by Roth, Ann
This was a good time to discuss the fact that Mac wasn’t going to be around much longer. But Emmy was still dazed and not thinking clearly. She decided to save that conversation for another day. “We’ll see,” she said. “Now, off you go to bed.”
Later, while she filled the cookie jar, she thought about what had happened at the door. About Mac’s kisses, his hands on her breasts. And about her own inflamed response. Brazenly hooking her leg around his thigh, practically begging him to make love to her.
As she remembered now, her cheeks warmed. But at the time she hadn’t been the least self-conscious or embarrassed. She’d wanted him that badly.
So badly she’d forgotten to close the door, had almost forgotten that her own son was in the house. Unbelievable!
If that wasn’t bad enough, she was close to being in love with Mac Struthers. Any fool knew that meant pain and a broken heart. Emmy didn’t want that, nor could she afford the distraction. Not when Jesse needed her. More than ever once Mac left.
“I have to stop,” she told herself. Stop caring and stop this reckless yearning.
Yet despite the warning and all the valid reasons, despite the risks, she wanted more with Mac. After years of celibacy her body was awake and alive, starved for his touch.
At eleven she checked on Jesse, then crawled into bed, exhausted. But as she tossed and turned and burned for Mac, she wondered whether she’d ever fall asleep.
Chapter Eight
When Mac pulled into the dirt lot of the building-supply store on the edge of town, the early-morning rush was in full swing. Trucks and vehicles of all kinds crowded the area. What a pain. Grumbling, he slowly circled the yard, searching for a place to park.
He didn’t need the oak flooring until late this afternoon and could’ve waited to pick it up or sent one of his brothers. But that meant stopping work in the middle of things, which he didn’t want to do. Besides, if he stayed here long enough his brothers would beat him to the Rutherfords’. Let them deal with Emmy this morning. After almost losing control last night, Mac wasn’t ready to face her.
“Coward,” he muttered.
Beeping in warning, a flatbed truck on the far side of the lot began to back out, and Mac drove over to park. Signaling, he let the van idle and waited. He and Emmy should talk, but not just yet, not with him wanting her as he did. Not until he pulled it together and reined in his lust.
Good thing Ian and Brian were clueless about this physical thing between him and Emmy. They liked her and if they had any idea what had happened last night, they’d be on his case for sure. Pressuring him about what he should and shouldn’t do. They didn’t want her hurt.
Mac didn’t, either, and as fiercely as he wanted to make love with her—he thought of little else—he didn’t intend to do anything about it. No more kisses. Nothing else. Not even if she looped her arms around his neck, begging with her eyes and mouth.
At last the flatbed putt-putted away. Still thinking about Emmy, Mac pulled into the slot. All that passion simmering inside her, her eager response to his kisses tempting him to bring it to a boil…
His jeans grew annoyingly tight. Calling himself a fool, he shifted unhappily in his seat. Best not get out of the van just yet. His hormones were raging like a fifteen-year-old kid’s, and he was sick and tired of it. He needed sex and soon. One night of passion. But Emmy was a forever-type woman. Even if Mac hadn’t been leaving in a month and nothing would stop him, he couldn’t handle a serious relationship.
Jim Applebaum, a high-school buddy of Ian and Brian, was throwing a party Friday night and Mac was invited. He’d turned Jim down, but now…Ian and Brian claimed that more than a few available women would be there. The idea of hooking up with someone who wanted what he did—one night of no-strings sex—appealed to Mac. That ought to take his mind off Emmy. He shoved aside the memory that a similar plan involving Dini Martin had failed. Mac was at breaking point. If he didn’t take a woman home tomorrow night, he might just lose his mind.
When his body settled down enough that he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he exited the van and walked past the chain-link fence where lumber was stacked. He entered the vast, squat building, which looked just like any other home-improvement superstore, nodding at clerks he recognized.
