“Oh. Well then.” Shelby nodded. “Don’t go out with the granddaughter.”
“Right.” Mac had her. “I should find someone nicer. Someone caring and kind who values the same things I do. A healthy lifestyle. Eating right. Safe sex, or in Maggie’s case, no sex.”
Shelby frowned. “What?”
Mac ignored Shane frantically shaking his head behind her. “I’m not having sex either. A clean slate, you could call it. I figured it’s time I stopped messing around and tried to find someone real.” To screw like no tomorrow. “I mean, you two seem happy. So I figured I’d cut out the unnecessary sex and focus on just one woman. If she’ll give me a chance.” Total bullshit, because who the hell thought sex was unnecessary? But he’d told the truth about not getting any. Ever since he’d laid eyes on Maggie, he didn’t want anyone else. The woman seriously screwed with his love life. In a bad way. He figured the sooner he had her, the sooner he could move on.
Shane slumped.
Shelby turned on him. “You told him about Maggie? That was said in confidence.”
“Sorry, honey. I forgot.”
Mac did his best not to laugh. “I’m not going to say anything. Hell, Shelby. Who am I gonna tell? And it’s not like I’m getting any action either.”
“Yeah, right.” She didn’t look like she believed him. Shit.
Shane spoke up, still glaring at Mac. “Actually, that’s true. The guy hasn’t been with a woman in months, far as I can tell. Not that I keep tabs on him, but he seems to be fixated on Maggie.”
“I wouldn’t say fixated on her. I just like her. What’s so wrong about her and me going on a date?” He couldn’t eat, sleep, or work without thinking about Maggie Doran. Time he found out what it was about her that messed with his mind so he could get her out of his system. But he’d do it the right way. They’d date like real people, have some mind-blowing sex, then move on. No mess, no fuss. And he could breathe again without wondering what the petite blond was up to all the time.
“You can’t screw around with her,” Shelby warned. She put her hands on her hips and stared him down like the Amazon Shane often compared her to. “She’s a nice person.”
“I know that. Hell, I’m a nice person. Why do you assume she’ll be the one hurt if we go out? Maybe she’ll break my heart.” He turned to Shane. “What the hell have you been telling her about me?”
“Other than the truth?” Shane shrugged. “Personally, I think you and Maggie would make a great couple. But no way in hell am I playing cupid.”
Shelby glared at him before turning back to Mac, “I like you, Jameson. I’ll help you. But I’m warning you. You hurt her, I’ll rip your knee off and shove it up your ass.”
Impressed, Mac grinned. “Is that the therapist or Maggie’s best friend talking?”
“Both. Deal with it.”
“No problem. Now how do I get Maggie to go out with me?”
“With that woman? You don’t give her a chance to say no.”
Nine hours later, Mac waited in Maggie’s apartment, grateful Shelby had taken pity on him and let him inside. He’d worked on appearing pathetic for days, had practiced what he’d say to get Shelby’s help, and despite Shane’s advice to find another way to get to Maggie, he’d scored.
Now he just had to work the magic that had successfully won over the hearts and bodies of the many women he’d dated. Problem was, he’d been trying for months with Maggie, and she didn’t seem to appreciate his charm.
He resolved to take a few of Shelby’s hints to heart. Maggie liked a dominant personality. All her exes had been dicks. They either treated her like crap or were too weak to handle her. Maggie might be pint-sized—she came up the middle of his chest—but the woman had balls bigger than most men he knew. He wondered if he could push her boundaries in the bedroom.
Most of the woman he’d slept with hadn’t been into the rougher stuff. And not wanting to scare any of them, he held himself back when he’d sensed their limits. But Maggie was different. Would she like him taking charge in bed? Being tied up, fucked hard, ordered around?
One could only hope.
With a sigh, he told himself to take things one step at a time. First, build some trust. No fucking until he’d gotten to know her better and showed her she could depend on him. She knew him from the gym, so he hoped she had some idea he wasn’t a complete prick. Well, not all the time.
He stood up from the small loveseat he’d been sitting on and absorbed the feel of her place, taken with her vivid colors and artistic expression. Her small apartment suited her. Located in Queen Anne just a few blocks from the gallery where she worked, the small two bedroom unit was a gem, an old Victorian converted into two apartments. Maggie had the left half of the home, which boasted a cozy fireplace and old hardwood floors. In the living room, she’d positioned a loveseat and reading chair to face a television too small to be considered a distraction. Magazines and romance novels filled her built-in bookcase in the living room. Behind the couch, she’d fashioned a dining room with an antique table and four chairs. Tiny but cozy.
She didn’t have a lot of knickknacks, but the artwork on her walls livened the place. He wasn’t an artsy guy, but he liked her taste in decorating. Another plus to the woman.
He walked down the hallway leading past a powder room and into the larger of the two bedrooms. Her bedroom smelled like lavender and looked like a bomb had hit it. Her bed was unmade and clothes and shoes covered the floor. He grinned, realizing she must have been frantic to get to work on time. Mac spotted her lace bra on the floor and shuddered. He really wanted to see her in that, and soon.
He refrained from going through her closet and drawers, not wanting to be a creepy stalker-type. As it was, he’d have to do some fancy talking to convince her not to freak out and call the cops on him when she returned, but since Shelby had let him in, he figured he had an edge on the law.
He wandered into her kitchen, pleased to see she kept this room neat as a pin. No dirty dishes or food littered the counters. The small area stood apart from the living room by a narrow counter that had stools under it on the living room side. The open design gave the space an inviting grandness. That and the sunny butter color on the walls.
In the fridge, he found fruits and veggies but no meat. He frowned, not recalling whether she ate meat or not. Seattle was filled with health nuts. Though he worked out like a mad man, he didn’t live his life like a monk. He enjoyed a good steak now and then. He found himself wondering what it would be like to sit across the table with Maggie and enjoy dinner.
For some odd reason, he had bizarre fantasies of just being with her. Nothing sexual, but domestic shit. Like holding hands and taking walks. Going to movies or sitting around, talking. If he’d told Shane any of this, his friend would fall over laughing. Mac didn’t do serious relationships. He’d seen too many of them crumble, his parents a prime example. His uncle, the closest thing he had to a real father, had been taken to the cleaners by a greedy witch who didn’t know how to keep her legs closed. No, Mac didn’t do relationships. He fucked, he had fun, and he moved on.
So why the hell did Maggie intrigue him so much? He’d been rejected by women before. Granted, not many said no to him, but he normally accepted refusals with little care. Maggie bugged the shit out of him.
The rattle of keys and a feminine curse alerted him that it was do-or-die time. The doorknob turned and then the door opened.
Maggie entered wearing a slender black skirt that hit her at the knee. Black pumps accentuated her small feet and made her calves that much sexier. A wool coat covered her upper body until she shrugged out of it, revealing another of those body-hugging sweaters that kept him up at night. Jesus, Maggie had a rack worth dying over.