Block wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to kiss her until he had her panting and pliant and willing to do his bidding, but he couldn’t. He had to play this straight. “That’s all I ask.” Then he turned and strode back to his grandmother’s house.
MACY REALLY did have work to catch up with at the clinic, but it didn’t take her nearly as long as she’d hoped it would. Without the constant intrusion of patients, she’d finished in about an hour and a half. If she went home now, she’d arrive just as the party was in full swing.
She couldn’t go to the party and avoid Alex, too, even though she’d promised she’d try. Willadean’s house was too small, and Alex was just way too big to pretend she couldn’t see him. Macy let out a tired sigh.
What was she going to do?
Macy yawned and stretched her arms high above her head. She was so tired that she could curl up on the floor and go to sleep right there. The night of the tornado when she’d slept little and the other nights when what sleep she’d gotten had been troubled because of the problem with Alex had finally caught up with her. Even her long hours on call as a medical student hadn’t fatigued her as much as she was right now. If she could just get one good night’s sleep, she might be able to think clearly enough to know what to do about Alex.
Maybe she could slip home and take a nap and no one would be the wiser.
Macy slowly stacked the reports she’d been working on and left them in her out box for tomorrow. Then she switched off the lights and locked up the clinic.
She was just too tired to think about anything but sleep. Alex would have to wait.
At least, that’s what she tried to convince herself as she drove home.
BLOCK GLANCED at his watch. Ten o’clock and Macy had not yet come. The party was winding down and surely it was past Cory’s bedtime.
Cory sat on the floor by the television set, fighting sleep, his brown eyes heavy with fatigue. His eyelids would drift downward and then, just as he seemed to be about to nod off, he’d jerk his head upward and look around the room.
Block needed to get his son home and into his own bed. But where was his mother?
Block waded through the crowd and found his grandmother in the kitchen in a lively conversation with his mother, who had driven in from Washington, D.C., with her new husband, just for the party. His father had died as result of an injury in a farming accident that might not have been fatal had they been able to afford treatment. Momma had worked as a domestic to keep them in clothes and shoes, but her life had been so hard. Thank goodness that she had met and married George. He was good to her and that made up for everything. “Momma, Gramma, excuse me for interrupting, but little Cory is falling asleep out there. Do you have the number for the clinic written down? I need to call Macy and tell her she should come home and put her son to bed.”
“We can make a pallet for him in your room,” Gramma suggested. “I reckon Macy wouldn’t stay away if she didn’t have lots of work to do. I expect she just lost track of the time.”
Block knew otherwise, but he didn’t tell Gramma. He watched as she reached for the wall phone in the kitchen and dialed a number from memory.
Block could hear the phone ring and ring. It was obvious that nobody was picking up. “She must have already gone,” Gramma said after a long minute. “She’s probably on her way home now.”
Nobody could have sat and listened to a phone ring for that long and not answer it, Block concluded. Macy was obviously not still at the clinic. And considering the number of cars parked along the road, she’d probably have to park some distance from her house tonight anyway.
“I guess you’re right, Gramma. Give me Macy’s keys. I’ll take Cory over and put him to bed and wait until she gets home. He needs to sleep in his own bed.”
And he needed to be there when Macy got home. Damn, he was mad at her for disappointing Gramma and for leaving Cory. Most of all, he was mad at her for skipping out on him.
Gramma might be convinced that Macy had work to do, but Block thought otherwise. The only reason she was staying away from Gramma’s party was that he was there.
And he was going to do something about that.
He took the keys from Gramma, scooped the sleeping boy up off the floor and picked him up.
“No. Wanna stay at the party,” Cory protested sleepily as Block settled him in his arms.
“Shush,” Block said. “It’s late. It’s time for you to go home and get to bed.”
“No. Mama’s cake. We hafta bring her some cake,” Cory said, rubbing his eyes.
Gramma scurried across the room, a paper plate wrapped in aluminum foil in her hand. “I bet Macy’ll be tired and hungry when she gets home. This’ll make a good snack.”
“Here, son,” Block said, handing the foil-wrapped plate to Cory. “Gramma has some cake to take home to your mother.”
Cory put out his little hand and crushed the foil-wrapped cake to his chest. Block winced, but he figured it was the thought that counted. Cory settled back down, and Block carried him out the front door, down the steps, and across the lawns.
MACY FELT like a thief creeping around in the dark in her own house, but she was so tired, she couldn’t think clearly. She’d spilled coffee on her outfit, so it had seemed easier to slip into her nightgown after she sponged it off and waited while it dried, and in the comfort of her nightgown, she had finally fallen to sleep. She’d slept longer than she’d intended to, but for the first time in almost a week, she felt as if she had the strength to deal with Alex.
She yawned as she fumbled for her discarded clothes so she could go get Cory, but she thought she heard a strange noise. At first, she wasn’t sure she’d heard anything over the happy sounds of the party next door, but she froze in place and listened. Yes, she had heard something.
Someone was trying to get in her front door!
