Home at Rose Cottage (29 page)

Ashley glanced past her and beamed. “Oh, look who’s here. And just in time, too,” she said cheerfully.

Maggie’s gaze shot to Melanie, who immediately crowded into the booth next to Ashley.

“The rules apply to her, too,” Maggie said, instantly suspicious that Melanie had been called in as reinforcement.

Melanie looked blank. “What rules?”

“Our sister is violating the First Amendment of the Constitution,” Ashley declared. “She is trying to limit our freedom of speech. We’re not to say another word about her relationship with Rick.”

Melanie glanced at Rick. “You okay with that?”

He grinned. “I’m loving it.”

Ashley shook her head. “And I thought all you media types were great defenders of freedom of speech, freedom of the press and so on,” she muttered.

“We are,” he said cheerfully. “As long as it doesn’t cross the line into invasion of privacy.”

Maggie slapped his hand in a high five. “Good one,” she enthused. She turned back to her sister. “Well, hotshot attorney, what do you have to say to that?”

Ashley held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “You win. We will remain silent on the previously discussed topic. For now, anyway.” She peered at the remains of their sundaes. “Those look decadent. What do you say, Melanie? Want to split one?”

“Absolutely,” Melanie said eagerly, then gave Maggie
a sly look. “As long as they’re buying. There ought to be some perks in return for our silence.”

“Deal,” Rick said at once. “Believe me, one sundae is a small price to pay for getting you two off our backs.”

Melanie got a devilish glint in her eyes. “You may not feel that way when you see what I intend to order.” She gestured toward the remains of their sundaes. “Those were nothing compared to the hot-fudge volcano Ashley and I are going to share. You in, Ashley?”

“Absolutely,” Ashley said without hesitation.

Melanie placed the order, then sat back with a smug expression that Maggie thought was the tiniest bit worrisome.

When the waitress finally arrived with the dessert, she felt her jaw drop. Even Ashley, who could consume ice cream like a champ, looked stunned. Rick simply laughed.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” he said. “Now remember what your mama no doubt taught you girls. You have to clean your plate.”

“Not in a million years,” Ashley muttered, but she gamely picked up a spoon and dug into the three-inch swirl of whipped cream that topped what must have been an entire quart of ice cream in a sea of hot fudge.

Melanie attacked the dessert from the opposite side.

Maggie turned to Rick. “I’m betting they won’t eat half of that. What do you think?”

He studied Melanie, then Ashley. “I say they’re going to scrape the bowl clean.”

“No way.”

“I’ve got a ticket to Paris for you that says they will,” he said. “They quit and you’re on your way.”

Maggie stared at him with bemusement. A trip to Paris? The man definitely played hardball. She’d always
wanted to go to Paris. Had she ever told him that or had he guessed? Now she had to put something on the line that she knew he wanted.

“I have a new state-of-the-art digital camera that says they won’t,” Maggie said. “If they do finish, it’s yours.”

She glanced across the table to see Ashley and Melanie regarding each other in some sort of silent, sisterly communication. Normally Maggie could read the two of them easily, but right now she was hard-pressed to say what they were thinking. Would they leave some ice cream in the bowl out of sisterly loyalty to her and to spite Rick? Would they see how badly she really wanted to go to Paris and quit? Or would they want to accept Rick’s challenge and eat every bite, even if it made them both sick as dogs?

Ashley chuckled. “They’ve made it interesting, haven’t they?” she said to Melanie.

“For themselves,” Melanie agreed. “What about us? What’s it worth to either of you for us to throw this game?”

Maggie frowned at her. “You’re trying to bribe us?”

“I prefer to think of it as an incentive,” Melanie replied cheerfully, even as she took another bite of the gigantic sundae.

She gave an exaggerated pat to her stomach. “Yum, this is good, but I’m getting full. How about you, Ashley?”

Ashley shot an expectant look at Rick. “I’m beginning to get a little full myself.”

