Then she simply quit thinking and welcomed Brawley home.

Spent, they lay together amidst the rumpled bedding.

“I don't think I can move,” he finally said.

“Me, either. My bones have melted.”

“That good, huh?”

“Don't start crowing.”

“Wouldn't think of it.” He patted her bare bottom and rested his chin on the top of her head. “God, you smell good.”

“I'd like to return that compliment.”

“No, you don't. Men aren't supposed to smell good. We're supposed to smell manly. Like rawhide. Like—”

“Like you've been working out in the sun all day? That's good, too,” she snuggled into him. “I have to ask. Did you make a stop at Arnold's before you left Maverick Junction?”

She felt the soundless laughter travel through his body.

“For condoms?”

She nodded.

“I haven't bought them there in the last ten years or so.”

“How many boys do you think have visited that gas station before date night?” Maggie asked.

“More than you want to know.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “I have another in my wallet. Want to take it for a ride?”

“Oh, yes. Please.”

Maggie had never had any man focus on her the way Brawley did, as though
her
pleasure, not his, was the ultimate goal. Yet a tiny doubt niggled at the back of her mind. No matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn't go away.

“Brawley, what's going on here? Between us.”

“What do you mean?”

She tried to slide away, to put a little distance between them, but he threw an arm around her waist and drew her back. The feel of him against her did crazy things to her, but she fought to stay focused.

“Tell me this isn't some kind of game for you. Some bet you've made with yourself.” He stiffened beside her, but she continued. “It's been a long time since we were together like this. A lot of years have passed. Why now?”

“You wouldn't give me the time of day before, Maggie. If you recall, I've tried. More than once. It was you who held back.”

She wanted to argue that, but honesty wouldn't let her. He had indeed held out the olive branch before, and she'd taken her clippers to it. Still…

“How many serious relationships have you had?” she asked.

“Besides you?”

“Besides me.”

“None.”

Skeptical, she asked, “How many women have you given a drawer in your house? A key.”

“None.”

“Really?” She turned her head to study him, realized that put their lips too close together. She moved slightly to stare up at the ceiling.

“How about you?” His breath tickled her ear.

“It hasn't fit. I've lived with either my parents or Pops. No overnighters at my place.” She shrugged. “I've had a couple flings. You'd know all about those.”

“So we're both virgins.”

“Virgins?” She almost choked on the word. “After what we just did? I don't think—”

“Virgins when it comes to serious.”

“To living with someone, yes.”

“I was your serious, wasn't I?” he asked.

Reluctantly she nodded. “My one and only. So what? We both win a blue ribbon?”

“Ohh, a little prickly.”

“No, I'm just—I don't want to get hurt again.”

“Understood.”

After a minute, she said, “You know, when you came into the shop screaming at me—”

“Shouting.”

“What?”

“Men don't scream. We shout.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Grant me patience.”

He chuckled.

“So,” she started again. “When you came into my boutique
shouting
at me, I was furious.”

“You wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't communicate. It had been way too long.”

“Well, that sure woke me up. It gave my customers plenty to talk about, too.”

“I am sorry about that, but I probably wouldn't do it any differently even if I could. I was pissed that you hadn't shared your big news with me.”

They lay together in the darkened apartment, listening to the night sounds.

“I really do have to go back tomorrow, Mags.” Brawley brushed aside a strand of hair and kissed her neck. “Doc Gibson and Phyllis are taking care of things at the clinic, and my mom and dad are babysitting Marvin.”

“I still cannot believe you named that dog Marvin.”

“It's a good name.”

“If you say so.”

“Actually, I named him after Lee Marvin.”

When she stared blankly at him, he said, “You know. The actor. Now talk about a manly man. Marvin played Kid Shelleen, a legendary gunfighter in
Cat Ballou
,
and
Tim Strawn, the hired killer Kid's supposed to off. Double role. The hero and the villain both. It won him the Academy Award for best actor.”

“
Cat Ballou
?”

“Yeah. 1965. I love that movie.”

“You're weird, Brawley.” She sighed. “I'm sorry you have to go, but I understand.”

“And I know you have to stay.”

She nodded and stretched. “So tell me again about this conference you flew here to attend. The one you skipped out on to come to my showing…and play tourist.”

The streetlight outside her window slanted its muted glow across the bed, and she saw color wash over his face. “There wasn't any conference was there?”