Mike did a double take as Maggie waltzed through the people jumping up and down in the strobe lights on his suite floor. She met his gaze with a crooked smile, sauntering toward him in a wraparound black dress and high heels with fancy lacing. Her hazel eyes, framed with black liner, shone with a wild glint. Holy fuck.
He gave James his drink and walked toward her. “Hey—”
“If you say Kiddo one more time, I’ll steal all your weed, and you’ll never see me again.”
He bit his lip on a laugh. “Come here.” He spread his arms, and she threw herself into them. His nose skimmed across her hair as he bent to kiss her cheek. Why did she have to smell so damn good? He closed his eyes, swallowing a moan. “Mi sei mancato tanto, pazza.”
Her arms slid around his waist, embracing him tighter. “I missed you, too.”
The way he was squeezing a twenty-four-year-old hottie with his eyes closed in the middle of a room full of people must have raised some eyebrows, but he didn’t care. These friendly hugs were his only chance to feel her warmth, to touch her skin, to hear her heartbeat. He wasn’t going to let go until she did.
When she finally pulled away from him, he gazed at her. “You look amazing.” His fingers played with a strand of her brown hair. “And this looks good short.”
“Thanks. You should tell that to Andrea. For her, my hair is never the right length. My body is never the right size. And of course, my choice of attire is never appropriate for any given occasion.”
“Good thing that you never listen to her. You’re gorgeous.” He took her by the hand and stepped onto the balcony, shutting the party craziness behind the glass door.
“Maybe you should try that, not listening to her.” She tossed her purse on one of the wicker chairs surrounding a small, walnut table.
“You should’ve been there today.” Cool air ruffled his curls as he slouched against the banister. “I’m sure you’d have liked it.”
“I doubt that. Did something new happen?”
He nodded, pushing his hair off his face, his lips twisting into a wry smile.
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I told her I wouldn’t be making the same kinds of movies anymore, and I’d find a new agent if she wouldn’t get me what I wanted.”
“Shut up!” She gaped at him. “You practically told Andrea Dawson to shove it where the sun didn’t shine? Shit! I should’ve seen that. She must’ve flipped.”
His eyes widened as he laughed. “Have some respect. She’s still your mother.”
Her nose crinkled. “Suck my dick.”
“God help me.”
She hopped and sat on the banister next to him. “So you’re finally stepping out of your comfort zone?”
“Um-hum.”
“Why’s that?”
He glanced at her sideways. The moon illuminated her face with a silver twinkle, and her beauty distracted him from a second. His gaze dropped to his feet. “Because I’m done.”
“With what?”
“Some seventeen-year-old girl once told me that when I was done with those—and I quote—‘cheap thrills,’ she’d finally go watch my work.” He looked up. “I’d like her to know that I’m done now, and I’d love to take her to my premier someday.”
She smiled. “Why would you listen to some silly teen?”
“Because she’s my best friend. And she’s not silly at all. She has the ability to follow her passion anywhere, anytime.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her temple. “I’ve always envied that about you, Carolina.”
She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
“What?”
Her lips twisted. “Dad’s coercing me to work for him again, and I think I’m gonna have to say yes.”
“What?! Why?”
She looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” He got down on his feet and tilted her face in his direction. “That job made you miserable. You swore you’d never work as an architect again. What the fuck happened? Do you need money? Is that what it is? Are you in trouble or something?”
“No. No, it’s not like that.” She came down from the banister. “Look, if I told you why I needed the money, you’d want to help, and after a very charming conversation with Dad, I realized I needed to do this one on my own. For myself. That’s all.”
He stared at her for a second, then he got a pen and his checkbook from the pocket of his suit jacket. “How much do you need?”
“God! What did I just say?”
“Fine.” He leaned over the table, scribbled her name down on a check, and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number and cash it out any time you want.”
She stared at the piece of paper for a second. “A blank check? Seriously? You think I’m just gonna take that? No fuckin’ way.”
He held her purse, placed the check inside, and tossed it back on the chair. “Yes, you’re taking it,” he said with an authoritative tone as he took a seat. “How’s your novel coming?”
Filling her chest with air, she sat on the opposite chair and looked away. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you right now.”
“You stopped writing, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she uttered. “I really don’t need you, too, lecturing me on how I’m wasting…” She trailed off when James opened the glass door.
Mike apologized to her for the interruption. “Yes, James?”
“Your guests are asking about you.” He smiled at her. “Hi. I’m James Bailey, Mike’s manager.” He stuck his hand out.
“Maggie Dawson,” she yelled over the music, shaking his hand. Then she looked back at Mike. “You should get back to your friends.”
He rose. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
“In a while. I need some air. You go ahead.”
“Okay. I’ll return with gifts.” He winked.