“Dying of suspense over here,” Penny said.
“It’s bigger than my room. King-size bed.” No art. No photos. No spark of personality. Lifeless. Loveless. “Light tan bedspread with matching curtains. Black dresser. Two doors.”
“One of them has to lead to the sex chamber.” Penny’s voice quivered.
“Do you think that if he had a sex chamber I would tell you?” Maggie rolled her eyes as she opened the first door to a bathroom.
“You’ll tell me or I promise to read Amber Stephen King tonight.”
“You wouldn’t. Besides, I would be so shocked to find a sex chamber that I probably would tell you, so you could tell me what all the things were for.”
“You know it,” Penny said smugly.
“Door number one is a bathroom. Nice. Clean.” Lifeless.
“I’ll take what’s behind door number two.”
She opened the door to a walk-in closet the size of her bathroom at home. “Big closet.”
The rich scent of sandalwood drifted over her as she entered the closet.
“Dirty mags?” Penny whispered, as if they were on the hunt together, instead of just Maggie waiting to get caught going through Brady’s stuff.
The closet was neatly organized with nothing out of place. Suits lined up, next to neatly pressed pants, a few pairs of shoes. “It’s as if he doesn’t live here.”
“That’s it! Maybe he’s a vampire.” Penny snickered.
Maggie backed out of the closet and looked around for some evidence of anyone living there. “Worse, he’s a workaholic. No one’s house is this clean unless they don’t live here.”
“Or he stays at his girlfriend’s.” Penny’s tone didn’t help matters.
Maggie sank down on the edge of his bed. “I hadn’t even thought about that. I didn’t even ask. Why didn’t I ask?”
“Because you were telling the dude he has a seven-year-old? I think you had more pressing things than ‘are you dating?’”
“What if he is?” Maggie’s heart clattered to a stop. She stood. “What if I’m getting in the way of his life here?”
“Whoa. Cart. Horse. Slow down, Maggie. It’s only one possibility. As you said, this isn’t about you hooking up with Brady. This is about Brady getting to know his daughter.”
This wasn’t about her. It was about Amber, and she shouldn’t be in Brady’s room at all. She rushed out and closed the door. “You were the one who wanted me to bring sexy nightgowns and bikinis.”
Penny sighed. “Only because I want my friend back. The one before all the crap piled on her and made her into the glorious woman she is today. I love you, but you seriously need to get laid.”
Checking to make sure she was alone, Maggie said, “I do not need to get laid. I need to support my daughter and make sure her father is a decent man who won’t let her down.”
“You can do both, you know.” Penny had been trying to get her to go out for the past several years. Saying it wasn’t healthy for a woman in her twenties to be cooped up all the time. Between Amber and her mother, there hadn’t been time to do the wild and crazy things that Penny did.
Maggie would never regret her daughter or the time she spent helping her mother. Given the choice, she would do it all over again.
“I can’t do anything with Brady, Penny.” The realization of what that would mean washed over her like a cold shower.
“Why not? He’s there. You’re there. You had a good time last time.” Penny’s voice was soft and coaxing.
Maggie let her gaze drift around the white-and-black room with its unused furniture. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her well-loved furniture that had been her mother’s. She caught a hint of Brady’s cologne, a warm rich scent in contrast to his surroundings. She opened her eyes. Regrets were a bitch.
“Because—” Maggie sighed “—if I ruin this for Amber, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Brady scrubbed the weariness from his face as he rode the elevator to his apartment. Maggie would be waiting for him. It was such a foreign concept.
He hadn’t had any kind of long-term relationship since he’d left Tawnee Valley. Only himself to worry about.
As he opened the door, he heard the sound of the television on low. He set his keys and BlackBerry on the side table. The curtains were all shut, blocking out the night skyline. By the flicker of the television screen he could see the table set for two and Maggie curled up on his couch.
She must’ve fallen asleep trying to wait for him. He should have told her not to bother. It hadn’t crossed his mind to call. He always worked late. Checking the kitchen, he found the groceries he’d ordered, and in the fridge were two wrapped plates of food.
It stirred something in him that hadn’t been touched in a while. Something he’d forgotten he wanted, but he couldn’t quite name it. Warmth settled in his chest, pushing away the coldness of the New York fall evening. Some guys could work all the time and have a home life. Brady had never considered it. Too many ties, not enough mobility.
He strode over to the couch and squatted in front of Maggie. His future was tied to hers through Amber. Her hands were tucked under her cheek. In sleep, the tension around her was gone.
She was beautiful. Every time they touched, sensation rushed through his body. Could it just be an echo of attraction based on their shared past?
“Maggie,” he whispered, almost afraid to wake her.
Her nose crinkled in response, and she tried to snuggle deeper into the couch.
He glanced at the table. He’d been a fool to think he’d have any time for getting to know about Amber or that Maggie would get a chance to know him. Work had always come first.
Peterson had been adamant the figures were incorrect. They’d argued over the numbers for five hours. Once they’d come to an agreement, Brady had written a detailed email to both Jules and the team that explained the changes. He would need all day tomorrow to catch Jules up on the state of the project and what needed to be done.
Complications, all of them. And yet, even knowing that Maggie waited, he hadn’t been willing to let any of them drop. What kind of father would he be if he did that to his daughter? Was he even suited to being someone’s father?
“Maggie?” he tried again. Still no response.
He went to his room and searched the upper shelf of his closet for the quilt he’d kept. The cotton was worn in spots, but it always felt warm in his hands. The patterned fabric seemed out of place in his apartment in London and even now, it was a misfit for his lifestyle.
When he returned to Maggie’s side, he shook it out and gently laid it over her. Children had never been part of his plan. Maybe a wife who would have her own career to deal with, but never a child who would suffer from his lack of attention.
After getting a beer, he settled into the armchair and flipped the channel on the television. He should be in bed exhausted, but it felt good having someone else here. Maggie being here felt good. Most women would have waited up to ream him a good one for staying out late. Maybe he still had that to look forward to when Maggie woke.
Maggie stretched