“Not UPS. Some guy with a box.” He turned to her, frowning as the doorbell buzzed again. “Want me to send him away?”
“No, I—”
“Maggie?” She’d been about to say she could handle it when Derrick’s voice interrupted.
“Oh, crap, I know him,” she said, closing her eyes briefly. “Go ahead and let him in. Bring him into the kitchen. I need coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sounded more amused than put off at playing butler.
Resigned to an awkward early morning conversation with her ex, Maggie walked past Hunter with as much dignity as she could muster in her robe and slippers. Of course, Derrick would pleasantly knock on her door when she looked and felt her worst. Morning. The man was a self-centered fool. A smart, caring person would never try to woo her before coffee. Or think he had a chance at winning her back after she’d caught him with his pants down.
She pushed through the swinging door leading to the kitchen, and the smell hit her. Coffee. Freshly brewed, hot and steaming. Maggie smiled. Hunter must have made it at whatever ungodly hour he’d risen. Apparently, not all morning people were brainless twits. Just Derrick.
“Good morning, Maggie.” Derrick ambled into the kitchen, set the box on the counter and leaned over to kiss her. She turned her mouth away and let him peck her cheek before stepping away. Hunter walked in just in time to witness the kiss. He raised an eyebrow. Maggie mouthed thank you for the coffee over her ex-fiancé’s shoulder. Her professional self might not want Hunter here, but since he’d insisted on staying, she had every intention of using him to send Derrick away for good.
“I brought you muffins,” Derrick said. “Your favorite. Low-fat vanilla pear from that bakery you like in the city.”
Low fat had never been her favorite. She preferred cinnamon buns dripping with sugary frosting. She’d switched to reduced-calorie food after she’d accepted his proposal two months ago. Apparently his memory didn’t go back that far. And if he’d brought them from Manhattan, that meant he’d picked them up yesterday. Low fat and stale, not exactly the way to a girl’s heart.
Maggie sipped her coffee and studied Derrick. He’d shaved that morning, styled his blond hair into the usual side part that made him look like something out of a country club advertisement and put on a blue power suit.
“Meeting later?” she asked over the rim of her coffee, taking a sip before she bit out the words with one of your students.
“Yes, but I had to see you first after the way we left things last time.” He glanced at Hunter, standing with his arms folded across his chest by the door. “I didn’t realize you’d hired a bodyguard.”
“I didn’t.” She plucked a muffin from the box and walked over to Hunter’s side. “He’s a friend. Derrick, this is Hunter. Hunter, meet Derrick.” She looked up at Hunter, silently begging him to play along. “Muffin?”
Hunter smiled down at her. “Love one.” He plucked the poor excuse for a breakfast treat from her hand and took a bite. “I can see why these are your favorite. Loads of flavor.”
Maggie stifled a giggle and glanced across the room to where Derrick stood frozen, his jaw slightly open. Turning her gaze away from her Mr. Country Club ex, Maggie looked at Hunter. Derrick might be handsome, but the Ranger with the bedroom eyes was 100 percent sexier. “Tastes better with coffee. Great job, by the way. Nice and strong.”
“You’re welcome.” He took another bite of the muffin.
“Maggie, we need to talk.” Derrick’s voice was strained, bordering on shrill.
“Whatever you need to say to Little Miss Maggie here, you can say in front of me,” Hunter said.
Okay, maybe that was taking things a little too far. She wanted his presence to send Derrick packing for good, but Little Miss Maggie? No one who knew her would call her that. Derrick would see right through their little charade.
But then Hunter reached his free arm out, wrapped it around her waist and pulled her close, his hand spanning the curve between her rib cage and hip. Maggie nearly dropped her coffee mug. She knew it was a yeah-she’s-mine-now move, but her body didn’t care why he’d touched her again. Beneath her gray robe, she felt her nipples harden, remembering the way he’d teased her breasts last night on the porch.
Before she could protest or step away, he leaned down and nuzzled the back of her neck through her hair. He hit the spot that he knew would send her to heaven. He knew because she’d told him so on Saturday night. Memories of his mouth, his touch, the feel of him inside her, coursed through every nerve of her body, settling between her legs.
Maggie closed her eyes. Maybe it didn’t matter what he called her. After witnessing this little scene, not even boring-in-bed Derrick would miss the fact that she’d been naked and intimate with her new friend.
Hunter’s breath tickled the nape of her neck and a little moan escaped her lips. She wanted to throw off her clothes, wrap her body around him and tell Derrick to get the hell out of her kitchen unless he wanted to watch her come on the kitchen table.
Only she couldn’t do that. Her scumbag ex stood five feet away and Hunter was her army liaison. She wasn’t sure which one posed the bigger threat, but she suspected it was Hunter. Derrick had never sent her falling into head-over-heels-in-lust territory. He’d been the safe choice. Hunter should have a red danger sign across his
chest.
Maggie stepped away, letting his arm fall from her waist. Instantly, she missed his touch. “Hunter, can you give us a minute?”
“Sure.” He moved toward the screened porch, smiling at Derrick. “Thanks for bringing breakfast.” He popped the rest of the muffin into his mouth as he stepped from the room.
“You’re seeing someone?” Derrick asked, incredulous. “How long has this been going on?”
Like you have any right to ask. But she didn’t want a fight about who cheated first. She knew the answer to that one. She wanted Derrick to leave and never come back.