by Amy Reece
“No pressure, Bella. I’ll call you a cab if you want.”
She’d smiled up into those brilliant green eyes. “What do you want?”
He’d closed the gap between them and kissed her softly. “I want you.”
He was still sound asleep, on his back with one arm behind his head. His beard was coming in even heavier this morning and she remembered how wonderfully rough it had felt all over her body. The things he had made her feel! God! She wasn’t terribly experienced, but knew instinctively they were extremely good together. It was supposed to have been simple, no-strings-attached sex, but sometime during the long night, she had realized they were making love. And it was beautiful. His chest was furred with light brown hair and there was a tattoo covering most of his left pectoral. She leaned closer and saw it was a skull and wings design of some sort. Her fingers reached for his dog tags, intent on discovering his full name, but she pulled back at the last moment. Better to simply let it be. They had stolen a wonderful night together, but real life was waiting for her outside this hotel room. It had been an amazing experience, but it would never be repeated. She wasn’t this person; she knew that now. She had no idea what kind of person Mac was—not really—but he didn’t deserve to be used like this, in a stupid attempt to get back at her cheating fiancé.
She slid from the bed and moved around the room quietly, picking up her clothes. Once dressed, she rummaged in her shoulder bag until she found a notepad. She grabbed the hotel pen and scrawled a few words on the light pink paper. She left it on the indentation in her pillow, along with the key card. Then she left.
Three weeks later, after a missed period and several mornings spent hunched over the toilet vomiting until her toes curled, she’d bought a pregnancy test. She knew it was Mac’s; she and Brent hadn’t had sex in well over two months, and she’d had her period right before she met Mac.
Izzy shook herself out of her self-indulgent reverie. You really don’t have time to obsess over the past, girl. The present has quite enough to keep you busy. She knew she had to tell him. She’d been planning to tell him earlier in the evening, but she hadn’t. Being with him again had brought it all back: how special he made her feel, what a nice guy he was. She’d convinced herself in the intervening years that she’d imagined most of it, that he couldn’t possibly be as wonderful as she remembered. After all, any guy who would pick up a random girl in a bar and take her to a hotel for the night couldn’t be all that great, could he? But he was nice. And smart. And he treated her with such respect. It had been such a long time since she’d had a date with a handsome man who listened more than talked. When they’d finished their shared dessert and he’d paid the bill, he insisted on walking her to her car.
“Can I call you again, Izzy? Please say yes.” He’d looked so hopeful and vulnerable.
So she’d told him he could. Then he’d stepped closer and leaned down to brush his lips across hers quickly. He’d walked away, whistling, and she hadn’t told him.
She finally dragged herself to bed and fell into a restless sleep. She indulged herself by sleeping in Sunday morning, something she rarely got to do. She was due for dinner at her parents’ house later, where she would pick up Janey, and decided to spend her rare free day lounging on the couch, reading a novel she’d bought and never had the chance to read. She read until lunch, then did something else she never got to do anymore: she took a nap. It was wonderful and refreshing to not have to speak to another soul for over six hours, and Izzy reveled in the quiet time. She loved her daughter and loved being a mother, but that didn’t make it an easy gig.
By the time she let herself into her parents’ spacious house that evening, she was feeling refreshed and better able to handle the crazy events in her life. She hugged her daughter, who had apparently arrived a few minutes earlier, and accepted the glass of wine from Chris.
“So?” Her sister-in-law steered her into the living room, away from the rest of the family.
“So what?” She sipped her wine and wished she could avoid this conversation, at least for a while.
Chris lowered her eyes and looked unimpressed. “Did he call?”
Izzy nodded reluctantly. “We had dinner together,” she admitted.
“Great! How did he take the news?”
Izzy took another sip. “I didn’t tell him.”
“Izzy! You have to tell him. He has a child and deserves to know about it. You have to tell him!”
“I know! I know, okay?” She set her wine glass aside and began to pace. “I just need some time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know! But you can’t tell Hugh! Please, Chris.”
Chris crossed her arms and grunted. “He’s my husband, Izzy. And he cares about you. Do you have any idea what this does to him, this whole situation with you and Janey? How much it hurts him?”
“It’s none of his business!” She took in Chris’s set jaw and furious stance. “Shit. Sorry. I just need some time, Chris. Please. I will tell Mac, but it didn’t feel right last night.”
“Don’t put this off, Izzy. It won’t get any easier, you know. And I won’t tell Hugh.”
“Thank you. I really—”
“Because you will.”
***
“Izzy?” Hugh knocked quickly and entered her office.
Izzy started, slopping coffee on her desk. “Damn it. Sorry. What do you need?”
