Page 78 of Bad Reputation

That was a lie. She absolutely did.

“Maggie.” Cole’s voice was so soft, he might as well have thought her name.

“Cole.” Her answering whisper made her lips tingle.

Slowly, very slowly, he dragged his fingers down the back of her hand. “I think about you, about this—”

Whatever he was about to say, his voice cracked. And it was a good thing, too, because Maggie needed to catch her breath.

He’d donewhat? The surprise was so acute, she almost doubled over.

Her eyes did spring open, and the way he was watching her—the undisguised longing, the hunger—it had her snatching her hand to her chest and stumbling back.

She wanted those things so badly, but she couldn’t have them. “I can’t. Cole, Ican’t.”

She couldn’t ... what? She wanted to go back and figure out what precisely he meant, to hear the full description and all the various options. But she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t stand alone with this man in the semidarkness. That was impossible.

“This job—it’s the only chance I’m ever going to get.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” He said it patiently because he was fucking perfect. “But we’re almost done, and—”

“Almost.”She brandished the word like someone might a weapon. It was unspeakably important that she be seen as having standards. As being a professional. And nothing that could possibly come after“I think about you, about this”was professional.

“Okay. But whenWaverleyis done, we’re having this conversation. I promise you that.”

Sparks—much brighter, much more twinkly than the lights ringing the greenhouse—went off inside her. So Maggie did the only thing she could: she dumped a bucket of water on them. “I can’t have a relationship with someone I’ve worked with.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

It shouldn’t have stung so badly, since it was what she wanted. Her position, while necessary and professional and a dozen other good things, was akin to licking the bottom of one’s shoe in many other ways.

Maggie turned from Cole then, needing the break from his eyes, which saw too much. “Do you like Venus flytraps?” she asked, pointing to the sign that indicated the carnivorous plants were in the next room.

“Do you think they bring in flies for them?”

“Probably.”

As they went to see the insect-eating plants and then the desert plants, they tried to make small talk, actual small talk. It was nice, because being with Cole was always nice, but it was also as frustrating as heck.

Everything Maggie had come to want was there, and she couldn’t take it.

An hour later, when they’d seen the entire garden and said goodbye to the staffer, they walked out into the shadowy night. Against the darkness, the glasshouse glowed pink, like some wild, magical castle in a five-year-old’s drawing.

“I love it so much,” Maggie said. “It’s so over the top.”

“Why don’t they build them like that anymore?”

“It’s such a crime, right? Listen ...” Maggie wanted to touch him. To set her hand on his forearm, hug him, or even press her mouth to his cheek. But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t send the right signal, and if nothing else, it would confuse her own heart, which was still mighty disappointed she’d said no. “This was a lot to arrange, for you and for Merrit, and I’m just so ... flattered and overwhelmed that you remembered I wanted to do this.”

“I remember everything you say to me.”

“Thank you for going to all this trouble, Cole.”

“You’re welcome, Maggie.”

And as they met Phil and drove back to the hotel, Maggie tried to convince herself that the glow of this evening was enough for her.

Chapter 19

---