10 comments/ 38949 views/ 16 favorites Maggie and The Professor By: lazyways Being awarded a senior faculty fellowship was the culmination of three long hard years of work, and David couldn't remember the last time he had felt this kind of professional validation. Such satisfaction. And the paid sabbatical would be a welcome respite from teaching. He hoped to use that time to finish the text that he'd begun to work on years ago, just bits and pieces collected here and there. He'd use that text to instruct an undergraduate class in the new course he would be adding to the university's curriculum. He wondered over all these details as he walked and studied the sky, which was a soft aquarium blue in the afternoon. The details that were so mundane yet promised so much. He had known for a few days but chose to keep the news to himself. He wanted to let it sink in, and he liked the solitary pleasure of a secret. But it was becoming impossible not to share. David sauntered toward the familiar house. There was no mistaking the most conspicuous house on the block, the only house painted a blue so bright it was nearly neon. But the garage was wide open, and Deborah Abbot's hot pink Chevy was noticeably absent along with Chase Abbot's only slightly more subdued gold sedan. David cautiously made his way up the driveway, taking care to stay aware of his surroundings. It was unlike the couple to be so careless. When David arrived at the door, this was also open. He gave it a light push, slipped in, and grimaced when the hinges creaked as he closed it behind him. His mind was on burglars at this point, and he wanted to attract as little attention as possible. It didn't take long for David to discover the culprit. An unfamiliar figure, a long and lean feminine shape, stood silhouetted in the kitchen. She seemed to be helping herself to whatever food was in the fridge. "Hi there," David announced. The woman shrieked as she turned and reached for the object closest to her, which was, to her obvious chagrin, a colander. She stared at it helplessly for a moment, and then looked back at David, mouth agape. "Who are you?" she asked breathlessly. The intruder peered at him and, for a moment, David was taken aback by striking features: golden hair gathered up in a high bun, dewy skin, eyes the color of sea glass gone dark with age. The woman was in her early twenties, and, despite the huge men's shirt she wore, she was observably tall and slim with slender limbs and a gracefully long neck. David caught himself and cleared his throat. "I was just going to ask you the same thing. I'm a friend of the Abbots. What exactly are you up to?" "I'm Maggie." She frowned. "I'm the house-sitter." "House-sitter? Where are the Abbots?" "They're away for the holidays. They won't be back for another few weeks. They didn't tell you?" Now David frowned. He dimly remembered having a conversation with Chase about this vacation, a trip to the British Virgin Islands to celebrate Christmas and their anniversary, but the details he recalled were vague. "Jesus, I forgot all about it." David scratched his head, and Maggie grinned at him. He was embarrassed by his flub, to have a witness so pretty and young to this oversight. "Well, sorry to startle you, Maggie. I'm David Laughton. Maybe if you kept the garage door shut, you'd have fewer prowlers to contend with. I've heard there have been a few besides me. There've been a couple of burglaries in the neighborhood recently." "I'm an idiot," she confessed. I noticed a few weeds in their garden and was looking for some tools in the garage. Then I guess I got distracted. Lunchtime," she explained with a shrug. She caught herself and clarified, "I'm usually much more on top of things, I promise." "Don't worry, they won't hear it from me." "Thanks." Maggie glanced at the sink and then looked back at David, who had been making a study of her quick, pretty movements. Like a hummingbird, he thought. "Um, are you hungry at all? I just threw together a few grilled cheese sandwiches." "I could eat." David took his usual place at the kitchen table, and Maggie followed him with two little plates and set them down at their respective seats. The sandwiches smelled incredible, if not a little unusual, but he politely waited as she hurried around the kitchen, setting the table and bringing them both glasses of water. When she was settled, David took his first bite. "Whoa. What is this?" "Bosc pears with honey and ricotta. Is it okay? It was an experiment. And a distraction. It gets pretty dull around here." "It's wonderful, actually. It just took me off guard. I was expecting a couple of American cheese slices." Especially from a woman who, at least at first glance, seemed a little spacey, he thought to himself. "Well, thanks. I'm pretty pleased with the results." Maggie took her next bite and chewed thoughtfully as she sized him up. "So how do you know the Abbots?" "Chase is a colleague of mine." "So you're a professor, too?" David nodded. "You look more like a marine," she laughed. Prompted by his puzzled look, she explained. "Sorry. It's a compliment. I just mean there's something kind of alpha about you. But wholesome, too. You're a little more muscular than most professors I've met." She remembered many of her male professors being asexual or even effeminate, Chase Abbot included. None of them had looked like this -- weathered but attractive and almost a little squinty, like a Clint Eastwood or a John Wayne. "Well, thank you," he nodded. David could feel the heat in his face and tried to will it away. He also felt the sudden awareness of her youth and considered the probability that, at forty-five, he was about twice her age. As soon as he found himself contemplating whether or not her father was older or younger than him, he deflated. "So what do you teach?" "Anthropology." "Hey, I got my degree in anthropology. What's your focus?" "Cultural anthropology, mostly, but I teach a section of biological anthropology. What about you? Or maybe a better question might be, what are you doing with your degree?" "If I'm being honest...letting it gather dust. The job market for scholars is bleak, to say the least. I've just been picking up odd jobs like this," she indicated the house with her thumb, "since I graduated a couple years back, barely scraping by." David nodded and considered. An idea was germinating, and, without thinking it through or letting it develop, plunged ahead. "You know, I came by to tell the Abbots about a research project I've just been granted a fellowship for. I need an assistant, and it's always a pain to find one during an intersession. It'd only be a few weeks. But still, it'd be a cinch, with you staying so close. And this house isn't exactly high maintenance. You'd have plenty of time, and you'd be making a little extra cash." "I'd be an idiot to say no to that. What would you need? An interview? My CV?" "Well, why don't I come by tomorrow? I'll take you back to my home office, and we can talk it over." * And that's how it had happened. Within half an hour of meeting Maggie, he had done whatever he could to ensnare her, without even thinking. David strolled home, baffled at what his end game might be. He hadn't dated anyone since his divorce, and he had never found himself this drawn to anyone, let alone someone so much younger. And if he was interested in this woman, hiring her as a research assistant couldn't have been his best move. He had to remind himself that he knew nothing about this woman. And the job was only temporary. It would give him an excuse to get to know her, and, at his age, he had the patience to wait for the assistantship to end before he made any decisions about whether to take their relationship somewhere less professional. But, as long as it had been, his memory of women was still alive in his senses. And, despite his misgivings, he found himself powerless to stop this part of his mind from running wild with fantasies about Maggie. He took the name, fresh in his mind, and turned it over like a stone in his palm, warming it, welcoming it. His breath caught as his thoughts wandered into more graphic places, the warm velvet of skin, a searing image of what she might look like under all those big clothes. Maggie, he considered again, and sighed. * Once David had left, Maggie had sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee to reflect. The man was unusual, she thought as she sipped her cold coffee and grimaced. She was surprised that someone so clean cut and masculine was a professor and not