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bites, deliberately timing them so she didn’t have to give any long explanations.
    “And?”
    Swallowing, Maggie grinned, “Is that your van out there?”
    “All right, all right, I get it,” he told her swearing softly. “The indomitable Maggie doesn’t need to confide in a mere man. You don’t want to talk about it.”
    “You’re so astute, Nick, sometimes it amazes me,” she grinned around a bite of pizza, beginning to feel better.
    Nick shoved her feet off the stool and sat down.
    “Why can’t I ever get a straight answer out of you?” he sighed. “Yes, I’m thinking about buying it. I thought we could take it for a ride and try it out. Go out for ice cream or something with the kids?”
    “Kind of large for a single guy, wouldn’t you say?” she asked him curiously, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
    “Not that it’s any concern of yours, but no, I wouldn’t say,” he told her a little sharply, watching her shapely backside as she carried her plate to the sink. Why do I torture myself, he almost said aloud.
    When she returned with a damp cloth and began scrubbing at the spots on his shirt, Nick had to stand up. His jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight. Maggie stood just below his chin, and how he managed to keep from pulling her against him he didn’t know. His whole body cried out for contact, and his fists clenched with the effort to deny it.
    “I’m going to take a shower,” she informed him, dropping the cloth on the counter. “And when I come back we’re going to talk about junk food, violent movies, and—”
    His arms shot out before she could escape and hauled her up on her toes. The lips that claimed hers were firm and demanding. They were also incredibly exciting, and it never crossed her mind to struggle. When his hands slipped down to her bottom and pulled her even closer she moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding into his hair. The embrace ended much too soon for Maggie, who had completely forgotten everything except the heat searing through her, and Nick had to steady her when he released her.
    “We’ll also talk about why you were crying and how you got this bruise on your ribs,” he told her gruffly, dropping her shirt back into place after inspecting the mark on her side.
    Maggie hadn’t even been aware his hand had slid up under her shirt, hadn’t consciously noticed the pain, although she apparently had indicated in some way she was hurting. The passion, which had flowed so swiftly through her, faded as she felt the bruise with her own hand and quickly dropped her shirt, her eyes darting away from Nick’s questioning gaze. On shaky legs she left the kitchen, upset by the visible proof of Jack’s violence and angry she had responded so totally to Nick. Men!
     
    * * *
     
    Maggie came downstairs feeling much better after her shower. Dressed in a pair of cream colored cords and a black sweater, she looked like a different girl, no longer the dirty urchin she’d seen in the bathroom mirror. A light lipstick and a little mascara did wonders for a woman’s mood, she thought, heading into the kitchen after checking on the kids. They were so deeply engrossed in the movie they didn’t even notice her stuffing used napkins into the empty pizza box. The music score was so loud a bomb could have gone off and they wouldn’t have heard it.
    Nick was waiting for her in the kitchen. Maggie noticed his rolled up sleeves and smiled.
    “Getting ready to wash dishes?” she teased.
    “Not exactly,” he answered softly, pinning her with his eyes. It was then that she noticed the wooden spoon in his hand.
    “Are you cooking something?” she questioned, glancing at the stove and not seeing any pots.
    Nick smiled at that. “I guess that depends on you, sweetie,” he told her.
    Now Maggie was starting to become a little concerned. She didn’t like riddles, and she certainly didn’t like the look in those blue eyes. Taking a step back, she contemplated retreating to the other