Darling obstacles (10 page)

Maggie nodded. "But stay within the block, girls. I want to put the baby down for her nap in about half an hour."

Greg and Maggie watched the noisy little group depart. "I wish Paula was as crazy about little ones as your girls seem to be," Greg said, then sighed. "I'm afraid I've overused her as a baby-sitter. Today she told me that she never wants to have kids when she

grows up, that they Ye too much trouble and take up all of your time and are no fun."

"I wouldn't take her too seriously, Greg. It's just her age. I'm sure there isn't a teenage baby-sitter alive who hasn't had those feelings at least once.''

"Really? You know a lot about kids and their feelings, Maggie."

"Mmm. And their tricks as well. That's because I was a rotten little kid who tried everything. My mother tells me I don't deserve Kristin, Kevin, and Kari. After what I put her and Daddy through as a kid, she feels I deserve children like—like the Smith-ton twins."

"Oh, please, don't mention those demons. It was really a terrible night, Maggie. Those two brats bullied Max and teased Wendy and inspired Josh to new levels of obnoxiousness. He poured a whole bottle of ketchup on poor Wendy's hot dog. A whole bottle!"

"Uh-oh. What happened next?"

"I made him eat the whole damn hot dog, every bite." Greg's eyes gleamed as he caught her look of surprise. "Like I should have done at lunch yesterday. On the way home from the Smithtons' Josh told me that he would never dump ketchup on Wendy's food again because he knew he'd have to eat it."

"I think that's called behavioral reinforcement." She smiled. "But, of course, I'm no psychologist."

Greg put his hands on her shoulders, his fingers curving gently to cup them. "Maybe not. But you are a perceptive and very wise woman, sweet Maggie."

They stood smiling at each other and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to take her into his arms. Or did she move into them of her own accord? Perhaps, Maggie thought, they moved toward each other simultaneously. She wasn't sure, but she was sure of the happiness and warm sense of Tightness she felt when Greg's lips met hers. They shared a long, tender kiss that quickly flamed into passion and left them clinging and caressing, the only two people in their own private world.

Except they weren't. A door slammed and there was the sound of footsteps and a sudden, stunned "Yow!"

Maggie pulled free and whirled to face Kevin, who had come running in through the back door. She was horrified by her distinctly unmaternal desire at that moment to tell her only son to get lost.

"Mom!" Kevin was obviously awed. "You were kissing Dr. Wilder!"

Maggie first felt icy cold, then scalded. "Kevin, I—" she began at the same time that Greg said in a shaky voice, "Kevin, we—"

They both lapsed into silence, staring at Kevin and carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Kevin didn't seem unduly traumatized by the sight of his mother kissing his best friend's father. He looked interested. "Are you going to go out on a date with Dr. Wilder, Mom?" he asked.

How did one explain such a situation to a nine-year-old? Maggie wondered frantically. Especially when she barely understood it herself. She took a deep breath. "No, Kevin."

"Yes, Kevin," Greg said at the same time. "Yes, she is."

Kevin looked pleased. "My mom is sure getting a lot of dates lately."

"Kevin!" Maggie's voice rose on a warning note.

"Is she?" Greg's voice was silky. "A lot of dates, you say, Kevin?"

"Yeah." Kevin nodded.

"Kevin, go back out and play, honey," Maggie said sweetly.

"I came in to get a drink. Can I have some juice, Mom?"

"Of course." She resisted the urge to shove him into the kitchen. "Of course, darling."

"Can Timmy and Bill and Joey and Matt come in and have some too? We're awfully thirsty, Mom. And hungry. Can we have some cookies?"

The little blackmailer, Maggie thought grimly.

She inhaled deeply and cast a covert glance at Greg. He was tense and unsmiling. "Yes, Kevin, you can bring your friends in for juice and cookies. But use paper cups and stay in the kitchen."

"We will. Thanks, Mom!" Kevin was gone in a Hash.

"What did he mean, a lot of dates lately?" Greg demanded the moment the child had left the room. "I thought Kari said you didn't date at all."

"Oh, I don't." Maggie laughed nervously. Until a few hours ago, Kari had been right. "You know how children—especially little boys—love to exaggerate."

Greg frowned. "I want you to go out with me on Saturday night, Maggie. We'll go to dinner and a movie or dancing, anything you want."

"I, uh, can't, Greg."

"Why not?"

She gulped. "I, er, already have a date for Saturday."

"Ha! I suspected it! Kevin wasn't exaggerating at all. So you've suddenly decided to begin dating again, hmm?" His voice lowered to a soft deadliness. "With whom do you have this . . . date on Saturday, Maggie?"