He chuckled. “Okay, if I win, you get a free family portrait, Melanie.” His grin spread as he turned to Ashley. “And you get a glamour shot.”

Ashley laughed. “Okay, Melanie, dig in.”

Maggie frowned at them. “Hey, what about me, you
two? I’m your sister. Can you be bought off with a couple of snapshots?”

“Snapshots?” Rick said indignantly.

“Uh-oh,” Melanie murmured. “Eat up before it melts, Ashley. Things are about to get a little hot in here.”

“You have no idea,” Rick confirmed, frowning at Maggie. “I do not take snapshots.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Maggie taunted. “You’re the world-famous fashion photographer who built his reputation on taking pictures of pretty women. How hard can that be? The scenery’s incredible. They’re beautiful. All you really need to do is click the shutter and try not to let the camera shake, isn’t that right?”

She saw the fire in Rick’s eyes and realized she might have gone the teensiest bit too far. He leaned close, his breath whispering against her cheek. She shivered.

“Take that back,” he said.

Maggie held her ground, even though her stomach was doing somersaults. “No.”

“Take it back.”

“Or what?” she challenged.

His eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous. Maggie held her breath. Suddenly he laughed.

“God, you’re amazing,” he whispered right before he closed his mouth over hers.

Maggie went up in flames right there with her open-mouthed sisters and half the town looking on. She wove her fingers into Rick’s hair and hung on tight as the breath left her lungs and the world tilted on its axis.

“Holy kamoley,” she whispered when he finally released her.

“Ditto,” Ashley and Melanie echoed, their dripping spoons still suspended in midair.

Rick gave the two of them an amused glance. “Your ice cream’s melting.”

“Uh-huh,” Ashley said weakly.

Looking dazed, Melanie dutifully shoved another bite of sundae into her mouth. “I really need to go find Mike,” she said.

Maggie bit back a smile. “Oh, why is that? Haven’t you ever seen two people kissing before?”

“Sure,” Melanie said. “But only once like that. It was in a movie. I went looking for Mike then, too.” She stepped out of the booth. “Got to go.”

Rick frowned at her. “What about the rest of the sundae?”

“Who gives a damn about that?” Melanie said. “And if you lost the bet, it’s your own fault.”

“I agree,” Ashley said, pushing away the bowl. “I’m going home to take an icy shower.”

As they walked out of the café, Rick stared after them with a perplexed expression. “How did that go so wrong?”

Maggie laughed. “Believe me, there was nothing wrong with that kiss.”

“But up until that moment, they were going to let me win the bet, weren’t they?” Rick asked. “They were going to eat every last spoonful of that sundae.”

“That was my take on it,” Maggie agreed.

“I guess you won,” he said, not sounding all that dismayed about it.

“You’re conceding defeat just like that?”

“You won the bet. When do you want to go to Paris?”

The question totally flustered her. She didn’t want to go to the most romantic city in the world alone, and he hadn’t said a word about coming with her. “I can’t go to Paris right now. I have work to do.”

“It’s your trip. You pick a date and I’ll get the tickets.”

Ticket
s,
she noted with a little leap of her pulse. Plural. “You’re coming, too?”

He laughed. “You didn’t think I’d let you go off to meet all those sexy Frenchmen without me along, did you?”

Maggie wanted to leap from the booth and do a little victory dance, but that would be too crass. She wanted to appear cool and blasé about the whole thing.

“Let me check my calendar and get back to you,” she said. “If you’re really serious, that is.”

His gaze held hers. “Oh, I’m serious, Maggie. I want to show you Paris.”

When he looked at her like that, when he made her knees go weak, Maggie realized there was only one thing on earth that could make this whole thing better…if they were going to Paris on their honeymoon.

