Mac's Angels: The Last Dance: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Sandra Chastain

  Last night at dinner, Mac had been playful and teasing. Afterward, when he’d undressed her, she’d felt such an unexpected awareness of him as a man. Guilt had assaulted her afterward. Guilt because she’d been attracted to a man who was committed to someone else. Even more upsetting was that she’d sensed that he’d been attracted to her too.

  “Mac, before I met the real Jessie, I thought she was your lover.”

  “And you were jealous?” He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, then grinned as he moved close to her. “Give me your hand, Sterling.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m asking you to.”

  She wasn’t ready for her response, for her traitorous body to cause her to lift: her hand independent of her command and rest it in his.

  “Now stand.”

  “I’d rather not. Yesterday was pretty exhausting. I try not to overexert myself.” What she couldn’t say was that she wasn’t certain her legs would hold her up. He was too close. With the sunlight behind him, his dark eyes were shaded and veiled.

  “Stand up, Sterling,” he repeated, then added, “please?”

  He wasn’t going to allow her to refuse his—request.

  “I have to put up the footrests,” she said, her voice tight, trying not to show the nervousness coursing through her body.

  “Let me.” He knelt, twisted the metal plates to the side, and placed her feet on the floor. “Now.” He held out his hand again.

  “No, I stand alone,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she slipped toward the front of the chair, placed both hands on the armrests, and pushed herself up.

  As she stood, her breasts grazed his body. He hadn’t stepped back as she’d expected. Now they were touching, just enough to send an unwelcome ripple of response down her spine, which sometimes refused to register sensation at all.

  She looked up at him. “Now what?”

  “Now? This.” He kissed her, a low groan accompanying the pressure of his lips. She resisted for a second, then felt her own lips part. The kiss changed, his mouth nipped at hers lightly, then recaptured hers with restrained desire. There was no mistaking his control, until she moved against him and felt his body throbbing as she swayed.

  His body was firm. His arms as tight as steel bands. No escape was possible, and for just a moment she allowed herself to give in and be the desirable woman she had once been.

  She knew he hadn’t brought her to his office to ravish her. Why would he? Conner called her a “dish,” but Conner always teased her. Sure, some of the men with whom he’d had business had sent out feelers, but she’d turned them all away. She’d been in love once, truly in love. And when her fiancé rejected her, she knew there was no such thing as forever. And she had no intention of taking any chances with her hard-earned peace of mind.

  Jerking away, she pushed Mac back and dropped into her chair. “Why did you do that?” she asked, cursing her breathlessness.

  He frowned slightly as if he were considering his answer. “Surely you know. I wanted to kiss you last night, but I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

  This time she was the one confused. “But why didn’t you kiss me last night?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be protecting you, and right now you’re vulnerable. Besides, I couldn’t let you know that you scare the hell out of me.”

  She could only look at him in amazement. “I scare you?”

  “Oh, lady. You do. And if you don’t want me to kiss you again, we’d better get out of here and into your office.”

  “My office?” Like some kind of echo, she kept repeating his words. “You’re taking me home?”

  “For the time being, you are home. Conner and I talked. We decided that you’d be happier if you were busy, so we connected your computer at Paradox, Inc. with a computer at Angel Central. All your calls will be relayed here and nobody will be the wiser.”

  “I didn’t know you could do something like that.”

  “And we’re banking on nobody else knowing that we can.”

  “Surely you don’t plan to keep me here forever, Mac. I have a life of my own.”

  “Sure you do. Just like me and Jessie even though it is one closed up in a building. There’s just one difference. So far as I know, nobody is trying to kill us.”

  “I’ve set up your office close to me,” Mac said, indicating a small room adjacent to his own office. He rolled her inside. From the dents in the linoleum it was obvious that some kind of heavy equipment had recently been removed. Now there was only a desk, computer, printer, and telephone, placed in front of a rock-framed window similar to the one in Mac’s office.

  “I have the wall open so you can enjoy the view,” he explained, trying deliberately to smooth the transition between the fire of their kiss and the more routine mood of an office. “A touch of the button on your desk closes the wall, if need be.”

  “Why would I need to close it?”

  “You probably never will, but the designer felt that for security purposes, the special panes might not be completely shatterproof.”

  “What, is an eagle going to crash through?”

  It was obvious that Sterling was also trying to reinstate a business relationship. From the deep breaths she was taking, Mac wasn’t certain she was having any better luck than he. “Remember the kind of work I’m in. Sometimes I deal with international situations. International figures who have enemies. There are other ‘birds’ that might be a danger—helicopters, for example.”

  “Mac, I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but I really don’t think this is necessary. I’m sure that Conner can set up enough security in our office. And I’d really be more comfortable in my own apartment.”

  Mac rolled her to her desk and propped himself on the edge of it. “Sterling, you have to understand how serious this is. I didn’t want to tell you this and frighten you, but your apartment was ransacked last night. We can’t take any chances with a guy like Dawson. He is too dangerous.”

  “Mr. Dawson? Is that his name?”

