Messing With Mac

by Jill Shalvis

  “Oh yes,” she agreed. “And a money pit.”

  He nodded.

  “He…took away the funds that had always been available to me. Every penny. Gave it all to my mother knowing she’d never share.” She closed her eyes and admitted the last painful truth. “Leaving me flat broke.”

  “Why wouldn’t your mother share?”

  “She’s been saving for a rainy day all her life, she’s…frugal.” She let out a harsh laugh. “The richest frugal person you’ll ever meet.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He’s remarried. Lives in Europe, and I don’t see him very often.”

  “They were talking about your mother as if she were there tonight.”

  “She was,” she said. “She’s Isabel Craftsman.”

  Mac’s eyes widened. “The mayor?”

  “The one and only.”

  “So you’re one of those Wellingtons.”

  “That would be me. One of those Wellingtons.” It usually went one of two ways from here. Either the person would stare at her in awe, because her mother, cold and precise as she was, had done excellent things for the city, or the person would sneer, because let’s face it, her mother hadn’t gotten to where she was by making friends.

  But Mac looked neither awed nor disgusted. “You really can’t go to her if you need help?”

  “I could, but…”

  “You won’t,” he finished for her, his eyes filling with something she hadn’t seen from him before. Respect. “What about your sisters?”

  “Like I said, we’re not that close.”

  “The building is worth a fortune.”

  “If I sold it.” She opened her eyes and with fierce determination said, “Which I’m not doing. I’m not walking away from this. I’m not like them, Mac, those women in there, I’m not going to be like them if it kills me.”

  “You’re not anything like them,” he agreed.

  She’d wanted someone on her side tonight, she’d wanted blind comfort, and this man, her virtual opposite, the thorn in her side, was offering it.

  No one had done such a thing for her since Jeff.

  Just the thought of him now, with Mac right there, felt like a betrayal to his memory, a stab to her al ready wounded heart, but Mac was throwing her, re acting the way she’d expect Suzanne to react. A friend. A girlfriend.

  Not a man.

  But she didn’t need him to react this way. She’d learned to depend on no one but herself. She was all she needed, she’d always simply comforted herself, and—

  Mac continued to stand there when she sniffed again, not running, not reacting to her tears with his own reasoning.

  He simply opened his arms.

  And she stepped right into them. Stepped into them and steeped herself in his giving heat and overwhelming strength. Then she did as she’d wanted to, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of wood, soap and one-hundred-percent man.

  Sinking his fingers into her hair, he lifted her face so he could look into it. She looked back, at the chiseled angle of his jaw, his slightly curved lips, his light golden eyes as they ran over her face before locking on hers.

  Taylor felt the jolt of his gaze all the way to her toes. She didn’t know how it was possible, but in his arms her problems seemed to fade away, chased by equal parts awareness and a morbid excitement she couldn’t, wouldn’t, deny. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed a little closer, absorbing the helpless growl of awareness that rumbled up from Mac’s chest.

  A matching awareness combined with a heady female power that sizzled through her, because he felt it, too, whether he wanted to or not, he felt it, too. Proving it, his hands tightened on her, skimmed down her back, then slowly back up again, chasing any lingering chill with a blooming desire she hadn’t expected or wanted but wouldn’t deny. “Um…this might be a good time for you to tell me you’re married,” she said. “Or something.”

  “I’m not married.” His mouth quirked. “Or something. I’m not anything with anyone.”

  Chest to breast, belly to belly, she stared at him, and he stared at her right back. In that moment, he was the only person in her entire world. Her body felt overwhelmed by that, even as she leaned into him.

  Around them, the air crackled, growing more in tense by the second in the hot, summer night, until she could hardly breathe. “Mac…”

  “Yeah?”

  She sighed.

  “Taylor? What is it?”

  “I want…” You, she thought. I want you.

  Obeying the rampant need and invitation in her breathy voice, he bent his head and kissed her. Softly at first, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck, tight, so that the next kiss came hard, a rapacious, devouring kiss that was wildly carnal and full of erotic intent, and couldn’t have been more deeply intimate if they’d been entirely alone in the world.

  “Is that what you were looking for?” he asked when he pulled back, his voice even rougher than usual.

  “Yes.” Taylor was breathing hard, and was slightly gratified to see he was, too. For a long moment they just stared at each other, with Taylor’s brain not fully functioning because he’d just destroyed her with yet another devastating thought—she hadn’t lost herself in a man like that since…since.

  She hadn’t wanted to.

  She would have backed away then, and might even have started running, but his hands were still on her, still holding her securely against him. And in fact, hers were still curled around his neck, her body glued to his.

  Of its own free will.

  His eyes, locked on hers, were scorching, his body against hers rock hard, obviously aroused, obviously hungry for more. And yet he stood there, waiting.

  Who would have expected patience from a man like Mac?

  She could take him home. They could spend an energetic, adventurous evening exhausting each other. It would be hot and fast and good. But…and she couldn’t believe this, but…it wouldn’t be enough. For the first time since Jeff, casual sex wouldn’t be enough, not even with Mac.

  “I’m going home now,” she said softly, and touched his granite jaw. “Alone.”

