Seizing Mack: A Contemporary Love Story (Covendale Book 3)

by Abbie Zanders

  “They are not dried ball sacks,” she huffed. “They’re organic Turkish figs.” She held up the container so he could read the label. They didn’t hold the same comfort factor as warm, fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies, but they were sweet and rich enough to be a viable, healthy alternative when a quick fix was needed.

  After dealing with Delilah, she needed all the sweet, comforting richness her organic diet would allow. When she wasn’t prying her man-crazy stepsister away from attractive male members, she was trying to teach her enough basic Receptionist 101 stuff to make her passably useful. It had barely been a week and Mack was already toying with the idea of drugging Dee and putting her ass on a plane. She had even gone as far as calling the airport, but the man at the ticket counter hung up when she asked when the next flight to ‘somewhere far away and hostile’ was.

  Jay scrunched his perfectly straight Grecian nose, his smoldering hazel eyes suspicious. “They look like dried ball sacks.”

  Leaning against the doorframe and wearing nothing more than a pair of board shorts on his slim hips and showcasing an impressive V of roped male muscle, Jay would have had most women panting. However, because Jay was Mack’s best friend—and because he was one hundred percent gay—she barely noticed beyond an appreciative glance. Half the women who joined her gym the year before did so after Jay was featured in a popular men’s underwear ad and credited Mack for his healthy diet and exercise program.

  “Hmmm,” Mack hummed, holding the fruit in her palm and studying it. “You’re right. Never noticed that before.” She took a bite and rolled her eyes back in her head. “Delicious.”

  Jay winced, his lightly bronzed face turning abnormally pale as he instinctively covered his crotch. “You are a vicious, vicious woman. No wonder you’re sitting home alone on a Saturday night.”

  Mack stuck her tongue out at him. Given what she was chewing at the time, it was not a pretty sight.

  “Ew, Mack. Just ew. And what’s got you horking carbs anyway?”

  She shot him a venomous look that could have singed the hair from his body, assuming he had any. As a male model, his skin was nothing but a smooth, pristine canvas. A lesser woman might have been jealous of just how perfect his skin was.

  “Oh, right,” he laughed. “Spa day. How’d it go?”

  Mack growled at him. In a goodwill effort of superhuman proportions, Mack had reluctantly taken a few hours off to spend with her stepsister, kind of a “you’re here, let’s make the best of it” gesture. If she’d had half a brain, she would have just left Dee at the salon/spa and gone back to work. But no. She’d felt compelled to try and find some common ground.

  Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about doing that again.

  “I’ve been banned.”

  Jay laughed harder. “How did you manage that? And hey, are those my boxers you’re wearing?”

  Mack felt the heat rush to her face. “No,” she lied, tugging guiltily at the black silk. Men’s underwear was comfortable and roomy, while women’s underwear was skimpy and not. Who in their right mind decided that scratchy lace and dental floss would feel good against such a sensitive area, she wanted to know? Especially after a wax.

  “You might as well tell me, Mack. Don’t make me call Marcus and get the scoop from him.”

  Mack looked everywhere but at Jay. “I might have kicked the aesthetician in the face when she pulled a wax strip from my bikini line.”

  Trying to cover his mouth, he snickered, “Mack, you didn’t.”

  “’Fraid so,” she sighed. “But that hurts, you know?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Jay was the best of the best. She could (and often did) confide things to him that she would have otherwise taken to her grave, which was why she kept talking instead of shutting up like she should have.

  “It looked really odd, just having one bare patch, so I tried to, you know, even it out myself when I got home. Except I didn’t have any wax, so...”

  The true horror of the situation began to dawn on him. “Tell me you did not use your regular razor.”

  She blinked and looked up at him. “What else would I use?”

  “Oh, baby girl. They make special small ones for that sort of thing.” He waved his hand in the general area of her crotch.

  “And how the hell would I know that?” she said, nearly shouting now.