  “That’s the name he’s using, Vincent Dawson, former aide and personal assistant to Abigail Gardner, a congresswoman from Florida. Now he’s latched onto Senator March.”

  She took another quick deep breath and held it.

  “You said the name he’s using. Do you think that really isn’t his name?”

  “We don’t know. We’re working on it. For now, the name of the man who killed your employer and shot you is Vince Dawson.”

  Her fear had a name. Somehow that made it more real. And that fear had invaded her apartment in Virginia, destroying the safety she’d built there.

  “What about the office? Was it … broken into also?”

  “It might have been except for the armed guards Conner had surveilling it. He pulled them out this morning. By now, there’s nothing there. All the records have been transferred here.”

  “And Conner? And,” she added with alarm, “what about Erica? Won’t this put her in danger?”

  “Not to worry. She’s been sent to stay with friends in Germany. Conner had her flown out of the country by a private plane. We don’t think Mr. Dawson will be able to find out where she is.”

  “I’m glad. Conner is a fool about her and now she’s expecting a baby.”

  “He told me. Hard to believe he’s that excited about a child.”

  Sterling thought about that. “Not really. Conner’s been pretty lonely for the last few years. He wants a family.”

  “And you’re a part of that family, Sterling, and always will be.”

  “Oh, Mac. I’m so sorry. I thought all this was over. If I hadn’t decided to go to the wedding …”

  He couldn’t stop himself. He reached down and tilted her chin up with one finger. “You wouldn’t have come to the wedding if it hadn’t been for me, would you?”

  Wide-eyed, she shook her head. “And you wouldn’t have come, except for me, would you?”

  “No. So now I have to protect you long en
ough for us to figure out what all this means. Couldn’t we agree to a truce, just for a while?”

  “I wasn’t aware that we were at war.”

  “Oh, we’re in the middle of a minefield, all right, Sterling. Don’t you hear the bombs exploding around us? I just can’t decide if we’re at war with each other or with our own selves.”

  “Mac, I don’t know if I can do this,” she said in a low, strained voice.

  “I can understand that. I’m having a little trouble myself.”

  “Am I responsible for that?”

  “You are.”

  “I’m sorry, Mac. I know I’m not the only person here who needs your help. Please don’t let me interfere with your angel work.”

  “Don’t let you what? I’ve spent fifteen years not letting anything or anyone interfere with my angel work—until now. There comes a time, apparently, when the head angel, wherever or whoever he is, makes an executive decision that erases anything he doesn’t agree with.”

  “You sound angry.”

  “I am—disturbed. Right now I don’t need to be aware of the texture of your hair, the smell of your skin, the way you shiver just a little when I touch you. Kissing you is something I don’t need. Wanting to slip into your bed and lie naked against you is definitely not conducive to conducting business rationally. But that’s what I want.”

  The picture Mac created jumbled the words in Sterling’s mind. Lying next to him, bare skin against bare skin, feeling her nerve endings shiver. Oh yes, she understood.

  She understood that they were saying no but their desire was taking over and reaching out for each other. She had to stop this before it would be too late.

  “I’m not very experienced with men and casual relationships, Mac. I never expected to have this kind of response to a man. I … I thought my sexual responses were dead.”

  “Sterling, there’s nothing casual about this relationship. Your sexual drive isn’t dead, it’s just been asleep. You were content with that. But Vince changed everything for both of us. Now we’ve got to figure out what to do about it.”

  “You figure it out,” she said suddenly, moving her chair back through the doorway into Mac’s office and to the exit door that opened instantly. “I’m going …” Where was she going? “I’m going to take a swim.”

  “The pool is heated, Sterling. And I think you’re hot enough already.”

  “Then I’ll take a cold shower.”

  He followed her to the door. “Sterling, if it’s any consolation to you, I promise I won’t put pressure on you.”

  She didn’t answer. He didn’t have to put pressure on her. She was doing a good enough job of that herself. She already admired and respected Mac. She’d become his friend long before this. She was in big trouble. She needed to go back to her room and think.

  She met Elizabeth there carrying an armload of books and tapes. “I was just leaving these for you,” she said. “I’ll be out of your way in just a moment.”

  “What are those?” Sterling asked.

  Elizabeth smiled and held out one of the tapes. Danish Made Easy. “I think it’s wonderful that you want to learn a language while you’re with us. And I’m on my way to the shop to find new—sleeping attire. Personally, I think your flannel nightgowns are quaint.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Everett. Just leave the tapes. But you don’t have to shop for any nightgowns. I like the flannel one just fine.”

  She thought she heard Mrs. Everett laugh, then decided she was just delusional. Until she rolled herself into the bedroom and discovered the hologram that covered the wall opposite her bed.

  There was a life-size scene of 007 and a blonde in a bed.

  The blonde wasn’t wearing any clothes.

  SIX

  “What did Sterling say when you told her we were transferring the Paradox records to Shangri-la?” Conner asked.

  Mac picked up the handset and turned off his Speakerphone. Discussing Sterling, even in the ultimate safety of his own office, was too public. “She said she wanted to go home, that you’d protect her. Conner, I had to tell her about her apartment.”

