Wife for Hire by Janet Evanovich Page B

Maggie. His chin rested against the mass of orange curls over her ear, and his voice grew softer, more serious.
    â€œI know this must be difficult for you, Mrs. Toone. You’re worried about Maggie, and I don’t blame you. We shouldn’t have been so secretive about our romance, but the truth is, it sort of took us by surprise. I think it would be nice if you and Aunt Marvina could stay with us for a few days. I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better.”
    His fingertips lightly combed through thewisps of hair at Maggie’s temple, and a rush of tenderness for the woman he held in his arms almost left him breathless. “I love your daughter,” he told Mabel Toone. “And I intend to take very, very good care of her.”
    â€œI guess a mother couldn’t ask for more than that,” Mabel said. “It’s nice of you to invite us to stay, but we’ve got a room at one of those bed-and-breakfast places, and then we’ve got to get back to Riverside. Marvina has an appointment to get a permanent on Thursday, and nobody will water my plants. Besides,” she said with a broad smile, “I know how it is with newlyweds.”
    Hank made a masculine sound of appreciation. It hummed against Maggie’s ear, sending vibrations all the way to the soles of her feet. In spite of all her good resolve, she felt herself relax into him.
    It was almost impossible not to like Hank Mallone. He might be a womanizer and a schemer, but he was also sensitive and charming and there was something about Hank Mallone that touched her. He didn’t just heat her blood—he also warmed her soul. It was nice, and it was sad. And it was infuriatingthat he’d lied so smoothly about loving her. Hank Mallone was a rascal, she thought.
    â€œWell,” Mabel said, “we should be getting on. The pie was delicious,” she said to Elsie. She gave her daughter a kiss and hugged her son-in-law. “You keep in touch.”
    â€œThey’re nice people,” Hank said when he and Maggie were left alone on the front porch. “They really care about you.”
    He was being generous, Maggie decided. He could have said they were meddlesome. “You think I’m a bad daughter?”
    He laughed. “No. I think you’re struggling to find a balance between being a daughter and being an in de pen dent adult. And I think you’re mother’s struggling to relate to an adult child.”
    She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked. “Do you think your father will give you the loan?”
    â€œI don’t know. He didn’t look too happy when he left.” He tugged at an orange curl. “I don’t suppose you’d consider getting pregnant?”
    â€œNo. I don’t suppose I would.”
    â€œJust checking.”
    Â 
    Maggie was used to hearing cars leaving the parking lot first thing in the morning. She was used to the sound of the garbagemen emptying the dumpster, and to hearing old Mr. Kucharski’s smoker’s cough, as he shuffled overhead from bedroom to bathroom. They were sounds she’d always hated, and it surprised her to find that she missed them. She dragged herself out of bed, shrugged into a worn navy T-shirt and cutoff gray sweats, and padded barefoot to the kitchen, following the smell of fresh-made coffee.
    Hank was already at the table. He looked up and groaned. His worst fears and best fantasies were coming home to roost. Maggie Toone was a vision of morning allure with her mussed hair and sleep-softened face. She poured herself a cup of coffee and immediately took a sip. She’d been about to say something, but the plea sure of that first sip of coffee erased all thought. Instead, she smiled and gave a contented sigh.
    Elsie took a tray of homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven and knocked them out into a napkin-lined basket. “Don’t think I’m going to do this every day,” she said.