Mac headed for Receiving and took his place in the line of builders and do-it-yourselfers, behind a short, wiry man he knew. Gus Jenkins was several decades older and had given Mac his first construction job. Once Mac had started his own business, Gus had mentored him like the father Mac had always wanted. But these days they didn’t see much of each other.
Grinning, Mac clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, Gus. How goes it?”
“As I live and breathe.” Gus’s face lit up. “You’re looking good. I hear you’re finally cutting loose to travel like you always wanted.”
Mac nodded. “When I get back, I’ll start college and finally earn my degree.”
“Can’t go wrong doing that. You worked so hard building your company. You’re not going to let it die, are you?”
“No way. Ian and Brian will run it for me.”
“Ian and Brian?”
Gus knew they’d worked for Mac on and off, so the astonished look that crossed his face puzzled Mac. Before he could question his old friend, the clerk beckoned Gus forward.
“About time,” Gus muttered. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a great time. And send me a postcard.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mac gaped at the clerk across the counter. “What do you mean, my flooring isn’t ready?”
“Shipping mix-up. Sorry, Mac. We just found out ourselves. We were gonna call you.”
Instead, here he was, wasting time when he could’ve been working. “When will it get here?” he asked.
The clerk pointed to his computer screen. “Looks like Monday afternoon.”
Which meant waiting until Tuesday to lay the floor—five days from now. Mac frowned. “I can’t afford to wait that long.” Not with his tight schedule.
“You don’t have much choice. ’Less you want drive over to Seattle and pick it up yourself.”
Mac considered doing just that. Even though it meant a forty-five-minute ferry ride to Anacortes followed by a ninety-minute drive to Seattle, plus more time to navigate city traffic. Then another hour or so to load the boards into the van. Add in the return trip and the day was shot. Still better than waiting five days.
He’d send one of his brothers. No, both. They’d probably welcome a trip off the island. And by getting rid of them he wouldn’t have to hear them yammer about Emmy and pretend he didn’t care.
He checked his watch. By now they’d be at the Rutherfords’ and Emmy would have left for work. Perfect.
On his way to the van Mac called Brian’s cell to tell him about the flooring and to let him know he’d changed his mind about Jim Applebaum’s party tomorrow night.
Feeling much better now, he whistled as he drove toward the Rutherfords’.
THROUGHOUT THE mostly quiet day, Emmy helped library patrons find and check out books, chatted with Sally and firmed up plans for the after-school program. She also thought about Mac, whom she hadn’t seen this morning. Instead, for the first time, Ian and Brian had arrived first.
She’d greeted them with a smile and had unlocked the door, all the while pretending she didn’t care whether or not she saw their brother today. For, she did care, and her disappointment was as sharp as a kitchen knife.
Thankfully oblivious, Brian and Ian had again thanked her for dinner and hinted that they’d like to come again. Emmy hadn’t known what to say. She wasn’t about to explain that what had begun as a friendly meal had ended with her and Mac kissing and more. Or that she’d spent a restless night replaying what had happened, kicking herself for getting so carried away, yet at the same time not at all sorry. So she’d simply ignored their suggestion of sharing another meal.
Tired as she was, her nerves hummed and her body ached for more with Mac. To
o bad, since she wasn’t about to let anything else happen.
Pushing the man from her thoughts, she yawned. “It sure is slow today,” she told Mason, who’d just started his afternoon shift and was helping her sort through returned books.
“Thursdays usually are—don’t ask me why,” he said. “Just a quirk of our little library. Where’s our illustrious boss this afternoon?”
“She left early for a doctor’s appointment.”
“Good day for it. How’re you doing with your after-school plans?”
A question Emmy jumped on with enthusiasm. “I’m really excited about the program and hope to start next week,” she finished after giving Mason the details. “Say, would you mind reading over the flyer I designed? Sally and Patty already did, but I’d like your input, too.” She planned to post the flyer at the grocery store, at Halo Island School and here at the library.
“Happy to. Leave it on my desk and I’ll take a look after I shelve these books.”
“Would you like help?”
