Marie Harte - Working Out

A vision of Mac wearing a white towel and not much else danced across Maggie’s vision. “Great. I suppose this is payback for me helping you find your true love.”

“Yep.”

“You don’t have to look so gleeful about it.” Maggie frowned. “I mean, you got Shane out of the deal. You owe me.”

Shelby smirked. “Oh, I intend to pay you back. In spades.”

“Hell.”

Shelby chuckled. “I’ve been feeling up your obsession for weeks now.”

Maggie huffed. “He’s not my obsession. And might I remind you that you’re a professional. I thought legitimate massage therapists were more clinical about their patients.”

“Well, I’m not giving him happy endings. Those I save for my man.”

Maggie snorted with laughter. “You need help.”

“And I get it regularly.” Shelby wiggled her eyebrows. “Did I tell you about Shane helping me out at work? God, that man is sexy.”

Maggie stared, wide-eyed. “By helping out, you mean…”

“He had me naked and splayed out on a table. My own personal massage.”

“You, Miss Professional, had sex in your clinic? Oh man, I am so jealous. Tell me.”

As Shelby shared a few naughty details, like the good best friend she was, Maggie felt both stunned and envious of her friend. Shane had certainly brought out the adventurous girl in Shelby, and it was about time. Shelby had been so hurt by her ex that it had soured Maggie on relationships as well. Shelby’s pleasure showed Maggie that not all men were scum-sucking jerks.

Maggie longed to have someone to trust, to fill her emotional and physical needs and validate her sense as a woman. For so long she’d tried dating men who turned out to be all wrong, and those mistakes triggered a fear that she’d never find someone special. She had looks but no great wealth, and someday her looks would fade. Most men didn’t take her seriously because of her blond hair, that and being an artist. Even in this day and age, stereotypes remained. For all that men complimented her face and form, she had yet to find a significant other.

 “…so then he flipped me over, and I’m all out of breath, and he—”

The front door opened, cutting Shelby off mid-sentence. Shane walked in and stopped short at seeing them both lolling on the floor with a bottle of wine between them. He stared hard at Shelby, who wore a pair of tights and a tank without her bra. Then he blinked at Maggie, who wore her favorite ripped jeans and a soft, holey tee-shirt.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss any girl-on-girl action.”

Shelby laughed so hard she knocked the empty bottle over.

Maggie got to her feet with the grace than a three-legged goat. She nearly tripped before Shane steadied her. “And this is why I kept my bra on.”

He stared, open-mouthed, but said nothing. The looks he kept giving Shelby spoke for him, however.

“Okay, you two.” Maggie sighed. “I don’t think I can drive home. So I’ll be in the guest room. Please, no loud noises while you’re getting it on. Have pity on me.” So saying, she teetered her way to the bathroom, took care of business, and found the bed in the guest room.

After three tries she shimmied out of her bra and jeans but kept her shirt on for modesty’s sake. Though to be fair, Shane wouldn’t care. He only had eyes for Shelby. Man, her friend was lucky.

Before she knew it, her eyes had closed and she snuggled under the covers. She smiled as a vision of Mac, wearing no more than a pair of his own ripped jean shorts, entertained her throughout the night.

And into the morning.

Maggie woke the next day with a pounding headache and a vague sense she needed to be somewhere. On a groan, she rolled onto her back and blinked as a stream of bright sunlight hit her eye. Thankfully, a large body blocked out most of the sun and gave her a moment to focus.

Mac Jameson stared down at her with an intense look on his face.

She blinked up at him. “Shouldn’t your shorts be ripped?” Still not sure if she was awake or asleep, Maggie grazed Mac’s thigh and felt cotton under her hands. “Sweatpants? What happened to the jean shorts?”

Mac’s lips curled into a grin. “Jean shorts? This sounds good.”

Maggie realized the dream had come and gone. This Mac was real.

Quickly sitting up, she made sure to keep the cover over her lower half.

His gaze lowered to her chest, and his smile widened. “I really missed a party, didn’t I? Saw a wine bottle and drink mix in the kitchen. The clean police are still sound asleep, and there’s a gorgeous blond in my room.”

“Um, your room?”

He licked his lips and returned his gaze to hers. When she saw the heat melting the blue ice of his eyes, she froze. “Yeah. When I visit, I get the guest room.”

“In Shane’s house maybe. But this is Shelby’s.” The pair had decided to keep separate residences until they made the big move to share a home. Maggie figured they’d eventually move into Shane’s house because he had more space.

“Her house, his house. What’s his is mine. Sort of.” Mac ran a callused finger over her cheek, and Maggie found it hard to breathe.

His gaze returned to her chest and lingered. “You are really turning me on.”

Stupidly, she stared at his crotch, not surprised to see him hard and growing behind the sweats. “Y-you…ah…”

“Yep. Hard as a rock, just like those pretty nipples.” Mac’s husky voice snapped her out of her daze.

She realized he hadn’t been leering the way he normally did. He could see her nipples through her tee-shirt because she’d taken off her bra last night.

He returned his gaze to her face and slowly ran his finger down her jaw to her neck and lower. He continued to trail his finger over her collar bone, to the upper swell of her breast, and down. He rested his finger over her nipple for a moment, and she swore butterflies swarmed in her belly and sent a notice to flood her sex. “I can’t wait to suck these.”

And she wanted him to suck, to tease, to lick.

So much for a life of celibacy.

Behind him, the sun turned brighter and illuminated the poster on the wall. Of Shelby’s guest room.