It was ridiculous to feel so nervous, so guilty, she scolded herself. The mental pep talk didn't work though. She still felt nervous and guilty, as if she were somehow being unfaithful to Greg. Which really was an absurd notion, she thought. How many times had she stayed with his children while he went out with assorted and sundry women? Enough times to pay her electric bill several months running!

"Who is it, Maggie?"

"Someone named Rich Cassidy. You probably don't know him," she added hopefully.

"Rich Cassidy? Is he the twerp who gives music lessons at school? The director of the elementary and junior high school bands?"

Maggie managed a weak smile. "I guess you do know him."

"Oh, yes, I know him. And I detest the little creep! He kicked Paula out of the junior high band last year. She was the best flute player they had and Cassidy had the nerve to kick her out!"

Maggie stared at him. Were there actually words one could use in a situation like this? If so, she certainly couldn't think of them. "Why did he kick Paula out of the band?" she managed at last.

"She missed a few of his stupid band practices. Not that she even needed to be there. She was better than anyone else in the whole damn band. But Cassidy has this asinine rule about not missing more than five practices without being absent from school and ..." His voice trailed off. "I don't want to discuss it any further. And I don't want you to go out with him, Maggie."

"Because he kicked Paula out of the band?"

"Don't be flippant, Maggie. I don't like it."

"And I don't like it when you try to tell me who I should or shouldn't go out with," she said, her temper starting to flare.

"I'm not trying to tell you, I am telling you. You're not going out with Cassidy or anyone else. The only man you're permitted to date is me!"

"Permitted?" She had never heard Greg use that insufferably domineering tone before. No man used that tone to her! Her older brothers had never used it, nor had Johnny May and, most certainly, she would not let Greg Wilder talk to her that way.

"Don't start getting possessive on the basis of a few kisses." She threw his offensive jibe of the day before back in his face with pleasure. "Ill go out with whoever I please."

"The hell you will!" He grabbed her arms and pulled her roughly against him. "I won't let you play these games with me! You're—you're mine!" He swore savagely and his mouth swooped down on hers in an audaciously possessive kiss.

She should be fighting him, Maggie thought dizzily. She should be pushing him away with both

hands, rejecting this male display of territorial dominance. But the impact of his body against hers, the touch of his hands, the hard pressure of his mouth, dissolved her resistance and her outrage was swiftly converted into a thoroughly intoxicating passion. Every time he touched her, her responses came more rapidly and were more intense. She clutched at him, her senses spinning, and arched her body against his, claiming his mouth for her own in an equally proprietary way.

They kissed fiercely, deeply, with a possessive and passionate hunger that consumed them both. Greg thrust his burgeoning manhood against the soft feminine cradle of her thighs. She moaned and tried to press even closer, to fit herself to him, wanting him with a wild urgency that she had never before experienced. She felt completely, excitingly, out of control, every nerve focused on the throbbing, aching void that demanded to be filled. By Greg. Only he could complete her. Maggie whispered his name in soft, pleading wonder.

Their clothing had become an intolerable barrier that she longed to rip away. She was having difficulty standing up. She wanted to lie down with Greg in her arms, wanted to feel his skin touching hers. To explore him, every inch of him, to feel him deep inside her.

Kevin and his friends suddenly came banging through the back door into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and closed a dozen times, cabinet doors slammed, ice cubes rattled, paper rustled. The presence of the exuberantly loud small boys brought Greg and Maggie's crazily passionate, reckless interlude to an abrupt end. Greg released his hold on her just as she started to move away from him. Their eyes locked, their faces flushed and breathing erratic.

"Now look what you did, you dope! You spilled it!" came an incriminating bellow from the kitchen. "It wasn't me, it was Joey!" was the indignant reply.

"Hey, Bill's grabbing all the big cookies!" "Gimme that!""Uh-oh!"

Maggie forced herself out of her sensual trance. She was trembling, her eyes glazed as she headed automatically toward the fracas in the kitchen. "Ill see you tomorrow, Greg," she said softly, her voice husky and thick. She loved the sound of his name on her lips. "When you come to pick up the children." His adorable children whom she dearly loved.

Greg made no reply. A few seconds later, as she reached for the mop to clean up the disaster in her kitchen, Maggie heard the front door slam shut and she knew he was gone.

