MacKenzie's Lady

by Dallas Schulze

  But she fell asleep with a furtive prayer and her dreams were once again filled with his presence.

  ❧

  Holly's prayers were answered even sooner than she could have hoped. As she got ready for work the next morning, she was in a less than perfect mood. She was going to have to walk to school. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining with a fitful brilliance that was typical of Los Angeles in March. The weather was perfect for a walk but her legs still felt as if they'd been run through a grinder, and walking was the last thing she felt like doing.

  She had just managed to find a pair of shoes that actually matched each other in the tangle of footwear that littered the bottom of her closet when the doorbell rang. Muttering imprecations directed toward anyone who might be within hearing, she hurried across the living room, patting vainly at her hair, which looked as if it had battled with a tornado and come out on the losing side.

  She flung open the door, ready to explain to the manager that Maryann would be giving her the rent check as soon as she woke up, and then gaped at the apparition on the doorstep. Mac had one hand braced on the top of the door jamb, his long body leaning casually against its support.

  He gave her a slow smile that made her bones feel like butter left in the sun. "I thought you might need a ride to work this morning since your car is out of commission.''

  "I...I...as a matter of fact, I could use a ride. I was going to walk but then I couldn't find my shoes and I burned the toast and—" She broke off and smiled at him, letting herself bask in the warmth of his azure eyes. With an effort she broke away from his mesmerizing gaze. "Let me put my shoes on and comb my hair and I'll be right with you. Would you like to come in?"

  She backed away as he nodded and stepped into the apartment. Immediately the room seemed to shrink. Holly stood in front of him uncertainly, feeling as if the two of them were all alone in a tiny compartment. She swallowed hard and forced her feet to move away from him.

  "I'll only be a second," she murmured breathlessly before she disappeared into her bedroom. Alone in the room, she hurried over to her vanity and gave a moan of despair as she took in her tousled hair and the warm sparkle in her eyes. "You look like a scarecrow," she muttered to her reflection. "You not only look like a refugee from Oz, you also look like someone who's just met Prince Charming. If you don't learn to look a little less star-struck, you're going to scare the poor man to death." Her stern words did not still the bubbling feeling in her stomach, but they did serve to bring a more sober expression to her face.

  It didn't last. As soon as she stepped into the living room and saw Mac, Holly could feel her mouth turning up in an inane smile. The only thing that made it bearable was the knowledge that his expression was only a shade less fatuous, though more restrained.

  Walking out to his car, she was vividly aware of the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back, and she had the urge to look down to see if her feet were still touching the ground. They certainly didn't feel as if they were.

  She hesitated momentarily when she saw the slim figure leaning against Mac's car but Mac urged her forward. The man turned and she came to a dead stop three feet away from him, her face reflecting her surprise. He grinned at her, revealing a full set of perfect teeth.

  "Hi, Lady. Been in any good brawls lately?" The grin was irresistible as was the twinkle in his hazel eyes.

  "I'm sure you remember Ken Richardson," Mac murmured dryly.

  "How could I forget the only person who's ever given me a cocker spaniel's nickname? You look a little better than you did last time I saw you," she told the smaller man. She shook her head. "I suppose you're a cop, too."

  He glanced questioningly at Mac, his eyes intent, and then the expression was gone so quickly that Holly wondered if she had imagined it.

  "Sure. Mac and I have been partners for a long time."

  "And I suppose your missing teeth were all done with makeup, just like Mac's scar?"

  "Well, not exactly. I'm afraid a gentleman with no sense of humor knocked them out a few years back. It was easy to take the bridge out. I thought it gave me an appealingly adventurous look."

  "You looked as if you'd just crawled out of a sewer," she told him flatly.

  He grinned again and opened the passenger door for her. "That's what I said. I looked adventurous."

  Holly got into the car, sliding over into the middle as Ken got in next to her and Mac walked around the front. Even

  Ken's presence didn't serve to soften the impact of Mac's hard thigh brushing against hers. She kept her eyes straight ahead as the car pulled away from the curb. She wondered if he could feel the tremor that ran through her each time his arm touched hers. She was grateful when Ken spoke, giving her something else to think about on the short drive to the school.

  "Mac says you teach kindergarten. I have a niece about that age." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I don't know how you can stand a whole classroom full of them." He emphasized the last word.

  Holly smiled, trying not to notice when Mac's leg shifted to rest more firmly against hers. The soft tie of her wraparound dress suddenly felt unbearably tight. Her voice was slightly breathless when she answered Ken.

  "You sound like my roommate. Maryann thinks that small children are related to pit vipers and should be treated with equal caution. I like kids and I enjoy teaching them. They can be a bit of a handful but I can't imagine another job as satisfying. Of course, there are days when I'd gladly trade all of my students for a wooden nickel," she said, laughing. "But that's the exception."

  Mac pulled his car into a parking place next to the Fiat and got out. He reached a hand in to assist her and Holly hesitated for only an instant before placing her small fingers in his palm. The tingling shock wave that raced up her arm was expected but still disconcerting, and she knew he couldn't help but feel her reaction to his touch. His fingers tightened over hers and her eyes flew to his face. Her heartbeat grew erratic as she saw the warmth in his eyes. He didn't release her hand even when they stood next to her car.

