Almost Perfect

“It’s just like swinging over the swimming hole,” he told her. “It wasn’t nearly as scary as you thought.”

“Well, this feels like I’m dangling over an alligator-infested swamp, rather than a small, secluded lake.”

He didn’t understand her nervousness. Maggie was a hell of a woman, and a man would be proud to have her as a friend or a lover.

In fact, if she weren’t such a good friend and so vulnerable, he’d suggest that they continue the lover charade when he took her home, just for tonight. But Maggie deserved more than that. More than a one-night stand with a footloose cowboy who wasn’t what he seemed.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m with you, darlin’, and we’ll make it through the evening without a hitch.”

Just ahead, Jake spotted a table where a matronly woman wearing a black, beaded gown sat with gold lettered name tags and a guest list.

Maggie cleared her throat to speak. Jake sensed her nerves had settled in her voice, so he took the lead. “Dr. Margaret Templeton and Jake Meredith.”

She glanced up at him, appreciation peeking from those soulful, brown eyes.

Maggie might have become a respected physician, but on the inside, she was still the same shy girl. He tilted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “You look beautiful, honey.”

She whispered a “thank you,” but he figured her appreciation went far beyond his compliment.

After slapping on his name tag, Jake placed a hand on the sway of Maggie’s bare back and ushered her to the open doorway.

“I can hardly take my eyes off you,” he said, letting his hand slip low on her hip in an intimate, possessive gesture.

She tilted her head, and honey-brown eyes sought his, looking, it seemed, for an indication of honesty. She would find it. Maggie was the most beautiful woman he’d ever had on his arm and certainly the most elegant. He wanted her to know it. Feel it.

Before they could step away from the doorway, a heavyset gentleman with gray at the temples strode toward them and gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek. She introduced Jake to Dr. George Walters, and the men shared the customary handshakes and greetings.

The doctor scanned Jake’s formal Western wear. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope. Texas, born and bred.”

A waiter, balancing a full tray of flutes on his arm, cautiously approached. “Excuse me. Can I offer you some champagne?”

“Yes.” Jake took a glass from the waiter, handed it to Maggie and snagged one for himself. A drink would take the edge off her nervousness, even if she hadn’t changed her mind about the evils of alcohol. When they were teenagers, he’d been hell-bent to acquire a taste for whiskey, and she’d tried her best to reform him. To an extent, he supposed, she’d made her point.

He didn’t drink for the heck of it, like his old man had done, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the taste of good bourbon or an ice-cold beer. He just kept a close count of how many he enjoyed.

Rather than taking a sip, Maggie held on to the long-stemmed flute as though needing something to keep her hands busy.

He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. “Drink up, Magpie.”

Dr. Walter lifted a gray peppery brow at either the suggestion or the nickname. “Have you two known each other long?”

“Fifteen years,” Jake said. “And now that’s she’s free of Tom Bradley, I’m staking my claim.”

His claim? Maggie nearly choked on the champagne, sending a shot of fizz up her nose.

Jake’s blue eyes caught hers, and he gently touched her shoulder like a concerned suitor. “Are you all right, honey?”

She nodded. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Would she be able to pull off this silly act? Jake seemed so natural, so good at playing his part, but she felt like a ballerina in combat boots.

“What line of work are you in?” George asked Jake.

Maggie hoped he was just trying to make polite, cocktail-hour small talk, but she had a feeling he was digging for more information about the man who was staking his claim on Tom Bradley’s ex-wife.

“I’m a horse trainer.”

“Thoroughbreds?”

“Nope. Rodeo horses.”

“Jake owns a ranch and is one of the best horseman around,” Maggie added. Sharon had raved about his ability to connect with animals, especially horses, once referring to him as Cowboy Doolittle. And Maggie had seen it herself, years ago. “He has an uncanny way with animals.”

Dr. Walters nodded judiciously, and Maggie decided it was best they move on. “If you’ll excuse us, George, I need to speak to someone.”

“Certainly.” The doctor extended a hand to Jake. “Perhaps, later you can tell me about your ranch.”

“Maybe so.” Jake placed an empty champagne glass upon a small table by the door, then slipped his hand low upon Maggie’s back. His thumb caressed her skin, sending a swirl of heat to her spinal cord and then throughout her body.

Her reaction to his touch made it easier to play along and pretend they shared an intimacy known to lovers, which was a good thing, she supposed. But she didn’t need to lose her head. She and Jake were friends, and that’s all they would ever be. He was a Texan, through and through. And she was a dedicated physician, with a new practice waiting for her in California, a prosperous practice that would enable her to pay off the remainder of her student loans.

They mingled among the well-dressed crowd, greeted people and made polite conversation. All the while, Jake was charming and attentive. More than one woman cast a lingering gaze his way and smiled when she thought no one was looking. Jake, it seemed, caught every glance, every flirtatious smile, and sent them right back, all the while remaining attentive to Maggie. His gift, she realized, wasn’t limited to animals.

Jake was an attractive man, not just in his rugged good looks, but in his manner, his demeanor. Maggie felt as though she’d snagged the gold ring on the dating merry-go-round, and she found herself proud to be with him, at least as long as the short ride lasted.

Several times, he took her half-empty champagne flute and replaced it with a full glass. A warmth had settled into her bones, and the entire evening became much easier to bear.

Until Tom and Rhonda walked into the room.

Maggie glanced toward the doorway and stiffened. “They’re here,” she whispered.

“I was just beginning to think the evening was going to be a slam dunk.” Jake glanced at the doorway. “Let’s go say hello, then we can put it behind us, Magpie.”

“I guess you’re right.”

He flashed her a crooked smile and cupped her cheek. “You’re in good hands, darlin’. We’ll make it nice and sweet, then the worst will be over.”

Just like he’d been able to do years before, Jake had a way of cutting to the chase, of helping her face her demons. Of being the kind of friend she needed at any given time. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

She took a step forward, but he pulled her back, accosting her with a woodsy scent of musk and something else. Something she could only describe as essence of cowboy. She breathed deep, relishing his presence, his strength.

Tilting her chin with the tip of his finger, he bent his head to brush his lips upon her partially opened mouth. Once, twice. It was just a whisper of a kiss, soft and sweet, but so sensually delightful, that she closed her eyes and was swept away from the crowd and onto some hidden stage far from the reality of the gala. She doubted whether she could have been more moved by an openmouthed prelude to foreplay.

In fact, she wanted to grab him by the suede lapels and pull him closer, deepen the kiss, see where it might take them both. But she didn’t. Her staunch professionalism wouldn’t allow it.

When she opened her eyes, he flashed her a cocky, bad-boy smile. “How was that for suggesting we’re more than friends?”