Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [78]
”’Lo?”
At the sound of his voice, still muffled as if he’d been sleeping, her heart skipped a beat or two. She was desperate to see him again.
Since her parents had decided the ranch was off-limits for a while and she couldn’t go anywhere where she might have contact with him, she suggested that they meet after she was finished working the late shift at Roberto’s the following night. If she worked things right, they might be able to sneak away for an hour or two.
Her silly heart had soared when Thane, after listening to her plan, had said, “You’re on, Mag Pie. I’ll see ya then.”
On cloud nine for the first time since the funeral, she tiptoed to her sister’s room and shook Mary Theresa on the shoulder. She had to let her in on the scheme, as M.T. was supposed to pick her up from Roberto’s around ten. Yawning, a little grouchy from being aroused, Mary Theresa had agreed to being an accomplice before pulling her pillow over her head and falling back to sleep.
Maggie hadn’t slept a wink. The thought of seeing Thane again had been too exhilarating. She’d been up at the crack of dawn, swum laps, and even cleaned her room to keep busy; but still the day had dragged by until she arrived at the restaurant.
Everything was as it should be. Roberto’s was busier than usual for a Saturday night; families and couples crowded into the waiting area until tables were available. Maggie flew through her shift, clearing tables, carrying tubs of dishes into the kitchen, replacing silverware, filling water glasses as the hours rolled onward.
Around nine-thirty business began to slow. Nervously, she watched the entrance and at about a quarter to ten, Thane swung through the front door. Dressed in clean jeans and a wheat-colored polo shirt, he sauntered through the vestibule and scanned the connecting rooms until his gaze landed full force on Maggie. She nearly dropped the plastic tub of clean silverware wrapped in napkins she was carrying to the servers’ station. He winked, her heart soared, and, cheeks burning, she managed a ghost of a smile.
“Maggie!” Enid whispered harshly. “Table three. Step on it.”
“I’m on it,” she muttered, embarrassed and feeling all thumbs as she swiped the table clean, set out fresh silverware, checked to see that the condiment jars were filled, then adjusted the placement of wineglasses on the table, a job she could usually do blindfolded. In her peripheral vision she saw Thane walk into the bar and take control of a stool at the corner of the mahogany counter. From this vantage point, he could look over a short wall topped by planters filled with lacy ferns and view the dining area where she worked.
He ordered a beer and waited.
For the remainder of the shift Maggie was so aware of him, she had trouble concentrating. She felt his eyes upon her, anticipated spending time with him, looked forward to kissing him, and blushed when she thought of what they would eventually do together. She wanted to bury herself in his strength; to lose herself in him; and fantasizing of making love to him, she had twice filled a glass to overflowing, nearly spilling ice cubes and water on a wasp-thin woman with a severe expression and too much lipstick. Red-faced Maggie swabbed up the mess and mentally called herself several kinds of fool.
The clock inched laboriously onward and the dinner crowd thinned. Just after ten, she was pocketing her tips, untying her apron and trying to keep control of her rapidly escaping emotions. She hadn’t seen Thane in weeks, and the thought of being with him again caused her throat to turn to sand.
“See ya tomorrow,” she promised Enid and Walter, waving to them as she hurried across the foyer. Thane left some bills on the bar and climbed down from his stool. His heart-stopping smile was just stretching over his jaw when the front door of the restaurant was flung open to bang into the wall.
Maggie nearly ran into her father.
“Dad.”
“Hi, Mag.” Frank Reilly’s eyes held no hint of amusement as he stared at his daughter just long enough to tie her tongue, then sent his gaze up