Free Falling

by Debra Webb

  She paused in the wide, stylish hall. She did a quick inventory of all that she felt, and winced. She was in love with him already. Lord have mercy, she loved Mac McFerrin.

  “Are you sure you can do this?”

  Alex’s voice interrupted Free’s silent epiphany. She blinked, then met Alex’s concerned gaze. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  Alex studied her for a moment. Free quickly masked the hurt and uncertainty she worried might be in her eyes. Her feelings could wait until this was done. She scanned the expectant faces from Chenille Street. These people were counting on her.

  Free turned back to Alex. “Let’s do it.”

  Alex nodded. “Okay. Mr. Towery, you and your friends wait here.” She leaned around the corner where the hall did a ninety degree angle to the right and pointed. All eyes followed her gesture. “Keep an eye on that door. When Free leads Mac out of the conference room, you make your move.”

  “What about Mr. Larsen?” Towery asked.

  “I’m going back down to the lobby,” Alex explained. She turned to Free. “I’ll call Jake. Tell him I have an emergency. Once Jake is taken care of, you get Mac out any way you can.” Alex shifted her attention to Mr. Towery. “That will leave only the investors for this project and a local McFerrin employee named Batson. Ignore him,” Alex added. “No matter what Batson says, you just keep talking.”

  “Can do,” Towery affirmed.

  “Twenty minutes, Free,” Alex reminded her. “We’ll need as close to twenty minutes as you can give us.”

  Free took a deep breath, gave Alex and the group a nervous smile, then turned the corner and strode toward the double doors of the conference room. Free clenched her teeth and ignored the secretary who bounded out of the office across the hall.

  “Miss! Miss! You can’t go in there!”

  ~*~

  Mac shifted in his seat at the head of the conference table and forced himself to pay attention to Roger Batson’s summation of the Chenille Street project. Roger was a good man. Mac felt lucky to have him here in the Huntsville office.

  Mac locked his left knee to prevent the rhythmic and irritating bounce of his heel. He clasped his hands in his lap to quell the urge to drum his fingers and focused on the cost projections Batson enumerated. Without sparing the document a glance, Mac followed suit when the group seated around the table flipped to the next page in their presentation packet. He already knew those figures backward and forward.

  His roving thoughts went automatically to Free. Brutally, Mac squashed the vivid scenarios playing out in his head. Just as quickly and forcefully, the lust-arousing-images recreated themselves in his imagination. Taking Free on the conference table. Her smooth, creamy skin pale against the deep mahogany surface. All that silky hair spread around her head. Her dusky pink nipples straining for his attention as her slender back arched, thrusting her full breasts upward.

  Mac couldn’t recall having ever been with a woman so responsive to him. Her body had come alive in his hands. And she’d been so hot and tight, virginal almost. Mac tugged at his neckline. She’d actually climaxed before he’d even gotten inside her. Mac swallowed tightly and shifted again, a raging erection making any position he chose uncomfortable. He glanced quickly from side to side. What would these people, his business associates, think if they knew he couldn’t keep his mind off one lovely gypsy long enough to conduct a business meeting?

  Damn. Mac passed a hand over his face and directed his attention back to Batson’s monologue. Mac forced his body back into submission. He blew out a breath and massaged his forehead with his fingertips until he had cleared his thoughts of anything even remotely related to Free Renzetti.

  Paula’s shouts from outside the door had Mac frowning. The woman was usually the picture of decorum. He couldn’t imagine what—

  The conference room door flew open and banged against the paneled wall. Free strode through the open door, followed by a frantic Paula.

  Red. Mac saw red. A skin-tight, very short, candy-apple red dress. A rose tattoo. And strappy red high heels. As Free crossed the room, Mac’s gaze traveled back up those unbelievably long legs, a body to die for, and paused on a face made for an angel. Her hair bounced and flowed over her shoulders like a cape of sensual silk.

  Mac blinked. What the hell was she doing here?

  “Free, what’s going on?” he demanded. Complete silence fell over those assembled. Mac didn’t have to look to know that all eyes were riveted on him. And on the woman standing over him, hands on hips, eyes shooting daggers. He shook his head and admired her scantily-clad body once more. “And why are you dressed like” Mac gestured magnanimously “like that?”

  “I can’t believe you!” Free raged. “You…you took advantage of my…of my giving nature!” she stammered.

  Panic surged through him. What had he done to upset her so badly? Hell, he knew what he had done. Mac shot to his feet, determined to head off an embarrassing scene. “Maybe we should discuss this—”

  “No!” she shouted. “I won’t let you take advantage of me again!”

  “Free—”

  “Mr. Larsen!” Paula called from somewhere near the door.

  “Yo,” Jake answered, obviously reluctant to draw his attention from the developing scene.

  “You have an emergency all from your firm. Would you like to take it in Mr. McFerrin’s office?”

  “Sure.” Jake hustled past Mac, then turned to take the last few steps from the conference room backwards. He gave Free a slow once-over and shook his head wistfully. Mac glared at his retreating friend, jealousy twisting his gut.

  “You just do whatever makes you happy with no consideration for the consequences!” Free snapped, drawing his attention back to her.

