Truth or Dare (20 page)

Maggie let out a short laugh, but all too quickly her attention pulled back to Ty. And the way he rested one hand over the top of his head as he watched, causing the fabric of his New York Knicks T-shirt to shape to his shoulder and biceps and pull up just enough to flash a half-inch of bare flesh above his jeans.

She swallowed and tried to look away, but gave up completely when his left hand met his right atop his head and,
wow,
was that bit of black a peek at his underwear?

She knew how he looked in that underwear and nothing else. Knew what he looked like stripping it off.

Good.

Her gaze drifted lower to the hug of dark denim over his thighs. God, this guy had the best legs.

A just-friend wouldn’t be looking.

And back up to the topographical extravaganza of his fly. Those jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination. And it wasn’t even like they were tight.

Look. Away.

She meant to. She really did. Knew she should. Because if she didn’t, Tyler was going to notice. Or someone else would.

“Maggie?”

And there it was. Tyler’s low rebuke.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

She forced herself to meet his eyes and do the only thing she could.

Offer a sheepish look that said,
Yes, I was doing exactly what it looked like. SORRY
.

And because it was Ty, the look she got back was all kinds of,
Oh really—liked what you saw, did you?

The answer was one gigantic resounding yes. But because that wasn’t how it was between them anymore, Maggie fell back on old habits and forced an unimpressed shrug, pulling a face she only hoped backed it up. One that might have been easier to sell if Ava hadn’t taken that moment to look up from her task and remark, “Maggie, you’re all red.”

Ty turned all the way around then, stuffing his hands into his front pockets and doing that thing with his shoulders and arms that made his muscles stand out, his jeans sat low enough they ought to have required an R rating, and her mind go stupid.

“Yeah, Maggie,” he asked, the wry twist to his lips saying he knew exactly what dirty train her thoughts had boarded. “Are you
all hot
or something?”

Oh no he didn’t.

And with the whatcha-gonna-d
o-about-it grin, too?

Well, they’d see about that.

“I just remembered a dream I had last night,” she lied, meeting Ty’s eyes for a beat before adding, “A
dirty
dream.”

Two weeks before the guys would have been all over that, mercilessly teasing them about their hook-up. But after a few days, they’d lost their zest for it. Probably because Tyler seemed totally unaffected by the jibes and there was no sign of an encore on the horizon.

Sam didn’t bother looking up from Ford’s project. “Sweetheart, you should have called and I would have made those dreams a reality.”

Ava let out a snort. “They selling vibrators on QVC now, Sam?”

Ty’s gaze went momentarily unfocused, then slid slowly down Maggie’s body as one corner of his mouth slid up. “Dirty, huh?”

Seeing the way he was looking at her, with all that smug satisfaction, she really couldn’t help herself.

“
Really
dirty.” She bit her lip, going for a shy seductress vibe. “Ford, you were
amazing.
”

“I am
so
sorry,” Maggie said for at least the thirtieth time since they’d rolled into the ER ten minutes before, Ford’s hand wrapped tight in a bloody dish towel.

She was about as close to tears as Ty had ever seen her.

Served her right for that bullshit.

Dirty dreaming about Ford, his ass.

And now the guy had a two-inch gash down his palm from where he’d lost control of his screwdriver.

Ava came back from the front desk with a stack of papers in hand and a guilty smile that kept twitching at the corners of her mouth, even when she seemed to be trying to hide it.

His gaze shifted back to Maggie, who was still apologizing to Ford, swearing up and down it wasn’t true. That she wasn’t working her way through the guys in her group of friends because they were safer to scratch an itch with than the men from her dating pool.

Apparently appeased, Ford nodded, then slung an arm around her shoulder for a very brief hug before resuming the cradling thing with his hand.

What a bunch of lunatics. And his favorite one was at the center of them all.

Maggie.

Shit.
Sliding back into an exclusively friendly arrangement wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.

