Page 82 of The Devil In Denim
She smiled again and left the room to call Veronica from her cubicle, away from the madhouse of the conference room. She was halfway there when her phone spouted its little robot text message alert.
Sorry about all this. Talk tonight? Your place? Want to see you. A.
Her smile widened. Maybe she wasn’t going to have to wait so long after all.
Chapter Fifteen
It was late by the time Alex pulled up outside Maggie’s building. He could feel the tension of the day riding him like a sack of cement on his shoulders, feel it in the ache in his hand and the burn of too much coffee and not enough food in his belly. But the pizza that he’d picked up on the way—loaded, just the way she liked it—smelled damned good despite everything, and the thought of seeing Maggie alone was even more enticing than the pizza.
He stretched as he stepped out of the car, then bent back down to pick up the pizza, flexing his hand. Maybe he was getting old. Once upon a time he’d lived for days like this when a deal stumbled and he had to pull the solution out of nowhere and ride the wave of adrenaline until he got what he wanted. But right now he just felt tired. The press conference had gone as well as it could, but if he could have rolled back twenty-four hours and somehow stopped Sutter from pulling this little stunt, then he happily would have. He would beat the bastard. He had to. If the Saints went to Texas, Tom and Maggie wouldn’t be the only ones who were devastated.
But right now, his pizza was getting cold and Maggie was waiting upstairs for him. Hopefully. It was later than he’d planned. She might well have done the sensible thing and gone to bed.
Thankfully, it didn’t seem that she was the sensible type. Because when the doorman—Dev—buzzed up to tell her he was here, she answered. Better yet, she let him up, which made some of the fatigue roll away. She’d been hard to read at the press conference. She’d played her part immaculately as she always did, but he got the feeling she was upset about something underneath. But figuring out whether it was just Sutter or whether it had something to do with him could wait until he’d eaten. And maybe had a beer or two. Or dragged Maggie back into bed. All of those options sounded good. Even better if he got to do all three.
Anything to improve the day and burn off the edge of exhaustion so that he could think again.
Maggie opened the door when he knocked and he held out the pizza box. “I brought dinner,” he said. “Have you eaten?”
She stepped back to let him in. She’d changed out of the suit she’d donned for the press conference, pulled her hair back into a loose, messy knot at the top of her head, and taken off her makeup. She wore dark gray yoga pants and a black T-shirt that clung to her curves. It had a white heart with baseball stitching emblazoned across her chest. It made him smile. The curves made other parts of him perk up as well.
“Dinner?” he asked again.
She nodded toward the kitchen. “I had a sandwich but I’m sure I can find room for a slice or two. You want a beer?” Her tone was friendly but otherwise gave no hint to her mood. She hadn’t made a move to kiss him hello or touch him at all. And with his hands full of pizza box it was kind of hard to initiate himself.
“Sure.” Beer was good. Beer. Food. Talk. Then he might be able to figure out how she was feeling, and if he was going to be staying the night or calling himself a cab.
Maggie went to the fridge, and Alex put the pizza on the big table and followed her around behind the counter to where he thought he remembered plates being stowed. He found the right cupboard on his second attempt and carried the plates back to the table. Maggie busied herself with beers and a couple of glasses and eventually sat herself down at the end of the table. Not next to him but not completely opposite so maybe that was a promising sign.
He held out a plate. “Trade you pizza for beer?”
She nodded and passed him a beer before cracking hers open and taking a long swallow. “So,” she said, after he’d piled two slices onto her plate and handed it over. “Is this the part where we have the awkward morning-after conversation that we should have had this morning?” Her tone was light but her brown eyes were intent over the beer as she took another swallow.
“Does it have to be awkward?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you were happy that Sutter’s little announcement gave you the excuse to make a quick getaway this morning or not.”
Ah. She wanted to know if he was in or out. Well, he wanted to know her particular stance on that matter as well.
“Maggie, if Sutter hadn’t inserted himself into the mix this morning, I’m pretty sure we’d still be in bed. Or maybe back in bed after a brief break for some food,” he said. Her eyes widened and darkened. “Unless, of course, you were planning on kicking me out this morning?”
She looked down at the table, toying with her napkin.
His gut churned. “Well?”
“I—”
Shit. Had she been going to kick him out? Call it a one-night engagement and have done with it? He’d have to accept it if she didn’t, he’d promised her that much. But he really hoped she wasn’t going to. “You can’t pretend it wasn’t good last night.”
“No. No, it was good.” She looked back up at him, flashed a nervous smile. “Better than good. But … things are complicated. Maybe we should press pause for a bit? Wait until after the vote? You need to concentrate on doing your thing and I don’t want to distract you from that. And I don’t want to be distracted.”
“Honey, I’m guessing that both of us will be a hell of a lot more distracted if we’re climbing the walls from frustration.”
That made her smile widen. “I thought you were the king of the deal, laserlike focus on what you want and nothing gets in the way.”
