“Chips and deep fried cheese. That rung on the food pyramid no one wants to talk about. Between this crap and the sugar content in our margaritas, we’re batting a thousand.” Shelby groaned. “But it all tastes so good. Now let’s go watch Avatar.”

“For the sixth time,” Maggie complained under her breath.

“I heard that. And it’s the fifth time.”

“I thought we were back on horror movies.”

“Nope. Sci-Fi. So shut up, sit back, and be enthralled by blue people with tails.”

Maggie tried, but halfway through the film she found her thoughts continually straying toward to Mac and staying there. She’d been so turned on been when he’d mauled Wilson last week. He’d been so forceful and sexy while protecting her. Of course she’d gotten a rush seeing him in action. Any woman would, and Maggie happened to like muscles on a man.

The practical side of Maggie reared its head, reminding her that she courted stupidity to work for a man like Mac when she didn’t actually need to. She had her fulltime job at the gallery. On top of that, her old gym missed her and continually asked when she might return. They had better hours and were closer to her home. So why didn’t she stop working her temporary job for Mac and focus more on her real career? How had she gotten in so deep with the aggravating man she wanted to punch as much as she wanted to kiss?

She glanced at Shelby.

Four months ago, she’d tried to help her idiotic best friend. Out to protect Shelby from making another mistake when it came to men, Maggie had taken a job at Mac’s gym. While trying to spy on Shane, she and Mac had conspired to get Shelby and Shane together.

Over the course of Maggie’s time spent plotting, she’d started to actually like the man that put the word testosterone to shame. Mac stood a few inches over six feet, making him a giant next to her. He swore like the Marine he’d once been, yet he’d also charmed the ugly out of the nastiest woman at the gym with little effort. He had his share of fan-girls in leotards and short shorts. Big-breasted, slutty Megan thought Mac could do no wrong. And according to gossip, Mac definitely knew what to do between the sheets.

Apparently he couldn’t hold down a relationship though, much to the chagrin of several female gym-goers who liked to stare at Mac and speculate. As much as she wanted to, Maggie couldn’t blame their interest. Mac fit every one of her ideal physical traits in a male. Tall, broad shouldered and thickly muscled, he had looks and charm—when he chose to use it. His square jaw framed an even grin that made her heart race whenever he flashed it. Bright blue eyes against tan skin contrasted with his thick black hair. He kept it short, and she had a constant urge to brush his bangs off his forehead, to touch him and see if—

“I love this part.” Shelby knocked her in the arm, and Maggie watched as the end fight broke out in earnest.

Oh, hell. I have to stop mooning over Mac Jameson. She got up to pour herself another drink as the credits rolled. Shelby joined her, and they argued the finer points of science fiction versus horror movies.

Before she knew it, she and Shelby had finished off the pitcher of margaritas and started talking about men. Again.

“And when I wanted to do something different, he met me halfway.” Shelby nodded happily and under her shirt, muscled out of her bra. “Sorry. But it’s been a long day, and I’ve earned it. I’m free-boobing.”

A good idea. Maggie wanted to take hers off as well, except Shane would at some point return. Despite her supposed appeal to the opposite sex, Maggie had a hard time bearing her assets to the world.

Shelby tossed her bra and sighed. “Much better. Oh man, Maggie, I am so gone for him. I have to remind myself to play hard to get, because I don’t want him to get bored. Sometimes I have a hard time believing I’m in a real relationship. We’re actually dating. I mean, I love him. Isn’t that weird?”

Maggie snorted. “And we’re back to talking about Shane. Wait a minute. You said you have to remind yourself to play hard to get? You? The man smiles at you and you drop your pants like Pavlov’s dog.”

“Huh? Dogs wear pants?”

“I meant…never mind.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant. The margaritas were finally kicking in. “So what do you really think about Mac?”

“Ha! I knew you were still thinking about him.” Shelby sounded a bit too rational, and Maggie realized she’d imbibed much more than her friend.

She retrieved a half full bottle of wine from the refrigerator and two cups then rejoined Shelby in the living room. She poured them both wine and handed a cup to Shelby. “Drink up, schoolgirl.”

Shelby accepted the glass. “Mac’s in major lust with you.”

Which made it so difficult to keep her distance. Maggie called him Jameson. She frowned and glared, keeping a tight watch on his many ex-girlfriends to remind herself she didn’t want to join their ranks.

 “And you want him, bad.” Shelby refused to shut up. “But that might be because you’re so asexual now.”

Maggie groaned and drank. She had been doing her best not to talk about her lack of a sex life, but the booze and need to share broke her restraint. “I know. At first it was hard, but now it’s getting easier to not want sex.” At least, when I’m not around Mac. And that scares me. “I’m almost thirty. What’s going to happen when I’m in my forties and fifties? All my good years will be gone, and I’ll go through the change and never want sex again. I’ll be a dried up has-been.”

“Not to hear my mother tell it.”

“I love Mimi.”

“Yeah, well, she talks too much.” Shelby winced. “Trust me. She way over-shares. But here’s a good thing. She told me that since I’ve found a man she finally approves of, she’s decided to work on your sorry love life. She and Ron are going to find you the perfect man.”

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.