Maggie locked the door and then gave him what she hoped was an all-business bright smile. She pointed to her silver SUV. “Follow me.”
He slipped his aviators back on. “And if I lose you?”
“I won’t let that happen,” Maggie assured him, but when he grinned she hoped that she didn’t sound like she was flirting. “But to be on the safe side,” Maggie said in a brisk tone, handing him the packet and pointing to the card stapled to the top, “here’s my number.”
“Thanks,” he said, flashing that smile that made her feel warm all over. He walked toward his rental, a sedan of some sort, but Maggie wondered if he usually drove something sleek and fast. When she slid behind the wheel in her SUV she wanted to check her appearance in the visor mirror but didn’t want him to see her primping. Maggie preferred soft pastels and floral patterns even though she usually wore dark blue and black for business. Today, however, she had opted for a buttercup yellow sweater set and cream-colored capri pants in celebration of the recent warmer weather. She did reach up and fluff her layered honey blond haircut that she’d been growing out. She’d even been thinking about going a shade lighter.
Maggie grinned. Lately her life was all about change. And now that she was in her fifties she started thinking about everything she’d put on hold while raising Tristan. Not that she regretted one single minute of putting her son first, but now that he’d found Savannah and was well on his way into adulthood, Maggie had started feeling restless. She looked in the rearview mirror and thought about her reaction to Richard Rule and wondered if it wasn’t time to jump into . . . what? Dating? How did one go about dating at this stage of the game?
“Oh, stop,” Maggie chided herself as she turned off the main road and onto a one-lane, bumpy gravel path leading to the cabin. She told herself that she needed to concentrate on her new business and not on some frivolous notion that she needed to flirt or date, for heaven’s sake. And as far as Richard Rule was concerned, the man was sexy, for sure, but just visiting. Wait. . . . Sexy? Maggie chuckled. When was the last time she’d even thought of a man in those terms? “Whew,” she breathed as she reached over and turned on the air-conditioning. “Hot flash,” she grumbled, but suddenly wondered if the heat in her face wasn’t due to the man following closely behind her. Telling herself to get a grip, she flipped on the classic country station she liked and drowned out her wayward thoughts by singing along with Waylon Jennings.
But when Maggie pulled up to the cabin she took a quick moment to swipe on some coral lipstick before getting out of her vehicle. She was just dropping the tube back into her purse when Richard approached her door and opened it for her. She stepped out, and when her wedge heel hit a jagged rock her ankle turned sideways. “Oh!” Pain shot up her leg and she braced her hand on Richard’s arm.
“Maggie, are you okay?”
“Yes, just turned my ankle a little bit. I’m okay,” she assured him, but when she put weight on it she winced.
“Let’s get you inside and see if we can round up some ice to keep the swelling down.”
Feeling silly, Maggie shook her head. “Oh, I’m sure I’m fine. I just need to walk it off.”
“This isn’t a baseball game—you don’t have to be brave,” he said with a smile. “If it hurts, let me know.”
Maggie nodded but gritted her teeth as she walked toward the front fieldstone steps, trying very hard not to limp. Tears sprang to her eyes. She wasn’t a wimp when it came to pain, but her doggone ankle throbbed. The eight or so steps leading to the wraparound porch looked like Mount Everest. She put her hand on the cool metal railing and swallowed hard. Oh, boy . . .
“Maggie, let me carry you up.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Maggie waved him off, but when she put her weight on her foot she gave him a sideways glance. “Maybe I could just lean on you a little?”
“Just let me pick you up.” Rick could tell that Maggie’s ankle really did hurt and even leaning on him wasn’t going to get her up the steps without putting her through more discomfort.
“No!”
“Do I have to flex a muscle?” he teased. Carrying her would be so much easier and, to be honest, he wanted to. She was just a cute little thing, all perky and smiles, but her smoky voice hinted at a sensual side beneath her prim-and-proper sweater set. He was used to women flaunting themselves but he somehow found her demure but feminine outfit way sexier. “Seriously, don’t you think I’m capable of carrying you up a few steps?”
“It’s not that—”
“Good.” Rick tossed the packet to the top of the steps, slid his arm around her waist, and scooped her up into his arms.
“Richard, put me down!”
“I will when we reach the porch. Put your arms around my neck.”
She hesitated but complied, making Rick smile. He was used to women falling all over him instead of backing away, and he found it refreshing. Challenging. Rick guessed her to be somewhere near his age, maybe a few years younger, and it was suddenly a bit of a blow to his ego when it dawned on him that she didn’t know he was Rick Ruleman, rock star, and so she wasn’t falling all over him.
Then again if Maggie was attracted to him it would be because she liked him for who he was rather than what he did for a living. Rick knew one thing: He was attracted to her.
“There. All in one piece,” Rick said when they reached the landing.
“Thank you ever so much,” she said. “But you can put me down now.”
“Do I have to?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“I’m trying. Is it working?”
Her answer was a throaty laugh. “You’re charming—let’s put it that way. But please put me down.”
“Okay, but keep the weight off of your foot,” he cautioned. She smelled nice, like spring flowers with some sort of sultry undertone . . . subtle but sexy.
“I promise,” she said. Her mouth was close to his ear and her warm breath brushed up against his neck. If he turned his head their mouths would be mere inches apart. Of course, kissing her would be an inappropriate, bonehead move . . . funny, but that wouldn’t have stopped Rick Ruleman.
Rick bent forward and gently allowed her feet to touch the ground. “Easy, now.” Rick kept his arm around her waist to keep her steady. When she nodded he reached down for the packet and retrieved the key. He pushed open the door before sliding his arm back around beneath her shoulders. “Lean against me,” he said, but when she did a little hopping limp he shook his head and stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking it out. The pictures didn’t do this place justice. It reminds me of my . . . I mean, of a ski lodge in the mountains.” Cathedral ceilings made the cabin seem massive and a gorgeous fieldstone fireplace was the focal point of the great room.
“Well, former big leaguer Ty McKenna owns this place, but with coaching the Cougars and with his wife running a restaurant they barely have any downtime to enjoy it. Speaking of . . . Wait until you see the gourmet kitchen. It runs the width of the cabin in the back and overlooks the river.”