Chapter Seven

Maggie showed up at the restaurant at exactly one minute to ten. She paused outside the door, took a deep breath. Exhaled and then entered.

OK, girl, come on now. He’s just a guy you used to go out with for a little while. Right? No biggie. Get the assignment straight, then get to the studio. You don’t have to see him again until the first sculpture is ready for his approval.

“Maggie.”

She looked across the massive room to see Joe standing there. She blinked in surprise at him actually being on time. His whole thing when they were dating was to always keep her waiting. She had been too dumb and in love to see it at the time, but it had been a subtle message that his time was far more important than hers. It was also about keeping her in her place, she thought now. She had sat patiently waiting for him to grace her with his presence, no matter how flimsy or pathetic his excuse for being late.

He was on time today, though. Early, even. He was standing there in jeans and a black t-shirt that showed off his toned, tight arms and muscled torso. In his huge hands he held a cup of coffee.

“Hi,” she replied, forcing her eyes away from that amazing body.

God, what it had felt like to have him inside me. Fuck. Focus, Maggie.

“Coffee?” he said.

“Please.”

“OK, come on into the kitchen. We’ll talk there… stay out of the way.”

Maggie glanced around at the workmen. “Sure.”

Joe led her away from the assholes staring at her curved, full ass in those jeans, her amazing breasts in that clinging orange shirt. Even though he had no right, he felt jealousy surging through him at the thought of any other man touching her body, and he glared at the workmen over his shoulder. They gazed back, almost mockingly.

Fuckers. Get to work.

In the kitchen, she sat at the table he’d arrived early to set up. Joe’s laptop was there, a pile of notes, some ideas for the menu. It was his unofficial office, and he loved being in the space where he’d be cooking in just a few months. Assuming he could get his shit together and have everything ready in half-a-year.

He brought her a coffee. “Milk and a bit of honey.”

Maggie glanced up sharply. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did.” He sat across from her. “You drank how many cups of coffee at my place, Maggie?”

She looked away, not wanting to remember the morning-after coffees that had followed all those amazing nights of lovemaking. “Tell me about the job.”

“Sure.” He swallowed his disappointment that she was all business, but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised.

She hates you, remember? And it serves you right. It’s a surprise that she hasn’t taken one of the hammers out there to your fucking skull, Carlisle.

He clicked on a few links. “Here are some pictures of apsara sculptures that I really like. I thought you could use them as inspiration.”

She didn’t move to his side of the table, didn't even lean in his direction.

Joe almost sighed aloud, then he turned the laptop to face her. “See?”

Maggie studied them closely. “What do you like about them?”

Joe leaned back. “This one? I like the color. That soft gold, like a glowing sunset… see that?”

She wrote something in her notebook. “Yeah, OK.”

“And this one – I like the way her body curves… see the hip? The thigh? I love that. It’s graceful, but still strong.”

“OK.”

Joe went through all the pictures with her, and she listened carefully, asked lots of questions, took notes. After an hour, she stood up.

“So, as soon as I get the first forty percent of my f*e in my business account, I’ll get to work on the preliminary sketches.” She looked down at her notes, thinking. “I figure I can have them ready in three days. Shall I courier them here?”

“Why don’t I come to your studio?” he asked. “You can show me in person, and I can propose any changes right away.”

“I’d prefer to limit our contact, if possible.”