MAGGIE’S
STORY – TT – WRITE
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Maggie yawned and stretched. The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed five, time to get up. No. Vacation. Forgot. As she relaxed, her hand hit a warm, naked body. She turned her head and spied John lying next to her, sound asleep.
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Maggie yawned and stretched. The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed five, time to get up. No. Vacation. Forgot. As she relaxed, her hand hit a warm, naked body. She turned her head and spied John lying next to her, sound asleep.
Her
expression softened as she touched his shoulder, then his short, dark, wavy
hair. He stirred and she whipped her hand back to her side. He cracked an eye
open.
“Mornin’
darlin’,” he whispered.
John
had made love to her twice the night before. She pushed her toes down and
smiled.
“Mornin’.”
“A
right passionate one you are, Maggie.”
“Look
who’s talkin’”
“That
was nothin’. You get me blood goin’.” He rolled onto his side, his hand cupping
her cheek.
“Don’t
blame it on me, Mister.”
He
chuckled. “Blame? Nothing to blame, sweetheart. It’s a good thing.”
Warmth
and satisfaction flowed through her. Last night was just what she needed. It
bucked up her spirits to be wanted, desired.
“I
coulda gone all night.”
“Why
didn’t ya, then?” She rolled on her side.
“Didn’t
want to wear ya out. Not on the first night.”
She
giggled. “It’s a faker you are, John Eldridge.”
He
slid out of bed and her gaze follow his fine form to the dresser. He picked up
a pen and wrote a few words, then opened a drawer and took out a rectangular
box.
“This
is for you my lady,” he said, returning to the bed.
She
read what he’d written, “To thank you for the first of what I hope to be many
nights together. Love, John.”
Her
hand trembled a bit as she opened the box. Inside lay the stunning emerald
necklace she’d seen the week before.
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