She looked around the darkened room for something to use for protection and came up with nothing. Think, Macy. Think, she told herself. What could she use to fend off an intruder trying to come in her front door?
Front door?
No self-respecting burglar would come in the front door! Not with a 75th birthday party in full swing next door. It must be Willadean coming over with Cory. Macy sagged, limp with relief.
She pressed the button that illuminated her watch dial. It was after ten. Cory should have been in bed hours ago! But Willadean wouldn’t leave her party guests to bring Cory home.
That left only…
Oh, no! Alex was at the door with Cory! He would catch her in her lie.
He would catch her in her nightgown.
Macy wasn’t sure which would be worse. She turned to go to her room and grab her robe, but it was too late. The front door swung open, and Block stepped inside and flipped the wall switch. The room flooded with light, and Macy blinked against the sudden illumination.
She felt like a thief caught by searchlights in her own house, and there was nowhere to go. There was no place to hide.
Macy lifted her head high and prepared herself to face anything that Alex could throw at her. She supposed she deserved it, but she was just too tired to deal with it now.
Body tense, she waited to see what Alex would do. What he would say. But the expected confrontation did not come.
Alex brushed past her, his mouth set and his expression grim, as he carried Cory toward his room. Macy started to follow, but she needed the time to gather her wits, to collect her robe. To come up with a decent explanation.
As if there was one!
Alex could put Cory to bed as well as she could. After all, he’d seen her do it just two nights before.
She hurried to the hook on her bedroom door and grabbed her robe. She quickly put it on, then waited, the moments seeming to tick away in slow motion, as her son’s father settled him into bed. If things had been different, Macy thought, they might have been doing that together, but tonight they were still as far apart as the North and South P
oles.
Would they ever be working off the same page? Did she want him to stay in her life? Or did she want him to go? Lord, she was so confused. How could she be so afraid of him one moment, and the next be convinced that she surely must be in love?
Would everything have been different if she’d only taken that one simple step of calling him to tell him that she was carrying his child? No, she reminded herself. She didn’t want him to come to her because she had his child. She had wanted him to come to her because he was in love. And now that he knew about Cory, she was uncertain that she could ever be sure of that.
Finally, Alex came out of Cory’s room. He paused at the door, and Macy swallowed a sob as she watched him blow a kiss and toss it to her son.
The action seemed so incongruous when done by such a large and formidable man, but it also seemed so right.
Macy held her breath until Alex finally turned. She gasped as she read the expression of barely controlled rage on his face. Instinctively, she pulled the robe tighter around her.
“I guess this is not the right time to ask about how the party went?” she managed with false brightness.
Alex strode toward her, his large fist closed tight around something in his hand. He thrust it at her, and Macy flinched.
Lord, how she wished she hadn’t done that. She wanted to appear strong and fearless in front of him. Not like the quivering coward she was.
“Gramma sent you some cake,” Alex said, thrusting a foil-wrapped blob into her hands. “Apparently, it doesn’t bother her that—” Alex stopped himself before completing the sentence.
He swallowed, stepped back a half step, drew a deep breath, then let out a brief puff of air. He went on. “She thought you might be hungry after working so hard at the clinic,” he ground out through clenched teeth. He glared at her, seeming to be challenging her…. To what? Defend herself?
“Alex?” Macy didn’t know what to ask, what to say, all she knew was that she couldn’t bear any more of the silence that stretched between them.
He looked at her again as if trying to will the right answer out of her. And, Lord only knew, if Macy had any idea what he expected her to say, she would have gladly said it. But she didn’t know.
“We need to talk about all of this,” Macy finally managed to say. She gestured expansively as if trying to encompass the room, the house, the world. She didn’t know what she meant. She only knew that she had to say something.
Alex looked at her, an expression on his face that indicated pure contempt and disgust. He brushed past her and reached for the door pull.
“We really do need to talk about this,” Macy tried again hopefully.
“Do we?” he answered coldly. “You had five years for talking. You’ve had plenty of time to come up with explanations. What makes you think I want to hear any of your excuses now?”
“I—” Macy stopped herself. She had no excuses. “Okay, I’m a coward. I don’t know what else to say,” she said simply. “And to tell the truth, I just don’t want to deal with y—this now.”
Alex yanked open the front door, then pushed the screen door wide. “Well, I’m too damned mad to deal with you right now, either,” he growled, giving Macy a smoldering look that left her weak and wanting. Alex stepped outside and the screen door slammed shut behind him.
Weak and relieved, Macy dropped the foil-wrapped cake on the coffee table and started for the door to lock it. But, just when she hoped that Alex was out of her way, and she could again think clearly, the screen door flew open, and Alex strode inside. His dark eyes burned with the same kind of desire she felt burning inside her.
“I forgot something,” he said. Then he drew her into his arms and branded her with a kiss so hot that Macy thought she might go up in flames.
His kiss was both scorching and seeking as if he was trying to use that contact to connect with her, to read her mind. Macy tried to telegraph all her hopes, her needs, her doubts to him, and he seemed to be responding.