  “Damn! That must have wiped her out. That apartment and the office have been her only safe havens. Now she’s lost both.”

  “Conner, I think we’re going to have to call in a few high-level IOUs. Who can we trust?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I have a friend who’s a retired Army general. He’s an adviser to some committee so secret that it doesn’t have a name. And there’s an investigative reporter with the Post. What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, I’ve been in touch with a securities expert who can be trusted. And an ex-FBI agent with friends. I say we call a meeting of minds. Think we can fly them to New Mexico, without the world knowing?”

  Mac thought about it for a minute. “Considering that it’s Christmas, I’m not sure we can pull these men away from their families. What about a teleconference on a secure line?”

  The ex–Green Beret looked at his watch. “It would take a couple of days to set it up. It’s only ten days until Christmas and they’re scattered everywhere.”

  “Get me names and numbers. Let’s try for three days from now.”

  “Fine,” Conner answered. “I’d like to wrap this up in time to join Erica for a little celebrating of our own. This will be our last Christmas alone. After that, it’ll be Santa Claus and the whole family bit.”

  Mac thought wistfully about Sterling and his made-up story of spending Christmas in Aspen with their imaginary children. There’d been very little real celebrating at Christmas since Jessie had gotten too old for Santa. He didn’t know how long it had been since either of them had gone to the little chapel on the lake at the base of the mountain. At some point they’d stopped trying to live a normal life.

  “Get the names and numbers. I’ll make it happen,” he said, and broke the connection. The mythical home in Aspen, the fictitious twins and baby, Sterling’s fake pregnancy—all swirled around in his head.

  Christmas, children, and family was so appealing to Mac. He wondered if Barney ever had the kind of lascivious thoughts about Betty that Mac was having about Sterling? From what he remembered about Betty, Barney had probably done something right. Betty married him.

  Mac might be able to put Sterling’s office duties off for a day or two, but sooner or later she’d be working in the room next to him. That was too close. He should have put her in the basement.

  Instead of thinking about Barney and Betty, he’d send for all the Bond videos and study up on how to be suave, debonair, and sexy. It had been a long time since he’d even tried.

  No. For now, he had to get his mind on the problem at hand. He had to figure out how to set a trap for a murderer.

  Sterling would have deleted the hologram of Bond and the blonde sex kitten, if she could have figured out how the control panel worked. Elizabeth would be able to do it, but she’d dismissed the kindly woman again. She just couldn’t escape the devilish expression in Bond’s eyes.

  Eyes just like Mac’s. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed that similarity before. Their appearances were so different, she’d missed it. Even so, she’d certainly noticed everything else about Mac. And what she hadn’t seen, she’d imagined.

  Here she was, inside a mountain, with no way to get out. No way to reclaim the life she’d so carefully built for herself since leaving the rehabilitation hospital. Why had she left: Virginia?

  Because of Mac. She’d been intrigued, stimulated in a way she’d never thought possible. Especially, not after the accident. And she’d fooled herself into thinking that she could function in the real world without being haunted by the memory of her attacker.

  Well, she couldn’t. She might as well resign herself to a life of contented restrictions, a comfortable life that gave her everything she could possibly want. Conner had a place in Germany, high in the mountains, where she could go when she wanted a change of scenery. He had a private plane to fly her the
re and a staff to see to her comforts. She had more money than she’d ever need, anything she wanted in the way of possessions, friends—a limited number of them, but there when she needed them. That was all she required and more than most people ever had.

  Why was she, a grown woman at the age of thirty-two, feeling such physical reactions to this man? A man was something she could do without. She’d been there, done that, with disastrous results. If she could walk, she’d be pacing the floor. Instead, she was simply flexing and unflexing her fingers around the arms of her wheelchair.

  “Damn you, Vincent Dawson! You had no right to steal my life!”

  There was a knock on her door, timid, but insistent.

  “Come in,” she called out, and turned to face the intruder.

  The door opened slowly.

  “Well, come in. If it’s you, Mac, we have to have a little talk about the hologram on my wall.”

  The door opened fully to reveal Jessie standing hesitantly in the corridor. “It’s me—Jessie.”

  She was dressed in jeans and a University of New Mexico sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a limp ponytail.

  “Great,” Sterling said. “I’d love to have some company who isn’t inclined to give me orders.”

  Jessie laughed, revealing what Sterling guessed was a rare glimpse of the real Jessie, not the timid and scared girl she met outside near the pool.

  “I thought I was the only one who got treated like a child by my father,” Jessie said, leaning against the door as if she were ready to flee at a moment’s notice, if necessary.

  “No way. It seems to me that children, old people, and handicaps all get the same treatment: rules, restrictions, orders, lies, and platitudes. Do come in. I promise I won’t give you any of them.”

  Jessie nodded, raising her gaze and fixing it on the wall behind Sterling. “Wow! They wouldn’t let me have that on my wall. How’d you do it?”

  Sterling blushed. “It’s your father’s idea of a joke.”

  Jessie eyed her skeptically. “Joke? Mac doesn’t joke—ever.”