R
ick was struck by a thoroughly unexpected and way too beguiling image of standing in the moonlight at the foot of the Eiffel Tower with Maggie in his arms. He’d never planned a trip with a woman before. Not that he hadn’t been with women in exotic locales, but usually it was work that had taken them there and whatever romance had been on the agenda had been spontaneous. This was almost like planning…what?

A honeymoon.

The completely outrageous thought popped into his head and refused to die, even though a part of him was screaming no, no, no, so loudly he was surprised the entire restaurant couldn’t hear it. He glanced at Maggie to see if she had any idea what was going on in his head. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but she was looking a little dazed herself at the moment.

“Have you ever been to Paris?” he asked, his voice oddly choked.

She shook her head. “You?”

“Several times.”

“Then you’ll be able to show me all the sights.”

“All of them,” he agreed. But none would be more
stunning than she would be, her eyes lit up in excitement, her cheeks pink with anticipation. He wanted to book the trip right now, while they were still together. Who knew where either of them would be in a few months or even a few weeks? She could be back in Boston. He could be on assignment on the other side of the world. Parting seemed inevitable, though he was far more unhappy about it than he could ever have imagined he would be.

He met her gaze. “Let’s book this now,” he said with a sudden sense of urgency.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I have a deadline. I’m not like you. I don’t get to pick and choose when I work. I have to plan vacations.”

“You didn’t plan this one,” he reminded her.

“That’s because it’s more like a working vacation, which is why you’re doing that photo shoot for me, remember? And speaking of that, how did things go this morning?”

“Great, I think,” he said, accepting the change of subject with resignation. She obviously wasn’t going to bend on the trip, at least not now. “I’m going to try to set up a makeshift darkroom this afternoon and see what I’ve got. It’s not an ideal situation. I’d prefer to go back to my studio to do this, but I think we’ll be okay.”

The light promptly went out of Maggie’s eyes. “If you’d prefer to go back to Boston, it’s okay,” she said, sounding resigned.

At yet more evidence that she was always prepared for him to bolt on her, he brought her icy hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Stop that,” he ordered gently. “I would not prefer to go back to Boston. The only place I want to go right now is Paris, with you. Didn’t I make that clear?”

“But—”

He cut off whatever objection she was about to utter. “Think about it, Maggie. We could leave as soon as you turn the material in. There are always going to be deadlines. We’ll get back in time for you to meet the next one, or you can work up an idea in Paris. Next to art, food is one of the greatest contributions the French have made to the world.”

She regarded him with a puzzled look. “Is there some reason you’re so determined to go now?”

He tried to find a careful way to phrase it. “If we put it off, who knows what will come along to delay the trip later? We might never go.”

“In other words, we might break up.”

He hated that she’d jumped to that conclusion. It was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. “I didn’t say that,” he insisted.

“But it’s what you were thinking,” she said with obvious confidence. “Are you already planning a way to end things with me? Is the trip to Paris some sort of consolation prize?”

“No,” he said, shocked that she would interpret it like that. He searched for a more palatable explanation. “It’s just that I’m a seize-the-moment man.”

“So you like to remind me every chance you get. But aren’t you also the man who told me less than an hour ago that there’s a lot to be said for restraint and anticipation?”

“Yes, but—”

Now she cut him off. “I want to anticipate going to Paris with you, Rick. I don’t want some whirlwind trip that will start and end before I’ve even had a chance to think about it. I’ve always been way too impulsive. I’m
trying to slow things down. I need to learn to savor what’s going on in my life, not rush on to the next thing.”

To his regret, Rick saw her point. Until the last couple of weeks, he’d never spent time savoring a relationship. He’d never had one last long enough for that.

“Okay,” he relented. “Paris will just have to wait.”

“Don’t look so glum,” she chided, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “That doesn’t mean we can’t get a zillon brochures and guidebooks and spend every evening arguing over what we want to do when we get there. For instance, I’d like to take some cooking classes. I’ll bet you’d prefer to see a photography exhibit.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of big deal?” he asked, laughing despite himself. “We can do both.”

