“This is a lot more scotch than it is water,” she gasped.
“Guess it is, but it will make you feel better. I didn’t mean to scare you to death, you know. Have another swallow.”
The first swallow was warming her insides, Maggie realized. Not that she felt totally calm, by any means. She’d have thought that Dallas would be at least a little put out over her nervy invasion of his home, and it was rather amazing to Maggie that he wasn’t. In fact, he was trying to make her feel as though she’d done nothing wrong! Could he really be the nice guy her mother proclaimed him to be? But if he was, why had he propositioned her in such an insulting way?
Confused by it all, Maggie lifted the glass for another swallow. This time she didn’t choke on the scotch, and, in fact, decided it definitely contained medicinal properties. She never had been much of a drinker, especially of hard liquor. A glass of wine now and then was pretty much the extent of her experience with alcoholic beverages. Not that she intended rushing to Red Rock and buying herself a bottle of scotch at the first opportunity; it certainly wasn’t that tasty.
In fact, two swallows of it were enough. She handed the glass back to Dallas with a quietly stated, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You can finish it all, if you’d like.”
“No, I’ve had enough.” She peered at him in the semidarkness of the gazebo. “Why are you out here at this time of night?”
“Probably for the same reason you are. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Is—is insomnia a common occurrence for you?”
Dallas sighed. “To tell you the truth, I run in spells. Sometimes I sleep just fine, sometimes I don’t. How about you?”
“I guess it depends on what’s on my mind when I go to bed.”
“So, what was bothering you tonight? My having dinner with your family?”
Maggie hesitated while the truth and a lie vied for prominence. But why should she make herself look foolish by lying about something that was perfectly obvious? Dallas’s question indicated that he already knew the truth, so there really was no point to her denying it.
“Yes,” she said evenly. “That’s what kept me awake.”
“Hmm,” Dallas murmured. “It’s kind of interesting that I bother you enough to keep you awake.” After a silent few moments, he asked, “Don’t you think so?”
Maggie felt uneasy. He seemed to be working up to saying something that she would undoubtedly be better off not hearing.
She started to get up. “You’ve been very nice about my trespassing, but I really must apologize again. I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”
“Maggie, I told you that you can visit my gazebo anytime you’d like.” He found her hand and, with a gentle tug on it, urged her to sit down again. “Please, don’t go,” he said softly.
His hand around hers—the most innocent of all possible caresses between a man and a woman—caused a catch in Maggie’s throat. She knew she should break free and run for home as fast as her legs could carry her. And yet she stood there and let him hold her hand, and when he tugged on it a second time, she let herself be guided back to the bench.
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