by Marie Harte
“I’m not dressed yet,” she yelled out.
“Then I’m definitely coming in.”
She laughed to herself and crossed to the door. She opened it, and Mac pushed past her inside. “Grab your jacket. Let’s go.”
“Hello. And how are you today? I’m fine. What? Yes. The class went well. The gym wasn’t too crowded.”
He snorted. “Yeah, yeah. How are you? Good to hear. You look stunning, as usual. And no, I haven’t slept with anyone between last night, when you left me hard and frustrated, and now.”
She blinked at him as she grabbed her jacket. “I don’t think I asked about your sex life.”
“You should. Responsible partners are all about safe sex.”
“Oh my God. Are you lecturing me?”
The fifteen minute drive to his house grew into a debate about sexual responsibility. As usual, the argument was more about needling Mac than being right. Half the time she said things just to annoy him.
“Oh yeah. For me, a condom is a must,” she emphasized.
He frowned. “But you said you’re on birth control.”
“Duh, because I’m not ready for kids yet. But birth control doesn’t prevent STDs.”
“Um, I get that. But I told you I’m clean,” he said as he parked the car.
She left the vehicle with him and walked up the drive. “I thought we were talking in generalities. Why the push to have sex with me? I thought this was just a date. You know. Where we talk to each other.”
He ground his teeth and let her into the house. “For such a small person, you have a big mouth.”
“I’m not that small. Unless I stand next to freakishly large people, like yourself.”
“You mean, freakishly sexy people. I know I make you uncomfortable, being so hot and godlike. It’s okay, Maggie. I’ll take good care of you.”
She shoved him out of the way and took a good look at his place. “I’m amazed your ego fits through the door.”
The large home in Green Lake fit what she’d imagined his finances to be. According to Shelby, who’d heard it from Shane, Mac had made a bunch of great investments over the years, diversifying. So unlike many in this economy, he actually had money to fall back on, added to his military retirement. He drove a new car that had to cost a pretty penny. And his home boasted hardwood floors, leather furniture, and exquisite built-in cabinetry around a stone fireplace. A few black and white photographs of different countries and places graced the walls. He didn’t have a lot of clutter, but he had pictures and Marine Corps mementos filling up a wall unit to the left of the fireplace.
She saw him in the décor, but she also thought he’d had help. “This is way too neat for you. I was expecting black leather and chrome. Some nudie posters and pizza boxes.” She liked that he narrowed his eyes, obviously irked. “So who helped you decorate?”
“Why is it so hard to believe I did it myself?”
She just stared at him.
He blew out a breath. “Fine. Shane’s mom helped me stage the stuff. But it was my taste. I picked out the furniture.”
“Hmm.” She ran a hand over the back of the leather sectional. “Feels nice, and it’s big enough for that monstrously large body of yours.”
“And my ego. Don’t forget how big that is,” he said sarcastically.
“There is that.” She waited for it.
“It goes without saying, I’m big all over.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let that one slide.”
He chuckled. “See? You do know me. Isn’t it nice, being all friendly?”
She shook her head and moved deeper into the house. Through a nice dining room big enough to seat six she entered a gourmet kitchen. Jealous, because she’d always wanted something so nice, she took in the stainless steel appliances, black granite counter tops and top of the line pots hanging from a pot rack above the center island. He even had a prep sink in which a colander of fresh veggies sat.
“Don’t tell me you cook.”
“Why ruin your already sterling opinion of me?” He stepped around her and moved to the main sink. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue sweater and washed his hands.
As usual, she had a hard time looking away. The sight of his strong forearms and large hands enthralled her. Mac didn’t play at being strong. He was strong. More than physically, he had a warrior’s spirit, an indomitable will to take charge and maintain order, and it never failed to fill her daydreams with just what he might be like in bed. Or worse, as a boyfriend.
She blinked as he finished wiping his hands on a towel.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“Please. Mine cost a lot more than that.”
He chuckled and moved to the vegetables, then set to chopping them up with military precision.
“So you really cook?”
“Yep. I learned the hard way. Cook or starve. I chose to learn some culinary skills.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well, my uncle can barely boil water. I’m usually fixing stuff for him.”
“I like Ian.” She mentally compared him to Mac. “You look alike. He’s just as big and mouthy as you are.”
“Thanks.” Mac reached for a pan, grabbed a bottle of olive oil from above, and set everything over the burner. From the fridge, he removed a tray of steak and onions. He added that and a small bowl of seasoning and started frying up their dinner.
“You look like a pro.”
“I’m good. Just ask around.” He winked at her.
“Funny, but your uncle was saying the exact same thing to some woman at the gym when I saw him. If I recall, she turned away in a huff while he laughed himself silly.”
Mac frowned. “And he has the nerve to tell me to go easy on the members.”
“Did you get into trouble because of that incident with Wilson?” For which she’d never thanked him.
“Nah. Uncle Ian was pissed about it until I told him why I choked the guy. Then he understood. We refunded Wilson’s money and kicked his ass out of the gym.”
“What did you say, exactly?”
“That Wilson had his hand on you and you didn’t like it. That was enough for Ian. My uncle taught me a lot growing up, and not hurting women was at the top of his list. Call him a throwback if you want, but I agree with him.”