“You know what I mean,” she countered. “We’re not going to be able to do everything. We’re going to have to prioritize and compromise.”

“And take all the spontaneity out of the trip,” he guessed.

“No way,” she said, snuggling closer to him in the booth. “We can make love spontaneously whenever the mood strikes.”

He gazed down into her passion-darkened eyes. “In that case, I think I’ll book a five-star hotel with excellent room service.”

Maggie chuckled. “You can scrap that notion right now, Flannery. We’re talking about Paris. I want to see it.”

He grinned. “I’ll get a room with a view.”

She nodded, her expression suddenly thoughtful. “That could work.”

Rick’s grin spread. “How about a little of that spontaneous sex back at your place right now?”

“My sister’s there,” she reminded him with undisguised
regret. “And to be honest, I think we’ve already shocked her enough for one day.”

He sighed dramatically. “Too bad.”

“It really is,” she said. “But she’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Early, I imagine, since that case she’s so worried about starts on Monday. I’ll call you the minute she’s out the door.”

Rick didn’t want to wait a second longer than necessary. “Call me when she’s packing the car,” he replied, not even trying to hide his eagerness. “I’ll get a head start.”

“And risk one more confrontation?”

“Why not? We’ve done okay so far. Besides, Ashley’s not the kind of woman you want to get the idea that she has you running scared.”

“You understand her very well.”

“It’s not that hard. Your sister is like every other ambitious overachiever I’ve ever met. She’s totally focused and absolutely driven. She needs to learn to loosen up before that spring that’s wound so tight snaps on her.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maggie said. “She’s the one who reminded the rest of us that Rose Cottage is the ideal place to unwind. She needs to take her own advice and spend some time here. She needs an entire month at least.”

Rick chuckled. “I’ll tack a week in Italy onto our trip, if you can get her to agree to that.”

Maggie grinned. “Now you’ve made it interesting. I’ll get to work on her tonight. With all these bets you’re making lately, I could turn out to be a very expensive date.”

“I’m not worried. You can let me know how much success you had with your sister when I see you in the morning.”

“I’m very persuasive,” she told him. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“But I’m putty in your hands,” Rick retorted. “Your sister’s made of cast iron.”

“Steel,” Maggie corrected.

Rick regarded her quizzically. “Steel?”

“As in steel magnolia. Ashley may not be Southern like our mother, but she inherited that stubborn streak and willfulness. Did I ever tell you what an admirer our mother was of
Gone With the Wind?
Thus our names. I was named for the author. Jo’s the only one who escaped. Her name came from
Little Women.
We figured that was because mother saw herself as Scarlett, so she wasn’t about to name one of us that.”

Rick nodded. He could see that the steel magnolia description fit Ashley perfectly. “Then I really don’t have a thing to worry about, do I? Ashley will spend a month at Rose Cottage when we finally have scientific proof that the moon is made of green cheese.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Maggie said. “I might have a few tricks up my sleeve you don’t know about.”

“I certainly hope so,” Rick said enthusiastically. “Maybe you can show me one tomorrow.”

Maggie shook her head. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “Photography and my makeshift darkroom are calling me right now, in fact.”

“Will you have some pictures for me to look at in the morning?”

“Sure.” He winked at her. “But not till after we’ve done some catching up.”

“Catching up?” she asked, her expression innocent. “Do you think we’ll have a lot to talk about less than twenty-four hours from now?”

“Who’s going to be talking?” he asked, then tossed some cash on the table to pay for all those sundaes.

“Like I said, a one-track mind,” she commented, as she slid past him.

Rick was pretty sure the space wasn’t half as narrow as she pretended it was. She’d just wanted a chance to brush those delectable hips of hers against him. He supposed she was pleased to note that it had the desired effect. He was instantly hard as a rock.

He caught her arm and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’re playing with fire, Maggie.”

She beamed up at him, an impish gleam in her eyes. “I know. See you in the morning.”