  Her breasts rose and fell with every outraged breath she drew. The movement mesmerized him. Mac’s heart skipped a beat when his gaze shifted to her face and zeroed in on those lush, red-painted lips. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t. His brain wouldn’t work with no oxygen flowing to it. He could only stare at the woman in front of him, every muscle in his body growing harder by the second.

  Free flung her palms up in exasperation. “There’s no point in trying to talk to you. You’re hopeless!” Giving him one last acid glare, she whirled around in a flash of red and stormed out of the conference room.

  Mac just stood there, his gaze fastened on her swaying hips, his mouth hanging open like an idiot’s.

  “Mr. McFerrin, would you like me to continue?” Roger Batson asked hesitantly.

  Mac jerked to attention, then blinked to focus. “Carry on,” he said distractedly, his thoughts still on Free. “I’ll—I’ll be right back.” He all but ran from the conference room, leaving a half dozen important investors to think what they would do. He had to catch up with Free, to find out what her tantrum was all about.

  He found her just outside the conference room adjusting the flimsy strap of one high heel. “Free, what the hell is going on?” He still couldn’t believe his eyes. To say she looked stunning in that red dress would be a vast understatement. Mac had the sudden urge to cover her so no one else could see.

  Free glared at him, smoothing her palms over the stretchy material clinging to her hips. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned sharply and started down the hall.

  Mac frowned. For Pete’s sake, what was wrong with her? “Wait,” he called, double-timing to catch up with her long strides. “I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”

  This time she didn’t spare him a glance. She just kept walking straight down the hall. Toward the elevators, he presumed, but if that was her intended destination she was going the wrong way.

  “This is ridiculous!” Mac huffed, tossing her unyielding profile a hard look.

  “Go back to your meeting, Mac. You’ve already gotten what you wanted from me,” she said curtly.

  Mac stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

  Ignoring him, Free disappeared behind the next door on th
e right.

  Dumbfounded by her words, Mac slowly walked toward the room she entered. He glared at the sign that read “Ladies” and wondered how he had allowed this to happen. He had never once permitted anything to interfere with his professional life. In fact, he had never allowed anyone close enough to evoke this kind of reaction in him. Yet, here he stood, looking like a fool, contemplating what it would take to make her happy again.

  Mac clenched his jaw and pushed through the swinging door. By God, one way or another he intended to find out what the hell was going on in that pretty little head of hers.

  Free whirled from the mirror and pierced him with a steely gaze as he approached her. “You can’t come in here, this is the ladies’ room,” she protested.

  Mac crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter next to her. “I own the building. I can do anything I please.” He kept his tone low, tight, threatening.

  She narrowed her eyes to intense slits and planted her hands on those gorgeous hips once more. “Is that a fact?”

  “That,”—he leaned forward, encroaching on her personal space—“Ms. Renzetti, is a fact.”

  “You think just because you own the place you can treat people any way you want?” The fierceness in her eyes wavered as did the certainty in her voice.

  “Why don’t you tell me what—”

  The rush of water in a flushing toilet cut him off. A young woman, wide-eyed and quite obviously flustered, sidled out of a stall and dashed past them. Mac swore under his breath.

  “You, Connor McFerrin,”—Free stabbed him in the chest with her forefinger—“are a self-centered, narrow-minded pig!”

  Mac scowled, looking from her now vengeful expression to the blood-red nail jabbing him in his chest. All signs if vulnerability had vanished from her pretty face. Mac backed up a step when she closed in on him and poked his chest even harder.

  “A spoiled rich guy,” she accused.

  “That’s a fine way to talk about someone you made love with not twenty-four hours ago,” he snapped, then winced when she poked him again.

  “What would you know about making love?” she demanded. “Love doesn’t enter your way of thinking.”

  He backed up three more steps before he could think of an appropriate comeback. “And I suppose you know all about the subject,” he challenged.

  She took a step, he backed up. There was something about the look in her eyes that made him certain that he didn’t want her close enough to make any sudden moves, especially with her knees.

  “More than I want to,” she retorted, a note of regret tingeing her voice as she took another step closer.

  “Well, I—”Mac stumbled backwards through an open stall door and lost his balance. He grappled with the slick, painted sides for an endless second before plopping down on the toilet, slamming his head against the wall behind him. Fortunately for him, the toilet lid was down. Unfortunately for him, that didn’t stop the teeth-jarring blow to the back of his head.

  “More than you’ll ever dream of knowing about emotions, period,” Free added tersely. She edged between his spread thighs, closed and locked the door behind her, then turned on him again.

  Mac suddenly felt trapped and started to stand. “I don’t think this is the appropriate place to discuss the issue.”

  “Sit down, Mac,” she ordered. Free placed a hand on each shoulder and pressed him back onto his seat. “This is the perfect place. After all,” she glared at him “You’re so full of—”

  “Look,” he said, cutting off her tirade. His patience had just run out. “I don’t know what the hell the problem is, but I’ve had enough.” He jerked at his tie and released the top button of his shirt. A man could only take so much. He had a conference room full of important clients waiting for him. “Either tell me what the problem is, or—”

  “Is your phone out of order?” she demanded dejectedly. “You didn’t call me last night like you promised.” The fire was gone from her voice, it trembled.