  “Because you’re a woman. You’re supposed to know that kind of stuff. It’s like instinct or something. Didn’t anyone teach you?”

  She squirmed again. Maybe if her mother had lived long enough to see her through puberty, they might have had a chance to talk about those kinds of things. As it was, Mack had bumbled through a lot of self-discovery along the way. Proper feminine ‘scaping techniques sure as hell weren’t covered in basic training.

  “I must have been absent that day,” she mumbled.

  “So... God, I can’t believe I’m asking this ... is everything, uh, okay down there?”

  “As good as it’s going to get.”

  Jay closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Mack saw his lips silently counting to ten before speaking. “You need professional help. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Why? Because I can’t fold myself in half and look at my lady parts?”

  “Most people use a mirror,” he mumbled before exhaling heavily. “Is there someone who can help you?”

  Mack was horrified. “I’d rather paint my body in honey and lay on a mound of fire ants.”

  “There’s a visual.”

  “Are you telling me you would be okay will letting someone do that to you?”

  He smirked. “How do you think I finally got Marcus to third base?”

  Marcus was Jay’s partner, an extremely talented hair and make-up artist with the modeling agency. The two had been seeing each other exclusively for several months and things were getting serious. Any day now Mack was expecting Jay to announce he was moving in with Marcus. She had already decided that if and when that happened, she would suggest that Marcus be the one to move into their house. There was more than enough room, and Mack didn’t know what she would do without Jay to keep her sane and grounded.

  Feeling even more depressed, Mack sighed and melted into Jay’s embrace. He gave the best hugs.

  “You’ll find someone, baby girl,” he said softly as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

  “Yeah,” she snorted in disbelief.

  “What about that hot new detective?”

  She sat up, knowing immediately who he was referring to. “How do you know about him?”

  “Honey, this is Covendale. A sexy, brooding alpha male rolls into town, people are going to notice. Tell me, what’s he like?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Don’t even try to pull that shit with me. I saw Carl giving him the tour, and no one gets in or out of Seize without you knowing about it. You met him, didn’t you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” he eyed her suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “It means I talked to him for all of two minutes before Delilah showed up and started eye fucking him. I sent him off with Carl for his own safety.”

  “And sacrificed yourself in the process,” Jay finished on a frustrated exhale.

  She shrugged. “Delilah is my problem, not his. Besides, he’s a potential client.”

  “He’s a hot potential client. Maybe you and he...”

  “Pffft. I don’t think so. This —” she waved a hand over her face and body “— is not what guys dream about, you know?” It had been her experience that romantically speaking, most guys preferred women like Delilah: gorgeous, feminine, and easy. Easy on the eyes, easy on the intellect, easy on the effort. Intelligent, independent Marines made good girl friends, not good girlfriends.

  “Bullshit,” Jay countered, reading her mind in that eerie way he had. “You need to adjust your attitude, get yourself out of the friend zone. It’s like Purgatory —
nowhere anyone wants to be. You need to stop having boy friends and get yourself a boyfriend, girlfriend.”

  “I’ve had boyfriends,” she said defensively.

  Jay snorted, somehow managing to make it sound elegant.

  “What about Mason?” she sniffed. “We went out a few times.”

  “Mason doesn’t count.”

  “Why not?”

  Sympathy turned to pity. “Hate to break it to you, baby girl, but Mason bats for my team.”

  “He does not!”

  Jay smirked. “Mack, he has better fashion sense than Dee and likes to stick things up his ass.”

  Mack flushed a deep rose and averted her eyes. “Lots of men like to, uh, experiment that way. Stimulating the prostrate during sex can be very pleasurable.”

  Jay rolled his eyes. “Can you picture Mr. Tall and Yummy Detective sticking anything up his ass?”

  Mack clamped her lips shut and reddened further. She refused to discuss Nick Benning or his really nice ass. Ever since she’d looked up to find the handsome detective in the office she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. She may have even cast him a lead role in a late night fantasy or two. Typically, she tried to avoid incorporating people she had daily contact with into her private fantasies because it tended to make things weird, but Nick Benning was worth breaking a few unspoken rules for.