  "Do you have plans for tonight?" His husky voice was pitched low so that only she could hear him.

  Holly shook her head, mesmerized by his eyes. "It's Friday," she said, unconcerned that the comment was totally irrelevant.

  "Have dinner with me." It was not quite a request and not yet a command.

  "I'd like that," she told him honestly.

  He lifted her hand to his lips, turning it over to press a kiss into the palm. His mustache brushed softly against the sensitive flesh and she shivered as she felt the tip of his tongue flick along the soft mound at the base of her thumb.

  She was as breathless as if he had possessed her mouth. When he pulled back, Mac closed her fingers around his kiss before releasing her hand.

  "Eight o'clock?" he asked huskily. She nodded. In her current state she would have agreed to anything. He pressed the back of his hand lightly against her flushed cheek. "Dress up. I want to take you somewhere with candlelight and flowers."

  She leaned back against the side of the Fiat as he got into his car and backed out of the parking slot.

  Ken leaned out of his window and waved. "Nice to see you again, Lady." He watched her in the mirror on his side of the car. She was still leaning against the Fiat when they turned out onto the street.

  Ken turned bright, inquiring eyes on Mac. "A cop, huh?"

  Mac shrugged, keeping his gaze firmly on the road in front of them. "I had to tell her something. She thought I was a pimp and she started trying to explain very politely that she didn't think she could be comfortable with my line of work."

  "So you told her you were a cop." The words were flat, without intonation.

  Mac threw him an irritated look that held more than a trace of guilt. "What was I supposed to tell her? 'No, I'm not a pimp. I'm here to spy on your brother.'?"

  Ken raised his hands in surrender. "Don't jump down my throat. Did I say anything?"

  "You didn't have to," Mac told him s
ourly. "I didn't lie to her... exactly," he added defensively.

  "I'm not saying a thing." Ken was all innocence.

  "Well, stop thinking it," his friend growled unreasonably.

  "My mind is a blank."

  Mac's grim expression lightened involuntarily. "Now that I can believe."

  Chapter 4

  Holly smoothed her hands over her soft silk dress and then twisted at an impossible angle to check that the seams of her stockings were straight. It felt wonderfully wicked to be wearing a lacy garter belt and sheer nylons with fine seams up the backs of her legs. The garter belt and stockings had been a Christmas present from Maryann and this was the first time she had worn them.

  She turned back to face her reflection, meeting sparkling brown eyes that reflected her inner excitement. She had long since given up trying to subdue her anticipation. She was looking forward to seeing Mac, and it showed. Her dark brows came together in a faint frown. It was a little scary to realize just how much she was looking forward to this date. She didn't want to get in too deep too fast.

  The doorbell rang before she had a chance to follow the thought any further. She gave one last pat to her hair and turned away from the mirror. Something about her radiant reflection made her uncomfortable.

  ❧

  Mac resisted the urge to tug at his tie after he rang the doorbell. His fingers tightened around the small bouquet of flowers. He was surprised to find that his palms felt clammy. Damn. He hadn't been this nervous about seeing a woman since... since last night, when he had been waiting outside Holly's school. His mustache lifted in a mocking smile. He had been in more Iife-and-death situations than he cared to remember and here he was, sweating like a schoolboy on his first date.

  What was there about Holly Reynolds that stirred his senses so? Each time he saw her, he was torn between the urge to hold her and protect her and the need to make passionate love to her, burying himself in her warmth until he forgot everything but the feel of her, until he forgot that he was supposed to be probing for information about her brother.

  He looked up as Holly opened the door, her breath catching at the dark turbulence in his eyes. For just a moment she was frightened. This was not the warm and gentle man she had gone out with last night. This was someone larger and more threatening. But his expression vanished so swiftly that she half thought she had imagined it. Any lingering uncertainty disappeared beneath the warmth of his smile.

  "Hi. Come on in. You're righ, on time." Boy, was that a brilliant conversational gambit, she chided herself.

  Mac stepped into the apartment and she gave a soft gasp of pleasure as he held out a delicate bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath. "Oh, how beautiful. Thank you."

  He put a hand over his heart and bowed. "They pale to insignificance before your beauty." She laughed, but there was enough sincere admiration in his eyes to draw a faint flush of pleasure to her cheeks.

  "Let me put these in water."

  He followed her into the kitchen. The draped neckline of the royal-blue dress left her upper back bare, and she could feel his eyes trailing the vulnerable skin.

  "Would you like something to drink?" She spoke quickly, more to distract her own wayward thoughts than anything else. Without waiting for an answer, she placed the flowers on the counter and opened one of the cupboards.

  "We've got some brandy that Maryann bought for a fruitcake and some Scotch that was supposed to go into a pie."

  Mac looked at the dusty labels doubtfully. From the looks of the bottles, they had been sitting in the cupboard for several years. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to find out that she had inherited them from her grandparents. He shook his head.

  "I'd better not. We have reservations at the restaurant."

