Irresistible Attraction: Scenes of Passion / Midnight Seduction / Beyond Control

“And you’re wondering what it would be like to put yourarms up around my neck.” Matt was going on memory now, but the lines were easy from here on in.

Maggie let her own script slide to the floor as she, as if almost in a trance, put the palms of both hands on Matt’s chest and slowly slid them upwards. She felt him inhale, as if he found her touch exciting. It was a nice addition to what was already fabulous acting.

Her hands met behind Matt’s neck and she could feel his long, soft hair against her bare arms. She was Lucy. And this was make-believe. They were acting. Acting.

“And you’re wondering what it would feel like,” Matt said slowly, “if you brought your lips up, like this—” and he gently pulled her chin up, then tenderly pushed the hair back from her face “—and if I brought my lips down, like this…”

Maggie was expecting a gentle kiss, but the moment his mouth found hers, something exploded. She felt his arms tighten around hers as he kissed her, and she kissed him, as she opened her mouth to him and…

Oh, God. She was lost.

But just as suddenly as that kiss began, it ended. Matt pushed her away from him and took several large steps to the other side of the stage.

“Well, forget it,” Matt said, his voice perfectly hoarse with emotion as he turned to look at her. “Because I’m notgoing to kiss you.”

They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

“Very nice,” Dan Fowler’s voice cut in. “Stick around for the dance audition.”

Maggie’s hands were shaking as she bent down to pick up her script. Matt took it from her.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Sure,” she lied, looking up at the man who seemed intent on turning her world inside out. “I’m… just fine.”

Five

Maggie dragged herself up the stairs to her bedroom. The dance audition had been grueling. A sane person would take a hot shower and curl up in bed with a good book. But somehow she’d let Matt talk her into having dinner with him, as they’d planned the day before.

“Nothing fancy,” he’d insisted, with that little smile that could turn her to jelly.

Did he know? Could he tell that she’d finally succumbed to Matthew Fever? That’s what Angie had scornfully called it back in high school when one after another pretty young girl had fallen prey to Matt’s charms and followed him around adoringly, sighing soulfully.

“Everyone gets it,” Angie had insisted.

“Not me,” Maggie had said.

Now she wondered if it were like other childhood dis-eases—much more dangerous if contracted when an adult.

She closed the door to her room and undressed quickly, slipping into her bathrobe.

There was a soft knock on her door, and she opened it cautiously, not wanting to get into another discussion with her mother about the pros and cons of an October wedding.

But it was her little brother, Stevie, who stood there, yawning, as if he had just gotten out of bed.

“Morning,” he said, scratching his head, making his short dark hair stand up straight.

“It’s five in the evening. Don’t tell me you slept all day.”

“I cannot tell a lie,” Stevie said, a weak smile on his still-boyish face. “Your evening is my morning.”

“That’s pathetic.” She softened her words with a smile.

“I didn’t get home last night until noon,” he told her. “That is noon, as in this morning.”

“Are you kidding? Are you grounded for the rest of your life?”

“It was prom night.” Her brother grinned. “It was very wholesome. I went to two different after-prom parties, and there was absolutely no alcohol served at either one. I felt like one of My Three Sons. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I’m not hung over. What a bonus.”

“How’d it go with Danielle?”

Stevie rolled his eyes. “Great—if my goal was for her to still not realize that I’m alive.”

“It must run in the family,” Maggie said. “I know what you mean.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t accuse the Brockster of not knowing you’re alive. He wants to marry you. What’s doing, Mag-oid? You got a boy toy on the side?”

Maggie smacked him on the rear with her towel. “None of your business, Dr. Love. Outa my way. I need to take a shower.”

“Be nice to me,” Stevie said. “I came here to warn you. I overheard the ’rents talking, and it sounds like Her Royal Highness, Queen Vanessa, is coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, thank God,” Maggie said. “I’ve already got an excuse. I’m having dinner out with a friend.”

“Lucky you, you’ll miss that magic. Give a shout when you’re out of the shower.”

As Maggie was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the doorbell rang. It was only 6:18. She’d never known Matt to be early, but he was doing an awful lot of things differently these days.

She stood back and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Jeans and a red tank top, sandals on her feet. Who’d’ve thought she’d ever wear something this casual to a dinner meeting with her new boss?

A boss she happened to have the screaming hots for. And that was something she couldn’t let happen. Talk about ways to destroy a friendship. And what would Angie say?

The doorbell rang again, and she clattered down the stairs, throwing the door open.

“Hi.” She smiled, expecting Matt.

Brock looked back at her, his arms filled with suitcases. Vanessa stood behind him, also laden with luggage.

Uh-oh.

Maggie’s sister never traveled light, but seven suitcases for a two hour dinner…?

“My arms are breaking here,” Vanessa said, and Maggie stepped back, holding the door open for them.

Brock piled the suitcases near the stairs, smiling at Maggie. “Hey, kiddo.” His deep voice boomed in the small foyer. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me tonight.”

“No,” Maggie said faintly. “I didn’t.”

Stevie came down the stairs, his hair still wet from his shower. He stared from Van to Brock to the large pile of suitcases to Maggie. Uh-oh. He was thinking the same thing she was.