Maggie fought to keep the neutrality in her expression as she led the way toward the kitchen. Spencer made himself at home, parking himself at the kitchen table while Maggie poured coffee and put some still-warm rolls on a plate.
He was dressed impeccably, as always. Had he not followed in his father’s footsteps he could have been a male model. Even Maggie had to admit he was an extremely good-looking man, with classic features and a lean, athletic build. But, as she found out so conclusively, looks weren’t everything.
He occupied himself by looking around the kitchen. Maggie didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on the two coffee cups that sat in the drainer board, or Michael’s heavy quilted flannel hanging by the back door.
“You look beautiful, Maggie,” he said, as she placed the plate and mug in front of him. “Much better than the last time I saw you. Radiant, in fact. Like a woman in love. Or expecting. Or both.”
She forced herself to count slowly to ten in her mind. She would not allow him to rile her this morning; she was too happy. She smiled sweetly and took a seat adjacent to him. “You’re looking good yourself, Spencer. New blood in the secretarial pool?”
He chuckled. “You always did keep me on my toes, Maggie. I miss the challenge. But I assure you, I am being completely sincere.” He bit into the roll and closed his eyes. “Ah, perfection.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She waited patiently, sipping her own decaf while waiting for him to get to the point. Spencer had a tendency to take his time, she knew. It was one of his little power games, intended to get people wondering, fidgeting.
She refused to play those games with him any longer. Maggie watched him steadily, her gaze unwavering, unwilling to be intimidated by the likes of Spencer Dumas.
“That’s quite a lovely ring you’ve got there,” Spencer said finally, eyeing the white gold setting and brilliant diamond appreciatively. Maggie did not comment. “I take it you are engaged, then?”
“Spencer, you didn’t come all the way out here to look at my ring. Or to ask me questions you surely already know the answers to.” Pine Ridge was not an overly large community. Even if she was a fair distance from the town proper, something this juicy was bound to get around. She was sure she and Michael had provided much fodder for the local gossip mill. “What is it that you want?”
He looked hurt by her question. If she didn’t know him so well, she might have fallen for it. But Spencer Dumas had the skill of a Hollywood leading man when it came to facial expressions and body language. He spent untold hours perfecting both. She’d even caught him practicing in front of the mirror once.
“We used to be very close, Maggie. I’ve been hearing things...”
She offered him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Have you now?” The soft Irish lilt colored her words unintentionally, an indication of the strength of the emotions running just below the surface.
“Yes.” Spencer’s countenance masterfully shifted from ‘hurt’ to ‘concerned’. “Some of the things you are getting involved in...”
“And what I do should matter to you why, exactly?”
A quick flicker of hurt again, mixed with just a touch of confusion and ... longing, perhaps? “I know things didn’t work out between us, but that doesn’t mean I cannot still care about you.”
Maggie’s green eyes grew stormy as she fought to cap the rage building beneath. “Yes, Spencer, that’s exactly what it means. And don’t kid yourself. You never cared for me. The only thing you’ve ever cared about is my land.”
“That’s not true!” he insisted, losing some of his composure. For a few moments, it appeared that something genuine actually broke through the carefully crafted, rehearsed presentation. “I care for you, Maggie. I admit, business may have been the initial impetus behind our relationship, but things changed and - ”
“I caught you having sex with your assistant in your office the day after you proposed, Spencer! And she was one of many!” Her voice grew louder. Even if she no longer cared for Spencer, the betrayal, the humiliation, still stung. “You don’t do that to people you care for.”
A reddish hue tinged his lightly bronzed skin; the tick in his jaw barely noticeable. “I am a man, Maggie. Perhaps if you’d been a little more attentive, things might have turned out differently. God knows I asked enough.”
“Don’t you dare blame me for your indiscretions, Spencer Dumas! A real man takes responsibility for his own actions!” Fire flew from her eyes as she shot to her feet, splashing her coffee across the table. He mimicked her actions, standing up and towering over her, all pretense evaporating.
“Damn it, Maggie! You gave me no choice.”
“You always had a choice, Spencer! Keep it in your pants or don’t!”