Free Falling

by Debra Webb

  “The demolition crew is in place, but I thought it would be best to wait until you arrived since you were en route,” Roy said quickly.

  Mac knew what he meant. Roy Nelson didn’t want to be the one to tell the police to take the protestors away. Mac’s gaze flitted to the ringleader. He clenched his jaw when Free met his gaze with challenge in her own. Her long, brown tresses shifted around her shoulders in the gust of wind that kicked up. Mac’s fingers curled into fists with the need to touch that silky stuff. Her ankle-length flowing skirt flapped around her legs, accentuating her shape and reminded him of her dancing in the rain.

  The memory of making love with Free, of just being with Free, had filled every minute of every hour he had been away. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without ever seeing her again. But Mac couldn’t fathom the concept of sharing his life completely with another human being. His life had been so uncomplicated before coming here. He had focused solely on work; everything else had remained secondary, unimportant in the overall scheme of things.

  Now nothing made sense. Even work didn’t appeal to him quite the way it had before. That particular obsession was gone, replaced by a flame so strong and so hot that it threatened to consume him. It burned deep in his soul and he didn’t know how to quench it. It made him uneasy, restless. It made him want things he hadn’t planned to want at this point in his life.

  He couldn’t do it.

  Somehow, Mac decided, he had to get things back in order. He had to regain control over his destiny. And now was the perfect time to start. He walked straight up to Free and looked down at her with as much indifference as he could muster. Her gaze turned wary.

  “If you and your friends don’t leave peacefully right now,” Mac said pointedly, “I’ll have to ask the police to escort you off this work site. Those who resist will be taken to jail.”

  “Don’t do this, Mac,” she urged, a plea in her voice that touched something deep inside him, made him want to hold her.

  He pushed the feelings away. “It’s my job, Free. It’s what I do.”

  “You’re an architect,” she argued. “You’re supposed to pay attention to the way things are made. You’re supposed to care.”

  Mac looked away, unable to bear the disappointment in her eyes. He turned to Roy. “Do what you have to do,” he said. The crestfallen expression of the old architect, Towery, caught Mac’s eye briefly. In that fleeting instant of contact something passed between the two men. Something knowing and fiercely sad. The moment passed, but the feeling the contact evoked didn’t. For the first time in his life, Mac had no desire to watch what was about to take place. The only thing he felt was self-disgust. He didn’t want to see the protestors hauled away. He didn’t want to see the grand old house fall.

  He had to get away. Mac started in the direction of his Explorer with no intention of looking back. The rumble in the crowd of protestors told him that the police had moved in. Indignant shouts rang out behind him, but he forced himself to disregard them. Why was preserving something old so important to these people? Important enough to be arrested over?

  A sharp pang of regret pierced him. Mac hesitated when something Free had said to him echoed inside his head. This home is our history. It tells us where we’ve been. And connects us to the past. The past had never meant anything to Mac. Why should it now? He didn’t need the past.

  “That’s too tight!”

  The sound of pain in Free’s voice jerked him around. He saw the haunted expression on her face, and then the proud lift of her chin as the policeman adjusted the handcuffs on her delicate wrists. Mac winced, ashamed of himself. The thought of her enduring another trip to jail, especially because of him, squeezed his chest. His heart pounded erratically when the officer opened the door to the cruiser and prepared to usher Free inside.

  “Wait!!” he shouted. In four swift strides Mac covered the distance between them. “Take them off,” he demanded.

  Bewildered, the officer shrugged and complied. With the metal bracelets removed, Free gingerly rubbed her wrists, and glared furiously at Mac.

  “Come with me,” he ordered tersely. He captured Free’s hand and all but dragged her into the house.

  In the middle of the parlor he released her, planted his hands on his hips and stared down at her with as much uncertainty as anger. “Make me see what it is that’s so damned important to you and your friends.”

  Free moistened her lips and took a deep breath. “Close your eyes, Mac,” she said softly.

  Impatient, annoyed, and thoroughly wildered, Mac exhaled loudly, then closed his eyes. He forced all thought aside. If he allowed himself to think now, he would realize that he had certainly lost his mind. Mac never hesitated or second-guessed himself. Why in the hell was he doing it now?

  “Imagine this room beautifully restored. Its wood floors gleaming, adorned with beautiful wool carpets. The reproduction furniture eye-pleasing and comfortable for the patients waiting for appointments. The atmosphere warm and inviting, making the patients feel safe, at home. Imagine the dining room transformed into a tasteful, yet efficient office.

  “A fully equipped lab would replace the large kitchen. And the two large bedrooms on this floor would become four good-sized examination rooms. The upstairs would include a supply room, private offices, and an employees’ lounge. All retaining the look and feel of history, and home.”

  Free explained how Towery had discovered that the layout of the house was perfectly suited for renovation to a medical clinic. The cost would be compatible to, if not less than, new construction.

  Mac listened quietly. When she had finished, he opened his eyes and walked out of the parlor. He stood in the wide entry hall at the bottom of the staircase and noted again, with a measure of reluctance, the exquisite craftsmanship of the old house. He could imagine the elegant staircase returned to its former glory. Common sense told him that she was right. The house would make a beautiful clinic.

