His hands took possession of the small of her back, crushing her closer, and his mouth moved over hers with a hard restlessness. He had a flash of self-directed censure. How would he ever step back from this? The answer was clear. He had no intention of stepping back.

Maggie sagged against the wall when he finally released her. Her fingers were tightly curled around his shirt material, her mouth ready to be kissed again, her eyes were heavy lidded.

She and Hank stared at each other for a long moment, trying to tidy up their emotions. She realized her fingers were still gripping his shirt and made an effort to straighten them. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Why?” Because it was all he’d been able to think about since the first moment he saw her. Unfortunately he couldn’t tell her that. She’d think he’d hired her for all the wrong reasons-and she’d be right.

“Because I wanted you to feel married.” At least it wasn’t a total lie.

“Oh.”

“Do you feel married?”

“Not exactly.”

His hand curled around her neck. “Maybe we should take this a step farther.”

She pushed him away. “No! No more kisses.

We’re getting wrinkled.”

“Later?”

“No. Not later. Not ever. This is a business arrangement. Kissing and fondling aren’t part of the deal.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “We could renegotiate the contract. I could pick up your medical coverage, contribute to your retirement fund-”

“No!”

“Okay, I’ll throw in all the apples you can eat, and I’ll increase your salary by ten bucks a week. That’s my last offer.”

“Ten dollars? You think my kissing is only worth ten dollars a week?”

He grinned down at her. “What do you usually get?”

She had a brief desire to kick him in the shins, but restrained herself.

“Very funny. We’ll see how hard you’re laughing when your parents get here.”

Ten minutes later they were all settled in the living room and no one was laughing, especially not Hank.

“We’ve already been married,” he said. “I don’t want another wedding.”

“It would be a reaffirmation of your vows,” his mother said.

She was a large-boned woman with short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. Her makeup was tasteful, her clothes tailored and impeccable, her shoes were sensible. Maggie instantly liked her. She was a no-nonsense, upfront person. If she had been a weaker woman, she probably would have been driven to drink by her maverick son. As it was, she looked like she had survived nicely. She was clearly relieved to have Hank married, but obviously disappointed that he hadn’t had a more formal ceremony.

“And afterward we could have a party for you at the house. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Hank slouched in the rose wing chair. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to reaffirm my vows. They’re still fresh in my mind. And Maggie here isn’t much for parties. She’s just a little homebody, aren’t you, cupcake?”

Maggie felt her mouth drop open. Cupcake? “That’s me. Just a little homebody,” she said.

Harry Mallone looked at his new daughter-in-law. “Hank tells me you’re a writer.”

Harry Mallone was about as different from his son as any two men could be, Maggie thought. The elder Mallone was a solid man, thickening with age. His shirt was starched and freshly ironed, his striped tie perfectly knotted, his wing tips were polished. His posture was straight, clearly that of a man used to exercising authority. He was precise. He was consistent. He was cautious.

On the other hand, Maggie doubted Hank owned a tie. And caution wasn’t exactly Hank’s middle name. Clearly there was affection between the two men, but it was also just as obvious that they drove each other crazy.

Maggie nodded. “Two years ago my great-aunt Kitty Toone died and left me her diary. She wanted someone to use it as the basis for a book, and I suppose she thought I was the logical person, since I was an English teacher.”

“How lovely,” Helen Mallone said.

Maggie moved forward in her seat. “It’s a wonderful story. My Aunt Kitty was a fascinating woman. I’ve been doing some additional research, and I have a detailed outline drawn up. Now all I have to do is write the book.”

The very thought of it sent a thrill of excitement racing through her. It was accompanied by sheer terror. She hadn’t any idea if she could pull it off.

“What sort of book will this be?” Helen wanted to know. “Will it be a romance? Will it be a sort of cookbook? I once knew a woman who wrote recipes in her diary.”

Maggie thought about it for a moment. “I don’t recall any recipes. My Aunt Kitty was a working woman. This will be primarily a chronology of her life and her business.”

“A business woman,” Harry Mallone said, “that sounds interesting. What kind of business?”

Maggie smiled and looked Harry straight in the eye. “Aunt Kitty was a madam.”

Silence.

“Anyone want a cheeseball?” Elsie said, entering the room. “What’s everyone so quiet about? You look like you just swallowed your tongue. What’s the matter, don’t you like cheeseballs? I made them myself. Got the recipe from one of them gourmet magazines.”

Hank sent Maggie a tightlipped smile. “Could I see you in the kitchen for a minute, Muffin.”

“I thought I was Cupcake.”

He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the kitchen and made a vague sound in the back of his throat. When they were behind closed doors, he smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand.

“Why me? What did I do to deserve this? All those women in New Jersey and I have to get one that’s writing a porno story!”

Maggie stuffed her hands onto her hips and glared at him. “It’s not a porno story.”

“Honey, you’re writing a book about a flesh peddler!”

“I’m writing a book about a woman who played a role in an immigrant community. She raised a child, bought one of the first refrigerators, turned her carriage house into a garage, and lived to see the Beatles on television.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“Of course there’s going to be sex in it, but it’s going to be of a historical nature. It’s going to be high-quality sex.”

“That’s it. That’s the ball game. That’s the whole ball of wax. I’ll never get the loan. The bank won’t care how good the harvest is. I knew you were trouble from the minute I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh yeah, well if I was so much trouble, why did you hire me?”

“It was you or nothing. You were the only one to apply.”

They were standing toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, hands on hips, shouting at each other.

“Fine. I’ll un-apply. How do you like that? You can go find yourself a new wife.”

“The hell I will. You made a deal and you’re going to keep it.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her hard against him and kissed her.

Elsie barged through the swinging kitchen door. “What the devil’s going on in here? You can hear the two of you shouting all the way to the living room.”

She pulled up short and shook her head. “First you’re yelling at each other like it’s the end of the world, and now you’re steaming up the kitchen. This arrangement isn’t going to get weird, is it? I’m an old lady. I’ve got standards.”

She went to the stove and lifted the lid on the cast-iron kettle. “This pot roast is going to be on the table in fifteen minutes, so you better hurry up and eat your fill of cheeseballs. And if you ask me, it wouldn’t hurt to give those people in there something to drink. They look like they’ve been left in the starch too long.”

Elsie was true to her word. In fifteen minutes the pot roast was on the table, along with homemade buttermilk biscuits, mashed potatoes, cooked carrots, homemade applesauce, and steamed broccoli. She set a bowl of gravy on the table and took her apron off.

“There’s a TV show coming on that I’ve got to watch,” she said. “There’s more potatoes in the kitchen and there’s apple pie for dessert.”