Olivia clutched her bathrobe closed at the neck against the frosty chill in the air and peeked around the maple. She was putting this stupid jacket in Mac’s truck and leaving it there, and if he continued flirting with her, she… she would just flirt back, dammit! Because even making a fool of herself had to be better than turning into a dried-up old spinster.
“Please be unlocked,” she prayed as she made a dash for the truck—only to go perfectly still when its lights suddenly flashed and its doors clicked locked. She closed her eyes on a silent curse, so embarrassed she couldn’t move, much less breathe.
“Did you forget something in my truck?” he asked from somewhere behind her.
Apparently she wasn’t the only one skulking around in the dark this morning. “I… your jacket must have fallen into my tote bag,” she said without turning around.
“And you felt compelled to get up before dawn to return it?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want you to spend the morning looking for it, or worry that you’d left it in the ice shanty or… or something.”
“I appreciate your concern.”
“You’re welcome.” She reached out to hang the jacket on the truck’s side mirror, only to gasp when he took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. And not only did she stop breathing again but her heart stopped beating.
God, he was big and strong and broad-chested.
“All you need do is ask, Olivia. I promise I will say yes.”
Knowing damn well he wasn’t referring to his jacket, her heart resumed pounding so hard she was afraid he would hear it. And she sure as hell couldn’t lift her gaze to his, knowing his deep, dark eyes would be just as serious as his tone, and so imposing her knees would probably buckle.
And then he’d catch her before she hit the ground, and she would get lost in all that wonderful masculine strength, and… and she would ask.
“I—I can’t. I’m too scared.”
He cupped her face between his strong warm hands and lifted her gaze to his. “You have my word I will be gentle,” he said quietly, lowering his mouth to within inches of hers. “And very careful with you, and… unrushed.”
She didn’t know if he moved or if she did, but suddenly their lips were touching. And once again Olivia found herself standing in a receding wave, her world tilting so far off center she had to drop his jacket and clutch his arms to keep from falling.
She nearly wept at how good it felt to be kissed.
Olivia pressed her mouth to his, needing to make sure this was really happening, that all the controlled strength in this towering mass of testosterone wasn’t merely a fantasy that smelled of the forest and tasted divine.
Because all she had to do was ask, and he’d become real.
She parted her lips to test her courage, surprising herself by not retreating when his tongue gently eased inside. Bolstered by the fact that her knees were still holding up against the riot of sensations sweeping through her, she gave a soft hum of pleasure.
He broke the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. “Ask me, Olivia.”
“I… it’s been over six years, Mac. I’ve forgotten… I don’t know… I’m afraid.”
“You’re not afraid of me,” he said, wrapping her up in his big strong arms with a heavy sigh. “We both know it’s going to happen,” he said against her hair, the authority in his voice washing through her like warm, liquid heat. “And I prefer it be sooner than later, as I’m not sure I’ll survive another night like the one I just spent envying my jacket. Ask me, Olivia,” he whispered. “Give me permission to act.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He tilted her head back and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You could only do that by not asking.” He canted his head. “Did your husband leave you with a bad taste for lovemaking?”
She tried to push away. “That’s none of your business.”
He held her looking at him. “Yes, it is. If it’s not me you’re afraid of, then it must be something else.”
“What makes you so sure I’m not afraid of you?”
The smile he gave her was so arrogant, the ground beneath her tilted again. “That you spent the last three nights sleeping with my jacket tells me that whatever you feel toward me, it’s not fear.”
She would have fallen when he suddenly released her if he hadn’t steadied her as he bent down and picked up his jacket. He settled it around her shoulders and pulled it closed across her chest. “Why don’t you keep this for now, and return it to me when you’re ready to replace it with the real thing.” He placed a finger over her lips when she tried to speak. “I only ask that you not wait too long. Though I may be known for my patience, few have dared test its limits.” He used the lapels to pull her toward him even as he leaned down. “And those who did were very sorry.”
He kissed her then, his unbreakable hold on the jacket only accentuating the gentleness of his coaxing lips. And once again Olivia nearly wept at the simple contact, his mouth moving over hers with such tender intensity that her knees finally buckled and she melted into him.
Just ask, her mind whispered even as her heart pounded in fear. He promised to say yes. And he said he’d be gentle and…
But if just his kisses made her go weak in the knees, what would his lovemaking do to her? Heaven help her, she’d probably faint dead away and miss the whole thing.
Olivia’s small sound of protest got muffled in his shirt when he broke the kiss and pulled her to him with a growl. “We will stop now, before I forget my noble intentions.”
Thank God one of them still had a firing brain cell.