  But restoration wasn’t his style. McFerrin Enterprises didn’t do restoration. He and his father had built this company into a multi-million dollar corporation by pushing into the future, not dwelling in the past.

  “That way the antebellum theme would be kept throughout the neighborhood,” Free interjected when the silence continued. Mac turned to face her and she leveled those amazing blue eyes on him. “It’s what everybody wants, Mac.”

  He looked at her for a long time, unable to speak. She was so beautiful. And he wanted her like he had never wanted anyone else. His arms ached to hold her. But it would only add insult to injury. Theirs was a relationship doomed from the beginning. He knew it. And, most likely, she knew it, too.

  Mac turned away. How could he fight this? Admittedly, he had gotten himself into this no-win situation. But how could he hurt Free?

  For the first time in his life, Mac wavered about making a decision. Then the vivid fantasy of Free holding his child in her arms flitted through his mind. Mac squeezed his eyes shut and forced out the image. He couldn’t have that. He wasn’t the kind of man that could make a woman like Free happy. She gave too much and would expect a lot in return. Mac couldn’t ever match her emotional generosity. He gave his all to work—he didn’t have enough left to make Free happy. But the one thing he could do was let her have her way on this house. He could do that.

  “Fine.” Mac met her hopeful gaze. “You win.” He turned and walked out. He could feel her close behind him when he stepped into the bright morning sun, but he didn’t look back. If he looked back, he might not be able to ever walk away from her. And he had to walk away.

  “The house stays,” he told the site supervisor as he passed. Mac ignored his questions. He glanced at Jake. “Do whatever you have to do to work out the contracts.” Mac didn’t qualify his orders. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

  As he slid behind the wheel of his vehicle, Mac heard the cheers of victory from the protestors. At least somebody had gotten what
they wanted.

  ~*~

  Free peeled off her work gloves and smoothed her hand over the door’s newly sanded surface. The wood’s exquisite grain stood out, ready to accept the stain and varnish that would restore its finish. It pleased her immensely that this project had turned out so well. She smiled sadly. This would be the key to maintaining her sanity for a long time to come. Staying busy would keep her mind off Mac and her broken heart.

  Alex had told her that Mac planed to leave tomorrow. Free glanced at her watch. Nine p.m. Obviously he didn’t intend to bother with goodbyes. She sighed. It had been three days since Mac had made the decision to let the Chenille Street house stand. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in all that time.

  Her heart ached but there was nothing to be done. Mac had made his position clear. Though he had apologized in a roundabout way for the things he had thought were true about her past, it still hurt when she remembered that scene in the parlor. Mac hadn’t actually apologized to her in person, but he’d sent the message by Jake. If Free could have seen his eyes when he said the words she would have known if they came from the heart. As it was, she would never know.

  A light knock sounded at the door to Free’s workshop. Startled, she looked up. Mac stood in her doorway, a white box tied with gold ribbon in his hand.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said by way of greeting.

  Free smiled wanly. “No, not at all.” She shoved handful of hair behind her ear. “Come in, please.”

  Mac spoke as he walked toward her. “I just came to say goodbye.” When he stopped, he extended the white box in her direction. “And to give you this.”

  Free’s heart thudded. Maybe he intended to make things right between them. She immediately chastised herself for the thought and accepted the box. But she didn’t want some dumb present, she wanted him! Free tamped down the urge to throw her arms around him and beg him not to go. “Thank you,” she managed.

  Mac watched, his blue gaze intent on her every move, as she set the box on the worktable and untied the ribbon, making small talk in an effort to fill the charged silence. She reached inside the box and touched a smooth, cool surface. From beneath the white tissue paper she withdrew Mrs. Lassiter’s snow globe.

  “Oh, Mac, thank you.” Tears welled in her eyes. She tilted the globe then watched the tiny gold flecks fall around the Parisian scene. “I’ll cherish it always.”

  “Free, I’m really sorry…” His words trailed into silence as their gazes connected.

  His scent made her weak with want, the look of uncertainty in his beautiful blue eyes made her want to weep. How she loved this man. If only she could reach him somehow, awaken his heart in some way. But she couldn’t. He was leaving, he didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want her.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. Because you’re leaving,” she said in spite of herself. Free summoned a sad smile. “I’ll miss having you as a neighbor,” she clarified self-consciously.

  He shrugged. “I’m not needed here any longer.”

  He was wrong! She needed him, but she could never tell him. The snow globe felt suddenly too heavy to hold. Free set it aside. “I heard you decided to take Oliver with you.” She willed herself not to fidget now that her hands were empty. Why had she even mentioned the puppy? She already knew the answer, Alex had told her. This was so pathetic. She just wanted to hear his voice. “You’re sure you want to keep him?”

  Only one side of Mac’s mouth lifted, as if a full smile were too difficult a task to accomplish. “He’s kind of grown on me.”

  “Do you…” Free bit her lip, then plunged ahead with her question. “Do you feel any different about the past and what it has to offer the future?”