And, of course, there was that wild, passionate quarrel. Greg had been jealous, she thought, thrilled. Again and again she relived that quarrel and it seemed to become more exciting and dynamic each time. First the angry words, then Greg's fiercely possessive "You're mine!" as he yanked her into his arms. And then that incredibly passionate kiss which had left her reeling. The force of her own desire rocked her. She couldn't remember ever feeling such devastating urgency, such want and need. Never! She hadn't even believed such feelings existed, in her or in anyone else. She'd read all about being overwhelmed by passion but thought it simply a media invention. Something to sell books and magazines, to bring people into the theaters. Certainly nothing to do with real people and real lives.

Her relationship with Greg was making her reassess her previous beliefs which had been based, after all, on her own experiences in life. She had loved Johnny May dearly, but from a distance of six long years she was now able to view their physical relationship somewhat objectively. She'd been a girl when she'd married, just nineteen years old, and she had become pregnant with Kristin two short months later. With Johnny she had experienced the loving closeness of the sexual act, but never the explosive pleasure she'd read about. Because, she had decided, it didn't exist. It was simply a myth some people wrote about and other people read about, but nobody actually experienced. Woe to the poor fools who thought they were missing something in their rather bland and routine relations and tried to find the mythical sexual nirvana. Maggie had been proud that she'd discovered this secret so young. There would be no foolish longing for her! She accepted what she had and told herself it was everything she wanted. Of course she didn't share her revelation with Johnny. She loved him and he seemed perfectly satisfied with her in bed. She knew he loved her too. She suspected that Johnny already knew what she had learned

about sex. He never expected fireworks either. Their sexual relationship very quickly took a back seat to the demands of their babies and Johnny's ever-changing work hours. As a policeman he'd worked all three shifts at different times. He had been a good husband, loyal and affectionate, but not at all sexually demanding. Neither of the Mays had minded going weeks without sex.

Maggie's thoughts drifted from the past to the present. She already knew that Greg Wilder was a very different type of man from Johnny. He was hotheaded, more physical, more demanding and—she swallowed—far more sexually experienced than Johnny had been. She could tell by the way he kissed, by his sure, confident caresses. And his physical relationship with his wife must have differed drastically from hers with Johnny. Greg wouldn't be satisfied with a quick good-night kiss on the cheek for weeks on end, as Johnny had been. The thought both excited and depressed her and she wondered why.

At three-thirty, Kevin and Kari and Josh and Wendy all gathered in the school office and Maggie drove them to the Woodland Children's Center where Max spent his days—mornings in the preschool program and afternoons in day care. She took all five children to the duplex where they awaited the arrival of Kristin fifteen minutes later. All six kids had the traditional after-school snack of milk and cookies in the kitchen and then went outside to play. Homework at the Mays' was done after dinner, before there could be any thought of watching television. Maggie didn't know when homework was done at the Wilders. From overhearing Josh and Kevin's talk of Josh's marks, probably not at all.

She made chili for dinner and decided that when Greg arrived to pick up the children, she would tell him that she'd changed her mind about going to the concert with Rich Cassidy on Saturday. What was the point of going? She wasn't interested in dating per se. The only man she wanted to be with was Greg Wil-

der. She would tell him tonight that she was free on Saturday. She sighed dreamily as she stirred the red kidney beans into the chili. "I want you to go out with me on Saturday night," Greg had said in that rather thrilling, masterful voice. Well, she was going to do just that.

Six-thirty came and went. Josh had already eaten a bowl of chili, along with the Mays—he was too starved to wait for his dinner, he'd pleaded. Wendy and Max refused the chili but eagerly accepted the alphabet soup and crackers Maggie offered them. And everyone had a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of milk. She could hardly deny hungry children something to eat, Maggie thought sympathetically as she doled out the food. Greg would understand why she had ignored his instructions not to feed the kids any dinner.

At ten minutes to seven the doorbell rang and Maggie had to restrain herself from racing madly to answer it. Smoothing her palms over the pleats in her gray .skirt, she forced herself to walk to the door and greet Greg with a calm smile. Beneath her cool exterior her heart was pounding wildly and butterflies seemed to be rioting in her stomach.

"Hello, Greg," she said. She was proud that her voice sounded so normal. She was so glad to see him that she wanted to fling herself into his arms. But she was too uncertain, still too shy of him and their new tempestuous relationship, to make the first move. That would have to come from Greg. She clutched the screen door and tried to keep herself on an even keel by talking about the children, a topic that always relaxed her. "I hope you don't mind but I gave Josh, Wendy, and Max a sort of pre-dinner. They were so hungry that I just couldn't make them wait."

Greg's eyes swept over her, taking in her yellow blouse and knit sweater vest, the neat gray pleated skirt and low-heeled gray pumps. It was a modest, conservative school-secretary type of outfit, yet the sight of her in it aroused him more than the sight of

Francine or Linda or Debbie in their skimpiest lingerie. Lord, it was so good to see her! he thought. He'd found himself thinking about her on and off all day, in those moments when his full concentration upon his patients wasn't required.

