Never Too Late for Love

Margo laughed, giving Joy an affectionate squeeze. “No, but Lance might when he realizes what sort of a family he married into.”

The sound of her laughter was the first thing he heard as Bruce entered the shop.

It seemed fitting. It was that sound, flittering in and out of his brain these past two weeks, that had brought him here this afternoon. He’d come here on his day off rather than getting to the myriad of things that he’d been letting pile up in his personal life.

The fact that he had, that he caught himself thinking about Margo at unlikely moments, surprised him. If he didn’t count that incredibly annoying woman he’d been forced to deal with at the local courthouse the one time he’d gotten a traffic ticket, no woman had ever intruded into his thoughts beyond the moment. The only one who had ever occupied his mind for more than a fleeting moment was Ellen.

Margo was nothing like Ellen.

Maybe that was the reason.

The reason he was here, he insisted silently, was just to see how she was doing. When he’d dropped her off here after the reception, she’d told him that she was fine. He would have taken her at her word, but the moonlight had played along her skin, urging him to take one last, lingering look. When he did, there’d been something about her, something in her eyes, that had made him doubt the validity of her assertion.

He just wanted to make sure she was all right, he told himself again. After all, she was Lance’s mother-in-law, and although there was no legal term for the bond that he now shared with her, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Like it or not they were family, and his was small enough for him to take a personal interest in each member, now that he had his priorities straight and had lived through his period of atonement.

Margo turned toward the doorway, alerted by the musical chimes that someone had entered the store.

If she was surprised to see Bruce walking in, she didn’t show it. Instead, she came around the small counter, her hands outstretched in a warm greeting, a smile unfurling on her lips like a flag at first light.

The man had a gift, she thought, for appearing just at the right moment. She gave him a quick, enthusiastic hug. “Just the man I need.”

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or braced. He suspected that a great many people felt that way in her presence. Finding himself disengaged from a hug he was just beginning to enjoy, he looked down at Margo and raised one eyebrow in silent query. “Oh?”

“Yes.” The single word was fueled with an incredible amount of feeling. Had Melanie been there, she would have told him he was in for trouble. Taking a step back, she looked him over quickly, like a tailor wondering if the suit he’d made would fit his customer. “Tell me, Bruce, do you have a strong back?”

“My back?” he echoed uncertainly. It wasn’t a question he expected to be asked. Just what was it this woman had in mind?

“Yes.” The casual clothes he had on strongly reinforced the impression she’d gotten at the reception when she’d danced with him. The man looked to be made of solid muscle. But not all shortcomings were evident to the eye. “No old football injuries or anything?”

He turned, watching her as she circled him. “I never played football.”

That was hard to believe. Margo came full circle to face him again. “How about baseball?”

“A little.” She was making him uneasy. It was time to find out where she was headed with this conversation. “Margo, what are you getting at, and should we be having this conversation in front of people?” He glanced toward Joyce who looked about as lost as to Margo’s meaning as he felt.

Joy was far too slight to be of any use to her at the moment. “Joyce isn’t people, she’s like another daughter.” Her smile was wicked as she read his thoughts. “And besides, I’m only trying to find out if you’re up to moving some furniture for me, not any acrobatics in bed.”

“Furniture?” Was that it? Relief reared its head, but there were questions on its heels. One question brought with it interest sharp enough to give him pause. “Are you moving back to the area?”

Her mind busy with logistics and phone calls she had yet to make, it took Margo a second to regroup and assimilate the direction his question was going. “Oh, no, I never take furniture with me. It ties you down too much.” Her attachments were to places, to friends, not to anything that could be stored in a building or a box. “Whatever I own is right upstairs.” She raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “I lived with Aunt Elaine while Melanie was growing up. When my career began to take me to different places, I just left everything behind. It’s much easier that way.”