Spring is in the Air
Maggie Campbell let herself into the foyer. Oh, of course the damn elevator was on the fritz. She glanced up with a grimace and started the long climb to her sixth floor apartment. She leaned a hip against the railing on the third floor landing, shrugged out of her suit jacket, and flung it over her arm.
Finally, her door. She wiped the beads from her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, and then flexed her back muscles in an attempt to loosen the fabric plastered to her back. What's a little sweat on her blouse when she'd have to get it cleaned now anyway? She should send the cleaning bill to the landlord. It would serve the lazy ass right.
She slid the key in the lock and as usual had to jiggle it this way, then that, before she could get the tumblers to fall into place. Only then did the door swing open. She tossed her brief case on the credenza, turned, and flipped the locks. Maggie glanced down at the feline weaving her way around her ankles.
"Hey there, Tabby, looks like it's just the two of us for dinner, again." She bent down and lifted the cat into her arms. Her fingers lovingly ruffled the fur over the cat's head, a loud appreciative purr followed in the wake on their way to the kitchen.
"Did you miss me today?" Maggie checked the food dish and found it empty. "Are you a hungry girl? Oh dear, it looks like you're probably thirsty too."
Another lonely night loomed. Tabby was her only companion. No dates, and no prospects on the horizon either. Yup, that was her, all work and no play. She plopped Tabby next to her bowl, then squatted and balanced on the balls of her feet to regard the cat devouring her dinner. She grabbed the counter to use to pull herself up.
"Tabby, at least I have you to talk to. I know, Dad would say I'm the perfect description of an old maid"
Maggie waited for the usual glance or at least meow in response to her dialogue. "Mad at me for not leaving you lunch, huh? Well, I don't blame you."
The cat paused turned her head toward her still empty water bowl, then finally look at Maggie in reproach. Yes, water. She twisted the tap on the sink and waited for the water. Nothing. Now what? Turning off the tab, she then twisted it on again. Again, nothing. She frowned, why did her nylon stockinged feet feel damp? Oh, sweaty from the climb up the stairs, ugh. But when she looked down, a puddle was widening around where she stood.
"Oh, great!" She swung open the cupboard to check under the sink. Water sprayed into her face. Blindly she reached for the towel hanging from the dishwasher handle. "Argh, this is so not what I had planned for tonight."
Maggie finally managed to find the valve to turn off the torrent currently making a lake of her tiny kitchen.
"Time to call the building manager, Tabby."
After making the necessary call, Maggie glanced down at both her feet and the cat’s paws they were soaked. She took the mop out of the closet and began the task of cleaning up.
“Tabby, you’re not helping by tracking water everywhere,” Maggie muttered. “Come on.”
She propped the mop against the counter, grabbed the cat, and ignored the load-disgruntled meow. Once in the bathroom, she quickly dried off four tiny paws, and then shut Tabby in the room.
“Sorry, I’ll let you out as soon as I deal with the mess.”
Whew, finally all done. As she returned the cleaning gear to their proper places, she realized she was still in her work clothes. Oh, wonderful she probably should have changed before.
Maggie went to her room for dry clothes and then went to release Tabby from her prison. "What do you think, should I start dinner while we wait? I'm starving. You, lucky girl, have had your gourmet Meow Mix." Tabby purred loudly in agreement.
Twenty minutes later, a brisk knock interrupted her preparations. Looking in the Judas hole, the only thing she could see was the back of someone's head.
"Well, Tabby, I think our hero is here to save the day." She chuckled at her bit of romantic humor. As if, some hunk would really show up at her door. Old and crotchety was more like it.
Maggie flipped the lock, pulled the door open, and stared. Whoa. She tried to inhale, but her breath was lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She closed her eyes and ordered, just breathe.
When she took a peek again the man with golden brown eyes stared back at her, his head, full of rich sable hair, tilted in inquiry. “You needed a plumber?”
Still, she stared.
He cleared his throat, bringing her out of her stupor. She quickly stepped back for him to enter and did what she normally did when she was nervous. She babbled.
"Please come in. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry." Maggie turned and led the way to the kitchen. "Tabby be a good girl and stay out of Mr…"
She stopped. He ran into her back, knocking her off balance. She heard the clatter of his toolbox hitting the floor, seconds before strong warm arms saved her from the same fate. Tingles rummaged from her toes, danced over her body and settled with a shock on top of her head.
"Mr. Tate. You can call me Sage." The words spoken lightly next to her ear caused a delicious shiver to scamper down her neck.
Quickly disengaging herself, she swallowed, and continued as if her world hadn't just tilted out of kilter. Once in front of the sink she turned and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you Mr. Tate, I'm Maggie."
Strong fingers gently closed around her hand, his golden eyes intent on hers, "Sage."
He dropped her hand and turned his attention to business. She struggled to keep her composure as she watched the ripples under his snug red tee. He half crawled into the cupboard under the sink.
"I'm glad you turned the water off under here."
