Almost Perfect

This is Jake, she reminded herself. Some things didn’t change. “Come on in. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Boots clicked upon the hardwood floors, chasing an odd sense of masculine presence over her like angel fingers strumming across harp strings.

She led him to the spare room down the hall, and as he dropped his bag on the guest bed, a flood of sexual awareness washed over her. Where had the short, gangly teenager gone?

“I’m wearing what I have on,” he said.

Her eyes swept over him again. Cowboy boots, denim pants and a suede jacket were a far cry from what the other men would be wearing, but on Jake they looked great.

He reached into his tote bag and removed a black bolo. “This is as black-tie as I get.”

She didn’t doubt that for a minute. If he didn’t mind walking into a formal affair dressed like a rebellious cowboy, she wouldn’t complain. She actually fancied herself on his arm. “You look fine to me.”

“I’m glad.” He slid her a lazy smile, one that made her pulse zip and skip like the stones he’d taught her how to skim across the surface of the old swimming hole.

“Well,” she said, “I’d better get dressed. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t be long.”

But getting dressed took much longer than she’d anticipated.

She’d wanted to look her best because El Baile Elegante was a big event, one all of her colleagues would be attending. An event at which she believed they would be watching her, checking to see if her professional demeanor would falter when Tom and Rhonda entered the banquet hall. Of course, she was nervous.

But for some reason, knowing that Jake was in the living room, waiting to escort her to the gala, had her nerves even more on edge. Jumpy. The butterflies in her stomach had grown to an angry swarm.

She fidgeted with her hair for ten minutes, trying to sweep it up in an elegant coiffure, but the silky strands wouldn’t stay put. She finally gave up and let it fall naturally to her shoulders. And even though she’d been putting on lipstick for years, her hands trembled and she had to reapply the lip liner three times before she was reasonably satisfied.

Maggie stood before the bathroom mirror and sighed. She’d done the best she could, under the circumstances. Now, if she could just hurry the evening along, get it over with and go back home, she’d be okay.

She entered the living room wearing a formal-length, black gown, with a scooped neckline in front. The other side plunged, revealing a V-shaped glimpse of her back. She had a strange urge to run down the hall and grab a wrap, something with which to cover herself, but it had been an unseasonably hot September day, and the evening promised to be humid and warm.

“Definitely worth the wait,” Jake said. His appreciative grin complimented her in a way Tom never had. It both pleased and unnerved her further.

“Thank you.”

As she fingered the strapless purse in her hands, his gaze locked on to hers. “What kind of fool would leave you?”

A part of her desperately needed to believe her ex had been a fool. “Tom Bradley, stockbroker extraordinaire.”

“Remind me never to let him invest any of my money.”

She smiled, grateful for the support, but too rational to believe she hadn’t erred, that she hadn’t somehow been at fault. She should have seen it coming, should have done something to prevent it. “I’m sure part of the blame was mine.”

“What part?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “My mom couldn’t seem to make a marriage work. I didn’t have much of an example.”

“What about TV reruns?” he asked, stepping closer. “Ward and June had a heck of a marriage.”

Maggie laughed. That’s what she liked about Jake. He had a way of making her troubles vanish, like he had all those years ago when they’d slipped away from the ranch and gone fishing in the creek. Or when they’d sneaked out late at night and gone for a hike.

She’d missed him, his fun-loving spirit and easy smile. “You’re right. The Cleavers had a perfect relationship. Now I realize what I did wrong.”

He grinned in that cocky way of his, only this time more grown-up, more provocative. “What did you do wrong?”

“I didn’t do the dishes while wearing pearls, a dress and heels.”

“Maybe you should have skipped the dress and just worn the heels and pearls. It would have made me come home.”

She swatted his arm and countered with a playful smile. “There’s more to a relationship than sex.”

“My best relationships have been based on great sex. What else is there?”

“Kids and picket fences.”

Jake slowly shook his head. “Babies are scary.”

“Not to Tom. About two years ago he started asking me about having a child. I wasn’t ready then. Children have very important needs, and a doctor who’s still paying off student loans doesn’t have time to spend stay-at-home, quality time with them.” She blew out a ragged breath. “Now, Rhonda Martin, another pediatrician in my office, is expecting his child.”

“So,” Jake said, settling into a more serious tone. “What are you going to do when this evening is over? Rhonda will still be expecting a baby, and you and Tom will still be divorced.”

Maggie unsnapped her purse and withdrew the car keys. “I’m going to start packing boxes for my move to California. A friend from medical school referred me to a respected pediatrician in Los Angeles who is retiring. I’m going to take over his practice.”

“Atta girl.” Jake chuckled. “Moving on has always worked for me.”

