No Magic Moment Read online

  After that, silence wasn’t such a problem. If asked to issue even a word, I would’ve been a dumbstruck fool.

  The woman of my dreams had never taken my breath away more. Her hair was pulled in a high poof of a ponytail over her makeup-less face, which was smudged with flour. A streak of red frosting trailed down her neck, and I instantly imagined licking it off.

  Are you even considering the concept of letting your dick lead on this one, fuck brain?

  There were some pressing priorities on top of that, anyhow—like the thousand questions about who stood next to her. I’d stared at the truth for at least a minute and still hardly believed it. She was really here, the woman so elusive I’d almost thought her a ghost if not for the photos Margaux had kept pristine as a shrine. Though she was almost twenty years older, hardly anything had changed about the structured beauty of her features.

  Caroline.

  What the hell?

  It wasn’t even the most stunning revelation. Staring at her now, sharing a laugh with my girl as she iced a star-shaped sugar cookie, the truth hit like a damn nuclear holocaust.

  “Well, hello there.” The woman’s resemblance to Margaux was even more stunning as she looked up, smiling as if I’d just returned from fetching them some more flour.

  Margaux tossed Caroline a puzzled glance before her periphery snagged on me. “Holy shit.” A knife full of frosting dropped from her hand, streaking her apron and the floor with red. I swallowed, hoping the murder scene palette wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.

  I finally managed coherency. “Hey.”

  Margaux wiped her hands on the apron, smearing the red shit even more but hardly noticing. Her gaze crashed into mine, glistening and tremoring though she clenched the tears back, ordering them not to spill over onto her face. Her breathtaking, soul-stealing, torment-filled face.

  “Hey.” She barely rasped it. I watched her start to unspool the mental caution tape, her expression switching from cookie-making joy to monster confrontation. I hated that look. I hated myself for being the cause of it—but law school gave no pointers on conveying the right demeanor for this one. So I stood there like a goddamn slab, hoping my remorse blasted through the rips in my gut.

  “Michael.” Thank fuck for the third wheel in the room, proving to be the savior of the moment. “I’m so glad we finally get to meet,” Caroline said while seizing me in a full hug. Her warm grip was so much like Mom’s, I forgot to be stunned. “I’m Violet. Mary’s mother.”

  That did it. My confusion was officially validated. “But—I—”

  She smirked back at Margaux. “Eloquent, isn’t he?”

  I ignored Margaux’s answering eye roll. “Your name’s supposed to be Caroline.”

  “Ahhhh.” She pulled her hands up beneath her chin. “There’s the tiger on your tongue. Caroline was the name Andrea made me take when I lived with her and Mary.” As she looked to Margaux, I recognized I wasn’t the only one in the place battling regrets. “A legally binding contract was the only way she’d let me be near Mary at all. I signed it in desperation when Mary was four days old, never comprehending Andrea would consider throwing me out.”

  Her voice cracked as she relayed the story, the pain tangibly mixing with the butter and sugar aromas in the air.

  Margaux wrapped both hands around her mother’s. “Ancient history now, Mom.”

  The smile she gave the woman turned me back into a block of clay. I’d never seen such a look on her face before. A new light infused her skin and glowed from her eyes, reminding me of angelic maidens in illuminated manuscripts from the obligatory museums in Europe.

  Great. Now I was a star-struck poet—who still stood like a speechless lump. Her joy from reuniting with Caroline—Violet—was clear as sunlight on the bay. Maybe she’d come to the conclusion that I was actually useless weight in her life, best cut free forever.

  If that was the case, it was best to find out now. God damn it.

  “I’m honored to meet you, Violet,” I forced out. “And from the bottom of my heart to yours, thank you for having the courage to come forward.”

  I wanted to say more but was suddenly edgy. Hopefully, the soft smile I directed at Margaux was my megaphone. Most of all, thank you for making her so happy.