Hell, he knew he’d be looking at her in ways he shouldn’t for a while. But what he’d been banking on was Maggie not having a similar issue.

He’d expected it to be easier for her.

Only every time he caught her eyes lingering on him, felt the burn of her stare in places he shouldn’t, it took everything he had not to take her in his arms, back her into some quiet space, and do all the things he knew she liked best.

And they’d
agreed
that couldn’t happen.

So it wouldn’t.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ty pushed to his feet. “Guys, I’m taking a walk.”

So now Maggie knew what a guy who’d taken a shovel to his face looked like. At least the corner edge of a shovel. He looked bloody. Really bloody. With a gaping wound beneath his eye that made Ford’s look like a paper cut.
Cripes.

It had been a little over an hour since they’d arrived. On the way in, Sam had run into an extremely attractive redheaded cardiac surgeon he knew from somewhere and, promising to catch up with them in the waiting room, headed off with her. Tyler had checked in a couple of times, but didn’t seem inclined to stick around, especially after they took Ford back to the exam room and Ava followed along.

Maggie had been sitting alone ever since. Stewing in guilt and shame.

This was her fault. If she’d just been able to keep her eyes to herself, they wouldn’t be here. The only injury Ford would have suffered was a ding to his pride when his little sister trounced him in furniture assembly.

Her head dropped back as she took a deep breath.

What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t. That was the sum of it. She’d gotten a pair of low-slung denims in her eyes and all mental function of a non-flirt variety ceased completely. She needed to get ahold of herself.

Because her friendship with Tyler meant something to her. And she didn’t want to lose it over some series of ill-timed libido-sourced seizures she couldn’t seem to control.

Eyes closed, Maggie felt someone settle into the chair beside her. She wanted it to be Tyler, ready to break the ice and de-awkward the situation between them. Or maybe even Sam, because hearing about his doctor friend would be a decent distraction. But the voice at her ear told her it wasn’t either.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

She opened one eye to confirm her suspicions, and then smiled.

That’s right: Hot Doc was back in town.

“You planning to quit?” she asked, relieved for the break from her thoughts. “Because I don’t have a whole lot of control over my friends damaging themselves.”

Sure enough, as soon as the words left her mouth, she winced, looking down at her hands. “Except for today. Because this one was my fault.”

Leo chuckled in the seat beside her. “Getting into trouble again,
hmm.
Gotta admit, I do like that about you.”

Some guy in scrubs was chatting Maggie up, looking at her like she was just exactly the kind of coffee break he’d been hoping for. Hot Doc.

It had to be.

He looked…neat. Hair combed, with an expensive cut. No gut Tyler could see. No creepy staring or pompous attitude.

He looked
nice.

Like Ford almost, but downsized.

Even sitting, Tyler could see the guy wasn’t quite as tall. Or broad.

Though Ford was on the lean side, he still carried a set of shoulders on him this guy didn’t have. But what the doctor lacked in build, he made up for in a focus Tyler had only ever seen Ford exhibit when he was scribbling notes for one of the games he designed. And that focus was all about Maggie.

From where he was standing, he could only see a sliver of her face. But she looked relaxed, her posture suggesting she wasn’t in any hurry to lose the guy. Okay, her posture wasn’t suggesting anything, really.

Only then she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in that unconsciously sexy way she had, and his gut knotted—because sure enough, the doctor’s eyes were all over that shit. Watching her ear like he was thinking about touching it himself. Wondering if all that silky blond was as soft as it looked.

It was.

A hard clap on his shoulder pulled Tyler out of his foray into laughably unjustified jealousy, as Sam hauled him across the waiting room to the woman he couldn’t seem to stop watching and the doctor who wanted a piece of her.

“You okay with this, Three?” he asked, surprising Tyler with the question.

“Oh yeah.”
Screw that,
but it’s what a guy had to say. Especially when it was his life preventing even the possibility of more. “Completely fine.”