law enforcement. He was attractive in a way that had never interested her before. He was an all-American dark blonde, almost forgettable, if it weren't for the way he carried himself: quiet but proud and strong. And kind. Her fiancé was nothing like David. Exotic, beautiful, and boisterous, Rafael was just the kind of man she had envisioned herself ending up with since she was twelve years old, when she had first started looking at boys in a different way. She had dated a lot in high school and college, but Rafael was her first real long-term relationship, the only one that had lasted beyond a year. She liked the security that she felt in her relationship with Rafael, how handsome he was, that his sociability complemented her introversion. Everyone liked him. And that was the word that echoed in her head as she thought of him, even if she wasn't ready to acknowledge it. "Like." * Maggie had not expected to be picked up by David in a car, especially when he'd mentioned that he only lived a couple blocks away from the Abbots. The "car" itself was even more of a surprise, a dusty black Jeep Wrangler. She was out of the house before he had a chance to step out of the truck. "Hey there," she called out over the rumble of the engine. "Another surprise." "How do you mean?" "A professor who looks like an army man and drives an army truck. Very interesting." "Hop in," David ordered, grinning unabashedly. He reached across the seat and threw the passenger door open for her. She stopped short as he began to sweep old dry leaves from the cracked leather. "Sorry," he said, noting her expression, which was a little bit amused and a little bit confused. He grinned again and gestured to the seat as an invitation. David seemed quiet to her at first, but she soon found that any attempts at conversation were foiled by the sound of the Jeep. They sat in a brief, comfortable silence, with only the white noise of the engine and the road to accompany them. After they arrived, David led Maggie into the house. She noted, without surprise, that his house's interior was minimalist. The furniture was sparse. What décor she could see, though, was warm and homey. It smelled like strong black tea and mint and smoke. He led her to his kitchen table, which he had prepared, however untidily, in advance. Books and paper and pens were strewn everywhere, with a lone laptop in the middle of the mess. "Your home office?" "Well, I do have one, a proper one," he responded sheepishly. "But most of the work ends up happening out here. You're welcome to use the real office in the future if you get tired of me." "Nice filing system you have here," she laughed. "It probably doesn't look very organized to you but trust me, there's a system." "If you say so," she teased. David gestured toward a chair and sat beside her. "Want anything to drink?" "No thanks." David found a bottle of water under the sink and opened it as he sat down in the chair next to her. "So," he began, taking a sip from the bottle, "I realized after I left you that I didn't give you a clue what this research project is about. It's been a pet project of mine for a few years. Anthropologists have always studied and written about marriage across cultures but romantic love, particularly love as a motivation for marriage, is relatively rare. Love is a luxury in most societies, so that's sort of the thing. In some societies, it's pitiable, even derided. I haven't been able to refine my focus yet but maybe I'll finally commit once we start sorting through some of this." David stopped short before using the word 'mess,' which he acknowledged it was, at least to himself. "I'm thinking I might not even narrow the topic down. A cross-section from a few different cultures might be interesting. A chapter dedicated to each. I'm wide open." "Well, I'm into it. I'd never really thought about it before but, you know, you're right. I don't ever remember any discussion of love in my classes. Just family, companionship, marriage as social contract, that kind of thing." Maggie paused, sensing something deeper at work, but she opted to keep quiet for now. "I'd never really questioned it, I guess." "Maybe the best way to ease you into this is to let you read some of my notes, the fragments I've written so far. And maybe you can look at some of the texts I have scattered around. I'm getting a little ahead of myself, though. I don't expect us to start tonight, just wanted to get the ball rolling. You can take some of these materials home with you, though, if you'd feel more comfortable." David stopped, realizing full well that he had been rambling. It was time to let Maggie absorb the things that he'd said. "Yeah, I think your notes would be a good start. Would you mind if I took them home with me tonight? Or copies of them?" "Sure, I trust you to take the originals." "Sounds good," she responded absently, her focus on a photocopied article that lay to the right of her arm about traditional Japanese marriages. David fidgeted, deciding it was time to segue into more casual conversation. "So, Chase was your professor?" "Actually," she admitted, "I never did take any of his classes." "Oh? Then how did you meet? Was he your advisor?" "Ah..." Maggie's cheeks went hot with embarrassment. This flush of color was not lost on David. "We dated. Briefly. I was meeting with another anthropology professor. She was late, his office was next door, and he struck up a conversation with me." Maggie stopped short and blushed anew. "Oh, and it was a long time ago, too. My freshman year. Before Mrs. Abbot. Right before her, actually." "Mrs. Abbot is my ex-wife," David blurted. He felt the bite of jealousy and was just a little surprised to find that it wasn't the mention of 'Mrs. Abbot' that bothered him. Chase was 10 years his junior and had always excelled at flirtation, he reminded himself. Seduction, too, when the mood struck him. He had a softness about him that belied the animal beneath. Women adored him. He would have been more surprised to hear that Maggie and Chase had never been involved. "Wait, what?" "Yep." "Were you friends with Chase before that happened? Or did you bond over a shared interest?" Maggie regretted the joke as soon as she'd said it. "I've known Chase for over thirty years. Since he was born. Our families were good friends." "Jesus. Sorry. I've never understood that. It seems like, more often than not, that kind of thing doesn't bother men. How can they forgive their friends, resume these friendships even after they've been betrayed? How did you do it?" "I'm not saying there weren't any problems. I didn't talk to him for a year. Refused to talk to either of them. But they're my neighbors, and I'd see them everywhere. I grew up with the guy," he shrugged. "Do you still love her?" "I thought I did. For a long time after she left me. But I think that it was some combination of attachment, jealousy, nostalgia. When I saw them for the first time after my divorce, I realized how perfect they were together, and that all of the old feelings were gone." Maggie cocked her head. "There's nothing left? Even after a marriage?" "There's tenderness. Affection. But there's no 'spark' any more. If there even was one to begin with. We were good companions but there was never any real connection. You know how it starts: they're attractive, you have a lot in common, you get along well enough, there's no reason it shouldn't work. But something's missing." Maggie nodded and looked knowing, sad. She thought of Rafael and felt a pang of guilt. "Chase and Deborah really love each other," David continued. "Who am I to get in the way of that?" "So, I'm guessing the subject of your research project is no coincidence, then." "I know. I'm not about to pretend my interest was exclusively academic. I started working on it after the divorce was finalized. Gave me a purpose. It was therapeutic, I guess." "It's worked for you?" "It was a good distraction. Helped me put things in perspective." He nervously shuffled the notes that he planned to give to Maggie. There was a little more to the story, but he would have to wait for a better time to tell her, a time when they'd gotten a little closer. "Anyway, now you know more than you'd ever want to about this research project. Still on board?" She smiled and nodded. "Of course." * Two days later, Maggie was just finishing lunch when she heard the old doorbell, a strident, wheezing chime. She had expected the mailman but found David on the doorstep instead. "Hi there." "Hey, sorry I didn't give you a heads up. I was on