Maggie’s lips twitched. “Some friend you are.”
“Honey, I am your friend. And as your friend, I’m telling you to go upstairs. Take a bath. Do your hair and makeup and wear that gorgeous dress you bought yesterday.” She stood up, came around the table and gave Maggie a brief, hard hug. “Then you go out with your husband. Dance. Talk. And maybe remember just what it is you two have together before it’s too late.”
Justice hated getting dressed up.
He felt uncomfortable in the tailored tux and wished to hell he was wearing jeans and his boots. He even had a headache from gathering up his hair and tying it into a neat ponytail at the back of his neck. He didn’t get why it mattered what he wore to this damn thing. Why couldn’t he just write a check and be done with it?
Scowling, he glanced around the hallway and noted that the cobalt blue vase held a huge bouquet of roses, their scent spilling through the entryway. Now that Maggie was back on the ranch, the vases were filled again; he knew that when she was gone, it would be just one more thing he would miss. She’d made her mark on this place as well as on him. And nothing would be the same after she left.
His leg was better now, so he knew that she’d be planning to go soon. He couldn’t let that happen. Not this time. He had to find a way to make her stay. Not just because of Jonas but also because without Maggie, Justice didn’t feel complete.
He shot his cuffs, checked his watch and frowned. Maggie always had kept him waiting. Back in the day, he’d stood at the bottom of these steps, hollering up for her to get a move on, and she’d always insisted that she would be worth the wait.
“Damned if that isn’t still true,” he murmured when he spotted her at the top of the stairs.
Her long, red-gold hair fell loosely around her shoulders, the way he liked it best. Long, dangling gold earrings glittered and shone in the light tossed from a wall sconce. She wore a strapless, floor-length dark green dress that clung to her curves until practically nothing was left to the imagination. The bodice was low-cut, exposing the tops of her br**sts, and the skirt fell in graceful folds around her legs. She carried a black cashmere wrap folded neatly across her arm.
She stood there, smiling at him, and his breath caught in his lungs. Her cheeks were pink and her blue eyes sparkled as she enjoyed his reaction to her. If she only knew just how strong his response was. Suddenly, his tux felt even more uncomfortable than it had before as his body tightened and pushed at the elegant fabric.
“Well?” she asked, making a slow turn at the top of the stairs.
Justice hissed in a breath. The back was cut so low she was practically naked. The line of her spine drew his gaze, and he followed it down to the curve of her behind, just barely hidden by the green silk. His hands itched to touch her. It took everything he had to keep from vaulting up the stairs—bad leg or not—crushing her to him and carrying her off to the closest bed.
She’d been right, he told himself. They weren’t friends. They’d never be friends. He wanted her desperately and doubted that feeling would ever fade.
But she was waiting for him to say something, watching him now with steady eyes. He didn’t disappoint her.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice straining to be heard past the knot in his throat. “Every man in the room is going to want you.”
She came down the stairs slowly, one hand on the banister, each step measured and careful. He got peeks of her sandaled feet as she moved and noticed a gold toe ring he’d never paid attention to before. Sexy as hell, he thought, and grimly fought a losing battle to get his own body back under control.
“I’m not interested in every man,” she said when she was just a step or two above him.
“Good thing,” he told her. “I’d hate to have to bring a club to fight them off with.”
She gave him a dazzling smile that sent his heartbeat into overdrive.
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Justice.”
Then he’d been a damn fool, he thought. He should have always told her how beautiful she was. How important to him she was. But he hadn’t found the words and so he’d lost her. Maybe, though, there was time enough for him to take another shot at it.
He reached out, took one of her hands in his and helped her down the last two steps. When she was standing right in front of him, he inhaled, drawing her scent into his body as if taking all of her in. He lifted one hand, smoothed her hair back from her cheek, touched her cool, soft skin and felt only fire.
“Maggie, I—”
“Well, now, don’t you both look wonderful,” Mrs. Carey said as she walked into the hall, Jonas on her hip.
Justice didn’t know if he was relieved or irritated by the interruption.
The baby kicked his legs, waved his arms and, with drool streaming down his chin, reached for his mother. Maggie moved to take him, but Mrs. Carey stepped back. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, laughing. “He’ll have you covered in drool in no time—you don’t want to ruin that dress.”
Maggie sighed and Justice watched her eyes warm as she looked at her son. He felt it, too, he realized, looking at the baby safe in the housekeeper’s arms. A wild, huge love for a tiny child he wasn’t even sure was his yet. But the more time he spent with the baby, the more he saw of him, the more he cared for him. He and Maggie were linked through this child, he knew. But would it be enough to start over? To rebuild what they’d lost?
“She’s right,” he said, keeping a tight grip on Maggie’s hand. “We’re late anyway.”
Maggie lifted one eyebrow at him. “Was that a dig?”
He gave her a half smile. “Just a fact. You always did make us late for everything.”
“I like to make an entrance.”
“You do a hell of a job, I’ll give you that,” he said and was rewarded by a quick grin. Her smile sucker punched him, and he had to steady himself again before looking at Mrs. Carey. When he did, he found the older woman giving him a knowing look. She saw too much for Justice’s comfort. Always had.
“Goodnight, little man,” Maggie whispered as she leaned in to Jonas and kissed his cheek. Then she cupped her hand around the back of his head and just held on to him for a long moment. Pulling back, then she said, “Does he feel a little warm to you?”
“Warm?” Justice repeated, reaching out to place his palm on the baby’s forehead, a sudden, sharp stab of worry slicing through him. “You think he has a fever?”