“No, no. I like that. You’re gruff and you curse a lot. And let’s face it, you’re huge. But I’ve never been scared of you, that you’d hurt me, I mean.” She paused. “Thanks for helping me with Wilson.”
“You’re welcome.” For once he didn’t act superior. The simple reply was heartfelt and made her rethink what she knew about Mac all over again.
Chapter Five
“So you keep mentioning your uncle.” Maggie wanted to know more. “He raised you, not your parents?”
“My folks split up when I was eight,” Mac said matter-of-factly. “My father ended up getting killed by a drunk driver a year later. My mother took off. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
“Ouch.”
He grimaced. “Yeah. So Uncle Ian raised me. He was married to a woman he loved like crazy for years. Turned out she was nothing more than a--” He checked himself. “She was fooling around on him and tried to take him for everything he had. A real user.”
“No wonder you have issues with women.”
He frowned. “I don’t have issues. I like women. Hell, I love women.” He leered at her, but she saw what he hadn’t said. The man had trust issues he’d more than earned.
A lot like her. “Well, if it makes you feel better, my folks left me on the doorstep of a church when I was just a baby. Just me and my older brother against the world.”
“No shit?”
“Yep. I’m a blond Little Orphan Annie.” She grinned, not bitter at all about how she’d been raised. “Luckily, Trevor and I grew up together in a series of foster homes. We weren’t placed with abusive or uncaring people. And we still keep in touch with a few of them.”
“
Trevor, huh? Does he live close?”
“He travels a lot for work.” Doing secret squirrel stuff for the government little sis isn’t supposed to know about. Corporate shark, my ass. The liar. “But we’re still close, even if we’re not physically together. He calls when he can and always brings me stuff from abroad. I don’t know if you saw my craft room when you were snooping around my apartment.”
“Not snooping. I was waiting for you.” He finished with the food and put the pan on a cool burner. After he turned off the stovetop, he fished two plates from a cabinet. “Trust me. I wanted like hell to look through your underwear drawer, but I thought that might freak you out more than just me being there.” He put the food on the plates then found a bottle of wine from a built-in wine cooler.
“Man. You have everything in here.”
“Just about. Grab a plate.”
She did and followed him into the dining room. No fancy candles, but a wine bucket and two place settings complete with wine glasses waited for them. He poured them each a glass.
“Fancy.”
“Yeah, because I’m all about appearances.” He huffed. “I happen to like wine with my food. But I’d never turn down a good beer. And I don’t mean that blue ribbon crap.”
“A beer snot. I’m not surprised.”
He chuckled. “Like you’re not a little snooty yourself. I saw that artwork in your place. Nothing store bought. It’s all hand-crafted crap. You didn’t have anything commercial in there.”
“Well, no. I like what I like.”
“Yeah. Me too.” The look he shot her was no less than scorching. “So, back to you and your sob story growing up.”
Trust Mac to give her no quarter. She liked that about him. When others learned of her humble beginnings, they seemed uncomfortable or even pitying. Not the man still giving her a once-over.
“Your brother,” Mac continued. “You and he grew up out here?”
“On the East Coast, actually. We grew up outside of D.C. But we both wanted to move West. It’s way too humid out there.” She shook her head and took a sip of wine. “Hey, this is good.”
“Only the best for you, Maggie.” He patted his chest. “Myself included.”
She nearly choked on her wine.
“So when did you come out here?”
“You really want to know, or is this just to soften me up for sex later?”
The lazy amusement on his face vanished, to be replaced with real annoyance. “Can’t I be curious about you? Why is that wrong? If you don’t want to talk, just say so.”
“Ah, no.” She put her wine down. “Honestly, I’m not used to this. Usually on a date, I sit back and listen while the man of the hour goes on and on about his job and his life. I nod, smile and look pretty.”
“You’ve been dating the wrong guys.” He snorted. “Not surprising. You tell me I have trust issues? Check a mirror, honey.”
“Look, sweetcheeks, I didn’t ask for an analysis of my shortcomings.” Irritated with him, she turned back to her plate. He might be an ass, but the smells coming from her dinner made her salivate.
“Easy. I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you. Jesus, just eat, would you? I forgot what a pain in the ass you can be when your blood sugar is low.”
How did he know that? She dug into her plate and moaned at the flavors bursting on her tongue.
“Go on. Say it,” he demanded.
She wanted to be annoyed, but he’d earned that smug tone.
“It’s delicious. This is amazing. Just a few vegetables and steak and it tastes like heaven. How do you cook like this?”
“It’s a gift.”
“No kidding.”
They continued to eat and polished off the bottle of wine. She learned more about him, watching how animated he became when talking about his uncle or Shane. He loved Shane’s family as well, particularly Shane’s younger brother.
“George idolizes you and you know it,” she teased. “He’s working hard to become the next Mac Jameson. In the four months I’ve known him, I’ve seen him with three different girls.”
“Whoa. That’s not my style, Maggie.” Mac leaned back and grinned. “I’m more the love them and leave them happy type.”