Mason shook his head. “Why don’t you stay at the front desk in case someone needs you?”
With business so slow, Emmy doubted anyone would. She glanced at the clock, thankful that it was almost three-thirty. Any minute, Jesse would walk in. Today she might even be able to help him with his homework.
When the front door opened, Emmy leaned on the waist-high counter anticipating Jesse. She wanted to run to meet him, but that would only embarrass him. But instead of Jess, a small, thin boy wandered in. He wore a parka and carried a backpack much like her son’s, his blond hair windblown and his eyes round and solemn. Looking as if he’d never been inside Halo Island Library and was intimidated, he glanced furtively about him.
Poor little guy. When he finally noticed Emmy, she offered a welcoming smile. The boy made a beeline for her.
“Hello,” she said softly, so as not to disturb the handful of people in the building. “I’m Ms. Logan, the new librarian. Actually, I’m new to Halo Island.”
“Me, too.” That explained the lost look. Emmy put a finger to her lips and the boy lowered his voice.
“We just moved here Monday. My name is Peter Wysocki.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter. I can’t believe you’re new in town, too. What a coincidence. Jesse, my son, and I arrived about two weeks ago. We’re from Oakland.”
“Is that anywhere near Green Valley?”
A place Emmy had never heard of. “I’m not sure. Is that in Washington?”
Peter nodded.
“Oakland is in California.”
“Oh. My dad got laid off from the lumber mill. So we moved here. We’re opening a gift shop on Main Street.”
The street, which ran through Halo Island’s downtown area, was half a mile from the library. “Ah. That’s a great location for a business.”
“My mom says lots of tourists shop there in the summer.”
“That’s what I hear.”
Peter was talkative and open, exactly the sort of friend Emmy envisioned for her son. She wondered if they were the same age. This boy was smaller, but seemed about as mature as Jesse.
“Jesse’s eleven,” Emmy said. “How old are you?”
“I turned eleven right before Christmas.” Peter slid off his backpack and set it beside him. Then he slipped out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor.
“Another coincidence. Are you in Mrs. Hatcher’s class, too?”
He shook his head, making his fine, blond hair bounce. “I’m in fourth grade. I have Miss Madison.” He glanced again around the library. “Where’s Jesse now?”
“I expect him soon. Did you ride the school bus here?”
“Yeah.”
Then where was Jesse? Emmy’s stomach tightened. Her son knew he was supposed to get off the bus at the end of the block and come straight to the library. Which he still wasn’t happy about. This morning they’d argued yet again about it. He might be taking his time, just to get her goat. She’d give him five minutes. If he didn’t walk through the door by then, she’d march outside and find him.
Peter’s shoulders hunched and he seemed to shrink into himself, and Emmy imagined she looked pretty worried. She smoothed her expression. “Are you looking for a particular book?”
He shook his head. “My parents are working. I’m to wait here till they pick me up. I’m supposed to do my homework. Is it okay if I use the computer?”
Obviously Peter was a latchkey child, whose mother and father preferred that he sit in the library rather than stay home alone. Emmy approved. This child was the perfect candidate for the after-school program.
“We have two, and they’re right over there,” she said, pointing. “We usually limit your time to thirty minutes so that everyone gets a turn. But since at the moment no one else seems interested, feel free to use it as long as you like.”
As Peter turned toward the computers she stopped him. “I’m starting a special program for kids ages six to fifteen,” she said. “Monday through Friday, from three-thirty till six. You’ll have time for homework, but we’ll also learn about and try fun things. Interesting speakers, arts and crafts, storytellers, things like that. I haven’t finished the information flyer yet, but I’ll have it tomorrow. You can take one home and share it with your parents. Or I could talk with them when they pick you up.”
“Sure.”
The door opened again and Jesse trudged through. Emmy let out a breath of relief. “Here’s Jesse now.”
Her son had tied his jacket around his waist. His cheeks were red from the cold, and Emmy bet gooseflesh covered his bare arms. He should’ve worn his coat, but she wasn’t about to fight with him about that now.