  “Yeah.” Turning his head, he kissed her palm. “I know.”

  Not sure whether she was relieved or insulted—wasn’t he even going to try to talk his way into her bed?—she backed out of his arms.

  What did she do now, thank him? The thought made her want to let out a laugh, but it would have been a slightly hysterical one, so she put her fingers to her mouth and swallowed hard. “I’m…I’m thinking that kiss might have been a bad idea.”

  “Yeah.”

  Now she did laugh. “You might have at least argued.”

  “Taylor…was that a normal kind of kiss to you?”

  Since her lips still tingled and her heart still pounded, she shook her head.

  “No,” he agreed. “And that kind of connection is nothing to mess with.”

  “You’ve been hurt, too,” she said quietly, surprised, and mad at herself for not seeing it sooner.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then sighed. “I was married. A long time ago.”

  “Do you…have kids?”

  A spasm of pain crossed his face. “No. It didn’t work out. It didn’t work out so much that I never intend to get serious again.”

  “Never?”

  “Never. Ever. Do you follow me?”

  “I follow you. I even agree with you.” Her lips quirked in a mirthless smile. “Imagine that.”

  Then, with her body still humming with desire, she took a step away. “Good night, Mac.”

  “Good night, Taylor.”

  MAC WATCHED HER saunter off, cool as rain, head high, and let out a slow, shaky breath. Holy shit, that had been some kiss.

  Kisses.

  He took a careful, long wobbly breath to even be able to see straight. Another to relax his entire body, which was quite…tense now, thanks to Taylor’s hot, long, sleek bod tha
t she’d plastered to his.

  He’d lost himself in her, totally lost himself, when he’d promised himself he’d never do that again.

  Well, he was going to have to be more careful than that next time she flashed those expressive, hurting eyes, wasn’t he?

  Much more careful.

  6

  TAYLOR WAS GRATEFUL to have the entire weekend looming in front of her before the work of reframing and rewindowing began in earnest. Two days of no construction. No pounding, no people, no decisions to make, nothing.

  And no Mac.

  Two days in which to do as she pleased, which would include no thinking, no obsessing and no wasted regrets on what had happened between them on a dark night in the amazing gardens at the town hall.

  On what hadn’t happened, and why.

  Being a logical thinker most of the time—though that logic had deserted her in Mac’s arms—she had a stack of reasons. He was just too…strong. Strong-minded, strong-willed, strong everything. A good part of that strength came from a superb control.

  But Taylor wanted to be the one in control. She liked that, a lot. When she chose to let a man in, she wanted to run the show.

  She doubted anyone ran Mac’s show.

  Then there was the fact that he’d seen her at her weakest. No one ever saw her weak and lived to tell the tale, so she figured she’d lay low for the rest of the time they had to be near each other.

  Problem solved.

  It was only…at least two more months. Damn, that was a long time.

  He’d loved his wife. Loved her so much he couldn’t bear to ever love again. Funny how that gave her heart a hard tug, even though she’d sworn the same thing about herself after she’d lost Jeff. Still swore that same thing.

  That such a big, fierce, independent man could be laid so low by such emotion that she understood so much…well, she was quite certain that shouldn’t make her want him all the more.

  The sudden pounding on the front door of the building, which she’d locked, made her jump. It was a Saturday, an early Saturday. There was no reason for anyone to be here, so it was with a frown for her solitude that she went out of her apartment, down the stairs to the front door of the building, and looked out the peep hole.

  Nicole and Suzanne stood on the other side holding up a tub of ice cream, three spoons and matching ear-to-ear grins.

  With more joy than Taylor had felt all week she yanked the door open. “You guys read my mind.” She reached for the ice cream but Nicole held her off.

  “Not so fast.” She eyed Taylor carefully. “Yep, you were right,” she said to Suzanne. “Something’s wrong.”

  Now they both stared at Taylor, and she squirmed. “Don’t be silly, I’m fine.”

  But despite the claim, she was immediately enveloped in a bear hug that brought tears to her eyes.

  Again.

  “Oh, honey.” The lush, redheaded Suzanne pulled back, handed Nicole the spoons and held Taylor’s face in her hands. “What is it?”

  What, did the woman have radar? Taylor patted her hair, her clothes, but everything was in place. Everything was always in place. Her own little armor.

  “Yeah, you look gorgeous as ever,” Nicole said in disgust. Nicole was an emergency room doctor who considered fashion and hairstyling a grievous waste of time. She was beautiful in spite of it. Now she looked Taylor over with that X-ray vision all doctors seemed to possess. “And let me tell you, it’s disgusting how good you can look surrounded by drywall dust and destruction. Now spill it. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Taylor forced a smile. “Allergies, that’s all.”

  “Bullshit.” Nicole led the way up the stairs, back into Taylor’s apartment, where they all sat on the bed and took a spoon. “Let’s hear it. Long version please.”

  Taylor dug into the double fudge chocolate, consuming a bazillion calories in one bite. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “You know, you never let Suzanne or I get away with telling you we’re fine when we’re not, so don’t give it to us.” Nicole waved her spoon. “Now. Who’s the asshole who put that look of misery on your pretty face?”

