The thought of being used—first for orgasms, then for her book and now to scare away the man she’d been trying to forget Saturday night—should have discouraged his erection like a jump into ice-cold water, but it didn’t. Hunter shifted in his chair, silently cursing himself for not wearing something other than jeans. It seemed the lower half of his body wanted her and didn’t care about why she’d let him wrap his arm around her and pull her close.
Being used? Yeah, it should have pissed him off. But Maggie was a means to an end for him, also. He wasn’t here to win her heart or a place in her bed—though he certainly wouldn’t turn down a trip to her bedroom.
Hunter watched Maggie set down her coffee, pick up the muffin box and shove it into Derrick’s chest. That was his cue, he decided, heading for the door to the kitchen. They’d had time to talk. Now it was time for Muffin Boy to walk out the front door. Hunter fully intended to help him find his way if he didn’t head for the exit in five, four, three, two—
Derrick set the box on the counter and turned to the swinging door just as Hunter stepped into the room.
“I mean it, Derrick,” Maggie said. “No more phone calls, no more harassing my friends at work. Nothing. This is the end.”
“Goodbye, Maggie,” Derrick said, one hand on the door. He glanced over at Hunter. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The door swung closed behind Derrick, and Hunter turned to Maggie.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, slumping into a chair at the kitchen counter. “I probably should have told you my ex might show up.”
“And ruin the surprise? I only met the guy for a few minutes, but he didn’t seem like your type.”
“He said the same thing about you.”
Hunter saw a soft smile on her lips. Pleased she didn’t look crestfallen over Derrick anymore, he went over to her fri
dge and opened it up.
“He’s probably right,” he said, rummaging through the meager contents of the shelves. The startling need he’d felt to jump in and rescue her from her ex had left him unsettled. Why should he be concerned about her relationship with her former fiancé? She wasn’t his family.
But the whys didn’t matter. The fact was he cared, and he needed to make damn certain she took the necessary steps to protect herself. “Have you thought about taking out a restraining order against your early morning visitor?”
“For Derrick? I don’t think that’s necessary. He won’t be back.”
Hunter pulled out a half-full carton of eggs and checked the date. “Rejection can make a man do stupid things, especially if he thinks the woman he loves has moved on to someone else.”
“Derrick doesn’t love me.”
“He wanted to marry you,” Hunter said, surprised by the certainty in her voice. “And correct me if I’m wrong here, but you said yes.”
Maggie shook her head. “We have similar interests. He’s a political science professor with a focus on peace treaties.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow.
“It’s more interesting than it sounds,” she said.
“That’s your criteria for marriage? If I was going to commit to ‘until death do us part,’ I’d want more than similar interests.”
He set the eggs on the counter.
Maggie sighed. “I thought what was between us would be enough. But now I realize I need more. I need...”
Hunter sensed she was struggling to find the right words.
“I need to trust the man I marry,” she continued.
“You didn’t trust Muffin Boy?”
Maggie laughed, but didn’t smile. “I did until I caught him with one of his research assistants.”
He’d cheated on her. Maggie wasn’t someone who trusted easily and the bastard had taken that trust and destroyed it. Part of him wished Muffin Boy had given him an excuse to land a punch on his pretty-boy face. Hell, if Muffin Boy showed up again, he’d strip down to his boxers before answering the door. Let the bastard think he’d just come from Maggie’s bed.
But he wouldn’t be staying in her guest bedroom forever. If he had his way, he’d be out of there in a week, maybe less, and back on active duty, leading his team. Who knew how and when Derrick might strike again.