Maggie jerked back, sat up, and crossed her arms over her chest—what she should have done the second she spotted Mac standing over her. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

He sighed and sat next to her on the bed.

She squeaked, but before she could scoot away, he gripped her leg through the cover.

“Wait. I’m not going to attack you, okay? I need a minute to cool down.” His wry look down at his lap brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. “I came by to grab a few books I’d lent Shane. He told me to stop by this morning and grab them. I didn’t realize he was taking this whole relationship thing to heart though. Shelby has turned him into a new man.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s sleeping in. It’s ten on a Saturday morning, and Mr. Type A is still in bed.” Mac looked mystified. “She must have given it to him good last night.” The speculative gaze he settled on Maggie and the bra hanging over the bedpost spoke volumes.

“Cut it out.” She reached for the bra but couldn’t grab it without him letting go of her leg.

“Let me.” He reached and took the bra from the post, sliding his fingers over the silken cups. “So soft and pretty.”

She grabbed it from his hand and snuck it under the cover, feeling both embarrassed and turned on. Confusion battled with lust in her mind, and she didn’t know whether to attack him or pray that he leave. Then the time registered.

“Did you say ten o’clock?”

He nodded.

“Oh my God. The gallery!” Maggie shot out of the bed with her bra and grabbed her jeans as she left, ignoring Mac’s wolf whistle.

She raced into the bathroom and hurriedly donned her clothing. Running out into the living room, she said a quick goodbye to a grumpy Shelby and laughing Shane in the kitchen. Thankfully Mac remained out of sight.

Ten o’clock, and she had an hour to get dressed, cleaned up and to work in an hour. As she rushed, her body continued to tingle in funny places, refusing to let her forget Mac’s touch. Talk about a hell of a start to her weekend.

A helluva way to start his weekend.

Mac heard Shane and Shelby moving in the house and needed to get a handle on his cock. Or better yet, have Maggie get a handle on it. Good Christ, but the woman was a walking wet dream. Seeing her amazing breasts, her nipples straining though that soft cotton tee-shirt, had been heaven and hell in the same breath. Then to watch her shoot from the bed, to see those toned legs and that tight ass set off by lace panties?

Hell. He worked to regulate his body and relax. Sporting a hard-on while he shared breakfast with his buddy and Shelby probably wouldn’t get him invited over again anytime soon. But fuck if he’d be able to see Maggie again without remembering her in bed.

Bad enough he saw her every day in those tight workout clothes. But the blond bombshell in a tee-shirt and panties trumped anything she’d worn the entire time he’d known her.

And those thoughts did nothing to help him calm his raging lust.

After internally reviewing his weekend schedule and recalling the choice words his uncle had tossed his way after hearing from Wilson “the jerk” Hussman, Mac finally had a hold of his sex drive.

He walked out and met Shane and Shelby in the kitchen. The pair were kissing and laughing, and Mac felt good seeing them. Shelby had looks, gorgeous curves, and hands from heaven. The woman could crush a rock with her strong fingers, but it was her generous heart and soft spot for Shane that had convinced Mac she was just what Shane needed.

“Cut it out,” Mac complained. “Or was I invited over for a show? I came for the eggs, but I’ll stay for the entertainment.”

“Shut up.” Shane flipped him off and laughingly disengaged from his girlfriend.

“I saw Maggie.”

Shelby smiled like a cat considering a bowl of cream. “Did you now?”

“Yep. Freaked her the hell out too. She darted out of the house like her hair was on fire.”

Shelby blinked and checked the time on the clock. “Oh boy. She’ll be lucky to make it to work on time. Too many margaritas last night.”

“She never talks about the gallery.” A perfect opening, Mac thought, to pump Shelby for information. “She’s an artist, right? What does she do, exactly?”

Shelby left the kitchen and returned moments later with a framed piece of art. “She makes paper.”

“Uh, what?” He stared at the piece, intrigued by the patterns and variation of texture and color. It was kind of pretty, in an artsy kind of way.

“Paper. Not the kind you write on, dumb ass,” Shane answered. “It’s art. Paper is her medium.”

“Right, Mr. High Brow.” He shook his head and handed the frame back to Shelby. “Since when are you so into art?”

“Since Shelby made me see what Maggie does. It’s pretty cool, actually. She has a paper press and inks. Dyes her stuff and creates real art. She also does some amazing watercolors. I didn’t realize she was into all that stuff. I’ve only seen her prancing around in tights at the gym.”

Shelby glared at him. “Shane.”

“Sorry. It’s his bad influence.” He pointed to Mac.

“True.” Mac grinned, smiling wider when Shelby sighed. “So why do you suppose Maggie won’t give me the time of day? She comes in to work, does her job, and leaves. I’m lucky if I get a frown half the time.”

Shelby looked uncomfortable.

“Come on. I’m not going to hurt her. I just want a date. That’s it.” He had to get this craving for the woman out of his mind.

“Please.” Shane snorted. “Like that’s all you want.”

“Shut up, dickhead.” If Shane ruined his shot at Maggie, Mac would clock him. He turned back to Shelby and put on his most charming expression. “Look, I know what you probably think of me. But I’m not as bad as Shane would have you believe.”

“He’s worse,” Shane muttered.

“I’ve dated a lot of women, I admit. But I was open. I never cheated on any of them. I can’t help it if I haven’t met the right woman yet. I mean, you think it’s hard weeding through the losers? Try being a guy. I’m expected to hold the door, but if I do, some woman yells at me for being a chauvinist. I compliment a woman on her looks, and I’m supposedly leering. When I don’t look at her breasts, I’m gay.”

Shane choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “Who called you gay?”