Watching, MacKenzie frowned. “Dakota, what are you doing?”
Removing her necklace, Dakota held it up in front of her friend. On the end of the velvet ribbon was the cameo she had purchased at an antique shop in upstate New York. The cameo she firmly believed with all her heart had brought her and Ian Russell together in the first place. The cameo came along with a legend.
“I’m taking the cameo off so that I can give it to you.”
“Dakota—” MacKenzie began to protest, shaking her head.
She was about to step back, but Dakota was faster. The latter took her hand and turned it so that her palm was facing up. Dakota laid the cameo across it. She vividly remembered that the woman who had sold her the necklace had said that once she’d felt its magic, once true love had entered her life, she was charged with passing the necklace on to someone else who was in need of its magic. Someone like her best friend.
“I’ve felt the effects of its magic. Now it’s your turn.”
MacKenzie stared at her, dumbfounded. Dakota had been valedictorian in their graduating class. “You don’t really believe—”
“Oh, yes, I do,” Dakota cut in adamantly. “I’m not much on legends and magic, but this worked just the way I was told it would.” Seeing the skepticism in MacKenzie’s eyes, Dakota pressed on. She had once been a disbeliever herself. “The woman in the antique store told me that the legend went that whoever wore the cameo would have their true love enter their life.”
“Dakota, we’re New Yorkers now. We’re too sophisticated for that.” Although part of her wished she could believe in magic. In happily-ever-afters and men who loved to their last dying breath. But she was too old to hang onto illusions. There came a time to grow up. “That’s hype and you know it.”
“No,” Dakota contradicted firmly, “I don’t. What I know is that when I put it on, I met Ian that same afternoon. Maybe it’s crazy,” she allowed, “but there is no other explanation for it than magic. When I went back to talk to that old woman in the antique shop, the owner said no one matching her description worked there. Except that I did talk to her. I did see her.
“And she looked exactly like the photograph he had hanging on his wall of his great-great-aunt—the same great-aunt whose funeral was taking place the day I bought the cameo from her.” It sounded fantastic and she would have been the first to doubt the story if she hadn’t lived through it herself. “Now, if that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.”
MacKenzie looked at the necklace. The cameo was a woman’s profile, carved in ivory and delicately set against a Wedgwood blue background. It was a beautiful piece, but only jewelry, not a cure for a broken heart. “I don’t believe in magic.”
Dakota placed her hand over MacKenzie’s in mute comfort. “You did, once.”
MacKenzie drew her hand away, determined to brazen it out. “I also believed in Santa Claus, once. But I grew up.”
The woman in the shop hadn’t said that belief was an integral part of the experience. “Okay, you don’t have to believe, you just have to wear it.” She looked at MacKenzie, mutely supplicating. “What do you have to lose?”
MacKenzie laughed shortly. “The cameo, for one.” She looked down at the cameo and shook her head. “You know how bad I am about things like that. I’d feel awful if I lost it.” She attempted to push the piece back into Dakota’s hand.
But Dakota merely pushed it back toward her instead. “Then don’t lose it,” she advised. “Wear it. As a favor to me, Zee,” she added, her eyes locking with MacKenzie’s again.
MacKenzie could feel herself wearing down. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the cameo. It was beautiful and she would have loved to wear it. But she also knew that there was no magic in it. Magic was for the very young and the very old to believe in. And the very superstitious. That wasn’t her. “Waste of time.”
The argument was unacceptable. Dakota shrugged it off. “Time goes by anyway.”
Outflanked, MacKenzie surrendered. “God, but you are chipper, even for you.”
“I know.” Her smile fairly lit up the entire room, with light to spare. “I feel like I’m floating.”
It had to be wonderful to feel that way, MacKenzie thought. “Try not to levitate until after the show, okay?”
“Deal.” Dakota looked down at the cameo pointedly. “If you—”
“Wear the necklace—yes, I know. Way ahead of you on that one.” She sighed, capitulating. “Okay, I’ll wear it.”