  “There’s no—” She looked into their expectant, worried expressions and let out a slow, shaky breath. For courage she inhaled another hundred calories, maybe two hundred. “Mac. His name is Mac. He’s my contractor.”

  “And?” Nicole lifted a brow. “I definitely hear an ‘and’ at the end of that sentence.”

  “And…” What the hell. “He kisses like heaven.”

  Suzanne sucked on her spoon and smiled. “Ah.”

  “Ah what?” Taylor demanded.

  “You’re falling for him.”

  “Because I think he kisses like heaven?”

  “Because you have stars in your eyes when you say it,” Suzanne said gently. “You’re falling hard, sweetie.”

  “Lust or love?” Nicole wanted clarified in her usual blunt way.

  “Lust,” Taylor said.

  Nicole cocked her head. “You said that way too quickly.”

  “I’m staying single, Nicole. No question.”

  Suzanne reached for Taylor’s hand. “Tell us why love is such a bad thing. Who hurt you?”

  “Life,” Taylor said simply. She was not going into that now. Maybe not ever. “Look, I’ve tried love. It hurts, all right?”

  “Not always,” Nicole and Suzanne said at the same time.

  But Taylor wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t ever be interested.

  ON MONDAY MORNING Mac made sure the framing and window replacement was going smoothly, then sought out Taylor.

  He found her sitting on her bed, and was utterly unprepared for how just the sight of her felt like a punch in the gut, and for how much he wanted to haul her up and back into his arms.

  He’d figured he’d gotten her out of his system Friday night. Way out.

  Apparently, he’d figured wrong.

  She was looking more put together than anyone had any business looking at seven o’clock in the morning. Her shiny blond hair fell loose to her shoulders, perfectly combed. She wore pale yellow trousers with a matching sleeveless top that screamed class. The top dipped down in front and back, just enough to give him a peek of creamy skin and curves, and make him need a drink of water for his suddenly parched throat. Her long, long legs were crossed, a sandal dangling off her big toe as she lightly swung her foot while she talked into her cell phone with those perfectly glossed lips.

  She saw him immediately, and though she didn’t so much as smile at him, the awareness in the room bounced off the walls.

  She was talking to someone about the sale of an antique wine rack, her voice even and firm as she discussed money with a single-mindedness he figured he understood a lot better today than he had last week.

  The woman could drive a hard bargain, and in spite of himself, he watched in awe as she wheedled what sounded like a mind-boggling price for her piece.

  When she hung up the phone, her eyes were sparkling with triumph and…relief.

  Which brought him to the reason he stood there. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning.” She was all business—and avoiding his gaze. “You’ve got a crew here already, I can hear them. I’ll just get out of your hair.” She slipped her foot back into her sandal.

  “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “I’m…uh…” She looked around, probably for a handy excuse.

  “Save it, Princess. You want to ignore me on a personal level after one kiss, fine.”

  He had to give her credit, she didn’t so much as sputter. “I’d already forgotten about that ‘one kiss,”’ she said evenly.

  “Really?”

  She let out a long breath. “No.”

  Just like that, his heart tweaked, good and hard. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve pretty much kept me up all night for the past two nights running,” he admitted.

  She lifted a shoulder as if she didn’t care, but her eyes warmed a little. “It’s
some consolation, I suppose.”

  “Look, Taylor…”

  “I don’t think talking about it is the right thing to do. Under the circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?”

  “That we’re not going to let it happen again,” she said.

  “Right.” But it bugged him that he knew why he didn’t want it to happen again, but not why she didn’t. “Look, I get it now, why you didn’t move out. You have nowhere else to go, no money, and you’re stuck here until we’re done.”

  “Well, why don’t you just spell it out,” she said with a mirthless little laugh.

  “This isn’t about your pride, Taylor. Bottom line, you’re putting every cent into this building and don’t want to waste it on paying for a place to live.”

  She lifted her hands. “Caught me.”

  Stepping closer, he watched her pupils dilate a little.

  Because of their closeness? It was affecting him, too, he could smell her, some exotic combination of sweet and sexy, and he could see the pulse at the base of her neck beating wildly, a dead giveaway that she was not as calm as she wanted to be. “I’m trying to tell you we’ll work around you,” he said. “We’ll do this room last.”

  “But you said you wanted to hit it all at once, so that you didn’t have to get your subcontractors back through here again. You said that it was hard enough to—”

  “I know what I said. I’m telling you I’ll make the adjustments.”

  “Why?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “To me, yes.”

  “Because as my client, I want you to be happy with the job.”

  “As your client,” she repeated, sounding a little…hurt?

  Impossible.

  “I’m just trying to do the right thing here,” he said.

  “Because you feel sorry for me?”

  “Hell, no. You’re too ornery to feel sorry for.”

  For a long moment she just stared at him, then a ghost of a smile curved those lush lips. “Okay, then. As long as it’s not that. Oh, and Mac?” She climbed off the bed with the smooth grace of a sleek cat, no longer looking plastic. She would never look plastic to him again, and as she came close, he actually had to fist his hands to keep them off her.