“That’s the way I see it, too,” she said, heading toward the front door. “I’ll be leaving day after tomorrow, even though I don’t start work for two more months.”

“Why so soon?”

“Because Rhonda and I work together and maintain a cordial business relationship at the office. For some reason, people feel inclined to invite me to share in the celebrations, parties and good wishes. And the truth is, I can’t stand the thought of receiving another invitation to a baby shower, even though I politely decline each one.”

He cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “You’re being treated as a lifelong friend of the bride and groom?”

“I guess it’s my own fault for acting as though I didn’t care.” She sighed heavily. “It seemed like the professionally correct thing to do, when what I really wanted to do was jerk her by the stethoscope around her neck and give her a piece of my mind.”

“So you pretended it didn’t bother you?” He took her hand and gave it a slow, gentle squeeze. Her fingers warmed at his touch, her heart at his compassion. “You still have to be perfect, don’t you, Magpie?”

“I try to be the best I can be,” she said. “I don’t consider it a personal flaw or shortcoming.”

Jake grinned and shook his head. “Honey, I doubt a word or two from me is going to change anything.”

She appreciated the fact that he didn’t preach or patronize her. “Hard work and dedication are important to me.”

“I know.” Jake ran the knuckles of his hand along her cheek, sending a swirl of heat to her face, and no doubt, causing a blush to surface. “So what’s my role tonight?”

“Your role?” She didn’t mean to throw the question back in his lap, but she wasn’t sure what she expected, other than a friend to hold her hand. Maybe ask her to dance. “I don’t really know.”

“You want me to be an old friend? A new friend? A guy you’ve been dating?” He slid her a cocky, James Dean smile. “Your lover?”

She shook her head and laughed. “At first I’d just wanted an escort, a friend. Someone to lean on for my last hurrah.”

“And now?” he asked, blue eyes studying her intently. His musky scent closed in on her, sharpening her senses, making her keenly aware of his masculinity. A lot had happened to them in fifteen years. And at this very moment, she realized Jake had developed a sensuality he’d never had as a lanky teenager.

“You could act as though we’re dating, I suppose.”

“Have we made love?” His question startled her, excited her.

She gazed at him, unable to prevent her thoughts from drifting to Jake, lying in her bed, sheets draped low across his hips. Oh, for Pete’s sake. Her imagination had never taken sexual turns before tonight. “Of course not.”

“But we want to, right?”

Her heart zinged and pinged, and a heat settled low in her stomach. Make love to Jake? The vision of a naked cowboy in her bed hit her full force, and she struggled to regain control of her thoughts. He was role-playing and getting his act straight, and she was allowing her libido to interfere. “Well…”

“Okay,” he said. “I get it. We’ve kissed a time or two. And I want to kiss you again and see what flavor of breath mints you use. I want to hold you in my arms again, sway to a slow love song, feel your breasts against my chest. And I have a hankering to see how far things will go tonight. After the gala.”

For some reason, she felt as if she were in the midst of phone sex. His slow, Southern drawl poured over her, making her want to take an active role in his game. “I’d like people to think I’m happy and glad to be single.”

“We’ll make them wonder what we’ve got planned for later on.”

“I didn’t mean for this to be a chore,” she said, having second thoughts about role-playing with a man who made her mind drift to the bedroom. She’d been sleeping single in a king-size bed for too darn long, not that she had any inclination to change that. “If you just want to be my escort for the evening, it’s okay. In fact, that’s probably best.”

“Hey, I don’t mind helping out. That’s what friends are for.”

She clutched her purse against her heart and offered the handsome cowboy a shy smile. “I’ve never been too good at acting.”

He stepped behind her and placed a calloused hand on her lower back. The touch of his work-roughened palm and splayed fingers against her skin sent a jolt of heat to her core, and she had the strangest desire to feel those hands on her entire body.

“Let me do the acting,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”

“I’m not sure I can pull this off, Jake. Maybe we should just be friends.”

He opened the door for her. “Trust me, Magpie. It’ll be easy. You’ll see.”

She hoped his words rang true, but something told her this was going to be a wild, unpredictable evening.

And she didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

Chapter Two

Crystal chandeliers cast an elegant glow inside the New England Garden Towers, as Jake ushered Maggie down the carpeted hallway to the Grand Ballroom. He would make it through the evening without a scratch, but he wasn’t so sure about Maggie.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“I know.” He took her trembling hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, his fingers covering hers, offering his support, his strength.

He wanted to chase her fears away, be some kind of superhero who would make everything be all right. He’d tried to do the same thing when they were kids, but it had been easier when Maggie had been a shy, studious sixteen-year-old, and he’d been a surly teen who resented the life fate had dealt him.

