âI never thought Iâd be the kind of person who would have regrets, but I do.â
Maggie stopped looking away from him. âI was foolish to run away from everything, Will. To run away from you.â
He reached out, stroking his fingers along the underside of her jaw. âThen donât run away any more. Stay. Stay here tonight. You realise, donât you, that all the old attraction is still there between us? Letâs do something about it.â
âIâm not sure thatâs a good idea. As you pointed out very clearly, weâre completely unsuited for one another.â
He swayed forward until a kiss, like a cool little snowflake, floated against her cheek. âOpposites attract, remember? And weâre about as opposite as two people can get.â
ON A TERRIFIC Florida morning like this, there was only one place Maggie Tillman wanted to be.
The beach. And she knew just who she wanted to be there with.
She hopped out of bed, dressed quickly in her usual T-shirt and shorts, then galloped downstairs. The house lay silent. Since her older sister, Alaina, had married a big-deal doctor last year, Maggie had lived with her parents in this rambling two-story Victorian that sat on a deadly dull cul-de-sac on the stuffy side of North Miami Beach.
She skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen. âGood morning,â she called out to her parents. âHave I missed anything?â
Her mother was at the stove, making pancakes. When she glanced up, one brow went as high as it could go. Her father stood at the counter, engaging in his usual impatient staring contest with the coffeemaker. He made a point of looking at the clock. Both James and Connie Tillman were early risers. Maggie knew that the fact sheâd dared to sleep until nearly nine oâclock wouldnât sit well with either of them.
âThe morningâs half gone,â her father said before turning his attention back to the coffee.
âWell, itâs still beautiful,â Maggie said in her brightest tone. She threw her arms wide, nearly knocking over one of her motherâs carefully constructed flower arrangements from atop the bakerâs rack. âI feel like I could be in one of those old movies, where the woman wakes up and breaks into song.â
âSpare us, dear,â Connie Tillman said, adjusting the blooms so that they were perfect once more. âWeâve all heard you sing.â
Her father said nothing.
Maggie resisted a sigh. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldnât her parents accept that she would always be different from Alaina? She didnât have her sisterâs clever tongue and vivacious good looks. She knew she was clumsy, spoke too fast, laughed too loud. She might never set the world on fire.
But Maggie didnât think she was completely the impulsive, irresponsible slacker they often accused her of being.
Last night at the dinner table, Momâs best meat loaf had gone stone-cold while their weekly disagreement played out. Some boring junk about her unwillingness to change her college major and get her mind wrapped around the idea of heading back to school. But she was nineteen, for Peteâs sake, and she was achingly aware that spring break was nearly over.
There was plenty of time to think about the degree in marine biology she wanted. Later.
Determined not to allow that unpleasantness to spoil this morningâs lovely possibilities, Maggie swept past her parents, giving them both a kiss on the cheek as she made her way to the fridge. She rummaged through its contents, eager to get out of the house and head for the beach. She grinned when she found a carton of orange juice hiding behind the milk.
âDo you want pancakes?â her mother asked, then frowned at Maggie. âUse a glass, for heavenâs sake. You werenât brought up in a barn.â
Maggie returned the juice to the refrigerator. Yep, the beach was looking better and better, and right there and then she decided neither of them needed to know where she was going. âNo pancakes for me, thanks. Iâve gotta run. Lots of business to take care of.â
Her father looked up from his cup, letting his eyes travel slowly over Maggie from her sandaled feet to the ponytail that held back her pale blond hair. âDressed like that? Why donât you spend a whole dollar on your outfit next time?â