“I don’t know. They seem to be in perpetual mourning at the gym. You have your own set of groupies.”
“Yeah? Well you do too.” He didn’t seem happy about that fact, and his displeasure secretly thrilled her. “Trust me. I’ve heard more than my share about the hot blond aerobics instructor.”
“Lovely.”
“Yep. The one with the fine ass and nice tits.”
“Mac.” She flushed.
“What? Their words, not mine,” he protested.
“Yeah, right.”
He chuckled. “I mean, I agree with the description, don’t get me wrong. But there’s more to you than looks, right?” He paused. “You still haven’t told me much about your art, and I know that’s a big deal. To hear Shelby talk about you, you’re the next Van Gogh.”
“He was a painter.” She paused. “How much do you know about art?”
“Not a thing,” he said with pride.
“And you don’t seem to care that you know nothing. So sad.”
“Hey. I can field strip an M16 in the time it takes you to spell Van Gogh backwards. We all have our priorities. Now quit changing the subject. Your art. How’d you get into it?”
She wanted to tell him not to bother buttering her up. She’d internally agreed to sex with him, despite her prior claims that he not assume they’d eventually come together. But he looked interested. And he’d persisted in trying to talk about her tonight. Such a change from the way her dates normally progressed.
She liked his interest and decided to answer him. “I don’t know. I always liked creating things. Sculpting especially. Just model clay, nothing fancy. I can draw reasonably well, but it’s not something I can make a living doing. For that matter, neither are my current art projects,” she ended with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Not to hear Shelby tell it. She said that gallery where you work is selling a lot of your stuff.”
“The Beholder is a terrific place. And Kim’s a gem. She gives me flexible hours at the gallery, so that I can do my art and work for you during my time off.”
“I like that. But I still don’t get how you got into making paper. I mean, I think paper and I see holes and lines.”
“I used to feel the same. Then a few years ago I was bumming around an art gallery in Portland and saw a paper sculpture. The artist happened to be there at the same time, and we started talking.”
“Did he invite you to see his etchings?”
“No. She showed me her studio and took me on as an apprentice. I helped her prepare and did a lot of clean up for her, but in exchange, she helped me get started. In the garage at my apartment, I have my own paper press and materials. It’s not the best space to work, and it’s messy, but it’s my own form of expression.” She hated that she sounded defensive. A lot of artists looked down on her for her craft, but she loved it. She might not be into oils, watercolors or traditional art, but her medium worked for her.
“Sounds good to me.” Mac sat back and nodded. “Like you said, I know nothing about art. But if you made that red picture above your fireplace, I’d say you could more than earn a living selling your stuff.”
She brightened. “You liked it?” Then she immediately felt stupid. Of course he’d say what he thought she wanted to hear.
Except he looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. Not that I’m into art or anything, and I don’t know that I’d call it pretty, but I couldn’t look away from it. The piece had nice detail.” He shrugged.
“Shelby bugged the heck out of me to make her something for her birthday. She swears I’m going to be worth big money soon.” She sighed. “Maybe after I’m dead. Seems like the curse of most great artists. They’re poor until they die.” Realizing what she’d said, she corrected herself. “Not that I’m poor. But no
ne of my work goes for millions.”
“Not yet.” Mac smiled. She saw no censure or taunting there, and she relaxed. “So The Beholder is where you work?” He frowned. “That sounds familiar. Hey, isn’t that right down the road from Shelby’s clinic?”
“How do you think she and I met? We bumped into each other years ago, and boom. Instant friendship.”
“The hot blond and sultry brunette. Fits.”
She didn’t like hearing him refer to Shelby as sultry. But the fact she felt a hint of jealousy over her boss didn’t sit well either. She hurried to ignore her weird emotions and pasted a smile on her face. “It’s nice to know you think I’m attractive, but you don’t need to keep repeating yourself.”
“Too used to hearing it, are you? I get that.” He gave a put-upon sigh. “Me too. Women are always treating me like a walking billboard for sex. It’s tough, being so manly.”
“Please.”
“No, really.” He nodded, but his innocent expression didn’t mesh with the devilry in his gaze. “Take my last girlfriend.”
“Do you even remember her name?”
He frowned. “Yeah.” He paused. “Jessica.”
“Jessica what? You don’t know, do you?”
He ignored her. “Jessica was all about my body and my wallet. I mean, I was happy to share myself with her, but I was hoping for something more.” He looked into her eyes, and the truth there shocked her. Mac wasn’t as superficial as she’d once thought. “I didn’t expect marriage or anything super serious since we’d just met, but time spent not talking about her boob job and how great she looked would have been nice. The only things she seemed to care about were herself and how much I cleared last year after taxes. Oh, and how much I could bench press.” He snorted. “I don’t lift weights to look good. I lift because it takes my mind off the fact that I’m retired.” He sneered the word.
She’d seen the scarring on his left leg and been curious but had never asked. “What happened?”
“Got shot in the knee and it never healed right. So I was medically discharged after two surgeries. Now I do physical therapy, and Shelby’s helping. It’s not like I could have stayed in the Corps forever anyway.” He acted like it was no big deal, but Maggie could tell how much being out of the service bothered him.