Almost Perfect

“You did have a rebellious streak, Jake.”

“Still do.”

She laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But your uncle wasn’t that bad. He never gave your sister a hard time.”

“Sharon was a straight-A student. Like you, Magpie.”

“Maybe you should have tried harder.”

“Maybe so, but I never liked school.” Any of them. He’d lost count of all the schools he’d attended in the early years. So by the time he was old enough to ride a bike, he began playing hooky every chance he got. Folks just thought he was a truant and a troublemaker, but Jake saw it as a means of self-preservation.

Chasing away the painful memories, he focused on Maggie. At one time, he’d actually had a crush on her, a sort of younger guy-older woman thing. He doubted that she’d ever picked up on it, though, since he’d been shy around girls back then.

He wasn’t shy anymore.

Of course, he didn’t allow women to get close enough to figure out what a good actor he was, or how he skated around the truth and kept them at a safe distance.

“You know,” Maggie said, “I was really sorry to hear about Sharon’s death.”

“Me, too.” Jake had loved his sister and would miss her. She’d been the only family he had left, and her death had been a senseless blow.

But in addition to grief, Sharon’s death had also saddled Jake with the dude ranch he’d always hated and thrust him into instant parenthood, something he knew nothing about. As much as he loved Kayla and Sam, he was still uneasy around his niece and nephew, still worried that he’d screw up something important in their lives.

Maggie stepped onto the escalator and turned to face him, as he got in line behind her. Their eyes met, and he caught a whiff of her floral scent. Something purple. Lilacs, he guessed. “Let’s talk about California.”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. After this weekend, I’m going to tie up some loose ends, then move my practice.”

He’d always been the kind to skip out on problems, not Maggie. But Jake was the last one in the world to say anything about leaving old memories behind. “How much time do we have before this hoopla?”

“Just enough time to go home and change clothes.”

Twenty minutes later, Maggie unlocked the door and let Jake into her home—a small, renovated apartment she’d temporarily moved into. The place was clean, with white walls and shell-colored carpet.

Another woman might have hung a brightly colored, artsy print on the wall, put a vase of flowers on the barren fireplace mantel, but Maggie hadn’t gone to the trouble.

What did it matter? She’d be moving to the West Coast soon and had no reason to decorate or entertain anyone.

Jake glanced at the stark white walls. “Nice place you have.”

“I suppose it needs a bit of color,” she said, wishing she’d put a little more effort into decorating.

“I’m used to motels. If the place is clean, all I need is a soft bed and somewhere to hang my hat.”

A bed. And a place to hang his hat.

Maggie’s senses tingled, and she struggled to recognize a bit of the teenage boy she used to know. She saw only brief glimpses.

Who was this man who would spend the weekend with her?

This is Jake, she reminded herself. Some things didn’t change. “Come on in. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Boots clicked upon the hardwood floors, chasing an odd sense of masculine presence over her like angel fingers strumming across harp strings.

She led him to the spare room down the hall, and as he dropped his bag on the guest bed, a flood of sexual awareness washed over her. Where had the short, gangly teenager gone?

“I’m wearing what I have on,” he said.

Her eyes swept over him again. Cowboy boots, denim pants and a suede jacket were a far cry from what the other men would be wearing, but on Jake they looked great.

He reached into his tote bag and removed a black bolo. “This is as black-tie as I get.”

She didn’t doubt that for a minute. If he didn’t mind walking into a formal affair dressed like a rebellious cowboy, she wouldn’t complain. She actually fancied herself on his arm. “You look fine to me.”

“I’m glad.” He slid her a lazy smile, one that made her pulse zip and skip like the stones he’d taught her how to skim across the surface of the old swimming hole.

“Well,” she said, “I’d better get dressed. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be long.”

But getting dressed took much longer than she’d anticipated.

She’d wanted to look her best because El Baile Elegante was a big event, one all of her colleagues would be attending. An event at which she believed they would be watching her, checking to see if her professional demeanor would falter when Tom and Rhonda entered the banquet hall. Of course, she was nervous.

But for some reason, knowing that Jake was in the living room, waiting to escort her to the gala, had her nerves even more on edge. Jumpy. The butterflies in her stomach had grown to an angry swarm.

She fidgeted with her hair for ten minutes, trying to sweep it up in an elegant coiffure, but the silky strands wouldn’t stay put. She finally gave up and let it fall naturally to her shoulders. And even though she’d been putting on lipstick for years, her hands trembled and she had to reapply the lip liner three times before she was reasonably satisfied.

Maggie stood before the bathroom mirror and sighed. She’d done the best she could, under the circumstances. Now, if she could just hurry the evening along, get it over with and go back home, she’d be okay.

She entered the living room wearing a formal-length, black gown, with a scooped neckline in front. The other side plunged, revealing a V-shaped glimpse of her back. She had a strange urge to run down the hall and grab a wrap, something with which to cover herself, but it had been an unseasonably hot September day, and the evening promised to be humid and warm.

“Definitely worth the wait,” Jake said. His appreciative grin complimented her in a way Tom never had. It both pleased and unnerved her further.

“Thank you.”

As she fingered the strapless purse in her hands, his gaze locked on to hers. “What kind of fool would leave you?”

A part of her desperately needed to believe her ex had been a fool. “Tom Bradley, stockbroker extraordinaire.”

“Remind me never to let him invest any of my money.”

She smiled, grateful for the support, but too rational to believe she hadn’t erred, that she hadn’t somehow been at fault. She should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent it. “I’m sure part of the blame was mine.”

“What part?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “My mom couldn’t seem to make a marriage work. I didn’t have much of an example.”

“What about TV reruns?” he asked, stepping closer. “Ward and June had a heck of a marriage.”

Maggie laughed. That’s what she liked about Jake. He had a way of making her troubles vanish, like he had all those years ago when they’d slipped away from the ranch and gone fishing in the creek. Or when they’d sneaked out late at night and gone for a hike.