“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve been more than kind.”
Her eyes were doing that flashing thing again, momentarily losing focus and then slamming back with astounding clarity. It fascinated him to no end. He’d noticed the same thing last night as she sat at the bar waiting for her turn to dance. He’d give anything to know what was going through her mind right then. Maybe with a little luck and a lot of persistence she would learn to trust him with her thoughts. He had a feeling he would be on a very short list if she did.
“It’s very easy to be kind to you,” Michael said before he could stop himself. Worried that he had said too much, he watched her reaction carefully. Her eyes widened just a bit, then her facial expression softened, allowing him to glimpse the woman he had seen beneath all of the sparkle the night before. The woman that had him hanging around all night, because he had to know if he had imagined the inexplicable effect she’d had on him. He hadn’t. It was here, in spades, stronger than ever.
“You know, Michael, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone ever said to me. Thank you.” The natural warmth was back in her voice, and it spread through him like sunshine. That, he could work with.
“It’s the truth,” he shrugged, but he was pleased. “And you should eat.” He pushed the plate a little closer.
*
Eat? As if she could. Her stomach had so many butterflies in it at that moment she wouldn’t be able to swallow a single bite. She did manage to take a sip of coffee, though. And damn if it wasn’t the best she’d ever had. Her eyes closed momentarily as she savored the rich, full flavor. He’d already added sugar and cream, exactly the way she liked it.
“This came out of my coffee pot?” she asked incredulously. He nodded, a heart-stopping grin curving those sensual male lips yet again.
“It’s wonderful,” she said truthfully, but even that made her stomach clench in warning. She put the mug back onto the table. He glanced expectantly at her plate. She looked at it uncertainly. She didn’t want to offend him, but she didn’t want to embarrass herself, either.
“Are you feeling nauseous?” he asked.
Maggie bit her lip. Was she? No, she thought, this was different. She was fairly certain her stomach was doing that funny flipping thing because of him, not because of her unfortunate tumble.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. He pulled a small light out of his pocket and leaned over her in what was becoming a familiar move. Part of her was annoyed, but another part longed for the closeness it brought with it. At this range she could clearly see the dark shadow along his jaw and feel the heat radiating from his body. Also rather disorienting was the familiar peppermint scent of his breath, now infused with coffee, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a few of her cookies as well.
She shuddered. As gorgeous and intense as he was, it just wasn’t fair that he smelled like cookies now, too. How could she even hope to resist him for any length of time?
Her hopes that he hadn’t noticed were quickly dashed. “Are you cold? Do you have chills?” he asked, stepping back again. That move put her at eye-level with his hips. Her eyes widened as she caught a completely accidental glimpse of what his jeans held within. And that was unaroused. Oh my.
“No.” She shivered again, her face pinkening even more as she averted her eyes.
“Maybe we should get you back to bed.” Was it her imagination, or was his voice a bit lower than before? He moved in close again, his hand touched lightly upon her brow as if to check for a fever.
“Um, no, not a good idea.”
The words “we” and “bed” should not be coming out of his mouth as part of the same sentence, she decided. It made the butterflies in her stomach flutter even faster, not to mention send yet another rush of heat toward the center of her body. She squirmed uncomfortably.
Michael raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest. Odd how such a small gesture commanded such authority. Even odder was the fact that she felt the need to explain herself. As a general rule, she didn’t.
“I mean, there’s no reason I should lay around in bed all day.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I could think of a few.” One side of his mouth lifted, and she felt her face burn. Damn.
“A concussion, for one,” he finished slyly.
She finally saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. The sexy bastard was having a little fun with her! Maggie probably should have felt irritated, but she realized she had brought it all upon herself with her wicked imagination. She’d left the door wide open in blatant invitation; it was no wonder he had stepped right in.
“I don’t have a concussion,” she said firmly.
“Is that your professional opinion, doctor?” He made no effort to hide his amusement any longer.