  When the older woman smiled, I knew at least part of the message had gotten through. “Please, call me Caroline if that’s more comfortable for you. It’s my middle name, anyhow.” Her sparkle faded by a degree as she added, “As for my courage? Well, that should have happened sooner. When I think of how Andrea’s pettiness kept me leashed—”

  “Okay, stop.” Margaux locked both smudged hands on her blue jeans-covered hips. “Wallowing is for swine. And we’ll let the authorities deal with Andrea Asher. She’s not worth another second of our energy.”

  I cast a meaningful glance at the cookies. “Especially when there’s important other work going on.”

  Caroline laughed. Her energy was a little less intense than Margaux’s, imparting a peaceful happiness to the air. “This sweet girl is helping me fill baskets for the Children’s Hospital bake sale. We do it every year at the Seaport Village holiday kick-off festival. It’s a lot of fun. You two should come!”

  I averted my gaze. From the rustle of her apron, I judged Margaux had done the same, betraying the sync of our thoughts. The last time we’d ventured over to the Village, truths had been shared, passions exchanged, unforgettable moments created. Just thinking about it eased the weight on my chest. Those had been some dark times, but we’d made it through. Did I dare hope that such a light would shine for us again?

  “I think it might rain tonight.” Margaux’s nervous murmur disrupted the silence. “I’d better go cover up the chaises and barbecue.”

  “I’ll help.” I fell into step behind her, not leaving her time to protest. If she wanted me out of here, now was her opportunity to let me know—and I didn’t doubt she’d use it.

  We’d stepped all the way out to the patio before she turned again.

  Correction. Spun.

  Shit.

  I braced myself for the princess seethe but was broadsided by her quiet grief instead. She waged an intense battle against her tears, nose crinkling and lips twisting. “Just shoot it to me straight, Pearson.”

  The mandate, I should have anticipated. Knife through the bullshit…there was my perfect princess.

  “Well?” She braced hands to her hips. “What can I do to really help you, Michael? Did you come back to grab more clothes? Pack up your shit for good? You weren’t just passing through, that’s for damn sure.”

  I dragged in a deep breath. Calm. Calm. Calm.

  “You’re right.” Damn it. In this case, calm also meant cagey. I refused to get in her face like a shoe salesman on commission, demanding she buy my plea for redemption if she’d already cut up her card for my store. “As a matter of fact, Killian dropped me off.”

  That got rid of the tears. She flashed a trio of stunned blinks. “The hell how? Or why?”

  “Because I wanted to get back here as soon as possible, and he was the one at the farm with the Aston Martin.”

  “The farm? No. He went to the car show in LA.”

  “He told you and Claire that.” I dared half a step more toward her, thankful my news had mystified her too much to notice. “He came clean to Claire when we were driving back in.”

  “And she forgave him?”

  “When she found out why he kept the trip a secret? Yes.”

  She tilted her head, training her wary cat’s gaze on me. “Why’d he keep it a secret?”

  “Because he might not have been successful in his mission.”

  “His what?”

  “You heard me. He had a mission. I was part of it.”

  “A mission to do what?”

  I leaned a hand against the barbecue. The move didn’t box her in completely but she’d have to scramble backward over one of the chaises to escape me at this point.

  Dear God, do
n’t let her want to escape me.

  “To yank my head out of my ass.”

  Her face crumpled with new emotion. The look didn’t disclose anything about whether she’d longed or dreaded to hear that. Her heavy swallow didn’t help, either.

  “So…was he successful?”

  What the hell was the right reply for that? A dorky nod? Oh, that’s smooth, dweeb. A tentative yes, blurted like one of the drops that began falling from the clouds, splatted into nothing between us when done? Because she’ll find that so much more appealing? Or trust it at all? Like that was happening. She had no reason to trust any testimony I gave, declaration I swore, or promise I vowed.

  She had no reason…so I had only one option.

  Show her.

  It was the only option that made sense—and the only one that terrified the marrow from my bones.

  Show her.

  I dared another step toward her. Lifted a hand to her cheek. She was so goddamn beautiful. Her eyes, alive with green fire. Her chin, set with such pride. Her sweet little smile, filled with such hope.

  Her strength, pulling me through the fear.

  And down, down, down…to kiss her with the force of my love.