But then, Mac obviously had more experience at this sort of thing. Hell, she couldn’t even remember what she was doing out here at the crack of dawn, wearing only her bathrobe, being kissed senseless by her employee.
She pressed her face to his chest, stifling the urge to giggle. So much for not fraternizing with the help, considering all she wanted to do was rip open his shirt and press her lips to his bare chest.
He set her away, his gaze narrowed in suspicion. And despite knowing her cheeks were blistering red, Olivia somehow managed to give him a smile. She did not, however, have the courage to address the unholy gleam that suddenly sparked in his eyes. So she gathered his jacket around her, stiffened her spine, and started walking home—doing her damnedest not to let him see how badly her knees were wobbling.
“Olivia.”
Finding that her world was righting itself in direct proportion to her distance from him, she turned and mutely arched a brow.
“I really do prefer that you ask.”
“And if I don’t?”
His eyes all but glowing in the first rays of the rising sun, he gave a deceptively negligent shrug. “I will still be gentle and careful with you, and unrushed.”
He turned away then, leaving her staring at his imposingly broad shoulders as he strode onto his porch and disappeared into his cabin—even as she tried to decide if he had just made her a promise or delivered a threat.
Mac stood in the lodge kitchen scowling down at the note in his hand, half tempted to go after its author so he could rip it into little pieces in front of her, and then let her watch them fall like snowflakes when he tossed them in the air.
About the closest he’d gotten to Olivia in the last four days were these damn notes he kept finding on the table every morning when he and Henry came to breakfast, each one a list of tasks she wanted him to do that day, accompanied by succinctly impersonal instructions. And on the bottom of every note she always politely suggested he should address any questions and concerns he had to John or Eileen.
Even though he didn’t regret his actions the morning he’d caught her trying to return his jacket, Mac knew he should at least feel guilty for sending Olivia into hiding; but in truth, their sunrise encounter had only left him all the more determined to have her. Upon discovering he was likely the first man to kiss her soft, sweet lips in more than six years, Mac’s intere
st in Olivia had gone from pursuing a casual affair to an overwhelming need to possess her completely. Especially once he’d done the math and realized her marriage had ended a full two years before her husband’s death.
Though he understood the many reasons women stayed in loveless marriages, particularly when children were involved, Mac was forever in awe of the fortitude and determination that the everyday reality of remaining in them required. The irony being that where most people judged such women as cowardly fools for staying, Mac considered them braver than many battle-hardened warriors he knew.
“Is our list of chores very long this morning?” Henry asked just before cramming a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.
Mac scowled down at the note in his hand. “It appears we’ll be spending today in the stable, getting last year’s hay out of the loft and readying the stalls for the twelve horses that will be arriving in ten days.”
Henry swallowed, his face brightening. “Sophie told me there would be horses here this summer, and that we’ll get to go on trail rides.” His expression turned sad. “Mama and I used to go riding every day, sometimes even if it was raining. And though he was just an old carriage horse, Champ seemed to enjoy my riding him.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes when I’d start to lose my balance, he would stop and wait for me to right myself so I didn’t fall off.”
Warming up to his memories, Henry snickered. “He didn’t like it when I used to grab an overhead branch and swing off him, though. He always stopped and turned around, looking for me on the ground.” Unshed tears pooled in his eyes again. “I’m never going to see him again, am I? Champ’s been dead for hundreds of years now.”
Mac crouched down beside him. “You will have many pets come and go in your lifetime, Henry. And you can only cherish them while they’re here and hold fond memories of them when they’re gone.” He tapped the boy’s chest. “And just like your mama, Champ is with you as much today as he was back in your original century.”
“Would he be upset with me, do you think, if I enjoy riding other horses?”
“Far from it, son. Your old friend is proud that you’re using the skills he taught you, and expects nothing less than for you to become an expert horseman.”
Henry drove his spoon into his cereal. “Then we must do an excellent job on the stable today, as Champ always insisted on having the freshest hay from the loft and a spotless water bucket.” He stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “When we buy our house in Midnight Bay, will it have a stable?”
Mac straightened. “If it doesn’t, we will certainly build one.”
“And maybe when we leave here in the fall, Sophie will want us to take a couple of Tinkerbelle’s kittens with us,” Henry added, his expression calculating. “Every barn needs plenty of cats to keep the mice out of the grain.”
“I’m sure we won’t have any trouble finding some cats,” Mac said. He pulled out a chair and sat down, dropping Olivia’s note on the table and picking up the one Eileen had left him. “It appears we’re on our own for the next week, as Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin have gone on a trip.” He smiled at Henry’s sudden concern. “Eileen says the kitchen’s all ours, and that we are free to raid the pantry and fridge for our meals.”