my way to the library to drop off some of these books and pick up a couple new ones," he explained. "I forgot I have a research assistant now. You free to come with?" "Sure. Let me get my sweater." David nodded and waited. When she returned, she wore a navy cable-knit sweater and had wrapped a kerchief around her hair. "Cute scarf." "Just being practical," she shrugged and pointed to his Jeep, its top missing. "Sorry about that," he frowned as she followed him out. "It was warmer earlier." "I don't mind." This time, David remembered himself and opened the door for her. She swung herself into the seat more gracefully than he'd expected, tucking her tan oxfords beneath her, and gave him a little half-smile as he shut her door. The ride to the library was short and silent. David's mind strayed from their library trip to thoughts of Maggie. They were inescapable. Obsessive and compulsive. He wanted to prepare for what might happen between them. He had always been a planner, trying to determine the shape of his future. Though he knew better than anyone that the course of a relationship was unpredictable at best. David also knew that there were at least a few weeks more before the possibility of real romance between them might come into play. Yet he still couldn't help but wonder how he would approach Maggie, how their relationship could evolve. He could take the direct route and explain his interest, though discussing his feelings had never been his strong suit. He could ask her on a date. He could seduce her, but the idea of being so bold seemed impossible to him. David had always felt at at ease around the opposite sex. College ushered in this comfort, when he'd started to fill out his once-gangly frame, and when he'd first understood that women found him appealing. At what point, exactly, had he forgotten how to seduce a woman? When Deborah had left? But he couldn't have forgotten. There was something about this particular woman that made him nervous and that made him struggle not to forget himself around her. That made him feel, no matter what, he was somehow muddling through each conversation, every interaction between them. It was hard for David to be around Maggie and not think exclusively about all the things he wanted to do to her. He realized that today was worse than the first somehow as he followed Maggie silently into the library. He was fascinated by the shape of her ass, small and round, the rhythm of her walk so perfect it could have been dictated by a metronome. They wandered endlessly through the stacks, climbing the stairs higher and higher until it seemed to David that they were inside a skyscraper and not an old university library. His vertigo coupled with Maggie's hypnotic movements as she led him up to the building's top floor made him feel that he was falling headlong into something he would never return from. Maggie and The Professor It was Maggie who found the section that they'd been looking for. She kneeled and caressed the spines of the old books, surveying the numbers and titles with darting eyes, a thoughtful hand pressed to her lips. "Hey, what was the title we were looking for again?" She looked up at him, and, in turning her head, she revealed the moon-pale skin of her neck, her luminous collarbones, the tops of her breasts and the slip of shadow between them. The pair stared at each other then, wordless, aware, stirred. Maggie wide-eyed, David heavy-lidded, the both of them recognizing for the first time the wanton longing in the other's look. Maggie sneezed and broke the spell. "Tradition and Modernity in Bhakti Movements," he mumbled, as if he'd been woken suddenly. He clumsily handed her a scrap of paper with the title and call number scrawled across it. Maggie stared at it as if just handed something written in a foreign language. She shook her head and focused on the numbers and scanned the shelf again. "Found it." She plucked the book from the shelf and checked it over. He moved toward her unconsciously, hoping to catch her scent and, as she rose, she realized that David was threateningly close, thrillingly warm behind her. She turned to see something sharp and foreign in his expression soften into a nervous half-smile. He offered his hand. "I'll take it." "Thanks," she whispered. David felt his light-headedness ease as they descended the staircase but his arousal remained as he watched her glide down the steps. Maggie stopped short of the first floor, and David nearly plowed into her. She turned to him, serious. "Do you have a problem with using the self-checkout?" "What? No. Why?" Her voice low, she explained, "This librarian likes to hit on me." She indicated the only librarian working, a lanky, pink-faced blonde about her age. He hadn't seemed to notice them yet. "I've been going here for privacy and peace but he always chats me up. He's pushy. He makes me nervous," she confessed. David tucked their books into the crook of his arm. "Take my hand." "What?" "We'll pretend we're an item. Throw him off for good." "Oh!" She thought it over but still looked a little leery. "You'll have to choose the lesser of two evils," he smirked. "You'd do that?" He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. For a moment, he marveled at the pulse that ran between them as they touched, and at how delicate her fingers were inside his own hand, which seemed huge in comparison. The two walked together, David only slightly disappointed to lose the best vantage point to watch her move. The librarian was up from the desk and headed their way. He took notice of the pair and smiled and waved, and Maggie waved back with her free hand. The librarian opened his mouth to speak, but David improvised and kissed her hair just in time. The man's mouth closed, and he only nodded to them as they passed. When they reached self-checkout, Maggie looked at David, her surprise barely disguised. He prepared for a lecture, to hear that he had crossed some boundary. "Thanks," she said, and that was it. "Anytime," he grinned. * David and Maggie fell into a rhythm of meeting every other day for a few hours, usually in the early afternoon. They spent half of their time working, and the other half making small talk and getting to know each other. And then one morning, David woke with more energy than he was used to. He called Maggie to let her know that there would be a change of plans. "I think I'm going to work all day today," he explained. "So you can come over whenever, if there's a better time for you." "Thanks for the heads up. I'll probably be over later tonight, if that's okay." And David accepted. So even though he'd known that she'd be coming over, David's nerves sparked at the sound of his doorbell late that evening. Maggie stood on his porch, absently toying with the strap of what looked more like a doctor's bag than a purse. She wore the same big shirt she'd had on the day they'd met, but she'd thrown a cardigan over it. David was the first to speak. "Hi there." "Hey. Sorry if this is too late." He shook his head. "I didn't even notice. Come on in." David had started to think that she might not show at all, so by this time, he'd poured himself a couple glasses of wine and was already feeling the effects, having not eaten a proper dinner. It was only polite to offer Maggie a glass, he reasoned. "Wine?" "I could use a little," she responded with only a moment's hesitation. David felt tense and decided he'd get right down to it. He handed her a heavy book. "I'd like you to read through this, maybe make a note of any passages you find interesting and relevant, then summarize them." Maggie had always prided herself in being a hard-worker, and she found herself wanting to impress David. So she sat down at the table, a pencil in hand, and immediately began to read. But Maggie, thin as she was, felt herself grow tipsy faster than she expected. It felt to her as if they'd been sitting there together quietly for at least an hour, and she lost focus and grew bored. "What are you reading about?" David felt he'd been awakened from a deep sleep. "Samoans." "What about them?" "Virginity was a legal requirement for marriage," David explained, summarizing the chapter that he was reading. "I guess I'd be ruined," Maggie responded with a smirk and, curiously, a little color in her cheeks. David arched an eyebrow but her attention had already shifted back to the book in front of her. "You and me both," David muttered. He let his comment hang in the air as he returned to scribbling notes. After a few moments, he felt eyes on him and looked