  Mac exhaled and considered her question for a time. “I have mixed feelings,” he confessed. Then he smiled, a true, breathtaking, heart-stopping smile. “I guess that means I’m not a totally lost cause.”

  Free forced her gaze to remain on his, though she wanted with all her heart to feast her eyes on all of him, from head to toe. He looked so incredibly awesome in those snug jeans and that soft white T-shirt. The blue casual jacket was the perfect icing on the cake. Mac was more good-looking than any man, real or on a movie screen, Free had ever laid eyes on. And he was so lonely. It hurt so much that she couldn’t be the one to change that.

  “You are definitely not a lost cause,” she assured him.

  A long, awkward moment passed while they stared into each other’s eyes. Mac swallowed, then broke the silence. “There’s something else in that box for you,” he said mysteriously.

  She frowned and dug through the numerous layers of tissue paper, finally locating what felt like an envelope. Free pulled it from the box. She fidgeted with the envelope and then opened it enough to peek at its contents. Her breath stalled in her lungs. Quickly, she reread the ticket to be sure. Tears stung her eyes and threatened to overflow. The envelope held a round-trip airline ticket to Paris, France, as well as a paid-in-full reservation for a hotel the name of which she couldn’t hope to pronounce.

  “I can’t accept a gift like this,” she murmured, her whole body weak with disbelief. Her nerves were on edge—on fire—from his nearness.

  “I want you to have it. I want you to go to Paris.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “It would mean a great deal to me if you accepted my gift.”

  Free stared at the ticket for a long moment. “I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris. It’s been my heart’s desire for so long.”

  Mac nodded, then shoved his hands into his pockets. “I suppose I should go now.” He turned and started toward the door.

  “There’s just one problem,” Free announced, stopping him in his tracks. He waited for her to speak, but didn’t turn around. “In my dreams, I was always accompanied by the man I love.”

  He turned around slowly, his expression almost unreadable. “I can get you another ticket if you’d like,” he offered, the deep timbre of his voice slightly strained.

  Free clutched the ticket to her breast and took the few steps that separated them. “Oh, that would be great, Mac. I would really appreciate it.”

  Something that looked a lot like jealousy flickered in his gaze. Free’s heart leapt in reaction. “Do I know the guy?” he asked uncertainly.

  “You know him, but not as well as I do,” she teased. Free walked her fingers up his chest and then curled her arms around his neck. “He’s tall, dark, and incredibly handsome.”

  Mac stood stock-still for a fraction of a second, then smiled as if he’d only just realized who she meant. He slid his arms around her waist. “He sounds somewhat interesting.”

  “Oh, he’s very interesting,” Free purred. She traced the tip of her finger over his full lower lip. “If you’d like, I could help you get to know him better.”

  Mac hummed a note of agreement. “I could be tempted.”

  Free tiptoed to place a light kiss on his lips. “That would mean you’d have to spend a whole week in Paris with me,” she suggested. “Who knows? Maybe even two.”

  “I think I could manage that,” he replied, his hands moving sensually over her body.

  “But what about work?” she asked, giving him the opportunity to back out. Her heart seemed to hesitate as she waited for his response.

  Mac grinned. “Have you forgotten, I own the business? I can do anything I want.”

  She smiled with the happiness that bloomed inside her, then turned suddenly serious. “Mac, are you sure this is what you want?” She searched his gaze. She had to know. Could she make a man like him happy? “When you walked in here you were all set to say goodbye.”

  His grin widened. “That was only plan A.”

  Free frowned. “Plan A?”

  “Right.”

  Even more bewildered, she asked, “What was after plan A?”

  “Plan B, of course,” he said teasingly.

  Really curious now, Free took the bait. “What’s plan B?”

  “This.” Mac re
ached inside his jacket and pulled out another envelope exactly like the one Free held. “I planed to follow you to Paris and win you back.”

  She smiled at him, her heart bursting with joy. “You never lost me,” she murmured.

  Mac kissed her then, his firm, warm lips applying just the right amount of pressure to drive Free wild with rekindled desire. She leaned into the kiss, losing herself in the sensations and tastes of the man she loved. He drew back all too soon.

  “I love you, Mac,” she said softly, needing to gauge his reaction to what this really meant to her.

  “Good,” he whispered. “Because I realized that all these crazy mixed up emotions I’ve been experiencing pointed to something I could no longer deny. Work isn’t enough. I need more. I need you.”

  Free’s heart swelled with emotion. Was he saying…?

  “I love you, Free. Until the day I take my last breath, you will be my top priority.”

  DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has penned nearly 100 novels. Visit her at www.debrawebb.com.

  Thank you for selecting a Debra Webb story. If you enjoyed FREE FALLING be sure to look for Debra’s other exciting Pink House Press releases:

  Sassy and Spicy Romances

  HERE TO STAY

  TEMPTING TRACE

  UP CLOSE

  BASIC INSTINCTS

  KEEPING KENNEDY

  TAMING GI JANE

  GOING TO THE CHAPEL