They had parted on a sour note the day before, he'd grimly conceded to himself over the hospital cafeteria s leaden cinnamon donuts. He had behaved like a jealous fool, grabbing her like some possessive Neanderthal claiming his mate. He was determined not to repeat his mistake and scare her off. There would be no more snatching her into his arms, no matter how much he might want to. He would let her set the pace, make the first move. He must regain the ground he had lost with his uncharacteristic display of male dominance.

It unnerved him, that surge of possessive jealousy that had swept through him at the thought of Maggie with another man. He'd never experienced anything like it. During their long courtship and marriage, Alicia had never given him cause to feel jealous. He had been as sure of her as she'd been of him. Their relationship had been so amiable and comfortable; neither had made many demands on the other. Their lives had meshed nicely, with him being absorbed in his medical education and career and Alicia involved first in her career as a high school teacher and later with their children.

Greg frowned. He and Alicia had never quarreled or made love with the impassioned intensity that characterized his brief and volatile relationship with Maggie. He felt confused and wary, unsure if he wanted to be so totally consumed by a woman. By a woman who was holding the screen door ajar as he stood on the damn doorstep. Sudden fury pulsed through him as his desire for Maggie grew stronger. He had promised himself that he wouldn't physically overwhelm her, that he would let her set the pace and resolve their quarrel. But dammit, she wouldn't relegate him back to the doorstep while she played

supermommy and clutched the door. She couldn't, not after . . .

Greg was glaring at her! Maggie thought. She took a slight step backward, still clutching the door. Shed thought—expected, hoped—that he would sweep her into his arms the moment he saw her, that their quarrel over her date would be resolved with her hugging him and telling him that she was going to break the date with Rich Cassidy. But how could she tell him anything—much less hug him—when he looked so cold, so hard, and utterly unapproachable? She backed up another step and the door nearly closed.

Dammit, Greg thought, she was still angry with him, and to prove it, she was going to keep him on the step! He was rocked by an explosive combination of incredulity and rage. She had retreated behind the door, had no intention of inviting him inside. He was back on the outside looking in, as if nothing at all had changed between them. It was enough to make him want to rip the door from its hinges.

But he wouldn't, he told himself sharply. He wasn't going to lose his cool and play savage again. That would make her retreat even further. He would show her that he could be as abominably civilized as she was.

"Thank you for giving the children something to eat," he said in an icy voice. "I agree, it's too late to make them wait for dinner. Well stop for sandwiches on the way home."

Maggie stared at him, frozen by his tone. He hated her, she decided. He'd used that same forbidding voice when he had described the way he'd unloaded Francine. "I'll call the children," she said flatly, letting the door close. There was nothing else she could say. Greg had obviously decided that their relationship wasn't worth pursuing. Thank heavens she had resisted her impulse to throw herself into his arms when she'd answered the door. How mortifying it would have been when he had extricated himself

from her embrace and told her it was over. Thank the Lord she'd been spared that!

She felt like crying as she called Wendy, Josh, and Max. The Wilder children grabbed their jackets and book bags, calling good-bye as they scampered out the door.

"How much do I owe you?" Greg asked briskly.

"Three and a half hours at three dollars an hour." Maggie computed the figures and hoped she sounded as impersonal as he. She and Greg never discussed fees. He always just handed her some money which more than covered the baby-sitting charges and included a generous tip as well. "Ten-fifty," she told him.

He handed her a ten and a five. "Keep the change," he said, and Maggie would have loved to refuse, to throw the extra bill back in his face. But that wouldn't be businesslike and Greg was making it painfully clear that it was strictly business between them.

"Can you keep Josh, Wendy, and Max on Wednesday and Friday after school until about six-thirty?" he asked coolly. "Paula has cheerleading practice on those days. Wendy and Josh will go home on the bus on Tuesday and Thursday, but Max will have to stay at the Center those days."

"I—I could bring him here," Maggie offered. She wished he would leave. It hurt to have him standing there on the doorstep, speaking so formally. She fought back one last foolish, impetuous impulse to invite him inside. Not after the man had gone out of his way to let her know that his brief desire for her had burned itself out, she thought, admonishing herself for her pitiful lack of pride.

"No, Wednesday and Friday will be enough," Greg replied. Well, he thought, he couldn't drag out his stay any longer. She'd had ample opportunity to invite him in or to make some small gesture to indicate that all was forgiven. Obviously, it wasn't. He'd scared her to death or so infuriated her that she

intended to keep him safely on the doorstep, come what may. "Good night, Maggie."