up. Maggie was watching him and looked serious. "What was your first time like?" she asked, her bottle-green eyes intent on him. "Awful and great. Terrifying and exhilarating. I guess what you'd expect. How was yours?" "I don't really remember much about it. Except that I cried after," she blurted and avoided David's gaze. "It wasn't even painful." "Why then?" David understood that this was a particularly delicate topic of conversation, but he felt at once protective and concerned. "I wondered about that for a long time. For a while, I thought it was just because it was an emotional experience. And it was. But these days I don't know. I don't know why I cried." She smiled at him abruptly. "Jesus. A little late night wine and you get an earful." She'd certainly fooled around before dating Rafael, but he had been her first. Despite the drink, Maggie couldn't yet muster the courage to confess to David that she had a fiancé. "I'm willing to hear whatever you have to share, you know." "Oh, David, don't encourage me." He felt a quick, inexplicable thrill at the sound of his name coming from her lips. "If we keep going like this, you'll know all my secrets before sunrise." "Is there a downside to that?" She smiled coyly. "Maybe not." "Tell me something about you." "Does it have to be a secret?" "Not if you don't want it to be," he acquiesced. "Tell me anything." Maggie was thoughtful for a few moments and meditated on the tabletop. She perked up when she had something to share. "Well, growing up, I loved movies. I told everyone that I wanted to be a waitress one day. I thought that's how you became an actress. Embarrassed my parents every time." David smiled at this and leaned back in his chair, letting the book in front of him shut. He was too buzzed to do anymore work, too interested in what Maggie might confess. "What happened to that plan?" "I grew out of it. I forgot about it. It seemed so impractical. And I was really drawn to anthropology. To 'academia.' I think I'm better suited for it." "I don't know what your acting is like, but you've certainly got the look. You're beautiful." Maggie fidgeted and blushed a lovely dawn pink. "What about you? What's something about you?" she asked, hoping to shift the focus off her. "I was a cop before I became a professor." David almost looked bored. Maggie jumped a little in her seat and her hands went flying, nearly knocking her glass over. She couldn't believe it. "I knew it!" "You got me." "But I knew it when we met! Why didn't you confess when I guessed?" "Correction: you almost got me. You thought army or marine, not police." Maggie shook her head. "You're awful. I wish you would have said something." "Don't feel too bad. I graduated the academy, and I was a cop for less than a year. I barely remember it. Plus, if I'd told you I used to be a cop when you thought marine, it would have seemed like I was bragging." "All right. So why did you quit? How do you make the jump from cop to professor?" "Law enforcement is a family profession. My dad and uncle and grandfather were all cops. My brother became a cop. So it was expected of me, but I wasn't cut out for it. I had the nerves for it, probably, but I was bored. I'd taken anthropology classes before and couldn't get it out of my head. So I quit and went back to school." "How'd your family feel about that?" "My dad told me it wasn't a big deal to him, that I should do what made me happy, but I could tell it upset him. He's a tough guy. Stoic. Would never let on feeling otherwise." "Sounds familiar. My dad wore sunglasses the day we went shopping for my wedding dress," she shared, cringing as soon as the words had left her mouth. "Wedding dress?" David echoed. The look on his face was inscrutable, as stoic as his father must look, she imagined. But the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. "Yeah." She sounded meeker than she wanted to. "You're married?" She sighed, unable to meet his eyes. "Engaged." "Was there a particular reason you hadn't mentioned this before?" Maggie had known David's reaction wouldn't exactly be positive, but she hadn't expected the edge of anger she heard in his voice. "It just hadn't really come up," she explained weakly. "And I didn't think it was relevant." The truth was, she hadn't wanted to tell him, had been avoiding it for as long as she could without having to lie outright. "Not relevant?" David caught himself, breathed deeply in an attempt to dispel his anger. "It couldn't have maybe come up during our discussion of my research topic?" "How is knowing about my fiancé pertinent to my employment?" But Maggie knew. Maggie had known, in the way women usually do -- whether or not they were able to admit it to themselves -- that David's interest went beyond professional. She couldn't deny that she had lied by omission. She also couldn't deny that she hadn't wanted to lose David's interest, that he had maybe piqued hers, and this was the most inexplicable and troubling of all. "What about when I told you about my divorce?" he said, quieter now. "I'm sorry. You're right." But she couldn't bring herself to explain why she'd hid her engagement from him, though she had the uneasy feeling she didn't have to, that he already understood. David knew that if he continued to berate her, he would lose his temper. He would betray his feelings and alienate Maggie in the process. He tried a gentler approach. "Is it rude for me to say that you seem a little young?" The slightest change in subject was enough to prompt a sigh of relief from Maggie. "Twenty-four isn't so young, is it?" "I guess not, no. Relative to me, though, maybe," he murmured, almost as an afterthought. "When's the wedding?" He folded his arms, and the gesture was not lost on Maggie. "Valentine's Day." She frowned. "With a Valentine's theme to go with it. Not my idea." "His idea to have a 'cutesy' wedding? That's unusual." "He's a little more traditional than I am, I guess." Maggie had to admit to herself that her reasons for not wanting to tell David about her fiancé were not so inexplicable. It was dangerous, the way she was starting to look at David. She couldn't remember a time that Rafael had ever made her feel this way: electric, ecstatic, off-balance. "Why don't you wear your ring?" David asked, glancing over at her bare left hand. "I guess I'm just not used to wearing jewelry. I'm worried I'll scratch it up or lose it. I should wear it more often, it bugs Rafael when I don't." Maggie realized that, to David, this would be a telltale sign of her ambivalence. And maybe David would be right, that there was a reason deeper than the flimsy excuse she'd given him. Annoyance at Maggie for not wearing her ring was something David had in common with Rafael. Maybe if he hadn't tried to be her employer first, this essential tidbit of information would have come out sooner. He felt dejected, that was true, but he had to wonder why it had taken her so long to tell him. Why she acted as if she'd just confessed to murder when she'd finally informed him. Maggie was the first to speak after a long, tortuous silence. "I guess I should get going." "Sure. That about wraps it up for us, I think." Something in his voice made her stop. "You mean for tonight? Or altogether?" "Intersession ends Friday. The Abbots will be back even sooner than that. I think you've helped me as much as you can, and you'd probably like to get serious about your job search." David's anger turned inward at this point. He knew that he was being childish and obvious, but he was drunk and, the fact was, the belated news of her engagement was more devastating than he could have ever imagined it to be. "Yeah," Maggie agreed, too drunk to argue, submitting to David's dismissal. "You're right. I have some interviews coming up, and I'll need time for that." The pair rose from their seats, and Maggie walked to the door, David following closely behind. He gave her a perfunctory, uncomfortable hug, then watched her walk to her bike. He was too drunk and too hurt to offer to walk her home, and his guilt over this would be the first thing on his mind when he woke the next morning, hung-over and bereft. * Maggie disappeared for three days. David was too proud to call her, and he imagined that she was too disinterested to call him. In his better moments, he chalked her silence up to embarrassment and regret. When she finally turned up, she opted to pay him a visit rather than call. He knew as soon as he heard the knock on his door that it would be her. He opened the door to find her there on his