During those three summers they’d spent together, he’d taken her hand more times than he could remember. And he’d taught her how to loosen up and have fun, at least for a few months out of the year.

One afternoon, he’d come across her reading, alone in her room, and dragged her out to the pond. She’d been afraid to take the rope and swing across the lake the first time, but he’d wrapped his arms around her and swung with her, coaxing her to let go, to trust him.

“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?”

Suggesting? Friends didn’t kiss like that, and even though she knew better, that slow, sensuous contact had nearly convinced her that they’d always been more than friends. Which, of course, they hadn’t. So why had his kiss nearly sent her to the moon? She tried to regain her footing. “That was some kiss.”

“You have a mouth made for kissing. All kinds of kisses, short and sweet, long and deep.”

At the thought of kissing Jake thoroughly, her knees nearly buckled, and heat pooled low in her belly. She quickly struggled to recover.

Jake had been a bachelor for years, and from what his sister had said, women clamored around him. He had kissing down to a science and was, undoubtedly, a master at the fine art of seduction. So he’d been able to pack something powerful into that whisper of a kiss, all for the sake of the roles they were playing.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” she said, leading him toward the middle of the room where Tom and Rhonda conversed with a waiter bearing a tray of champagne.

She assessed her ex-husband in a way she never had before and found him lacking in more ways than one. He stood several inches shorter than Jake and appeared pale and wan next to the Texan’s sun-bronzed complexion. Funny, but she’d never noticed what the indoor lighting had done to his skin. “Hello, Tom. Rhonda. It’s good to see you.”

Tom smiled, and for the very first time, she noticed his thin lips. Like a turkey’s beak. No wonder his kisses had never sent her heart spinning. He’d been shortchanged in the lip-and-mouth department, so it seemed. “How have you been, Maggie?”

“Great.” She tried to muster a sense of pride, then turned to Jake, whose full lips curled in that James Dean grin. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Jake Meredith.”

The men greeted each other, and when Tom introduced Rhonda, Jake flashed her a charming smile, working his magic, it seemed, on the pregnant pediatrician. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Rhonda smiled and cast an admiring gaze on the sexy cowboy.

“Rhonda isn’t feeling well,” Tom said, slipping an arm around his wife. “So we’ll probably only stay for dinner.”

“That’s too bad.” Maggie couldn’t conjure the least bit of sympathy. She actually hoped the woman’s feet swelled to the size of a full-grown elephant’s, and that her back ached like crazy. “The ninth month can be unpleasant.”

“Yes, but it’s also exciting,” Rhonda said. “We have the nursery all ready. You’ll have to come by and see it.”

Oh gosh, not again. Did Rhonda’s whole world revolve around Tom and the baby? Or was she purposely waving a victory flag in Maggie’s face?

Well, she could have Turkey-lips. And his baby. A man who cheated on his wife wasn’t a prize, as far as Maggie was concerned.

“Better you, Rhonda, than me,” Maggie said, referring to Rhonda’s husband, not her pregnancy.

“Some women aren’t meant to be mothers,” Rhonda said.

Maggie wished the pediatrician was wearing a stethoscope so Maggie could wrap it tight around the woman’s throat and choke her until she turned blue. The pregnant glow was hard enough to tolerate; the pregnant gloat was pushing Maggie’s professional resolve to the limit.

“Hey,” Jake said, taking Maggie’s hand and tilting his head toward the waiters bringing in trays laden with dinner plates. “I think they want us to take our seats.”

Maggie quickly nodded, ready to escape the upcoming discussion of cribs and wallpaper.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she whispered to Jake. “And quite the charmer. I think Rhonda found you attractive.”

“Maybe so,” he said, sliding her a slow smile. “There’s something women love about cowboys.”

Yes, Maggie supposed there was. Particularly, a cowboy like Jake.

“But I’ve got a hell of a lot better cull shoot than Tom Bradley,” he said, pulling her close to his side. “I know which fillies to keep and which to let go. Come on, Magpie. Let’s find us a quiet place to sit.”

They stayed only for dinner and a dance, long enough to make a gracious showing, then Maggie and Jake left and drove home.

As they strode across her parking garage toward the elevator, Maggie winced. She should have opted for the expensive black heels, rather than the fashionable strappy sandals she’d purchased to go with her evening dress. While they waited for the door to open, she curled her toes, trying to eliminate the pain her new shoes had caused.

“What’s the matter?” Jake asked.

The fact that he’d picked up on her discomfort surprised her, but in the past, he’d always been in tune with her feelings. Apparently, he was just as discerning now. How was that possible?