  There was no way in hell she wanted anyone else to know, though. Not even Jay. Crushing on one of her clients would have to remain her dirty little secret.

  “Seriously, Mack. Stop being an albatross and pull your head out of the sand.”

  “Ostrich,” she mumbled, trying to pry her libidinous thoughts away from the detective’s fine male behind.

  “What?”

  “Ostriches supposedly stick their head in the sand, not albatrosses... albatri? But even that’s not true. It’s a myth. I read this article in National Geographic...”

  Jay gave her a withering look, the same one he gave her every time she started spouting useless geeky trivia. Mack wisely shut her mouth.

  “All I’m saying is, it wouldn’t hurt to release some of your inner diva.”

  “I think my inner diva was left behind in that spa, along with my dignity. There was screaming involved.”

  Jay sighed and pulled her into another hug. “Ah, Mack, what am I going to do with you? Come on, let’s get you over to Marcus. He’ll get you all fixed up.”

  “I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.” Sliding carefully from her seat, Mack kissed his cheek before heading back toward her private bathroom to re-assess the damage.

  With a mirror this time.

  Chapter Seven

  ~ Nick ~

  For a small town, Covendale had its fair share of temporary housing options, Nick thought as he looked at the short list of half a dozen places Maryann had emailed to him the night before. They’d made arrangements to meet up at the Cape Cod later that afternoon, but in the interests of thoroughness, she’d wanted him to know what else was available.

  He appreciated the effort. To save time, he decided to do some drive-bys. Two he eliminated right off the bat; they were condos in town and Nick preferred something farther out. Of the remaining four, one was much bigger than what he was looking for, and another was in a cookie-cutter development popular with younger families.

  The fifth house turned out to be a duplex, which wasn’t a bad thing, but not his first choice. He often worked odd hours depending on his cases, and he liked the quiet and privacy of a single home.

  He’d saved the Cape Cod for last, and once he saw it, he knew right away why Marianne had chosen that one for a walk-through. It was exactly what he was looking for. An older place on the edge of town, the simple symmetry of the place appealed to him, as did the mullioned windows and classic shutters. The house looked in fairly good shape, and the property was large enough to have a nice buffer between the neighbors on either side. Eventually, he hoped to buy some land and build his own place, but until then, the Cape Cod would do quite nicely.

  Nick swung by Liz’s place again. She still hadn’t returned any of his calls. He knew he had the right address; he’d double checked. Maybe her job required travel? Or perhaps she’d gone down to Florida to visit with their parents? Doing that was on his to-do list, right after he got settled. He was even thinking of asking Liz if she’d like to go with him. It had been a long time since the four of them had been together under one roof, and who knew how many more chances they’d have to do so.

  A familiar pang of guilt went through his chest. He hoped his parents were okay. He’d done a shitty job of keeping in touch with them, too. At first, he called every holiday, but then his mom always brought up the past and started crying, asking him when he was coming home. His calls grew few and farther apart until he’d stopped calling all together. At one point, Liz had expressed concern that their father was showing the beginning signs of Alzheimer’s, but when she hadn’t mentioned it again, he’d assumed everything was all right.

  With some time to kill before he met Marianne at the house, Nick drove to Lou’s and grabbed something quick for lunch. As he tipped the small bowl of coleslaw on top of his burger, he couldn’t help but think about Mack’s comment about burgers and fries sending people her way and smiled.

  Something told him she was not a frequent patron of Lou’s. Her body was too fit, too toned to enjoy the greasy burgers and sugary donuts he liked to indulge on occasionally.

  Admittedly, his eating habits hadn’t been the best. Working odd hours and living alone meant ease and convenience often won out over healthy and nutritious, though he tried to counteract that by running daily and working out when he could. He made a mental note to make regular trips to Seize part of his schedule. An added incentive to do so: more chances he’d run into Mack again. He was curious to see if he would feel the same unusual spark of interest as he had the first time, or if that had been just a fluke.

