Stitches in Time (8 page)

“Be careful of that!” Maggie’s two steps brought her to the side of the bed. She picked up the frame and turned it over, clucking in dismay as she did so. “Look, it wasn’t even mounted properly. There’s been a lot of fraying on this piece since it was separated. See? Look here.”

Liam bent in close to see where she was pointing. Her formality was still in place, but when she spoke about the little piece of fabric, her tone was softer. His hand slipped around her waist and he felt her stiffen, although she did not move away. She couldn’t. He’d left her no room.

The casual familiarity of Liam’s hand on her waist threatened to melt her resolve. Frowning, Maggie tried to move around him, but he had her trapped in a tiny space. Pinned between the dresser, the bed and his body, the sudden closeness made her heartbeat race and her cheeks
colored
to a pretty rose-pink as her flustering attempts to get around him failed.

“Maggie,” Liam whispered softly into her ear. She was so sexy wearing his shirt, with her long, slender legs now pinned between his much larger, much stronger thighs. The sight of her—still mussed from sleep, flustered, obviously aroused—stirred his cock beneath the thin hotel towel.

The tapestry frame pressed against his chest where she held it between them; giving it a gentle tug, he pulled it from her fingers and set it on the bed. Face down. Not that he thought that would stop Seamus, but Liam hoped it would at least mute the leprechaun’s voice.

Maggie’s fingers were nerveless. Liam’s eyes did not leave hers. He smelled so clean, of soap and shaving cream and toothpaste; she still wore their combined scents from last night’s lovemaking. One of his hands still rested on her waist, with the other, Liam now reached for her top button.

God help her, but she wanted this. All her resolutions to put him in his place dissipated in the heat of his touch. The man was a masterful lover and Maggie found she didn’t want to say no.

But she had to. She had already sullied her reputation with Liam—now was the time to repair the damage before things got out of hand. Gritting her teeth, she
maneuvered
her knee so that it just touched his hardening cock.

“Mr.
Finnerty
, back away now.”

Liam saw the change in her eyes just seconds before he felt her knee in position. He could easily
outmaneuver
her; by physical strength alone, if necessary. He knew he would lose her forever if he did. Dropping his hands to his side, he stepped back.

“Maggie, you cannot deny what we did last night.”

“I do not intend to. It was a mistake. I was vulnerable and you took advantage of that. I will not be so little-girlish as to confide in you again.”

“Little-girlish?
Maggie, you were no little girl last night. I saw the real you. The one you bury under those tailored suits and that tight bun—just like an old spinster. Is that what you want, Maggie Andrews? Tell me the truth—is that what you want? To be the spinster head of a company you hate?”

“I don’t hate my father’s company!”

“You hate working there, admit it. Maggie, you have the soul of an artist; I see the way you look at that scrap of fabric. That piece of tapestry means nothing to me but that it touches your heart. When you look at it, I get glimpses of the passionate woman I made love to last night.”

She wanted to lie to him, to tell him he was wrong—she loved her work and would be very happy to be married to the company. Unbidden, an image floated in her mind: herself ten years from now, sitting in her father’s chair, unsmiling, controlled, professional,
alone
.
A spinster.
Spinning on her heel so he would not read the truth in her face, she turned her back to him.

On the bed, face
down,
lay the tiny tapestry scrap that started it all. That blasted thing had been the catalyst that
spiraled
her out of control last night and threatened to do so again. What was it about that little leprechaun that moved her heart so? Her heart full, she picked it up and turned it over, once again running her finger along the edges, drinking in its every detail.

Liam knew Maggie could not see the thumbs up sign the little man gave him, but with a frown, he hushed Seamus anyway. Maggie stood on the cusp of a great decision, although Liam doubted she knew it yet. He did not want to disturb the thoughts he had set in motion.

How had the ancient weaver managed to find
colors
so vibrant? Who was she? Where had this piece come from? Questions swirled around Maggie’s brain as she considered the mystery. Liam, of course, was right. For two years she pretended she loved the company, loved the idea of taking over, while fighting the panic that she wasn’t good enough. And she wasn’t. She never would be. The realization felt like a dagger of betrayal through her heart.

“You remind me of things I left in my past, Mr.
Finnerty
. My father counts on me; he has always built the company so that he might someday turn it over to his own son.
Or daughter.
I cannot spend my life wishing Tom back to life. I can only make the best of what I have. To turn my back on my father is not an option.”

The words were bitter in her mouth. Setting the tapestry onto the bed, her finger trailed along the edge one last time before she turned away.

“Maggie…” Liam tried to stop her as she stepped toward the bathroom.

“Grab her, man! Don’t just stand there like some bloody doormat!”

In desperation, Liam followed Seamus’ advice. Taking a step to block the door, he grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from running away.

“Maggie, you have to get rid of your martyr complex. You don’t owe this to your father—and he has no right to ask it of you. I remember how surprised he was when you came to him after Tom’s funeral and told him you’d like to learn how to lead. He didn’t expect it of you, then.”

“But he does now.”

“Yes, because your act has convinced him you love what you’re doing. But a blind man can see you hate it.”

“I fooled you. Until that blasted tapestry showed up.”

“Well, you have me there. I was convinced you were just a tight-ass with no personality.”

Liam knew the words hurt her, but he didn’t back down. He had fallen in love with the woman underneath. If being candid was the only way to make her realize she was living a lie,
then
candid he would be.

“Maggie, you tried so hard to bury the artistic side of you that you went and buried your passion along with it. I’ve seen how much you love art, and last night I felt your passion.” His voice gentled as his fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Maggie, you are a beautiful woman when you aren’t hiding from yourself.”

Her eyes dropped as she fought back the tears. “Oh, Liam, you don’t understand. I can’t…I can’t let my father down.”