"Good night, Greg." She crumpled the bills in her hand and watched Greg walk to his car where his children awaited him. The emotional letdown was terrible and she felt positively drained. All day she had been keyed up by her thoughts of Greg. For the past hour she had been breathlessly awaiting his arrival. And he had merely stood on her doorstep glaring at her.

It was even worse on Wednesday. Greg thrust the ten dollar bill at her, scowled, then turned and headed back to the car to wait for the children.

He was getting his message across, Maggie sadly acknowledged to herself. She was to forget the past weekend; she meant nothing to him. He didn't even want to resume their friendly little doorstep pleasantries.

By Friday she never wanted to hear the name Greg Wilder again. She felt used and angry and more hurt than she cared to admit. And she was most definitely going to the concert with Rich Cassidy on Saturday night.

Friday was chilly and rainy, a gloomy fall day. The weather was right in keeping with Maggie's mood. It didn't seem to matter how often she told herself that it was ridiculous to be depressed over Greg's behavior, she was still depressed. He had given her just a taste of what was missing from her life, let her glimpse what a relationship with him might bring, and then he had abruptly withdrawn himself. He'd brushed her off like an irksome mosquito. She hurt; it was useless to deny it.

The children were playing inside at five-thirty when the doorbell rang. Max, excluded from Josh and Kevin's Masters of the Universe game and uninterested in Kari and Wendy's Barbie dolls, bounded to

the door to answer the bell. Maggie was close on his heels, expecting to see one or more of the Jennifers.

A strikingly pretty woman in her early twenties, wearing tight jeans and a bright orange slicker, stood on the doorstep. Definitely not a preteen Jennifer. She gave Max and Maggie a dazzling smile. "Hello." The young woman pushed her way inside and shook off the hood of her slicker. Layers of thick dark hair tumbled attractively around her shoulders. "I'm Sandy Strayer. I've come to pick up the Wilder children/'

Maggie stared at her blankly. "What?"

"Greg—Dr. Wilder is running late. He asked if I would pick up the children at the baby-sitter's house and take them home. We have a date tonight at seven and he thought it would save time if I waited for him at his house and the kids were ..." Sandy Strayer's smile faded slightly and she appeared to lose some of her zesty confidence at Maggie's expression of utter incredulity. "I'm at the right house, aren't I? Nine-oh-nine Woodland Courts? The Wilder children are supposed to be there, uh, here with their baby-sitter."

"This is nine-oh-nine and the Wilder children are here," Maggie said slowly. "I'm the baby-sitter." She saw the woman look directly at Max without a flicker of recognition. It was obvious that Sandy Strayer didn't know him, nor he her. "But I can't let the children go with you, Miss Strayer. Their father told me that he would be here at six-thirty for them, and unless I hear otherwise—"

"You just did," Sandy Strayer interrupted with a touch of asperity. "Greg asked me to pick up the kids and bring them to his house."

Maggie heaved a troubled sigh. "I'm sorry, Miss Strayer, but I'm not going to let you take the children. This is the first time I've heard of these new—um— arrangements, and since I don't know you and you don't know the kids ..." She laid her hand on Max's shoulder. "Max, have you ever met Miss Strayer?" Max shook his head. "And since they don't know you

VZ • BARBARA BOSWELL

either, I'm going to keep them here until I hear from their father."

"Look, I can understand your caution." Sandy gave Maggie a patronizing smile. "But do I look like a deranged kidnapper? I mean, really! Why would I want to take the kids home unless their father asked me to do it?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Strayer." Maggie's voice held an unmistakable note of finality. "The children are staying here."

"This is absurd! I'm a nurse at Johns Hopkins, I work on the neurosurgical floor, and I've known Dr. Wilder for nearly a whole year!" Sandy fumbled in her purse and pulled out a wallet. "Do you want proof of my identity? Here!" She thrust a collection of cards in Maggie's face. A driver's license, a registered nurse license, a hospital ID card, a Mastercard.

"You're Sandy Strayer all right," Maggie conceded. She wanted to tell the woman that it was hopeless to argue with her anymore, that her entire family—even Johnny—had always called her mule-headed and stubborn for refusing to be swayed from the course of action she'd chosen. "But the kids stay here."

"Oh!" Sandy shoved her wallet back into her handbag. "Greg forgot to warn me that I'd be dealing with a paranoic. Be reasonable, Mrs.—Ms.—" She paused, waiting for Maggie to supply her name.