“I noticed there’s a restaurant in town,” Henry said. “Or maybe Miss Olivia can cook for us.” His expression turned calculating again. “It would be nice if the four of us took our meals together, don’t you think?”
“What I think is that we should start looking through those recipe books,” Mac said, gesturing at the bookcase at the end of the counter. “And finally get serious about learning how to feed ourselves.”
Henry stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth again. “But why would we waste our time learning how to do women’s work? Once we move to our new home we’ll have servants to do all our cooking and cleaning.”
Mac nearly choked on the sip of juice he’d just taken, setting the glass on the table with a chuckle. “I suggest you refrain from using the term women’s work, young man,” he said, forcing himself to look serious. “Especially in front of Madeline and Eve when we get back to Midnight Bay. And I doubt you would endear yourself to Olivia and Sophie if they hear you saying it. The distinction between men’s work and women’s work is nearly nonexistent in this century, Henry. Today women can even be warriors if they want, and some of the world’s best cooks are men.”
Henry set his spoon in his empty bowl. “But that’s just not practical. Most women would barely be able to lift a sword, much less fight an entire battle with one.”
“Swords are ancient weapons,” Mac explained. “Have you not seen both men and women on television using handguns and rifles? Guns and explosives and something called missiles are the weapons of choice today, and quite often warriors don’t even see the enemy they’re fighting.”
“But that’s not right,” the boy said, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. “It’s not very noble to kill a man without looking him directly in the eyes.”
“Last I knew, nothing about war is noble,” Mac said quietly. “Which is why as theurgists, we endeavor to find peaceful solutions.”
“Then how come Grampy doesn’t just use his powerful magic to stop the wars?”
“We can’t actually interfere in humanity’s right of free will, Henry. In fact, it’s our job to protect that very right.” Mac leaned forward on the table, wrapping his hands around his juice glass as he wondered how they’d gotten on this subject. Hell, was it even possible to have such a philosophical discussion with a six-year-old? “What’s the point of being born if we’re to be nothing more than puppets on a string, with no control over our lives? Every decision a man makes and every action he takes, large or small, has consequences, Henry. And those consequences—good or bad—spread out like waves on the ocean, sometimes traveling great distances to affect others.”
“What kind of decisions?” he asked, his brows knitting into a frown. “Let’s say I decide to stop brushing my teeth? How would that affect anyone else?”
Sweet Prometheus, he could see it was going to be a long day.
Where in hell was Olivia when he needed her?
“You don’t think your wife will mind being married to a man whose teeth suddenly start falling out?” Mac snorted. “Assuming you could get a woman to marry you with such foul breath.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms on his chest. “Let’s consider a more serious decision a person might make. What if I had decided not to stop and help Olivia when I saw that man attacking her?”
Henry went very still. “But she could have been badly hurt or even killed.”
Mac shrugged. “Why should I have cared? I didn’t know Olivia, so wouldn’t it have been better to simply drive by and not involve us in some stranger’s trouble?”
“But, Dad! If anything happened to Miss Olivia, Sophie would be an orphan.”
“So?”
The boy glared at him so fiercely, Mac was surprised they both didn’t burst into flames. But then Henry took a deep breath, and Mac stifled a smile when he saw a twinkle appear in the boy’s eyes.
“I know you would never walk away from someone in trouble,” Henry said with all the authority of a loyal son. “You’re just trying to make me see what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped to help Miss Olivia.”
“No, I’m trying to point out that I had a choice, and how my decision to stop had consequences that affected not only Olivia and her daughter, but also you and me.”
“How did it affect me?”
“You and I have known each other what… three months?” Mac leaned forward on the table again when the boy nodded. “And did you not form an opinion of me within a few days, which has shifted and deepened in the time we’ve been together?”
Henry nodded again, now looking confused.
“So were you surprised that I stopped to help Olivia?”
“No. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t. And… and disappointed.”
“Ev
en though I have constantly been telling you that as theurgists, it’s not our place to meddle in people’s lives?”
“But you meddle all the time. You gave Miss Fiona and Gabriella their lives back and brought them to this century, and you told all the big juicy lobsters to crawl into Mr. Trace’s traps so he could sell them for lots of money.”
Mac once again found himself wondering how they’d gotten on this subject, and how in hell he was going to get off it. Hadn’t it started with horses or something?
No, it had started with Henry’s distaste for burned food.
He gave the boy a tight smile. “And now Fiona and Gabriella have to live with the consequences of my actions, don’t they? And so must I.” Mac leaned back in his chair, folding his arms again. “So the point of this little discussion, I believe, is that I’ve decided there will be no servants cooking and cleaning for us when we settle into our permanent home.”
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