Scenes of Passion by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

you. Apparently Brock’s been interested in Van all along,” Maggie told him. “She and I had a little confrontation.”
    â€œWhat a jackass,” he said. “So that’s what last night was about, huh?”
    Maggie nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I was too stupid to notice that I wasn’t the one he really wanted.”
    Matt took a pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator and stirred it with a long spoon. “Maggie, the man wanted to marry you.”
    â€œUntil Vanessa became available. Then it was no contest.”
    â€œBut you didn’t want to marry him—”
    â€œThat’s not the point,” she nearly shouted at him. “God, how many times back in high school did boys ask me out because they wanted to get closer to Van?”
    â€œToo often,” Matt said quietly. “It sucked. I remember how hurt you used to be.”
    â€œI thought that was over with,” she admitted. “I thought people were finally interested in me, for who I am, not for whose sister I am. But I was wrong. I feel…insignificant and…worthless and stupid.”
    And when she’d come to him, he’d rejected her, too. Matt’s heart sank. Damn, he’d thought he was doing the right thing last night, and it had been exactly, perfectly wrong.
    â€œMaggie—” he started, but she cut him off.
    â€œI’ll get over it,” she said. “I always did before. But I’ve got to confess, I’m seriously considering moving someplace where no one’s ever heard of Vanessa Stanton.”
    â€œMaybe that’s not a bad idea,” Matt said. “I’ll make a deal with you. In three months, if I don’t win my inheritance, we’ll get one of those big camper things and cruise the United States.”
    Maggie looked up at him with the most peculiar expression. “You mean a…recreational vehicle?”
    â€œYeah.” He grinned at her. “It’ll be a blast. What do you say?” It was always good to have a plan B. Especially since he really didn’t expect plan A to work.
    She put her face in her hands. It was hard to tell whether she was laughing or groaning.
    â€œAs for right now, I know what to tell your parents.” He handed her the pitcher of lemonade. “Carry this out, will you?”
    â€œWhat?” asked Maggie. “What are you going to tell them?”
    Matt picked up the tray with the glasses. “They’re not going to believe that there’s nothing going on between us.We can deny it until the end of time, but they’re going to think you’re living here with me. You know, with me.”
    â€œBut it’s not true.”
    â€œI know that and you know that, but I’m telling you that denying it will only make them crazy. Just follow my lead,” he said with a smile. “Think of this as an improvisational skit.”
    â€œI hate improv,” Maggie muttered, following him out of the kitchen.
    The Stantons looked up as Maggie and Matt came into the living room. They were sitting stiffly on those chairs his father had bought—the uncomfortable ones with wooden legs that were curved into bird’s claws. Matt put the tray down on top of the coffee table.
    â€œJust set the lemonade over here, then come sit next to me, babe,” he said to Maggie.
    Babe? She didn’t say it, but the look she was giving him nearly made him laugh out loud.
    He poured the lemonade, handed glasses to Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, and then patted the couch next to him.
    Slowly, she approached. Slowly, she sat down. And he draped an arm around her shoulders. “Mags and I discussed it in the kitchen,” he told her parents, “and we decided that you should know the truth.”
    Mr. Stanton nodded. “That would be appreciated.”
    â€œLast night I asked Maggie to marry me,” Matt told them. He could feel disbelief radiating out of