Dakota kept looking at her expectantly. Waiting. “Now.”
MacKenzie glanced at her watch. It was almost time to go on. “Dakota—”
Dakota rose from her seat, moving around to stand behind MacKenzie. She reached around her, her hand out for the cameo that was nestled in MacKenzie’s hand. “Now,” she repeated.
With a sigh, MacKenzie relinquished the cameo she’d meant to stash in her tiny jewelry box, and placed the piece and its velvet ribbon in her friend’s hand. “It’s not going to do any good.”
“Humor me.”
MacKenzie suppressed another sigh. “Okay, you’re the star.”
“No,” Dakota corrected, securing the ribbon and then coming around to take a look at her handiwork. “I’m the friend.”
MacKenzie knew that Dakota meant well. That the woman who had come up the ranks right along with her only had her best interests at heart. But at this point in the game, her own interests were going to have to take a time-out and slip into the back seat.
At least her romantic interests.
She had a career to worry about, granted, but more important than that, she had a brand new life to worry about. The brand new life she’d just discovered yesterday morning existed within her.
Apparently, Jeff was never going to be permanently out of her life.
Or at least a part of him wasn’t going to be.
She was pregnant. Probably not more than a few weeks because that was the last time she and Jeff had made love. Three and a half weeks. Just before Dakota’s autumn wedding.
Damn it, how could this have happened? Science had advanced so far, you’d think there could be a hundred-percent guarantee for things like birth control pills. But there wasn’t because she had used birth-control and still she found herself unexpectedly carrying a new life within her. A baby who by all rights shouldn’t have been there.
But it was, she thought, placing her hand over what was an absolutely flat stomach.
It was there. Six stupid sticks, all pointing to the same thing, couldn’t be wrong no matter how much she wanted them to be.
Six, that was how many kits she’d brought home, buying each one at a different drugstore so that if for some reason one batch had emerged from the manufacturer with some kind of malfunction, she could turn to another for the true results.
She’d turned six times.
Not a single one of them had given her a smattering of hope. Each one had pointed to the same results: She was pregnant.
Dragging herself out of her shower this morning after allowing the hot water to wash over her for longer than usual, MacKenzie knew she was going to have to make an appointment with her gynecologist for a true confirmation. Not that she held any real hope that the six sticks had lied to her.
Friday, she thought, drying herself off and then discarding the towel. She’d make the appointment for Friday. Or maybe even sometime next week. Right now, she was too busy with the show.
The show. Oh God, she was going to have to hustle, she thought without glancing at either one of the clocks in her bedroom. She could feel the minutes slipping away.
MacKenzie hurried into her clothes, putting on a straight forest-green skirt and a pale green sweater. Both felt loose. How much longer was that going to last, she wondered. Indefinitely, if the first ten minutes of her day were any indication. She’d spent them throwing up, entering that state while she was still half-asleep. She’d spent the next ten trying to get her bearings, succeeding only marginally.
Ab
out to dash out of her apartment, MacKenzie realized that she’d left the cameo behind. She was tempted to keep walking, but she knew that would hurt Dakota’s feelings and she didn’t want to do that. Besides, she certainly didn’t believe in the legend, but the small oval piece of jewelry really was lovely.
Securing the ends together at the nape of her neck, she stood for a moment looking at it.
Nothing.
“Magic, huh?” she scoffed. Lightning certainly wasn’t striking. It wasn’t even tingling. Still, the cameo did look as if it belonged exactly where it was.
Patting it, she left the room, muttering under her breath about superstitions. Sure, she’d been all for it when Dakota had first appeared on the set wearing it. And, admittedly, she’d been charmed by the idea that a Southern belle had once worn it. But that had been when it had hung around Dakota’s neck.