“Or sooner.”

“Oh?”

“Who knows? It might be kind of fun to try sneaking past Ashley’s room in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Maggie warned, looking worried.

Rick laughed. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve turned it into a challenge.”

“Everything’s a challenge to you, if it suits your purpose,” she remarked, then strode off in the direction of her car.

Rick stared after her. She was right. Where she was concerned, just about everything was a challenge. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had provided him with this much entertainment.

Rick spent the afternoon in the darkroom processing film and making a few prints from some of the best negatives. The photos were good, but he still didn’t have the one shot that would take the layout from ordinary to extraordinary. He wanted something with both Sally and
Matthew in it, but so far Matthew had been stubbornly resistant to the idea.

Since he wasn’t going to be seeing Maggie, he picked up the phone and called the Kellers. “Mind if I take a drive out there this evening?” he asked Sally.

“You’d be welcome,” she said at once. “Come for supper, why don’t you? Will Maggie be with you?”

“No, her sister’s still here,” he reminded Sally. “I think they have an evening of girl talk planned.”

“Well, Matthew and I will be glad to save you from that. Drive on out now. I’ll have dinner on the table in an hour. It’s Matthew’s favorite, chicken and dumplings.”

“Sounds fabulous. I’m on my way.”

By the time he got to the farmhouse, the sun was starting to drop in the western sky, splashing the orchard with a softer light than anything he’d seen so far. He regretted leaving his camera behind. It wasn’t a mistake he would make again.

“Wish you’d stop trying to imagine the perfect picture and hurry up,” Matthew grumbled from the doorway. “A man could starve around here waiting for you.”

Rick chuckled. “I see you’re in a cheerful frame of mind.”

“Sally’s had me moving things around again. The woman thinks the furniture shouldn’t stay in the same place more than a month or two, then she gets a dang-fool notion to move it again.”

Rick regarded him with worry. “You shouldn’t be moving furniture.”

Matthew uttered a derisive snort. “Tell that to my wife.”

Rick intended to do just that. He walked into the kitchen and came to a full stop as the aroma of dinner
hit him. The chicken and dumplings were bubbling on the stove, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was an apple pie in the oven. Sally was standing at the counter whipping potatoes by hand. Her face was flushed, but she gave him a welcoming smile.

“Don’t you start in on me, young man. I heard what that man said to you, but it was Matthew’s idea to move the sofa. Said it would give him a better view of the TV without the glare from the setting sun.”

Rick turned back to Matthew. “Why didn’t you say some thing this morning? I could have moved it for you.”

“The day I can’t push an old sofa around the room is the day I lie down in my bed and die.”

“There’s no sense in being foolish, though,” Rick told him. “When help’s around, there’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of it.”

“Oh, stop fussing about the sofa, both of you,” Matthew grumbled. “If you want to worry about something, worry about Sally and her refusal to get that slippery rug away from the foot of the stairs. One of us is going to slide right out the front door one of these days, you mark my words.”

Sally gave him an impatient look. “That rug is perfectly fine. It’s been there twenty years, and neither of us have fallen yet.”

Rick looked from one to the other, expecting to find sparks of real anger about to flare into something ugly, but then Matthew walked over and pressed a hard kiss to his wife’s mouth.

“Stubborn old woman,” he said gently.

“Mule-headed old coot,” she retorted just as affectionately.

Rick bit back a sigh. So, this was what it was like to
grow old with someone, to know them so well that the taunting and bickering ended in a kiss, not a free-for-all.

He wondered if his mother, whom he hadn’t seen in years now, had ever learned that lesson. Probably not. She’d gotten too used to arguments being settled with fists and nothing he’d ever said to her or tried to do to protect her had ever been enough to get her to change the sort of relationships she had. For years it had broken his heart, but when he’d realized he couldn’t save her, he’d left home to save himself.

He glanced across the room to see Sally studying him with a worried frown.