“Cool. Try to look like it.” Coming up to Maggie and the doctor, Sam stuck out his hand. “The infamous Hot Doc?”

The doctor arched a brow at Maggie. “Hot Doc, huh?”

Ty’s stomach soured. Like this guy needed his ego fluffed.

Maggie’s cheeks turned the same shade of pink they’d been for him a few hours before.

“Sorry,” she said, not willing to meet anyone’s eyes, though suddenly, more than freaking anything Ty wanted her to look into his. “It’s a nickname from when you treated Ava.”

Sam chimed in. “They’re big on nicknames. But most of them aren’t quite so flattering, if you know what I mean.”

Ty’s molars ground together as his eyes cranked over to the buddy he didn’t want to hate.

The doctor laughed, confident and sure. “Hell, as much as I like the sound of Hot Doc, mostly I go by Leo. Leo Martin.”

“Sam Farrow. And this is Tyler Wells. But he mostly goes by Apartment Three.”

Tyler shook his hand, pushing a smile and a few words to his mouth while concentrating on keeping his grip this side of
asshole.
“Nice to meet you.”

Hot Doc turned his eyes back to Maggie. “Say guys, good to meet you, but mind if I borrow Maggie for a minute?”

The ride home was quiet and uncomfortable. Ford sat in the front passenger seat, his stitched-up hand resting in his lap, the window cracked to circulate air and hopefully settle his stomach, which apparently wasn’t 100 percent thanks to some olfactory sensitivity to “hospital smell.” Ty’s hands gripped the wheel, his mouth set in a steely line, the muscle in his jaw jumping at thirty-second intervals.

Sam stared out the window as Ava quietly rattled off details about the new office her firm was opening in San Diego.

Which left Maggie more or less alone with her thoughts in the cramped back of Tyler’s car.

It was possible that muscle working in Tyler’s jaw was all about spending the last three hours at the emergency room. Or the threat of Ford getting sick in his immaculately kept vehicle. It could be either of those totally legitimate reasons.

Only she didn’t think it was.

Sam shifted, trying to find room for legs too long for the backseat of any vehicle. “So how’d you leave it with Hot Doc?”

Ava perked up, her eyes going wide with curiosity. “What, you saw him?”

Sam grabbed her legs, lifting them over his lap, so he could stretch out into her space. “He wanted to talk to her…
alone.
” Then, looking past Ava, he asked, “So did he take you back to some quiet doctor’s lounge and test your vitals? Take your temperature to see if you were
hot
?”

The car jerked to the right, and Ford groaned.

“Sorry,” Tyler said, shaking his head as he glared out the window. “Pigeon.”

“When did he get back?” Ava squirmed around to face her, kicking Sam’s ribs and the seat, and of course Maggie, as she readjusted so their legs ended up in a tangled jumble.

Not comfortable, but they were almost home.

“This last week. He’s only been back at the hospital a couple of days.”

“And?” Ava urged, hands clutched together in front of her.

“And he apologized again about November and asked for another chance to make it up to me.”

Ava’s squeal cut through the too-cramped car, and Maggie pressed her fingers against her ears until her determined friend batted them away.

“So when’s your date?” Amid more squirming, she pulled her phone free and did a quick calculation. “I’m guessing in the next eighteen days.”

The pact. Of course Ava was looking out for February.

“Or—” Her mouth dropped open. “It’s Valentine’s on Tuesday.
Pullleeease
tell me he’s taking you then! Please, please, please!”

“Settle,” Maggie laughed with as much nonchalance as she could muster considering her actual state of tumult.

She hadn’t missed the way Tyler took off the minute they were left alone in the waiting room. Or how, each time he’d come back, he managed to avoid eye contact completely. It didn’t take a mind reader to get that her lustful-look-go
ne-catastrophic wasn’t sitting well with him, and he was trying to reestablish the boundaries between them. Add some space. Because maybe he didn’t trust the
just
-friends thing after all. And who could blame him?