Closest To My Heart

Chapter Eleven

Tag woke with a start, his head jerking up to smack the wall behind him. He cursed under his breath and cringed, rubbing the pain out with his palm as he squinted through the glow from the incandescent bulb over the bathroom sink. His right leg was asleep, and he looked down to find Maggie still passed out on the floor beside him, snoring softly with her head on his lap. She lay on her side facing away from him, one arm thrown over his legs and the other wrapped around her midsection, her fingers loosely intertwined with his. The clip that Tag had secured in her hair had come loose, so the auburn waves lay puddled in his lap, and he let out a long exhale as he reached down with his free hand to smooth them out over his thigh. He'd hoped that what he felt for her the night before would be fleeting, that the burning desire would be processed and eliminated right alongside the tequila and beer, but it was still there. If anything, it had grown even more powerful.

What the hell are you thinking? he scolded himself. It could never work out with her.

Tag tipped his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. Of course it could never work out with her! She was damaged, and he was... well, it didn't matter what he was, because Maggie wasn't anywhere near available. She'd just had her heart broken, and, despite what either of them wanted to believe, she was still hung up on the creep who'd broken it. Plus, she was way too invested in the opinions of other people—especially her parents. Not to mention that Tag would be leaving eventually, and who knew where his next job would take him? No, he couldn't possibly have a future with Maggie O'Donnell, and yet... he was beginning to think that he didn't want to have a future without her.

No! his inner voice bellowed. You can't possibly be falling in love with her! You just met her four days ago!

Four days. Hell, it took longer than that to get used to a new pair of sunglasses or a different brand of coffee, and here he was considering a future with this woman? Was it even conceivable that a man's heart could shift from animosity to... love, in such a brief period of time? And if so, was it possible that a woman's heart could do the same?

Tag untwined his fingers from hers and gently lifted her head, cradling it in his hand as he slipped out from beneath her. Snagging a clean, folded towel from the rack on the wall, he laid it on the floor and gently eased her head down onto it. She sighed softly and rolled partway onto her stomach, still out cold. Based on the predawn light in the hallway outside the door, Tag guessed that it couldn't be much past four o'clock in the morning. They hadn't arrived home until almost one thirty, and she'd spent at least the next hour after that puking her insides out, so he doubted that she'd be waking up anytime soon. Needing some time alone to clear his head, Tag left the bathroom to collect his camera and tripod from the spot where'd he left it the night before, and then slipped silently out the apartment door.

*****

Maggie sprawled limply over the tri-fold beach chair, regretting her decision to recuperate outside on the fire escape. She'd woken up on the bathroom floor and, after a brief spell of dry heaves, decided that a shower might make her feel better. It didn't, of course, and since food was completely out of the question, she'd taken her dark sunglasses and a wastebasket—just in case—and headed outside for some fresh air. But now the sun was too hot, and the air was too heavy, and lying on the couch watching television seemed a much better alternative. Plus, she wanted something cold to drink, and she thought her stomach might be able to handle a piece of toast, if she could just work up enough energy to move...

"Hey! I didn't think you'd be up yet."

Tag's voice bounced around inside her skull as he stepped outside, closing the sliding glass door behind him with a deafening thwack.