Stella MacLean - Sweet On Peggy

What if Rory was hooked on her? Was it possible? Could someone care for her so quickly, so easily?

She really liked him, but like was a long way from love. Yet as she sat beside him, his shoulder brushing hers as he talked to the woman, she wanted Gayle’s words to be true.

Peggy’s breath caught as Rory turned his attention back to her. She met his easy smile, saw the awareness in his eyes. A wonderful feeling of intimacy warmed her, making her a little anxious about what would happen next. She regretfully realized she didn’t want any man hooked on her right now, not until she knew the outcome of her test. “Everyone at the table seems to have something to drink. Can I get you something?” he asked, leaning into her space, making her neck tingle.

“I’ll have a glass of white wine.”

“Me, too,” he said close to her ear before going to the bar.

“Who would have thought that the six of us would be here this evening?” Sherri asked, her hand resting on the table, displaying her wedding ring. It had been only a few weeks since Neill and Sherri’s wedding, and people were still talking about it. The general consensus was that it had been the social event of the year.

Adding to the excitement, Gayle and Nate were now engaged to be married. Peggy felt like Alice in wedding land. Of course, she was very happy for both her friends, even though at times she had to admit to being a little bit envious. Sherri and Neill were deep in conversation as were Nate and Gayle, leaving Peggy with time to look around at all the people at the fund-raiser. Moving here had been the biggest risk she’d ever taken, and it had paid off. She was happy here, content with her life, her job and her horses. She’d been happy to settle for all of that until she’d met Rory.

She was searching the crowd for him when he came toward her, two glasses in his hands. As he reached their table, the band began to play. Rory put the glasses down and took her hand. “This is our song.”

“Our song?” she asked as she rose. “We don’t have a song.”

He pulled her into his arms. “We do now. A nice waltz, I’m pleased to report. What is it, by the way?”

“You don’t know?”

He held her close, the powerful muscles in his arms cradling her. “I haven’t a clue. But I must say it’s perfect for what I want to do.”

“And that is?”

“Hold you while we sway to the music.” He smiled down at her. “I think it only fair to warn you that I’ve never had dance lessons. I make it up as I go.”

“Fair enough. If you make moves I can’t follow, I’ll stand on your feet and you can carry me around.”

His laugh was open and genuine. “Hang on, princess,” he said, swinging her around as he moved through the other couples on the dance floor, his body locked to hers in such a way that she couldn’t move. Besides, she didn’t want to move, to let go of him, or even to make conversation with him. Not right now. Now was the time to simply enjoy and have fun with this handsome man who was drawing looks from virtually every woman in the room.

Later she danced with Nate and again with Rory and with one of her regular patients at the phlebotomy clinic. Sherri was dancing with other men, leaving Neill Brandon to dance with whomever he chose. He hadn’t chosen her, and she couldn’t help wondering why he hadn’t. Were the results of her mammogram bad?

When the party ended, they all walked out together. Peggy had never been part of a group of couples and felt really pleased that tonight she was.

“See you at work tomorrow,” Gayle said.

“It was nice to meet all of you,” Rory said, his arm snugly around Peggy.

All the way home Peggy couldn’t shake her anxiety over tomorrow, when she would learn the test results. Tonight had been perfect, fun and exciting. But if she got a bad report, she would have to rethink any relationship hopes she had where Rory was concerned. She could not focus on a relationship if she had to face the kind of changes being diagnosed with breast cancer would mean to her life.

If she got bad news tomorrow, she was alone, without family here in Eden Harbor and would have to rely on her friends for support.

She wanted to call her mom and talk all of this over. Her mother had had breast cancer when Peggy was a preteen. She’d never really talked to her about what it had been like. In fact, she hadn’t talked to her mom ever since she’d learned that her father, Marcus Anderson, wasn’t her birth father, a lie she could not forgive her mother for perpetuating. She loved her dad, and he’d loved her very much.

“Would a penny cover it?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“Your thoughts. You haven’t said a word since you got into the cab of my truck.”

She glanced over at him, his open smile, his dark eyes focused on hers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

“Not a problem,” he said, but she recognized the tone of a man who felt he’d been ignored.

As Rory pulled into her driveway, Peggy gathered her purse and her shawl preparing to leave and go into the house. Rory shut off the engine. Peggy reached for the door.

“What’s the hurry?” he asked, his voice low and sensual.

“I have to work tomorrow,” she said, opening the door and flooding the interior of the truck with soft light.

“We both do,” he said, squinting in the sudden brightness. “That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“You mean we go into my house and do what?” she asked. She didn’t want to sound harsh, but she did need to be alone right now. Rory would probably not understand that, which meant he’d make his polite good-night, and she wouldn’t hear from him again.

“As I told you before, I’m a good listener if you—”

“I really have to go in. Please understand.”

He shrugged. “I get it. I read the signs wrong. You’re not interested in continuing further.”

“That’s not true! I’m sorry if you think that.”

“Then tell me what to think. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t. Not right now.” She found herself searching his face for some sense that he understood.

“So you want me to believe that you’re interested in me, but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Or next month. Whenever.”

She heard the rising tone of his voice, and her tummy touched her toes. She couldn’t share her worry with a stranger, and he didn’t seem to be aware that she needed privacy. Obviously, he was disappointed that she hadn’t invited him into her house. She’d read this script before. Another time. Another place. Another man. “I want to go in and go to bed. I have a lot riding on tomorrow, and I need to be ready to face it. If you cannot accept that, then—”

He leaned across the console, placed his large hand firmly behind her head, drew her face to his and kissed her. A simple kiss that claimed her. She reached up to touch his face, to feel the faint stubble on his cheeks, the pulse along his chin line. He gently blocked her hand with his. Then ever so quietly he ended the kiss, nearly driving her wild with need.

“I believe I’ve made my point. Have a good night. Dream of me if you like,” he said, a light teasing tone back in his voice. He touched his forehead to hers, and suddenly she wished he could come in. She wished she wasn’t so anxious about her health, her life, about so many things. A sharp pang of regret tightened her throat, making words impossible. He was being so kind, so very much the man she’d imagined she’d meet one day.

“We’ll continue this at a later date,” he whispered, planting another kiss on the end of her nose.

As her heart pounded and her thoughts scrambled, she clambered out the door of the truck toward her house. She’d wanted to stay right there with him, to let him kiss her until they had no choice but to move to her bedroom. She wanted it but she couldn’t have it. Not tonight, and maybe not for a very long time.