“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as he stared into the gentle blue eyes he remembered every night in his dreams.
“Hello, Jake,” Maggie said softly, making his chest clamp down.
“Hello, Maggie.” She looked lovely. He couldn’t stop staring, trying to absorb every detail, aching to touch her and knowing he couldn’t.
“I heard about your appointment,” he said hoarsely, finally finding his voice. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” In her newly acquired position as Assistant Director, Maggie would be traveling to Europe with Evelyn Rothwell, the director, meeting the team in different countries, then traveling with them to the Olympics.
It was the director’s job to keep things running smoothly, arrange every aspect of the tour, and handle the problems that came up every day. As the director’s assistant, Maggie Delaine would have more than her share of work to do. Jake knew they’d be thrown together. This brief encounter showed him how difficult being near her was going to be.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she told him almost apologetically.
“It was a last-minute whim. I guess I was feeling a little lonely.” The instant he said the words he regretted them. The flash of hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. He couldn’t do that, but he couldn’t deny the thrill he felt at that one small sign she still cared.
“You look beautiful,” he said and never meant it more. In the last eight months he’d forgotten how pretty her eyes were, the way the light reflected on her honey-gold hair.
“Thank you. You’re looking as fit as ever.” Now that she’d recovered from the shock of seeing him, a biting tone crept into her voice.
“How’s Sarah?”
Maggie’s chin came up. “Sarah’s fine. She misses you. For the first few weeks she kept asking me if you were mad at us. Now she understands that you had more important things to do. Excuse me, I’d like to say hello to Virginia.” She tried to brush past him, but Jake caught her arm.
“Maggie, I....” He swallowed. “It’s good to see you. Tell Sarah I think of her often.”
Maggie nodded brusquely and walked away. He watched her hips sway gently in the elegant silk dress and remembered the silken feel of the body beneath. Downing his whiskey in one long gulp, he set the glass down on a crystal coaster and headed for the door.
On the way back, he’d buy a bottle of Johnny Walker to take back to his motel room. Three or four stiff shots and maybe he could get some sleep.
Maggie walked across the patio, rounding the side of the house just in time to see Jake climb into his shiny black Mercedes. She hadn’t wanted to see him and thankfully had missed him in L.A. But when she’d accepted the job as Assistant Director, she’d known their paths would cross sooner or later and more often than she would like.
It had been the single negative factor in accepting the job.
But she’d talked it over with Sarah and she and her daughter had agreed that taking the job was the right thing to do. It was what Les would have wanted.
Four years ago, the Olympic committee had asked Les Delaine to be the Manager of the 1984 Olympic Equestrian Teams. It was an honor he’d coveted for years. That night they’d gone out to dinner at the yacht club to celebrate.
Maggie had hoped they’d take Sarah along. Excited, she had already bathed and combed her hair.
“Some other time,” Les had said. “I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about a kid.” Tall and slim, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, Les was an attractive man. He kept in shape playing handball and still did a little riding on the weekends.
“Besides,” he added with a smile, “this way I’ll have more time for my favorite girl.” In a rare display of affection, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
That evening, he drank more heavily than usual, and Maggie didn’t blame him. For years, Les had worked hard for the U.S. Equestrian Team, had coveted the position of team manager, and finally achieved it.
“You’d better let me drive,” she told him as they left the club and reached Les’ Jaguar in the parking lot.
“Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Please, Les. Just this once?”
“All right, all right.” Grumbling something about paranoid females and the rigors of being married, he handed her to keys.
Maggie was so relieved she didn’t care. By the time they were headed east on the expressway, he was slumped against the headrest, snoring softly. That was the last thing she remembered when she woke up in the Tampa Bay hospital three hours later.
The police said she had swerved to avoid a car and ended up in the path of an oncoming truck. Maggie had survived with only a concussion and a few minor bruises, but the Jaguar had been totaled and Les had been killed.
For years afterward, Maggie had blamed herself. She’d done penance in the only way she knew how, involving herself in the horseshow world Les had loved, reading every journal available, learning as much as she possibly could. Through Les, she had connections, knew the right people to get the job.