porch, beaming and shivering in a drizzle. "David, sorry I stopped in uninvited, I know I'm being pretty rude and you haven't heard from me for a few days, but I'll only take a minute. I just had to tell someone. I was offered a job teaching life science and anatomy at a public school in the city. The money's not insane but it's nothing to sneeze at, you know? So, once this house-sitting gig is over, I'll be moving into a place I can actually afford. Anyway, I'm sorry, I'm rambling. It just happened so fast. I interviewed yesterday, and I just got the call." "That's great, Maggie," David managed to force out. He brought her in for a hug as he felt the dull throb of longing build in him, soft as she was in her oversize burgundy sweater and smelling like strawberries and spice. "Why don't you come in?" "Oh, I couldn't, it's getting late and I've already imposed." "Maggie, please. We'll celebrate. I was just about to open a bottle of wine anyway." He waited a moment, but she still looked uncertain. She wanted to sit with him, talk with him, but she wasn't sure another night of drinking was in their best interest. "Look, if you don't help me, I'll polish it off all by myself." His eyes seemed to plead with her. "Well, all right." David guided her inside with his hand at the small of her back. The living room was dim, with only one lamp lit and the fireplace blazing. Two couches faced each other with a table between them, and Maggie took a seat on the side of the couch nearest to the fireplace. David disappeared for a moment and returned with the bottle and two glasses. He sidled up next to her and poured her glass with care. She took it gingerly and tried not to gulp down her first taste, nervous as she was to be so close to him. He wore only a heather-gray raglan sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. The material was thin and gave her a very good idea of the shape of sinew that lay beneath. They sat together in silence for a long time, sipping their wine. Maggie broke the silence. "Have you done any work these past few days?" "Not much," he answered frankly. "I wanted to take a break. It's all we've been doing." "Oh. You make it sound tedious." Maggie felt inexplicably offended. "I thought you enjoyed it?" "I do. It's helped me a lot. In a way, it's saved my life. But, you know, everything in moderation." "It saved your life? How do you mean?" His answer was blunt. "I almost had a breakdown after my divorce." She was stunned, and then regretful. There it was again, she thought. The pattern she had always followed: always listening, never sharing. David had told her so much, and she, like always, couldn't bring herself to express any of her feelings. And how important that was. "Oh." It was the only response that she could manage. "I know that sounds dramatic, especially since I was never really in love with Deborah. But a divorce is huge. Everything changed, and my life became unrecognizable. My depression was debilitating. That project was the only thing that gave my life meaning for a long time." They were quiet again, so quiet that Maggie imagined she could hear his heartbeat. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold David, but the boldest move that she could manage was to inch closer to him, side to side now, their legs barely touching though she could feel his body heat emanating through his clothes. David interrupted her thoughts, which had taken a lustful turn. "I haven't made you uncomfortable, have I?" "Oh, no! It's just that everything I want to say doesn't seem quite right. It would sound insincere or corny and I don't want that." David nodded, feeling reassured. "Can I ask you something?" "Shoot." "Why did it take you so long to tell me about your fiancé? I've given it a lot of thought and just can't figure it out." A white lie, he thought. He had his suspicions but wanted to hear them confirmed. "I guess I'm not sure." David frowned at her and shook his head. Maggie already understood that her answer was unacceptable. She bit her lip and confessed, "The truth is, I liked you. You seemed to like me. I knew that the moment I told you, you would lose interest. Something would change. It was so selfish, and it was wrong, but that's why I did it." "But the problem is, I haven't lost interest." "I'm sorry, David." "Why are you getting married?" The question shook Maggie. It had been the one haunting her since she'd met David, she knew. It was the question that had been keeping her from sleep, from any kind of peace. "I love Rafael." But she loved him the way David had loved Deborah. With warmth, not heat. "I know I can't push you to do anything you don't want to do. I have a lot to say to you that you don't want to hear. But I do want to say this. I think there's something here, between us. I think it's promising. And it's not too late." Maggie was dizzy with these revelations. They weren't really revelations at all, though: she had known them all along. It was just the first time either of them had had the courage to say it. "I don't know. I should go home. I'm exhausted, and I'm drunk. This isn't the time." "But it's pouring outside now," David objected. "You're not walking home alone, and I'm too tired and drunk myself to walk with you, let alone drive." She realized the implication of what he said. "I can't sleep here." Maggie and The Professor "You have to. I have another bedroom here." Maggie wasn't afraid of David, but she knew the situation was dangerous in its own way. Despite that, she had to admit to herself he was right. The guest room would have to do. Maggie followed David into a room down the hall. He turned the lamp on next to the bed and surveyed their surroundings, which were just as minimal as the rest of the house and decorated in pale blues and soft silvers. There was something in the way that he turned down the sheets for her, carefully, almost with tenderness, that made her want to cry. "Do you need anything? Pajamas? Glass of water?" "I think I'm good. Thanks, David." And with one long last look, David had gone, shutting the door behind him. Maggie slipped out of her jeans, leaving her long collared shirt on, and climbed into bed. Alcohol always exhausted her yet kept her from sleep, and this night was no different. That she was in a strange bed didn't help either, and she was restless with thoughts of David. Maggie didn't stir when she heard the door open, or when she felt him tug the blankets back to crawl into bed beside her. She had been expecting him, she realized. She wasn't surprised or scared or angry. Her next realization was that she had wanted him there with her, had willed him there. David's breath was hot and honeyed, sweet with the smell of red wine. His presence relaxed her, and she didn't even jump when his fingertips brushed her shoulder. He traced mysterious shapes along her back for so long that she began to doze until he moved closer to her, so close she could feel him hard against her back. She stifled a gasp and felt the glimmer of her own arousal. David knew what he was doing was careless at best, immoral at worst, but he was drunk to the point of no longer caring. The thoughts that he gave precedence to now were impulsive and animal, driven by desperation and the real possibility that he would never see her again after what he'd shared with her that night, after challenging her. He brought one hand to her waist and marveled at how slim she was underneath the clothes that always dwarfed her. He turned her toward him and drew her in to kiss her but she stopped him short, her hand against his chest. "I can't, I can't," she whispered and heard his heavy sigh and the creak of the bed as he moved, the whisper of wood against carpet as he shut the door. He was gone, almost as if he'd never been there, the house oppressively quiet around her. And he was still gone in the morning when she woke, his Jeep absent from the driveway when she left, leaving her to wonder whether it was already the end. * David was shocked to see her name on the caller ID the next day. At this stage in their friendship (if that's what it was), he felt that she could vanish any minute. Hope seized him for a moment, but dread took its place and stayed with him as he answered. "Hi." "Hi." "How are you?" She knew that she sounded stiff. It was impossible not to after what had happened, knowing what she'd have to ask him. "Okay. What's up?" The stiffness was in his voice, too. "I have a difficult favor to ask." She heard the sigh at the other end, more miserable than aggravated. "All right." "Well, Rafael is coming to visit for a couple days, until I'm done house-sitting. He...wants to meet you. I hate to put you in that kind of position, David, but I'm worried he'll suspect something, that something has changed, if you say no." Or maybe that was just the product of a guilty conscience, she wondered. "But something has changed." "I know, but..." Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear it. "Fine." David sighed. He hadn't expected to hear from her ever again. And now, faced with an opportunity to see her one more time, he realized how helpless he was to refuse. Even if this last meeting would involve her fiancé. "What did the two of you have in mind?" "He's fixing dinner tomorrow night. He told me to extend the invitation. I mean, you could just join us for coffee before dinner, if you'd be more comfortable." Her voice trailed off, leaving David aware of just how awkward she felt even asking him. "Just text me the time, and I'll be there." David regretted his decision as soon as he hung up. But, he reasoned, maybe it would be like the first time he saw Chase and his ex-wife as a couple. He had felt absolved somehow, instantly released from all of his anxiety and longing and resentment. He had even felt happy for both of them, at a point when he worried happiness was beyond him or somehow not for him. Maybe he would see how in love Maggie was with Rafael and realize it was meant to be, that he had misread everything that had happened between them, and that any interference on his part would be like meddling with fate. Of course, David also fantasized about outdoing Rafael. Of being more intelligent, more charming, better looking, more in tune with Maggie. But logic dictated that the truth would lie somewhere between. He couldn't know the depth of her feelings for him, but he was almost certain that they were not for Rafael. * The dread prompted by Maggie's phone call remained with him, even as he stood on the Abbots' doorstep, waiting for her to let him in. But it was Rafael who answered. "Hey there," David said as he forced a smile and shook Rafael's hand. "Hey. Nice to finally meet you." The two men smiled blandly at each other and were relieved when Maggie appeared in the doorway, barefoot, in a simple black dress with long sleeves and little black beads at the neckline. It was the first time that he'd seen her wear a dress, he realized. It hugged everything. She wore her hair down with a little more makeup than he was used to seeing on her. She looked perfect, and he took a moment just to breathe. "Looks like I turned up too late to introduce you two properly." She looked more nervous than either of them and began to rattle off just about any inane thing she could think of that the men might have in common. Neither of them paid attention. David's initial reaction to meeting Rafael was dejection. As it was, Rafael's youth gave him an edge. But, even in his prime, David thought maybe the young man would have outshined him then. For the first time since he'd met Maggie, David felt painfully aware of his age. At first glance, it seemed as though there was nothing dislikeable about him. He was attractive, friendly, well-dressed. There was something, though. David sensed it. And rejected it, writing the feeling off as jealousy. Rafael wrapped his arm around Maggie. Something about the gesture seemed possessive, almost territorial. David wondered whether Rafael sensed something amiss. "Well, dinner's about ready if you guys want to sit down." She led the men inside, and David washed up at the kitchen sink, using the opportunity to get a better look at her as she scooped their dinner into a white china bowl. She caught him watching her and looked momentarily worried, but the worry softened into a wistful smile. "Need any help with that?" he offered. "I think I've got it. Thanks." He took this as his cue to sit down. David admired the table setting, which was immaculate. She had obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and for a brief moment wondered whether it was for him or for Rafael's benefit. The centerpiece was a beautiful arrangement of pink rosebuds and baby's breath in a small wicker basket, and a little collection of white votive candles surrounded it. A glass bowl of colorful salad and a plate of dinner rolls occupied the fourth place setting. Maggie set down the china bowl. "Help yourself, gentlemen." She insisted David serve himself first, and he took a little salad and a heap of their main course. "What's this?" he inquired. "It's grilled chicken and vegetables over saffron orzo." David and Rafael each took a bite. "You made this all by yourself?" David inquired. "I did." Maggie beamed, unable to disguise how pleased she was that David seemed impressed. Rafael chimed in. "It's great, sweetheart." "No help from Rafael, huh?" He kept his voice playful, but the accusation was there. And it was not lost on Rafael. "I'm a nightmare in the kitchen, so I let her make the meals. She's incredible at it, as you can tell." He seemed dull, David thought. Common. His appeal had to be his looks. But he had an easy confidence, too. He could see Maggie being drawn to that. Regardless, he would never be able to convince himself that Rafael was good enough. "I respect that decision," David fibbed tersely. Maggie, for her part, felt herself sweating a little. It wasn't as bad as she had predicted, but the unspoken tension between the two men was noticeable and though it wasn't as bad as it could have been, it was almost unbearable to her. She hadn't foreseen that letting Rafael meet David might confirm rather than allay his worst suspicions. But there was a different kind of tension between her and David that was hard to miss. It was then, during their terrible silence, that there was a faint knocking at the side of the house. Rafael was the first to comment. "Is that just how this house sounds when it settles?" "Not really, not that I know of," David responded. "It's a relatively new house." "I'm going to see what it is," Maggie announced. Rafael sat back, seemingly satisfied with this option, but David shook his head and rose. "I'll check it out," he offered, his hand lightly touching her shoulder to keep her seated. She jumped almost imperceptibly at the contact. He indulged himself in a little childish behavior and made sure to give Rafael a dirty look as he left the room. David strode down a hallway that led to a guest bedroom and bathroom, where Maggie must be staying, he reasoned absently. He stopped, listening intently. The sound came from inside the bedroom. The door was already ajar, and David slowly pushed it open. The lights were off but the glow of a full moon illuminated the room. David's eyes took only a moment to adjust, and it was then he saw two men silhouetted in the soft light just outside the window. They were doing their best to open the window quietly. David sighed and slinked backward, hoping not to be seen by the would-be intruders. He turned to find Maggie just outside the door and forced her to take a step back before she could realize the full import of the situation. "Maggie, whatever you do, don't panic. I need you to get to the phone now and call the police." He murmured to her calmly, evenly. "We've got a couple of guys outside who are trying to get in." Even in the darkness of the hallway, David could see the color drain from Maggie's face. She found herself unable to speak but managed a nod. And with that, she took off at a sprint down the hallway. David knew Chase kept a gun in the bedroom. With any luck, the cops would arrive before he had to make use of it. He couldn't help but notice Rafael sitting dumbly at the kitchen table as he passed through on his way to find the Abbots' gun. "What's going on?" Rafael asked. "Burglars," David shrugged, then immediately launched himself up the stairs, wishing he'd had time to witness Rafael's reaction to the news. What happened after that was a hazy, the time line out of order. He remembered finding the gun in the top drawer of Chase's nightstand. And when he ran downstairs, Rafael had been pacing and sweating in the kitchen, ignoring Maggie who sat calmly at the table with a massive steak knife in front of her. Her eyes glossed just a little as she looked at David. Then David was at the guestroom door again, gun in hand. One of the burglars had managed to wrest himself halfway through the barely opened window. David lifted the gun, stilling a single tremor that ran through his hands, and waited. The man must have, at some