His touch gentled as he caressed her shoulders, rubbed her back, and sent delicious tremors of delight skipping down her spine. Macy was hot with desire, and she was ready to fall into his arms, to…
Apparently, Alex was reading her signals loud and clear, for it seemed that the moment Macy thought about making love, Alex picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Laying her gently on the bed, he backed up and stood over her. “If you tell me to go, I will,” he rasped, his breath hot, labored, “but if I don’t stop now, I’m not sure I can.”
“No,” Macy whispered, her throat so dry that she could barely force the words. “Don’t stop. I want you to stay.”
For the past week or so all she’d wanted was to have Alex go back to his base and leave her alone. She’d wanted him to go so her settled life would return to normal, but now all she could think about was having him in her bed, in her life, deep inside her.
Macy knew she was playing with fire with Alex Blocker. She knew she could be left badly hurt once again, but she didn’t care. If they never had another day together, she’d still have one more night to remember.
Then Alex stripped her of her protecting nightgown, and she couldn’t think clearly. She couldn’t think at all.
Alex slid the lavender ribbons that served as straps for her nightgown down her arms, and Macy trembled with anticipation. When she was with him like this, rational thought was not possible.
When his strong body pressed against hers, and she could feel his heart beating in tandem with her heart, she didn’t want him to go back to Florida. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet and make her his. Not just now, but for forever.
The more she saw of Alex, she realized, the more she wanted him. And as much as she loved what he did to her, she still wasn’t sure it was right.
She loved what he did to her body, how he made her feel, her pulse thrumming like the strings of a well-tuned guitar, her heart beating like a drum. Why should she feel so free to give him her body when she wasn’t sure she could trust him with her heart?
Chapter Eleven
Block lay back among the tangled, damp bedding and tried to force his racing heart to slow. Macy’s head was nestled against his chest and her tangled hair spread over his chest like a curling fan. He kissed her head and caressed her velvety smooth skin. He wanted more. So much more.
He was helpless to control himself where Macy was concerned. Every time he touched her, electricity seemed to charge the air, and he was drawn to her as if being pulled by the most powerful electromagnetic charge. And every time he was with her, it only fueled the flames of passion more.
“Macy, darling,” he whispered softly against her peach-scented hair. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to go.”
Macy stirred slowly, languidly and propped herself up on one elbow. “I know,” she murmured. “They’ll wonder where you are.”
Block kissed her again, and very nearly lost his resolve to leave, but he dragged himself away. “We need to talk tomorrow, Macy,” he whispered. He kissed his fingers and placed them against her soft lips.
Then he dressed quickly and hurried out.
He had to do something to cool down before he went back inside. One look at his face and any stranger would be able to tell that he’d made love, and his grandmother would surely know with whom. Instead of going up Gramma’s walk and entering the house, he veered back toward the road and kept on walking.
He hadn’t intended for it to happen, but when he’d gone to confront Macy about not showing up at the party and picking up Cory, he’d found her there in her nightgown with her hair tumbling around her slender neck. If he hadn’t wanted so much to strangle her, he might not have been tempted to caress that lovely neck, to run his fingers through her hair and make mad, passionate love. Why was there such a thin line between anger and lust?
What was the matter with him? He’d always been able to keep his cool. How could he have so completely lost control?
His hands fis
ted as he thought about it. He had to get a grip on his feelings for Macy. Yes, he might have spent his adult life solving problems through violence, but that was not the solution here.
He might have been trained to kill, but now he needed to figure out how to sit down and settle his differences with Macy across the table, coolly, calmly, rationally. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could be cool and rational around Macy.
How did an all-or-nothing man get to a place where he could think with his head and not his gut?
The one good thing about all this was Cory. Block smiled, and a sensation of warmth flooded him as he thought about his son. He chuckled as he remembered their first football lesson. Little had he known then that Cory was his own flesh and blood. Yet, even in those early moments, he had felt a connection. Something had drawn him to that child—his son.
Macy was the reason he’d decided, almost without thinking, to accept the job in Florence. But winning Macy’s trust was not going to be easy. He’d never met a woman as wary and mistrusting of men as she was. But he had to try to win her over.
Cory was the reason he’d have to try to work something out with Macy even if he had to look at her every day and make polite conversation and never hold her in his arms again. But if he could win her trust, the prize would certainly be worth the effort.
Block had walked straight down the road to where the streetlights were out and darkness surrounded him like a tomb. He shivered against the evening chill and turned around, somehow calmed by this new realization that Macy and Cory were his new reason for being. Even if Cory hadn’t turned out to be his, Macy was worth fighting for, but he was glad that he had Cory to link him with her forever. If he and Macy could work together for Cory, maybe everything else would fall into place.
E. Z. Pendergrass, who ran the neighborhood store, passed him on the road. Block nodded, but didn’t stop to talk.
Ada Johnson came next, stopping on the sidewalk in front of Gramma’s house. “That was a wonderful party you set up for your grandmother, Alexander. Why didn’t you stay to see the end?”
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