Then silence, disturbed with a few clangs, and an occasional grunt followed. She watched him work. Her arms still trembled in awareness from the heat of his touch. She'd be branded for life. Had he felt it too?
Giving a small shrug of her shoulder, she stepped over his feet and went to the stove. Things like electric first touches just didn't happen to her.
Spring, that was it. Romance hung in the air. How pathetic that she had conjured up a romantic encounter. The tingles, the awareness, all of it, was in her mind. He was the plumber doing his job.
Come on Maggie get back to dinner. She grabbed the spoon with a vengeance, and stirred the sauce. Hmmm, just right, time to start the pasta. Oh, water. She glanced at her defunct sink. Damn. Oh, bottled! She had some in the fridge. Dinner would be saved. All the while she worked on dinner, he toiled under the sink. He inched his body back just enough to look at her.
"Maggie?"
The sound of her name coming from him in that deep baritone made her knees weak. He seemed to waiting for an answer.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" He was causing all kinds of havoc with her system.
"Could you turn on the tap?" Amusement laced his voice. He probably had this effect on all the women.
The water ran down through the drain and right into the face of her handsome plumber. Maggie pressed her lips to restrain the giggle.
"Oh, goodness. I'll get a towel." She grabbed one and placed it in his outstretched hand.
"That wasn't very smart of me." His gave her a quick boyish grin as he ruffled Tabby's fur behind her ears. "I have a replacement part out in the truck. I'll be back in a moment." He was out of the apartment before she could reply.
Maggie bent and the cat gracefully leaped into her arms. "Tabby, what do you think? Do you think it was fate that brought him to us? And just when I was feeling so lonely." Tabby rubbed her head on her arm purring in affirmation. Could it be true?
Maggie heard his footsteps on the stairs and rushed to open the door. Locking up behind him, she followed and watched his gorgeous head disappear under her sink.
By the time, he had her plumbing repaired dinner was ready. Sage stood and wiped his hands on his work rag, inhaled, and announced, "Something smells awfully good."
"It's pasta, and it's done." Maggie felt a tremor in her tummy. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"
His head tilted. "I wasn't angling for an invite, just stating a fact."
Swallowing her nerves she said, "I know. I made enough for an army, a habit from growing up in a large family. I really would enjoy your company for dinner."
Was she crazy? Why would he want to have dinner with a complete stranger? Her breath stopped as she awaited his answer. He was silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he bent to gather his tools, snapped the box shut, and stood. Damn, he was going to refuse.
"It's been a long time since I've had a home cooked meal with a gorgeous woman." He smiled the same boyish grin. "Where is your restroom? I need to wash up."
Finally, her door. She wiped the beads from her forehead with the cuff of her sleeve, and then flexed her back muscles in an attempt to loosen the fabric plastered to her back. What's a little sweat on her blouse when she'd have to get it cleaned now anyway? She should send the cleaning bill to the landlord. It would serve the lazy ass right.
She slid the key in the lock and as usual had to jiggle it this way, then that, before she could get the tumblers to fall into place. Only then did the door swing open. She tossed her brief case on the credenza, turned, and flipped the locks. Maggie glanced down at the feline weaving her way around her ankles.
"Hey there, Tabby, looks like it's just the two of us for dinner, again." She bent down and lifted the cat into her arms. Her fingers lovingly ruffled the fur over the cat's head, a loud appreciative purr followed in the wake on their way to the kitchen.
"Did you miss me today?" Maggie checked the food dish and found it empty. "Are you a hungry girl? Oh dear, it looks like you're probably thirsty too."
Another lonely night loomed. Tabby was her only companion. No dates, and no prospects on the horizon either. Yup, that was her, all work and no play. She plopped Tabby next to her bowl, then squatted and balanced on the balls of her feet to regard the cat devouring her dinner. She grabbed the counter to use to pull herself up.
"Tabby, at least I have you to talk to. I know, Dad would say I'm the perfect description of an old maid"
Maggie waited for the usual glance or at least meow in response to her dialogue. "Mad at me for not leaving you lunch, huh? Well, I don't blame you."
The cat paused turned her head toward her still empty water bowl, then finally look at Maggie in reproach. Yes, water. She twisted the tap on the sink and waited for the water. Nothing. Now what? Turning off the tab, she then twisted it on again. Again, nothing. She frowned, why did her nylon stockinged feet feel damp? Oh, sweaty from the climb up the stairs, ugh. But when she looked down, a puddle was widening around where she stood.
"Oh, great!" She swung open the cupboard to check under the sink. Water sprayed into her face. Blindly she reached for the towel hanging from the dishwasher handle. "Argh, this is so not what I had planned for tonight."
Maggie finally managed to find the valve to turn off the torrent currently making a lake of her tiny kitchen.
"Time to call the building manager, Tabby."
After making the necessary call, Maggie glanced down at both her feet and the cat’s paws they were soaked. She took the mop out of the closet and began the task of cleaning up.