point, seen David and reconsidered, because the last image he remembered was of the two men running across the muted green of the grass in the side yard accompanied by the distant wail of sirens. The adrenaline subsided only to be replaced by a delayed gnawing of fear. He approached the window with the purpose of closing it but thought better. The cops would want to take a look at the room as is, though leaving it open like that made him uneasy. He heard a soft shuffling sound behind him and jumped, turning with the gun to find Maggie looking horrified. "Sorry," he apologized, dropping his arm to let the gun rest at his side. "What happened?" "They ran away, I guess. Sounds like the cops are just about here, too. Where's Rafael?" "In shock. Or denial. He's still in the kitchen, I guess." Her shoulders slumped as she sighed, the sound bordering on a sob. "I'm so glad everything's okay. That you're okay." She hugged him, and it surprised them both. Then Maggie pulled back slightly from the hug and kissed him. It was a kiss with intent, with the desire for something more. She felt the cold steel of the gun against her hip where he let it hang limply and searched for the heat of David's mouth. Then they heard Rafael yell for Maggie and the urgent knock of the cops against the front door and the kiss was cut short, leaving them both pained and empty. They walked together side by side on their way down the hallway, slowly, unable to look away from each other. They were awakened from their reverie by a police officer who barked questions at them and demanded that the trio step outside to talk with them. David gave his statement first, though he couldn't help but turn to look every other moment at Maggie and Rafael huddled together, whispering on the front doorstep. And then there was Rafael's possessive embrace again as he and Maggie gave their statements to two police officers. David sighed and, feeling both drained by the incident and defeated by dinner, walked home by himself without saying goodbye to the couple. And that was the last he'd heard from her. After what had happened between them, he'd expected it but, somehow, it still surprised him. The kiss in the guest bedroom had given him hope that she may have changed her mind, but her silence indicated otherwise. That the choice she'd made was Rafael smarted, and he spent most of his days at home, licking his wounds. * Before he knew it, it was February 14th. David had promised himself he would not use the day to linger over memories of Maggie or to imagine her wedding day, to wonder how beautiful she would look, and least of all, how her wedding night might go. Of course, he had never been any good at keeping promises he'd made to himself. He spent most of his day and the beginning of his night laying on the couch by the fireplace, staring at a muted television, an empty tumbler next to him on the end table. An open bag of potato chips sat on the floor beside him. And then, the doorbell rang. David rushed through a mental list of who it could be, from the most likely to the least likely candidates: the mailman, the Abbots, a colleague. He brushed stray crumbs from his lap, narrowly avoiding crushing the bag with his feet, and rose to investigate. He saw Maggie through the peephole and had to take a deep breath. He took a step back and closed his eyes, preparing himself. With equal parts optimism and fear, he opened the door. "Maggie?" There she was, in a huge tunic and skinny jeans, hair tousled, looking haggard. "Hi, David." "Are you all right?" "I..." She stopped, considered. "Actually, I am. I'm great." "Aren't you supposed to be getting married right now?" "I was, yeah." "You didn't leave him at the altar, did you?" David dreaded the answer. But Maggie just laughed. "Oh, no. I called it off. About a month ago." David did the math. She must have left him just after he'd met Rafael, after the "incident." "I'm so sorry. Do you want to come in?" "Yeah, please." Maggie followed him in. He grimaced as he saw the mess by the couch and led her to the kitchen table instead where they sat next to each other, just as they did when they worked together. "And, don't be sorry. I'm happy. But my family isn't. They're angry. Rafael... is angry. His family is angry. I've been living out of my car for the past few days, just to take a break from all of it, and I decided maybe you were the one to take that break with. I figured you might be the one person around who isn't furious with me. Though I'm not even really sure about that." "Living out of your car? Jesus. Have you eaten?" "Oh, sure. I mean, I still have money. I've been going to work. The only difference, I guess, is where I sleep now." "Why made you decide to call off the wedding?" "Turns out I didn't really love him," she murmured. "I just didn't love him," she repeated, seeing the expectant look on his face. And she couldn't blame him. He deserved to hear more, a proper explanation, to hear that he was right about everything after all. Just not yet. "Well, it's good to see you." David grew nervous. "It's good to see you, too. I missed you." He smiled, wondering, as his optimism began to outweigh fear. "Is there anything you need? A drink, maybe? You said you've eaten but I have a little food here, too." "I could use some water." "Just a sec." It took every ounce of David's strength not to leap to his feet and run to the cupboard. He was shot through with nervous energy at her unexpected arrival. Her presence had unmoored him. He had thought of her often and wondered whether he would see her again, but never seriously. There was only a fantasy of the reunion in his mind, never any real consideration of what he might say or do. In the fantasy, David kept his composure. "Thanks," she responded as he handed her the glass. "I do have a favor to ask of you." David felt the briefest surge of nausea as he remembered the last favor she'd asked of him. "I've been using a YWCA shower. Would it be a huge imposition to ask for a real shower here? Just a short one." "Oh, no." There was a welcome flood of relief at the simplicity of her request. "Of course not. Let me get you a towel." When David returned from the linen closet in the hallway, towel in hand, Maggie hugged him. The gesture was impulsive, and it startled David. Even she looked surprised. Maggie took the towel from him and thanked him. Just before she closed the bathroom door, she called out to him, and he turned. "You were right, David. It wasn't too late." And just like that, she had shut the door. Once Maggie turned on the shower, David returned to the couch to collect his thoughts, which were moving too fast to grasp. He remembered his doubt in the beginning, the uncertainty as to what approach to take with her. His options. A conversation, a date, a kiss, a seduction. A conversation was too safe, and the idea alone of waiting for a date drove him crazy. Once he kissed her, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. He'd worried that maybe he'd lost his ability to seduce. He knew he hadn't forgotten. He was rusty, and she was special. He had more at stake. He had to admit that he was in unfamiliar territory, too. It didn't matter how attractive Maggie found him, there was no telling how she felt about their age difference. Except that she was here now, he thought. She had come to see him. After all that had happened. She had kissed him. And, although he wasn't so deluded as to think that Maggie's hug or remark was a signal or an invitation, he felt there had been the hint of a challenge in it. Something in the air had changed, something in the charge between them. David breathed deeply in front of the bathroom door. This time, the reckless decision he had made was one made sober, and the anxiety that had plagued him was gone. Maggie was brushing her hair with her fingers when David opened the door without knocking. She glanced down to make sure that her towel was still securely wrapped around her and nervously pulled at David's tattered old robe she had thrown over it. It occurred to her that she had never seen him look so solemn. Though she hadn't considered the possibility he might barge in on her, she realized that, just like that night he had slipped into bed with her, she wasn't surprised or even upset to see him there. Her pulse quickened as these thoughts assailed her, and she turned to face him. Maggie and The Professor "Tell me to go and I'll go." David leaned back against the door, one hand resting loosely on the knob. But Maggie only stood there, stone-faced, daring