  Holly shut the cupboard door, hoping that her relief wasn't obvious. No one knew how old those bottles of booze were. She had a vague memory of James suggesting the last time he visited that she donate them to a museum.

  With a practiced gesture she hooked one foot around a small step stool and pulled it beneath the cupboard where the vases were stored. It was still a stretch to reach the top shelf and her fingers had almost made contact with a crystal vase when a long, masculine hand appeared and lifted it easily off the shelf. Her heels hit the stool with a thud.

  Mac was a warm presence along her back, not touching but so close that her nerve endings quivered. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand, watching as he set the vase gently on the counter. Time hung suspended; even her breathing stopped, waiting. His breath touched the back of her neck an instant before his mouth tasted the vulnerable flesh exposed by the careful upsweep of her hair. A shiver rippled up her spine and every bone in her body seemed to dissolve.

  His hands caught her at the waist, supporting and turning her until she faced him. She gave a breathless laugh.

  "I should have warned you about what kissing the back of my neck does to me. It's ridiculous the way it..." Her voice trailed off as his head bent and his teeth nibbled gently just beneath her ear. Only his hands held her upright. Without their support she would have collapsed in a boneless heap.

  "Umm. Kissing you under the ear seems to have the same effect." She could hear the smile in his voice. His tongue tasted the pulse that fluttered at the base of her throat. Her nails flexed against his shoulders.

  "Mac." His name quivered with need but there was also a shaky protest in it. His mouth stilled. He heard the need and his body tightened in answer. But he also heard the protest. His head came up slowly, reluctantly relinquishing the sweet territory that he knew could be his.

  But it wouldn't be fair to force a decision so soon. The chemistry between them was explosive and, like dynamite, it needed to be handled with respect and caution. He could lift her in his arms and carry her to bed and she wouldn't struggle, but something precious might be forever lost: her trust.

  Her lashes fluttered open and the dazed passion in her eyes was almost his undoing. She looked so warm and willing. He forced a smile, letting his lids drop to conceal his expression.

  "I guess that's not taking it slow, is it?"

  Holly shook her head, trying to control the wild pounding of her heart. How could he look so calm when her entire body tingled? Tension quivered between them, alive and beckoning.

  "I guess I'll have to confess that I have a fatal weakness when it comes to women standing on stools." Mac hung his head, the very picture of contrition.

  Holly blinked. Desire had slowed her mental processes to the point where, for an instant, she actually tried to make sense of his absurd statement. But only for an instant.

  "Have you tried therapy? I understand they can do marvelous things these days." If her voice was slightly breathless, Mac didn't seem to notice.

  He winced. "You're a hard woman." He stepped back and glanced at his watch. "We'd better hurry if we want to use our reservations." And the atmosphere eased.

  The restaurant was dim but not so dark that flashlights were necessary to read the menu. The service was quiet and efficient. The food was excellent but it was secondary to the pleasure of Mac's company. If it hadn't been for the tingling feeling that lingered along her spine, Holly might have wondered if she had imagined those intense moments in the kitchen.

  "You really enjoy working with kids, don't you?" She glanced up from her grilled salmon and smiled. "I love it."

  "It's been a while since I met someone who admits to liking children. It seems to be unfashionable at the moment. Even people who have them don't like them."

  "They can be a handful but they're so incredibly alive. There's a vibrancy about a child that makes the whole world look brand-new. They get so much out of life. Sometimes it makes me realize how seldom adults let themselves just sit back and take pleasure in little things."

  She broke off and laughed self-consciously. "Maryann could have warned you not to get me started on kids. She thinks they should all be put in cages and visited with extreme caution."

  Mac
took a sip of wine and studied her over the rim of the glass. He wondered if she had any idea how vibrant she was, so much like the children she described. She had such zest for life.

  "I'm surprised you don't have a houseful of kids of your own," he commented.

  "I will have one of these days. I promised myself that by the time I'm thirty, I'll either have a child or I'll be less than nine months away from having one.''

  "It usually takes two for what you've got in mind," he pointed out dryly.

  "I know. I suppose I'll just have to capture some poor helpless male of the species and ravish him," she declared theatrically.

  "I doubt if he'll struggle too hard. I know I certainly wouldn't."

  A faint flush rose in her cheeks as she met the electric blue of his gaze. It was an effort to hang on to her composure. "But we've already established that you have a weakness for women standing on step stools. Who knows what other flaws you may have." She shook her head sadly. "Today it's step stools, tomorrow it could be muders. It's all downhill from here."

  "If I promise to try and control my weaknesses, do you think you'd be able to consider me as a candidate?" His tone was comically serious.

  "I'll keep you in mind," she promised lightly. She hoped that her voice didn't betray her inner agitation. The thought of him fathering her child brought mental images that were both explicit and disturbing.

  She pushed the pictures away. "What about you? Ever been married? Any children?"

  "I've never been married. I came close once but it didn't work out." For a moment his expression was so bleak and filled with pain that Holly wanted to reach out and soothe the lines from beside his mouth.

  "What about your family? Brothers? Sisters?"

  He shook his head, his expression easing. "No brothers and sisters. My mother died when I was a kid and my father died when I was twenty.''