“Tabby, you’re not helping by tracking water everywhere,” Maggie muttered. “Come on.”
She propped the mop against the counter, grabbed the cat, and ignored the load-disgruntled meow. Once in the bathroom, she quickly dried off four tiny paws, and then shut Tabby in the room.
“Sorry, I’ll let you out as soon as I deal with the mess.”
Whew, finally all done. As she returned the cleaning gear to their proper places, she realized she was still in her work clothes. Oh, wonderful she probably should have changed before.
Maggie went to her room for dry clothes and then went to release Tabby from her prison. "What do you think, should I start dinner while we wait? I'm starving. You, lucky girl, have had your gourmet Meow Mix." Tabby purred loudly in agreement.
Twenty minutes later, a brisk knock interrupted her preparations. Looking in the Judas hole, the only thing she could see was the back of someone's head.
"Well, Tabby, I think our hero is here to save the day." She chuckled at her bit of romantic humor. As if, some hunk would really show up at her door. Old and crotchety was more like it.
Maggie flipped the lock, pulled the door open, and stared. Whoa. She tried to inhale, but her breath was lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She closed her eyes and ordered, just breathe.
When she took a peek again the man with golden brown eyes stared back at her, his head, full of rich sable hair, tilted in inquiry. “You needed a plumber?”
Still, she stared.
He cleared his throat, bringing her out of her stupor. She quickly stepped back for him to enter and did what she normally did when she was nervous. She babbled.
"Please come in. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry." Maggie turned and led the way to the kitchen. "Tabby be a good girl and stay out of Mr…"
She stopped. He ran into her back, knocking her off balance. She heard the clatter of his toolbox hitting the floor, seconds before strong warm arms saved her from the same fate. Tingles rummaged from her toes, danced over her body and settled with a shock on top of her head.
"Mr. Tate. You can call me Sage." The words spoken lightly next to her ear caused a delicious shiver to scamper down her neck.
Quickly disengaging herself, she swallowed, and continued as if her world hadn't just tilted out of kilter. Once in front of the sink she turned and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you Mr. Tate, I'm Maggie."
Strong fingers gently closed around her hand, his golden eyes intent on hers, "Sage."
He dropped her hand and turned his attention to business. She struggled to keep her composure as she watched the ripples under his snug red tee. He half crawled into the cupboard under the sink.
"I'm glad you turned the water off under here."
Then silence, disturbed with a few clangs, and an occasional grunt followed. She watched him work. Her arms still trembled in awareness from the heat of his touch. She'd be branded for life. Had he felt it too?
Giving a small shrug of her shoulder, she stepped over his feet and went to the stove. Things like electric first touches just didn't happen to her.
Spring, that was it. Romance hung in the air. How pathetic that she had conjured up a romantic encounter. The tingles, the awareness, all of it, was in her mind. He was the plumber doing his job.
Come on Maggie get back to dinner. She grabbed the spoon with a vengeance, and stirred the sauce. Hmmm, just right, time to start the pasta. Oh, water. She glanced at her defunct sink. Damn. Oh, bottled! She had some in the fridge. Dinner would be saved. All the while she worked on dinner, he toiled under the sink. He inched his body back just enough to look at her.
"Maggie?"
The sound of her name coming from him in that deep baritone made her knees weak. He seemed to waiting for an answer.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" He was causing all kinds of havoc with her system.
"Could you turn on the tap?" Amusement laced his voice. He probably had this effect on all the women.
The water ran down through the drain and right into the face of her handsome plumber. Maggie pressed her lips to restrain the giggle.
"Oh, goodness. I'll get a towel." She grabbed one and placed it in his outstretched hand.
"That wasn't very smart of me." His gave her a quick boyish grin as he ruffled Tabby's fur behind her ears. "I have a replacement part out in the truck. I'll be back in a moment." He was out of the apartment before she could reply.
Maggie bent and the cat gracefully leaped into her arms. "Tabby, what do you think? Do you think it was fate that brought him to us? And just when I was feeling so lonely." Tabby rubbed her head on her arm purring in affirmation. Could it be true?
Maggie heard his footsteps on the stairs and rushed to open the door. Locking up behind him, she followed and watched his gorgeous head disappear under her sink.
By the time, he had her plumbing repaired dinner was ready. Sage stood and wiped his hands on his work rag, inhaled, and announced, "Something smells awfully good."
"It's pasta, and it's done." Maggie felt a tremor in her tummy. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"
His head tilted. "I wasn't angling for an invite, just stating a fact."
Swallowing her nerves she said, "I know. I made enough for an army, a habit from growing up in a large family. I really would enjoy your company for dinner."
Was she crazy? Why would he want to have dinner with a complete stranger? Her breath stopped as she awaited his answer. He was silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he bent to gather his tools, snapped the box shut, and stood. Damn, he was going to refuse.
"It's been a long time since I've had a home cooked meal with a gorgeous woman." He smiled the same boyish grin. "Where is your restroom? I need to wash up."