  Her mewl harmonized with my groan, just before she wrapped her hands around my neck…and she opened all the way for me.

  I plunged harder, pouring myself into her, silently begging her to feel the sorrow of my contrition…the depth of how she completed me. When I urged her body against mine, fitting the centers of our bodies tighter, the pulse of her desire came alive…and ignited mine. A tremor claimed every inch of her…then me too. I never wanted to rip myself away from her—ever. Even the spare inch I allowed, necessary for us to catch our breaths, now seemed like the goddamn Grand Canyon.

  “Sugar.” I claimed her upper lip with the rasp. “Princess.” The lower. “Margaux. Margaux. I’ve been such an ass.”

  Her laugh washed over my mouth. She bit both my lips before whispering, “I know.”

  “And I’m not sure how to do this.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m so fucking scared.”

  She brushed the barest kiss across my lips. Pulled my head down so she could continue up my nose and over both my eyebrows. “I know that, too.”

  I rolled my head, unashamed about pleading for more of her kisses. At the same time, I yanked the tie out of her hair to let the thick golden waves fall over my hands. Some of it was damp now, as the rain fell heavier. The pungent clarity of it on the streets below swirled with the lavender of her shampoo, walloping me with homesickness though our living room was only a few feet away.

  Ours?

  On a surge of determination, I pulled so our foreheads aligned. “I swear I won’t live in fear any longer. I swear, Margaux, with every thought I have and breath I take, I’ll live every day for us.”

  She lifted her face and kissed me again. It was long and deep and rain-drenched, ending when she pulled back to stare at me. Adoration and joy flooded her face, in a look I hadn’t seen on her face in—

  Ever.

  “I swear the same. All of it, Michael, with all of my heart and every ounce of my love.”

  My senses burst like the sky over our heads. As a fat raindrop plopped to her cheek, I swiped it away with my thumb…only the water wasn’t completely chilled. Warmth came away on my finger, too. I leaned in, fervently nipping at her skin, treasuring every drop of her sweet, joyous tears.

  “I love you, Margaux Corina.”

  “I love you, Michael Adam.”

  As we locked that up with a passionate dance of tongues and exchange of moans, Mother Nature decided to unzip the sky. Within seconds, we were drenched as if we’d taken a dip in the patio fountain.

  We laughed together, turning up our faces into the rain…accepting heaven’s sanction on this new voyage of our love. Oh, the little boat with all the baggage was still there but now it floated on the waves, instead of floundering.

  Margaux finally stepped back toward the door. “Come on, Captain America. You’re drenched.”

  “And you’re not?”

  She flashed a coy smile. “You like it when I’m drenched.”

  I returned her tug with one of my own. As long as I was moving past the fear…

  “There’s actually one more thing I want to discuss.” Another yank brought her to stand completely in front of me. I caught her other hand and held on tight—as I dropped to one knee on the drenched patio deck. “For the record, I requested a sunset, a coconut breeze, and a couple dozen doves for this.”

  Margaux tossed her head back on a full laugh. When she gazed back down at me, the sunburst of her smile sucked out my breath. “This is perfect,” she whispered. “And you are my magic.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Margaux

  “Cards Against what?” I’d never heard of this game, but Claire smiled like a Cheshire cat as she pulled a couple of long boxes from her gigantic purse, clunking them onto the coffee table in front of Talia’s big leather couch. There were a bunch of us here from SGC, invited over by the cute little brunette for a girls’ night we’d all needed for a while.

  “Cards Against Humanity,” Claire replied.

  I scowled. “Sounds like an emo rock band.”

  Taylor from the sales team giggled as she sat down on a floor pillow. Taylor had been my go-to girl for mindless partying during some of the rockier days with Michael. We’d woken up on my couch together a few times after nights I could barely remember. Thank God she was a woman who knew how to tell reporters no.

  “It’s a total blast,” she chimed in.

  “Hmmm.” I watched Claire shuffle a thick deck of cards. “What do I win?”

  Taylor mock-glared. “How do you know you’re going to win?”