Having it now around her own made her uneasy. Uneasy because she was afraid that despite everything she said to the contrary, she might allow herself to buy into the story. To hope when every logical fiber in her body told her that there was nothing to hope on. That hope itself was only a fabrication.
She wasn’t the type that had legends come true.
Crossing the kitchen, MacKenzie glanced at her watch and then bit back an exasperated oath.
How had the time managed to melt away like that? She had less than half an hour to get to the studio and traffic was a bear. It was one of the givens living in New York City. Night or day, traffic was always a force to be reckoned with. A force that usually won.
Why was it that time only seem to lengthen itself when she was alone in bed at night, wondering about the direction of her life? Acutely aware of the fact that the place next to her was empty and would undoubtedly remain that way?
Philosophy later. Hurry now, she counseled herself as she headed for the door. There was no time for breakfast. Just as well. She wasn’t sure if her stomach could hold it down. Putting on her shoes and grabbing her oversize purse that held half her life in it, MacKenzie flew out of her Queens garden apartment and to her carport.
Where she came to an abrupt, grinding halt. She wasn’t going anywhere.
There was one of those self-rental moving trucks blocking her car, its nose protruding so that it was in the way of the car next to hers, as well. The truck’s back doors were both hanging open, displaying its contents for any passersby to see. Normally a curious person, MacKenzie had no interest in the truck’s contents. What interested her was the person who belonged to said possessions and said truck.
And he or she was nowhere in sight.
Exasperated, feeling the minutes physically ticking by, MacKenzie fisted her hands on her hips, the loop of her purse slung over her wrist.
She looked back and forth down the length of the carports. “Damn it,” she exclaimed audibly.
“Something wrong?”
The deep voice behind her sounded like something that had to be raised by bucket out of the depths of a fifty-foot well. Startled, MacKenzie jumped and swung around, her wide purse swinging an eighth of a beat behind her. Coming around like an afterthought, it hit the person belonging to the baritone voice squarely in the groin.
MacKenzie managed to turn in time to see a giant of a man—he was at least a foot taller than her five-foot-three stature—doubling over, his handsome, rugged face turning from tan to something akin to ash-gray. His deep green eyes were watering.
The horror of what she’d just done and the way he had to be feeling slammed into her. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” MacKenzie cried.
“You can back off,” Quade Preston ground out the words as he tried to regain both his breath and his composure. Both seemed to be just a step out of reach at the moment. He struggled to overtake them.
“Oh, right, sure.” MacKenzie moved back, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
She felt like David the moment after he had brought Goliath down to his knees, except that in this case it had been purely unintentional. If there was anyone she would have wanted to take aim at in this fashion, it was Jeff, even though she knew that wasn’t exactly fair. Jeff had never promised her the moon—or tomorrow. She had just assumed…
Lately, her emotions felt as if they were strapped to a roller-coaster ride. This tiny seed inside of her had had terrible repercussions on her emotional state. Right now, she felt like laughing and crying, knowing that neither was acceptable.
Especially laughing.
“I can get ice,” she offered, thinking back to when she’d been a kid and her brother Donald had had something similar happen to him. Her father had immediately applied ice to the injured area.
“Back away,” he told her again, this time with a shade less agony throbbing around the order.
Chapter Two
Okay, if he didn’t want her to help him, then she was absolved of her guilt and free to go, MacKenzie thought. As soon as he did one little thing.
“Okay, I’ll back away,” MacKenzie said gamely to the man who was trying very hard not to double over, “as soon as you move your truck.” She indicated the slightly dusty cherry-red car in the carport. She’d had it washed just last weekend, but New York dust was a tenacious thing to reckon with. “You’re blocking my Mustang.”
It took all of Quade’s self-control not to growl at the woman. Pain was still shooting out to all parts of him, making him feel as vulnerable as a day-old kitten. He didn’t particularly like that self-image. The little redhead had really swung that case of hers and hit him smack where he lived.