She waved, but Jesse pretended not to see. Afraid he’d turn up his nose if she introduced him to Peter, she stayed back and let the boys meet on their own.
She watched them circle each other and eavesdropped when they finally spoke.
“I saw you on the bus,” Jesse said.
“I’m Peter Wysocki. That’s Polish.”
“I’m Jesse. Hey.”
“Hey. Your mom said you’re in fifth grade.”
“You talked with my mom?” Jesse shot a horrified look Emmy’s way, and she was glad she hadn’t butted in.
“She’s nice,” Peter said. “I’ll have Mrs. Hatcher next year. I hear she’s pretty cool.”
After shooting Emmy a guarded look—why, she didn’t know—Jesse ground the toe of his sneaker into the blue carpet. “She’s okay, I guess.”
The boys looked as if they might continue chatting. Not wanting to interfere, Emmy pointed to a nearby table and left them to it. Peter never did use the computer.
His mother picked him up just before six, at the end of Emmy’s shift. The friendly, but harried woman only spared Emmy a few minutes to discuss the after-school program, but by the time she and Peter left, Emmy had her first enrollee, aside from Jesse. And Jess had made his first friend on the island.
Not bad for a slow Thursday.
AS EMMY DROVE through town, Jess began to squirm in his seat. “Do you think Mac and his brothers are still working?”
“I suspect Ian and Brian have finished for the day,” Emmy said. “But Mac is probably there.”
Her heart lifted at the thought before uncertainty churned through her. Facing Mac after last night…Was he sorry he’d kissed her? Would she feel uncomfortable and tense? What would he say? What would she say?
Silly worrying that reminded her of her high-school days. She and Mac were adults who’d kissed. That wasn’t any big deal. Even so, she was glad of Jess’s company.
“Can we invite him to dinner?”
Emmy shook her head. “I don’t think we should.”
“Why not?”
Because with Mac in the house she couldn’t think straight. “He ate with us last night,” she said. “I doubt he’ll want to do it again so soon.”
The rest of the way home, Jess stayed quiet, and Emmy assumed the matter was closed. Adult
or not, anxieties about seeing Mac ate at her. She needed a plan. The only one she could think of was to stay calm and rational and at least five feet away from him at all times. That would certainly help.
As she’d predicted, Mac’s van was still parked in front of the Rutherfords’. The second she rolled to a stop in the driveway, Jess bolted from the car.
“What’s the hurry?” she asked.
“I’m going across the road to invite Mac for dinner.”
WITHOUT HIS BROTHERS around Mac had spent a productive, quiet day mudding drywall, measuring and cutting molding for the floor, and tying up several loose ends on the remodeling project. To his relief he’d also managed to keep his mind off Emmy. He’d barely thought of her or her son all day. At last he was in control of himself again, which felt damned good. He was even charged about that party tomorrow night.
And bone tired from a day of hard work. But he couldn’t quit just yet. He wanted the walls ready for a final sanding before he and his brothers laid the floor. That meant re-mudding them tonight, which would take several more hours.
He was stretching his back and wondering whether the energy bar in his shirt pocket would hold him until he finished when two sets of footsteps thudded across the porch.
Mac knew they belonged to Jesse and Emmy. His spirits brightened. He wiped his hands on his jeans and headed for the door. And then frowned. Not because he cared about them, he told himself, just looked forward to company after a long day alone.
Yeah, right.
He opened the door and Jesse rushed inside, breathless. Emmy stayed on the step, hovering in the shadows cast by the yellow porch light. As if she was afraid to get too close. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jesse never gave her the chance.
“Hi, Mac. Want to come for dinner tonight?”
“Uh…” Mac glanced at Emmy. Big mistake. Her luminous gaze hooked him, and the physical hunger he was sure he’d banished gnawed at him once again.
Her eyebrows lifted and he realized she expected him to warn Jesse about getting too attached. For a moment he forgot the boy’s question. Oh, yeah, dinner.