Yet it pissed him off, the way Maggie drove herself to the point of exhaustion. He liked her—fuck, he liked her a lot. And what he didn’t like was seeing someone he liked wasting her life away. He didn’t know what made her do it, why she felt she had to work so freaking hard, but he did know he wanted to help her.
But how the hell could he ever break down Maggie’s impenetrable devotion to her job and her annoying tendency to choose responsibility over fun?
He stood in the stall for a moment, letting the water course down his body, and then the answer came to him.
With a sly grin, he shut off the water and stepped onto the fluffy pink mat outside the shower stall. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom, heading for Maggie’s bedroom. He sat at the edge of the bed and picked up the phone from its cradle. Glancing over to make sure he’d closed the door, he punched the number for information. A few seconds later, he got what he was looking for and dialed another number.
“The Olive Martini. Trisha here.”
“Why hello, Trisha.” He lowered his voice, looked once again at the door, and then said, “I’m calling about Maggie Reilly.”
“Who is this?” The voice on the other end thickened with suspicion.
He faltered for a moment before responding with, “It’s Tony.”
“Tony? Oh my God! I didn’t recognize your voice.”
Shit. He hadn’t banked on any of the other wait staff knowing the infamous Tony.
“Uh, I’m trying to speak quietly. Maggie’s in the other room and I don’t want her to overhear.”
“Gotcha. So what’s up?”
“Well, I need you to do me a really big favor…”
“I want to take you on a trip.”
Maggie’s head shot up, not so much from Ben’s sudden reappearance but more from the words that exited his sexy mouth. He approached the couch, clad in a pair of jeans and a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. His jaw was tight and his mouth was set in a very firm line, as if he’d come out here expecting a fight and prepared to win it.
His words hung in the air. A trip? Hadn’t he listened to a word she’d said ten minutes ago?
“I don’t have time to take—”
“I’m not talking a week-long vacation,” he interrupted, catching the disbelief in her eyes. “I’m talking one night. Well, two, since we’d leave tonight and come back Saturday morning.”
“I’m working tomorrow, Ben.”
“So call in sick.” He offered a small shrug. “C’mon, babe, it’s just one day.”
Her jaw tensed at his flippant tone. “I can’t lie to my manager.”
“Maggie.”
“Ben.”
She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, with that secretive little smile that said he was up to something. But how could he be? He couldn’t force her to go away with him. Couldn’t tie her up and drag her out of the city.
Before she could further analyze that sly expression on his face, the phone rang. Grateful for the interruption, she leaned over and plucked the cordless from its cradle, noting the blinking red light on the answering machine that indicated there was a new message. She’d forgotten that she’d turned the ringer off earlier, after three irritating telemarketers had called one after the other.
“Hello?” She avoided eye contact with Ben as she pressed the phone to her ear.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Since Trisha rarely ever called her, Maggie’s guard instantly shot up a few feet. She didn’t know where that suspicious tug at her gut came from, but she couldn’t ignore that something-is-fishy feeling.
“What’s up, Trish?”
“I need you to switch shifts with me. I’ll work for you tomorrow night if you do Saturday.”
Something was fishy, all right.
Her head swiveled in Ben’s direction, but he seemed completely uninterested in her conversation, and oblivious to its content.
Of course, he also happened to be an actor, so what he seemed to be wasn’t all that reliable.
“Why can’t you work Saturday?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“You won’t even believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Lou’s taking me to see a Broadway show,” Trisha replied in a bubbly voice. “And it was his idea. Isn’t that amazing?”
“What show?”
“Huh?”
“What show is he taking you to see?”
“The Puppeteer.”
If she’d caught Trisha in a lie, she had no freaking clue. Her ignorance about Broadway musicals, not to mention most pop culture, was definitely the proverbial thorn in her side. She’d have to check it on the ’Net later. As it was, she found it hard to believe that Trisha would magically want to cover her shift two minutes after Ben announced his plan to take her on a trip.
“So will you do it, Mags?”
“Uh…”
“Please say yes,” Trisha begged. “You know how much I complain about Lou never paying attention to me. You’ve got to let me have this.”
A sigh lodged in the back of her throat. Damn it. The guilt card worked every time.
“Sure, of course I’ll take your shift.”
“Great! I owe you a million!”