  Mac’s head shot up in surprise. She looked on the verge of tears. “Is that what this is all about?”

  “You said you’d call.” Free folded her arms over her chest and pouted, and Mac felt a twinge of conscience.

  “I…I had to work,” he stammered, suddenly tongue-tied. “It was after midnight when I got home, and that damned mutt—”

  “Oliver,” she corrected. Her lower lip quivered.

  Mac licked his lips and swallowed. The shallow rise and fall of her breasts made him ache. “Yeah, him,” he relented. “He…distracted me.” The subtle fragrance of roses enveloped Mac, sinking into his awareness, tightening already rigid muscles and drawing him into a vortex of pure need.

  “Is he okay?”

  Mac plowed his fingers through his hair and tried to make sense of her question, but all he could do at the moment was absorb every minute detail of her. This close, he could clearly see the outline of her budded nipples. Sweat formed on his upper lip as he resisted the urge to pull her close and suckle one pointed peak and then the other. The fabric clung to her every curve, the rise of breasts, the slope that narrowed into a tiny waist, then gently flared into womanly hips. And that small rose tattoo winked at him from the beneath the hem pulled taut over her shapely thighs.

  “I have to know,” he blurted. “Where did you get that dress?” His gaze lifted to hers and the breath went thin in his lungs. Desire, the desire raging inside him, burned in her wide eyes.

  “It belongs to Alex,” she murmured, backing away as far as the stall door would allow.

  “Remind me to thank Alex,” he said with a lopsided grin that probably looked as stupid as it felt.

  The longer Free stood in front of him in their close quarters, the more nervous she appeared. Seeming as fragile as glass, she looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. Finally, Mac worked up the courage to get to the point. “You’re this upset because I didn’t call?”

  Free batted those long, thick lashes furiously. A protective feeling welled inside him. He didn’t want her to cry. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one responsible for her tears. She swallowed tightly, the effort visible along the delicate column of her throat.

  “I guess I’m not used to this sort of thing.” Her watery blue gaze connected with his. “I mean I…” She gestured vaguely and then re-crossed her arms, hugging herself. “You left and didn’t call…or anything and I just…” Free sighed, the sound shuddering past her lips like a sob.

  Before he could remind himself of all the reasons he shouldn’t, Mac reached for her. “Come here,” he murmured as he pulled her into his lap. He folded her into his arms and held her trembling body against his chest. “I should have called.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. God almighty, he’d never said that to a woman in his life.

  Free’s breath hitched on another little sob. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m being silly, but this has never happened to me before.” She snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’m not very good at it,” she said sadly.

  Oh, hell. Mac buried his face in the hair that drove him absolutely mad and inhaled the soft essence of her shampoo. If she got any better, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, then smiled. His heart skipped a beat when she returned the smile with a trembling one of her own.

  Mac swiped a tear from her cheek, then traced the fullness of her lower lip. “Free?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I have to get back to my meeting. After that, we’ll go somewhere and…talk.”

  “All right,” she mumbled as she smoothed her dress down over her thighs. “I’m sorry, Mac,” she added as she reached behind her back to unlock the door. A single tear slid down her soft cheek. Before he could form a response she spun around and slipped out the stall door.

  Mac got up, straightened his clothes and burst out of the stall. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and cringed. His shirt and slacks were wrinkled, his hair disheveled.

&nbs
p; Swearing profusely, Mac finger-combed his hair and made for the door. It swung inward as he reached for it and a blue-haired lady froze like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. He opened his mouth to offer an apology and she shrieked like a banshee. Pivoting on the crepe soles of her orthopedic shoes, she flew down the hall to the nearest office. No doubt to call security.

  “Hey, I own this building,” he shouted after her.

  Shaking his head, he trudged back toward the conference room. Free was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Nine

  Mac adjusted his jacket and tie, then squared his shoulders. He plastered an apologetic smile on his face as he reentered the conference room.

  His smile slid immediately into a frown. Everyone was gone—except Jake, who stood on the other side of the room staring out of the wall of windows.

  “What the hell happened? Where is everybody?” he asked as he crossed the room. His growing sense on dread at the probable answer overrode his lingering irritation.

  Jake glanced in his direction, then angled his head toward the window. “See for yourself. Your investors have been shanghaied.”

  Mac leaned over the window ledge to peer down at the parking lot. Several of his clients, who had been in this very conference room only minutes ago, were boarding a minibus, followed by Alex and a small group of strangers. Free’s assistant, Lance, all dressed up in a three-piece suit, climbed in right behind them. Mac opened his mouth to swear as Free bounded onto the bus just before it pulled away from the curb.

  “We’ve been had, my friend,” Jake declared with an incredulous shake of his head.

  Mac couldn’t recall ever having felt quite the way he felt at that moment. He imagined that it was something like Wall Street brokers experienced the last time the stock market crashed. A kind of shocked disbelief that numbed…just prior to panic setting in.

  “What happened?” Mac asked again, his voice entirely too calm to be his own.