Commitment by Margaret Ethridge Page A

and reached for a shoe. “Lucky me. Why couldn’t I have inherited the Sullivan hair?”
    She smiled and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. His brother’s hair had once been jet black, but not anymore. “At least you’re not turning prematurely gray, like Sean.”
    He gave the laces a good yank and quickly tied a knot. “If Sean had to deal with her as much as I do, he’d be snow white by now.”
    Snow White. A pang of regret zinged through him. He had to leave. He didn’t want to, but he had to. Tom looked up, searching her face for any hint of the same disappointment. All he could find was calm acceptance. That puzzled him even more. The only time he had ever discussed his relationship with his mother with a woman, it ended in a huge fight followed by a much quicker break-up than even he anticipated. Maggie didn’t look as though she was prepared to fight. As a matter of fact, she seemed oddly relieved.
    That confused him even more. Wriggling his heel into the other shoe, he quickly knotted the laces and stood up, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. “Can I have a rain check on the other ten hours?”
    She smiled as he shrugged into his jacket. And blushed. Just seeing that petal pink made his pulse quicken. Now he knew that when Maggie McCann blushed, she flushed that pretty, pretty pink all over. It was a glorious sight, and he wanted to see it again so badly his mouth went dry. One hand slid to her throat. Her fingers closed around the lapels of her robe, holding it closed. She kept smiling, but she didn’t answer.
    He patted his pockets, checking for his wallet and keys. A strange lump in his left pocket puzzled him. He reached in and extracted her key ring. “Oh.” He stared at them blankly for a second. Had it just been a couple of hours since he’d dashed out her door on a quest for breakfast? “ Here. ”
    “Thank you.” She dropped the ring into the pocket of her robe and ushered him toward the door.
    He stood his ground, watching as she twisted the locks and gave the stubborn door a full-body yank. “Maggie?”
    “Hmm?”
    “The other ten hours?”
    She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she seemed to take sudden interest in the peeling paint along the door jamb. The rain check wasn’t going to be honored. “Okay, not ten hours. Dinner,” he negotiated.
    “Thanks, but that’s okay.”
    He crossed to the threshold, planting himself between Maggie and the strips of wood and paint she found so damn fascinating. “I want to see you again.”
    “Oh, I’m sure we will. Patrick’s birthday is in a few months. The big one-six. I’m sure Tracy and Sean will have a party or something.”
    He reached for her elbow. The muscles in her arm tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Nor did she meet his eyes. “I’m sure Sean could whip up a mean birthday cake in the next five months, but I was thinking sooner and I was thinking more along the lines of a date.”
    Maggie wet her lips, lifting her head until their gazes met and held. A small smile curved her lips. “I had a great time, Tom. Thank you.”
    Anger and confusion ruled his better judgment. “If you had such a great time, we should do it again,” he snapped.
    “I think it’s better if we don’t.”
    “Why?”
    “Why ruin it?” She took a small step back. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. He watched the blood flee from the death grip, leaving her knuckles a ghostly white. “Let’s just let this be a nice memory. The next time we run into each other, you can smile at me and I can smile at you, and no one else ever has to know we’ve seen each other naked.”
    “What did I do wrong?”
    Her eyes widened. “Nothing. You did everything right. It is what it is, Tom. Let’s not pretend it’ll ever be anything more, okay? That’ll just make one of us look like a fool.” She gave him a not-so-gentle shove and he stumbled into the hall. “The downstairs door will lock behind you. Just make sure