  Popping the last French fry into his mouth, Nick wiped his hands on the napkin and counted out a generous tip for the server before heading back to the Cape Cod. Marianne pulled up to the curb a minute after he did. “I had a feeling you’d like this one,” she said with a smile.

  They walked around the inside. It needed a bit of work, but most of it was aesthetic. If it were his place, he’d slap on some new paint, do some minor refinishing, update the fixtures. The foundation was solid, the roof had been replaced less than ten years earlier, and there was no sign of water damage or infestation. On the surface, everything looked good.

  The first floor had a nice-sized living room and kitchen, with a powder room and a mud/laundry room. The upstairs had two bedrooms, each with a nice dormer, and a shared full bath. The colors were neutral; the floorplan, simple.

  “This is a good house,” he commented as he checked out the partially finished basement.

  “It is,” she agreed.

  The clincher was the two-bay garage at the rear of the property – plenty of room to set up shop and get back to one of his first loves: rebuilding classic muscle cars.

  “So? What do you think?” Marianne asked when they reached the front door.

  “I think,” he said with a smile, “Gail was right. You do have a gift for finding people the perfect space.”

  Marianne smiled broadly, her cheeks flushing with color. “Thank you! I’ve got all the papers right here, but if you’d like to think about it for a few days, that’s fine.”

  “No need. This is exactly what I had in mind until the right parcel comes along. You’ll help me with that, too, won’t you?”

  “I’d love to!”

  “Then let’s sign those papers.”

  Nick was in high spirits. Things were coming together nicely. Hoping to extend his lucky streak, he decided it was the perfect time to go work off that burger.

  Chapter Eight

  ~ Mack ~

  “God, Mack. How do you do it?”

  Delilah flopped back on the L-shaped sectional, act
ing, for all intents and purposes, as if she’d been digging ditches in the heat all day instead of teaching one beginner Zumba class in a climate controlled, filtered-air studio and covering the reception desk for an hour. Sending Dee over to Seize for the Sunday morning class had been a stroke of genius, providing at least a few hours of Zen-like peace and quiet.

  To be fair, Delilah had been almost bearable ever since the spa episode. Jay, good-hearted soul that he was, thought her good behavior was because she recognized that Mack had made a genuine effort to bridge the gap between them. Mack knew it was because Delilah was reliving Mack’s humiliation over and over in her evil little mind and was simply laughing too hard to be her normal, horrible self.

  “Do what, Dee? Work? It’s a great way to pay bills and pass the time,” Mack answered grumpily.

  Dee snorted, somehow managing to make it sound feminine instead of the decidedly crass noise Mack made when she did it. When she snorted it sounded more like a pig snuffling for truffles. Mack wondered absently if Jay and Dee attended the same modelling school where they learned that kind of high-brow stuff.

  “No. I mean spending all that time at the gym around so many hard-bodied hotties. How can you concentrate on anything?”

  Oh, that. There were a lot of hot guys at the gym. Firefighters, cops, service men, and others whose jobs required them to be in peak physical condition had memberships. With its focus on total health, incorporating mind, body, and spirit, Seize had seen great success and its affordability made it a favorite among the public service crowd.

  Not that Dee cared about any of that. She saw a set of glistening washboards and her mind went in one direction only: south.

  “You know,” Mack told her, pulling forth another nugget of trivia, “it’s been scientifically proven that the scent of male sweat is calming to overstressed women.”

  Dee looked at her as if she was crazy. “Calming? Put me in with all that prime beef and that’s the last thing I’m feeling. My lady parts tingle just thinking about it.”

  Mack felt offended on behalf of the “beef”. Those men weren’t cattle; they were hard-working guys who cared enough about themselves and the people they served to take care of their bodies, and it was her job to help them do it. And while Mack appreciated a toned, fit body as much as the next women, her lady parts didn’t tingle at the sight.