  “Pssshhh. Losing isn’t in my DNA. Deal me some cards, tell me how to play, then prepare to lose.”

  “Ooooo, what’s all this?” Claire made little claps as Talia lowered a round tray filled with tequila shots. The tray also supported salt shakers and a colorfully painted clay dish holding lime wedges.

  “These are shots, brain surgeon. Have you really been off the bar scene that long?” My sister was so easy to tease I couldn’t pass up the chance.

  “Rhetorical question, princessa,” she shot back, handing me a small glass while keeping one for herself.

  “What are we toasting to?” I tossed salt on the back of my fist.

  “How about Talia’s new promotion?” Claire suggested.

  “How about Talia’s new bosses?”

  We all cooed in approval at Taylor’s upgrading of the toast by a certain pair of hot, sexy water polo players—who happened to be Killian’s fellow SGC board members and special consultants to Talia’s newest marketing assignment, the worldwide marketing rollout for Stone Global’s cosmetics lines. Fletcher Ford and Drake Newland were a hot-blooded sandwich a lot of women dreamed of filling.

  “Mmmm. Better.” I purred the agreement while licking the salt off my hand.

  “Aaahhh!” Talia laughed—sort of—while reentering the room with a bowl of fresh pita bread and hummus. “Both of you stop, before you even get started.”

  “Oh, don’t turn shy on us already, girl.” I tilted my head and threw a stare conveying how serious I was about the advice. “And especially not with them. The sweet and demure thing is like shark chum to Fletch and Drake.”

  “Huh?” Talia blinked, genuinely confused. Damn it if the innocence didn’t make her Eastern European beauty that much more appealing.

  “Oh, lord.” I shook my head before sucking into a lime then tossing back a shot. “Help her. No, really. Divine help. She needs it now.” Truly, the girl was dusted.

  “Margaux.” Claire Bear leaned in to the rescue.

  “What?”

  “Stop.”

  “Seriously?” I swung a glare at her, blinking to correct the double image back into one. Whoa. What the hell? Tequila and I were normally better amigos than this. “
You know I’m right,” I went on, anyway. “Those two can smell fear. They feed on it. It’s like a special perfume they’re attracted to. Really attracted.”

  Conviction fortified my tone. I’d seen Fletch and Drake in action before I started dating Michael—and at one time, had considered that game for myself—not that I would air that laundry to this crowd. If that pair were eyeing Talia that way, I was worried. Those two sex machines would eat a girl like Talia for breakfast then move on to a new conquest by lunch.

  “Why do you know so much about those guys, anyway?” Taylor chimed in.

  “Oh, God.” Claire dropped her head to her hands. “Please don’t tell me you slept with them.”

  “Slept with—” Talia, again with the cluelessness. “Them?”

  “Yes, them.” I cocked my head sharply. “Are you the last human being on the planet?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Apparently, defensive followed clueless—deserved, I supposed, after my tough-love segue, which was a tiny nibble compared to how Fletch and Drake would sink their teeth into her. Literal translation intended.

  “Damn,” I muttered. “I just thought everyone knew about those sexy bastards.”

  Talia looked five shades of butt hurt. “Apparently not.”

  “They are best friends.”

  “So?” Taylor jumped in, diffusing the air of confrontation surrounding my exchange with Talia.

  Okay… how to be as obvious as possible without being crass? “They share…everything,” I finally stated.

  “So?” Talia countered. “Most friends do.”

  Hell. Had she really been raised in a barn somewhere? “No.” I dipped my head in emphasis. “Ev-er-y-thing.”

  “Ohhhhh!” Taylor sing-songed.

  “Oh.” Talia went white.

  “I think the light’s finally coming on,” Claire inserted.

  Taylor giggled but interrupted herself by whipping a stare at Talia. “Oh shit, girl! Aren’t you going to Vegas with them for the cosmetics launch?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  “Now don’t sound like you’re headed for the stockade.” Claire, being her highly perceptive self, patted Talia’s leg in comfort. “I’m sure they’ll keep it professional, hon…if that’s what you want.”