Page 14 of My Mismatched Valentine

“For Glamma.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“I think I need to sit this one out, okay? You can tell me how it went and we’ll go from there.”

“Maggie…” His voice has softened, revealing a hint of torture. There’s no denying the chemistry between us is off the fucking charts. But chemistry is not enough to build a marriage on. And that’s putting aside the other shoe that dropped the second I sat across from him in the diner. Giving in, marrying Dustin, would be the proverbial nail in the coffin of my career. Making me either a laughing stock or a scandalous bitch in the eyes of the public. No one would ever trust me to help them find love again.

“Please, Dustin?”

“Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”

Though it might cause me physical pain to hear about his date, I can’t leave. I have a job to do, and I intend to do it well. “Yes, I’ll be here.”

CHAPTER 10

Dustin

In an odd twist of fate, I’ve been stood up.

I didn’t have a chance to put Jerry on this one because Maggie arranged it during the last thirty minutes of our drive into town. We headed straight for the downtown hotel with hardly any time to spare.

I’m fucking relieved, to be honest. I wasn’t going to stay for the whole date. Only long enough to explain I was in love with another woman and offer to pay for a meal I wouldn’t be joining. But the woman I was set to meet never showed.

I pay for the single drink, offer to put a meal on my tab should she show up late with a valid excuse, and head back to the hotel. Glamma’s flight has been delayed. She won’t be getting in until early morning. I don’t mind the extra time it buys me with Maggie. I need her alone. Away from Caribou Creek and all the distractions. It’s the only hope I have of convincing her to give us the chance we deserve.

The minute we’re back, she’ll try to set me up on more dates. At some point, Jerry might go on strike. Except, heisthe biggest sucker for Valentine’s Day romance. Just ask his husband. Still, I’m hopeful we’re done with this charade sooner rather than later. I want Maggie to be mine. To be my wife. My life partnerthat forgets all about a ten-year clause because she can’t imagine being with anyone else.

That kiss in the elevator left no doubts about our chemistry. A kisssheinitiated. But it’s more than lust between us. The way she reached for my hand and squeezed it…shecares. Far more than I bet she’d like to admit. Care that might very well be love in disguise.

I grab a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the bar and head up to the room.

When I open the door, I find Maggie sitting on the edge of the bed. Her legs are spread open, skirt pushed up, head leaned back, long hair hanging loose with ends brushing the puffy white comforter. When she sees me, she screams and yanks her hand from between her legs. Some object goes flying backward, hitting the headboard. The purple contraption drops onto a pillow, still vibrating.

“What are you doing here?” she squeaks, frantically pulling down her skirt. Her blouse is unbuttoned. The black lace bra draped on the sitting chair lends me to believe there’s nothing under that shirt. I search the floor for panties but don’t see any.Is she still wearing them?

“I got stood up.”

“No, you didn’t,” Maggie says, as if it’s fact. Her words come out raspy between pants. She wobbles on her feet, but can’t blame the high heels she’s no longer wearing. She runs her hands down her skirt obsessively, as though shoving away invisible wrinkles. “Dustin, I’m starting to think you’re throwing these dates on purpose.”

“Call the restaurant and ask,” I offer, slowly stalking across the room toward the pillow. I’m very curious about that buzzing purple object. “She never showed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I’m almost to the head of the bed when Maggie realizes what I’m up to. She leaps, superman diving for the purple contraption. But she’s not quick enough. My hand reaches it first. She fights me for it, our bodies rolling on the bed.

“Dustin, give that back,” she demands through gritted teeth.

“I want to see what it—oh!” Flat on my back with Maggie tangled around me like a spider monkey, I hold the toy up for inspection. “You naughty girl. A vibrator?”

“So what if it is? Lots of women use them.”

“I know.”

“Oh you do, do you?” She attempts to lift her upper torso and reaches for the toy, but I wrap my legs around her waist and trap her against my hips. Keeping those eager fingers just a few inches out of reach. Her thigh presses against my hardening cock. In a few more seconds, there’ll be no hiding how turned on I am by the thought of Maggie using this on herself.

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