It took effort just to draw a breath. Quade bit down hard on the inside of his lower lip to keep from making any sounds that would give away the level of pain he was enduring. He had his hand clamped down onto the side of the truck to keep from falling to his knees, which were still trying to buckle.
“Right” was all he managed to get out.
Swallowing, he dug deep into his pocket for the keys. Somehow, he managed to get himself behind the wheel of the truck even though every movement brought its own penalty. Throwing the gearshift into Drive, he pulled the truck up several car lengths, allowing the woman to have access to her vehicle.
When he got out, his knees were only marginally in working order.
“Thank you,” the redhead said over her shoulder as she bounced into her car.
He remained standing by the truck, waiting out the pain that was driving sharp carpenter’s nails into his entire body.
As she pulled out, the woman offered him what he surmised was an apologetic smile. It didn’t begin to cover her transgression. Because he didn’t want to move just yet if he didn’t have to, Quade followed with his eyes the red Mustang’s progress as the woman drove out of the complex.
A plume of smoke was coming out of the vehicle’s tailpipe. She was burning oil. It figured.
Quade sighed, straightening slowly. He had to get back to work. He had exactly one day—today—to settle in before he had to report for his new position at the Wiley Memorial Research Labs. And begin his new life.
And hopefully find a way to move on.
It had not been a good day.
Twice, during the course of her workday, MacKenzie had found herself on the verge of breaking down. Both times Dakota had been near her. She’d almost told her best friend that she was pregnant.
But each time she’d begun, the words had stuck to the roof of her mouth, refusing to be dislodged. She’d shared absolutely everything with Dakota in the years that she’d known her and thought of the woman as almost a twin sister. But her pregnancy was something she needed to get used to herself before she could bring herself to talk to anyone else about it.
Hoping against irrational hope that this was all some rebellious act by her body, she’d decided to reschedule her exam with her doctor. She’d asked the nurse to try to squeeze her in somehow.
MacKenzie got lucky. There’d been a cancellation just called in. Consequently, Lisa, Dr. Neubert’s nurse, put her dow
n for one o’clock. With butterflies strapping themselves onto Boeing jets inside her stomach, she told Dakota that she was grabbing a late lunch and would be back in time for the show, then bolted.
Less than twenty minutes later, she found herself draped in tissue paper and lying on the examination table, counting holes in the ceiling tiles while Dr. Ann Neubert, her doctor for the last five years, performed an internal exam.
The second Dr. Neubert withdrew, MacKenzie propped herself up on her elbows and tried vainly to read the blond woman’s expression.
“I’m wrong, right?” MacKenzie asked eagerly, praying for confirmation.
Ann had stripped off her gloves, throwing them into the small trash basket.
“No, you’re right.” The woman’s expression was soft, encouraging, as if second-guessing her patient’s anguish. “Babies bring rainbows into your life—a new way of seeing things.”
Oh God, it’s true. I’m really pregnant. Now what am I going to do?
She wasn’t ready for this, not by a long shot. “Easy for you to say,” MacKenzie had muttered audibly. “You have a husband.”
Her doctor had surprised her then by putting down her chart and sitting down on the table beside her.
There was an earnest, faraway look in her eyes as she said, “I didn’t when I first found out that I was pregnant.” And then she laughed. “My first daughter was the result of an all-but-out-of-body, wild, impetuous experience one star-filled night on the beach with a handsome journalist who was going overseas to cover war stories the very next day.”
MacKenzie vaguely remembered the woman had two beautiful little girls and an even more beautiful husband who earned his living writing for one of the larger newspapers. “Isn’t your husband a journalist?”
Ann winked at her. “Turned out to be one and the same.” The doctor took hold of her hands, which made her feel just for a moment a sense of calm, that things would work out. “What I’m saying is that perhaps you and the baby’s father—”
And the calm vanished. She shook her head. “Not going to happen. He went back to a wife I didn’t know he had.”
She’s Having a Baby Page 2