Page 19

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“ I still don’t think that chocolate torte is an acceptable dinner,” Ian grumbled, eyeing the dessert that sat in front of her.

She’d grabbed some spoons and put the entire thing out. Only Jack had picked up a spoon, the other two had opted to make themselves some sandwiches.

Boring.

She didn’t like the way Ian was staring at her torte. “I really think you should eat something healthy first.” He leaned out to grab the dessert.

Getting to her feet, she bent over it protectively, brandishing her spoon as a weapon. “My torte. Mine. You touch it, you die. I’ll scoop out your insides and give them to my cat.”

She made a mental note to buy a cat.

Ian frowned while Jameson gave her a shocked look. Jack just laughed.

“So vicious.” Jack helped her sit back as she felt her cheeks grow red.

“Um, it’s possible I just over-reacted a tad.”

“Ya think?” Ian asked dryly.

Jameson was still staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

Great. Way to make a good impression, Maggie. And on the guy who looks like a romance cover model come to life.

Shit. That’s why he looked familiar. He reminded her of a cover model on one of her favorite romance books.

All right, she knew that they were actual people, but she’d never met one. Until now. She sighed.

“Um, are you all right, Maggie?” Jameson asked.

“Your hair is so pretty.” She straightened. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Groaning, she went to slam her head on the table, just stopping before she smashed into the torte.

“If it helps, I like how vicious you are,” Jack whispered.

It didn’t.

Oh, who was she kidding? Yes, it did.

“I wasn’t vicious. I was just . . . defending my territory.”

“You’re both going to be ill,” Ian predicted as they ate some more.

“He’s just jealous because he can’t eat this without having to work out in the gym for four hours. He’s getting old,” Jack whispered.

“I’m the same age as you,” Ian protested.

“And yet . . . I look like this and you look like that. Sad how life ages some people. See, it’s all about your inner temperament. Who you are on the inside.”

Ian just glared at Jack.

“My point exactly,” Jack said.

She ate another spoonful to hide her grin. A low groan of pleasure escaped her. And, once again, all three men were staring at her.

“What? It’s good. Sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.”

“I like the noises you make,” Jack replied with a wink. “Be as loud as you want.”

Both Jameson and Ian scowled at Jack.

Jack took another spoonful of torte and let out a loud groan of pleasure.

Okay. Whoa. Her entire body lit up from the inside out. That was sexy as hell.

Suddenly, Jameson stood. “I have to go.”

She blinked. “Oh, of course. I’ll walk you out.”

“No need,” Jameson replied.

“You won’t,” Ian snapped at the same time. Jeez, his sweetness level was dropping quickly.

“Uh.”

“Thank you for the hospitality,” Jameson said in a weirdly formal voice.

“Um, sure,” she replied, confused.

Hospitality? What did he mean? When she’d burned the potatoes? Or dropped the cake? Or when he’d had to clean up after her?

“Good night.”

He walked out before she could say anything more. Her shoulders sagged.

“Don’t worry about Jameson. He has trouble processing big feelings. And small ones. Tiny ones.” Jack grinned, holding up his little finger.

She had no idea what he was talking about. Ian had just taken a mouthful as Jack spoke and he started choking.

“Oh no! Ian!” Getting up, she started patting his back. “Jack, help me! He’s choking.”

“Oh, he’s fine. If he can make noise, he can breathe.”

“Jack!” She gaped at him in horror. “Don’t worry, Ian, I’ll help. Here, stand.”

She managed to get him standing. Boy, did he weigh a lot. Then she attempted to reach her arms around him to give him the Heimlich maneuver.

Unfortunately, her arms didn’t reach around him even though she gave it a good go, pressing herself against his back.

“I can’t do it! Jack!”

“I’m fine,” Ian said hoarsely. “You can . . . you can let me go, Maggie.”

“Oh . . . well, good. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” She shot Jack a look. He just licked his spoon clean.

“I knew he’d be all right. No sandwich would ever dare choke Ian Blackstone.”

Well, that was true.

A wave of tiredness ran through her.

“Hey, are you all right?” Ian turned toward her. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m a bit tired.”

“Sugar drop from eating dessert for dinner,” Ian told her.

“There’s nothing wrong with dessert for dinner. I think it should become a new thing. I might start a trend.”

“I think not, Little Misfit.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you can be too bossy?” she asked.

“They haven’t.”

“I have.” Jack held up his hand, waving it around. “All the time.”

She yawned, swaying on her feet.

“Time you were in bed.” Ian picked her up again, holding her against his chest. What she wouldn’t give to be able to bury her face in his chest and let go. Let him take care of everything.

But you can’t.

However, she did let him carry her up to her room. And over to her bed. He set her down while he drew back the covers.

“In you get.” He patted the mattress.

Was he . . . was he really going to put her to bed?

And was she going to say no?

No, she was not.

She climbed into the bed and watched in amazement as he took the job of tucking her in very seriously.

“What else do you need to sleep? Where is your zebra?”

“He got all dirty, so I had to give him a sponge bath. He’s in the bathroom.” She attempted to free herself from the cocoon of blankets, but he placed a hand on top of her.

“Stay there.”

She didn’t take offense to the command. Because she really just wanted to stay where she was. All wrapped up and snuggly.

He brought back Ziggy and placed him under the blankets with her.

She let out a big yawn.

“Do you need a light left on, Little Misfit?”

“No, I like the dark. Uncle Willy and I used to play games in the dark.” Her eyes opened. “Monkeyballs! I forgot about Uncle Willy. I need to stay up and wait for him to get home from the palace.”

Ian gave her a curious look. “Why would you need to stay up for him? One of Beta Team will bring him home. He’ll be fine.”

“Oh, um, yes. I guess. I’ve been meaning to ask why you guys don’t have a name?”

“What?” he asked.

“If there is Alpha and Beta, are you Delta? Or do you not have a name yet? Maybe you want me to name you? Hmm . . . what about Grumpy Knickers team.”

“You need sleep,” he said dryly. “Clearly, you’re delusional.”

She snorted. She was not.

“Close your eyes now. You’re exhausted. I don’t want you getting out of bed until after nine tomorrow morning.”

“Have you always had these delusions?”

“Delusions?”

“Yeah. That you’re the boss of the world.”

“I don’t want to be the boss of the world. Just you, I think.” The last four words were so quiet that she decided she must have imagined them.

Same as she imagined the lips that were pressed to her forehead.

It was a nice dream.

But it would never be her reality. And she had to remember that.