She looked like a wounded dove. Sliding his hand under his chin, he tilted her head up and watched a tear escape to slide down her cheek. With his thumb, he brushed it away and bent to kiss her quivering red lips.

Maggie’s control hung by a thread.
She stood very still as Liam’s lips touched hers, desperately trying not to give in. For two years she had been a pillar of steel, denying the life she wanted. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned into him and returned his kiss.

Liam wanted her. God help him, but her pain fanned the embers inside him. His protective nature ignited and he imagined himself with great big wings that he could fold over the two of them, giving her refuge. When he heard Seamus’ voice, he dared not look up for fear of seeing those wings in reality.

“Aye, that’s the way, man. Gentle her. She’s like a hurt wild bird, she is.”

Maggie broke the kiss, swallowing hard. Barely able to breathe, she sought his eyes as she faced her truths. “If I don’t take the company and keep it in the family, then who would? He would have to sell it or he would be forced to work until he dies. Neither is an option I can allow.”

Her eyes searched his and Liam understood she wanted an answer. She only saw the two options; did he have a third?

“Perhaps he can find someone to sell it to he would trust.” He took a deep breath and ventured deep, keeping his hands around her waist.
“Someone like me.”

“You?”
Maggie took a step back.

“What’s wrong with me? I know the company inside and out. I’m good at what I do—very
good
. You saw last night. Strange as it may seem, I am not content to stay where I am the rest of my life. I already decided I’d stay for another three years because of the expansion your father is doing—I want to see that through. But then I plan to leave and start my own business.”

“And if I weren’t there to take over for my father…”

“Then I’d consider staying.” He sighed. “No, never mind. It wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”
The more Maggie considered Liam in her father’s position, the more she saw the advantages. She was privy to her father’s counsel and knew he thought of Liam as his right hand.

“Because I’ve set aside enough money to start up a business, not to buy one that’s well-established.”
His eyes narrowed. “Unless…”

He shot a glance at the tapestry.

“Oh, no, boy-o.
No pot o’ gold here. That’s a fairy tale told by them pesky creatures to get us leprechauns in trouble.
Sorry, but there’s no money to be had from me.”

Maggie followed his glance. “How can the tapestry help? Even if we find the other piece and I do restore it, selling it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Liam’s shoulders slumped. “I know.”

But Maggie wasn’t ready to give up so easily. For the first time since her brother’s death, she saw a way out—a way to please both herself and her father. Liam
Finnerty
was the perfect person to take over the company—and she was going to make sure he did.

She backed away and put her hands on her hips. “Liam…what’s your middle name?”

He frowned at her non sequitur.
“Patrick, why?”

“Liam Patrick
Finnerty
, if you don’t have more confidence than that, then you’ll never get my father’s company. If you’re really serious, and I mean really, really serious, then I will help you make it happen.”

She smiled at his look of astonishment and let her hands drop down. “Liam, you’re right. I don’t want to work for my father and I don’t want to own the company. I want to find a quiet museum or a nice antiquities bureau somewhere, and restore ancient art to my heart’s content.” She laughed out loud for the first time in ages. “It may not be glamorous, and I’ll never have a position out front, but that’s just fine with me.”

Liam had never heard her laugh. Like long, deep wind chimes, softly sounding on a warm summer’s night, their tones pealing through the darkness, her laughter sang in his heart and he knew his course. With a resolute step, he swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

She yielded to him, to the strength in his arms, to the force of his tongue on her lips. Sliding her hands along his forearms, she
reveled
in the firm muscles bunched under his skin. Her hands slid up and around his neck, feeling freer than she had ever felt before. His tongue slid into her mouth and she tasted him with hunger reawakened.

This time Liam broke the kiss as he stepped back long enough to scoop her up in his arms. “Maggie Andrews, I want to hear you laugh again.”

She couldn’t hold it in. Her startled exclamation turned into a full-throated laugh; lacing her fingers behind his neck and holding on tightly, she let her head fall back. A river of golden-red hair tumbled over his arm exposing her long, slender neck to his kiss. Twirling her toward the bed, he bent to kiss that vulnerable whiteness. He felt the vibration of her moan through his lips and he kissed her neck again.

Maggie pulled herself up to nuzzle against his ear, but Liam pulled back, raised her up several inches higher—and dropped her on the bed. She shrieked and put her hands out as she bounced, her laughter filling the room again.

The edge of the tapestry frame rested alongside her arm, but before she could pick it up, Liam reached for it.

“Let’s just set this little fellow aside for the moment, shall we?” Grinning, he started to set it on the dresser.

“Oh, me boy-o, don’t put me upside down again!”

“Sorry, Seamus, my friend.
I don’t much care for an audience right now.” Liam deliberately turned the frame over and set it face down.

Maggie giggled. “You named the leprechaun?”

Liam’s mischievous grin answered her. “Well, it just seemed the little guy should have a name, that’s all. Ms. Andrews, you are a beautiful woman and I want you very much.”

She giggled again and gestured toward the bulge under the towel. “So I can see. Well, Mr.
Finnerty
, what are you waiting for?”

Liam stripped the towel from his waist in one quick motion. His magnificent cock stood straight out, the dark head pulsing with his arousal. A bit of pre-come already glistened at the tip and Maggie’s eyes darkened with desire.

She slithered around on the bed, turning over onto her stomach and lying lengthwise so that she held herself up by her elbows just at the edge of the bed. Her nipples had grown hard under the shirt that now rode up, exposing her rear to his view. She wiggled her ass, enticing him, mischief in her eyes. And when he stepped forward, his long cock right before her face, she complied, wrapping her diminutive hand around his thick shaft and teasing the smooth, velvety tip of his cock with her warm, wet tongue.