him to do whatever it was he had come to do. The dusky-sweet green of her eyes fixed on him, and she trembled for just a moment. David ambled toward her and stood so close she could smell his soap and sweat. He sighed roughly into her damp hair, his hands beginning to trace her jaw line. When his fingers reached her chin, he tilted her head upward and brought his mouth to her top lip, which he kissed quietly. She nipped at his bottom lip, and this was all the permission that he needed. David grasped the sides of the robe to bring Maggie close against his body, and she found herself trapped between cool tile and David's radiating heat. He covered her mouth with his in a demanding kiss that dizzied her. A quick hand went to the place between her breasts and tugged the towel open. Her eyes remained on his as the towel fell to their feet. David stepped back to look at her, worshipful of her, of the lithe shape before him. He reached out and Maggie took his hand and, with one last nervous look at the fallen towel, let him lead her out of the bathroom. David had intended to take her into his bedroom but realized he couldn't make it that far. He crushed Maggie against the living room wall and kissed her hungrily. His hands squeezed her waist, then slid down to her hips where he grabbed her again, as if he making sure she was real. The thick wool of his sweater rasped against her bare breasts, eliciting a gasp from Maggie. Their senses crackled, amplified by each other's presence. Maggie tugged David's sweater up and over his head, tousling his hair in the process. She let his robe fall to her feet. The coy look she gave him as she sank to her knees nearly undid him. In one deft movement, she had pulled down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock. He'd been hard even before he'd walked in on her in the bathroom. In fact, thinking about it now, he couldn't remember a time since he'd met her that he'd stopped feeling the tumult of desire. His knees locked as he felt the soft velvet press of her mouth against him. She let her hands roam, from the head of his cock to its base and the thin skin of his inner thighs, her touch feather-light. The delicacy of her caress did not prepare him for how suddenly she took him in, how eager, how yielding. Her eyes were on his as she gave over control of the rhythm to him, meeting his every thrust with the downward glide of her wet mouth, the ring of her lips tight around him, her tongue playing tricks. David knew that he would cum if she continued, and he wanted more. "Stop, stop." Maggie released him and looked up, and he couldn't help admire her. Her luminous eyes, the lovely breasts, mouth reddened, the glow of her hair in the firelight. For a moment he was breathless, then thoughtless as he pulled Maggie to her feet, then lifted her up and all but tossed her onto the couch. Before she had time to adjust, he had straddled her. He nipped at her chin and relaxed his arms around her, allowing his weight to fall against her. Maggie moaned. David paused. "Am I hurting you?" "Not at all." The weight was delicious, she thought as she surrendered to the sweet ache of his weight, his thorough attention, the gentle bites and kisses, and the sensation of his hot breath over her sensitive skin. He caught her breath and released it in one long, warm exhalation across the skin of her neck. He lifted himself up and sat back on his knees, watching her. "What is it?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious. "Just looking at you. You're beautiful." Then he was traveling, sinking lower, brushing his mouth across her stomach and reveling in the resulting shiver, not stopping until he was between her legs, nipping at her thighs, then tasting her. She shivered again, shivering into him as he licked a slow line along her lips. He glanced up at Maggie, eyes closed, arms thrown behind her, grasping the arm of the couch. He watched her eyes fly open as he brushed his mouth over her clit, and then as he took her into his mouth. The motion of his tongue was almost imperceptible, but its effects were powerful. There was a shudder, a gasp, and Maggie's hands were at his temples, clutching his hair as she trembled beneath him. David rose and admired the flush across Maggie's cheeks, her eyes bright and regardful of him. He bowed over her and kissed her deeply, moaning as she drew her nails across his back. She unconsciously wriggled her hips toward him, and David pulled her close, lifting her up as she helped guide the tip of his cock to her slit. David savored the feeling of her warmth surrounding him, and Maggie's heart fluttered at how close he was. David slid slowly, snugly into her, wanting her to feel all of him as he pushed forward. Maggie opened to him, throwing one leg around his waist as she drew him in deeper, closer to her. She bit her lip as he pulled back, then penetrated her again, his unhurried movements almost too much for her, his rhythm painfully measured. She was overwhelmed. For the first time ever, she desired someone to the point that she worried she might faint. The care he'd taken in his movement could not and did not last long. He bit her as he kissed her and drove himself into her in one quick, frantic plunge. Maggie struggled to match his passion, to keep hold of him, both their skin too slick with their intermingled sweat to grasp. The sound of David's breaths, ragged and desperate, gave Maggie the impression that something somewhere in him had come undone, gone wild. She couldn't remember a time she'd seen such lust in Rafael's eyes for her, let alone a time when she felt her own hunger could rival a lust so potent. David's kiss was searing against her sensitive mouth, and it left her gasping. She watched him pull away, his eyes locking on hers as she felt herself tense up. Something gave way inside her, her pleasure flowing molten through her as she came. David saw her eyelids go heavy, watched the quivering lip, heard the softest moan, and this was more than he needed to follow her. He sank himself into her as he came, moaning into her kiss as she nipped the corners of his lips and met his final thrust with her own. The two lay together in the cocoon of a hushed quiet, Maggie's back pressed warmly against his chest. He listened to her, watched her. The soothing rhythm of her breath coupled with her heartbeat. The soft sighs. A glow about her, the firelight making gold flecks of her sweat. Her blonde hair knotted in his fist as he kissed her spine. Maggie turned toward him and studied him. What had taken her so long? Why all the fuss, the struggle against this? Why had she ever chosen Rafael, when this could have been hers? When this was so obviously her future? "I'm glad I'm with you," she whispered. "You're glad?" he teased. "You're not the only one." "You don't already have a valentine, do you?" "Oh. She'll be mad." David watched as Maggie grinned, then saw something darken in her expression. "Can I be serious with you? I want to tell you something, something that's a long time coming, that I've never been able to say." "Of course." "I think I love you. And I think I have for a long time. It's bigger than anything I've known before, and I've been terrified. But the choice was so obvious, so easy. And it would have been obvious to anyone else. I just wasn't ready." Maggie stopped to compose herself, to breathe, and David studied her, bed-headed and patient, his eyes just a little moist and bright with a longing deeper than lust. "There's a certain comfort in staying with someone who doesn't see you. You get to stay hidden, you get to keep your secrets. And I realize I haven't shared much with you yet, but you've known how I felt all along, even when I didn't. I want to know you just as much as you want to know me." "And I think you already know what I'm about to say," David murmured, looking at her so intently that she trembled, "but it's only fair that I tell you I love you, too." The couple stayed silent after that, hands lazily exploring, discovering each other, until they both began to doze. Maggie woke late in the night to find David facing her, watching her. She sighed and shrugged. "Rafael wouldn't have made a very good husband anyway," she teased. "I knew all along it was me you should be marrying," David deadpanned, suddenly cocky as the weight of the night's events had finally sunk in. "I've been practicing, and I think I'll make a perfect husband for you. But it's late, so you'll have to settle on having me as your valentine. At least for tonight."