“Are you okay, Iz? You seem kind of jumpy. You were a little off last night too. Everything okay?”
“Yes, of course. I’m fine.” Why did her brother have to be so perceptive? She’d promised Chris she would tell Hugh and the rest of the family soon, but insisted Mac deserved to be told first. She was having a difficult time, however, thinking how best to break the news to him that he had a nearly five-year-old daughter he never knew existed. Talk about your awkward conversations! “What do you need?” she repeated.
Hugh pulled out the chair in front of her desk and perched his large frame on the edge of the seat. “I need a favor. You know how I’ve been thinking about giving Lyon Millwork a contract?”
She nodded. “They’re a well-respected finish carpentry and fine millwork firm. Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Hugh frowned, a faraway look on his face. “Have you ever met George Lyon?”
“He’s the owner, right? No, I’ve never met him.”
“His father started the company back in the forties. I don’t know, Iz. There’s just something…off…about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s off.” He shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Anyway, I asked them to send over some of their most recent financials. I want to take a deeper look into the viability of their company before I sign a contract with them. We certainly don’t want to get into a business relationship with them if they’re on shaky financial footing. Would you mind putting some of your mad forensic accounting skills to work and look over the documents?”
She’d earned a master’s degree in forensic accounting and had fully planned to work for the government, but their dad’s retirement and Janey’s birth had changed her plans. She’d always thought her dad would hand the construction business off solely to Hugh, who had worked with him part time through high school, college, grad school, and full time since. She herself had been doing the books for several years, at first helping their long-time bookkeeper, then fully taking over when the man had retired. She’d always thought it was simply something to do while she was in school. When she discovered she was pregnant, she found she was loath to pull up roots and move away from Albuquerque and her support system. Big Tony had shocked her—but obviously not Hugh, who had apparently been in on the plan—by naming her co-owner of DeLuca Construction along with Hugh. It turned out to be a good partnership: he took care of the clients and job sites while she handled the books and payroll. It wasn’t a terribly exciting career, but it was solid and provided a good living. She was able to buy a nice house, a safe car, and all the things a gr
owing child needed to thrive. It suited her. “I’ll be happy to look over whatever files they send. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Great. I’ll have them send over a few files.”
“I’ll keep a watch on my email for them.”
***
She returned from lunch the following day to find a corner of the waiting area stacked with boxes. “What’s all this, Malva?” she asked the receptionist. “We’ve already received the janitorial supplies for the month.”
“I have no idea.” The receptionist sounded slightly flustered. “They were delivered about half an hour ago from Lyon Millwork.”
“What in the world?” she muttered as she pried the lid from one of the boxes. It was crammed full of manila file folders. “Where’s Hugh?” she demanded.
“He said he’ll be out all afternoon, checking job sites.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
***
Mac
“So, to review, what should you do if there’s an active shooter in the mall?” He addressed the group of bored-looking mall employees. Hey, he got it: it was right after lunch and the room was overly warm. Plus, neither he nor Darius would ever win any prizes for their teaching ability. A woman in the front row was trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, and he was pretty sure the redhead in the back row was playing Words with Friends. “Anyone?” Bueller? Bueller? God, I hate my life right now.
“Put our head between our legs and kiss our ass goodbye?” Muffled laughter greeted this comment.
He heard Darius snort from behind him. Mac chuckled and clicked to the last, boring slide. “Hopefully not. Get yourself to safety, outside the mall if possible and if it seems safe. Don’t be a hero. Let law enforcement and security personnel do their job. Remember: Run, Hide, Fight. That’s all. Thanks for listening.”
Anemic applause preceded the speedy mass exit.
“God, that was brutal.” Mac shut down the laptop.
“I never thought I’d prefer writing reports to field work, but I’m seriously reconsidering. We need to figure out a way to liven this training up, bro.”
“It’s fairly coma-inducing, that’s for sure.” He slid the laptop into his bag and checked his phone. No message from Izzy yet. He’d sent a text after their date Saturday—a loose interpretation of the word ‘date’ perhaps—but she hadn’t replied. He’d thought it had gone fairly well and she’d said he could call again. So why the silent treatment?
“Texting is for pussies,” Darius said. “Call her.”
“Shut up. What makes you such a goddam expert?”
“I have a girlfriend. Last time I checked, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I’m working on it.” He figured his friend had a point, however. He opened his contacts app and pressed the button to call her. It rang several times then went to voicemail. Damn. She’s definitely avoiding me. But he’d sensed her interest on Saturday and she hadn’t freaked out when he brushed that quick kiss across her lips. “Hey, Izzy. It’s Mac. You want to get together tonight? Um, give me call.”
“Wow. No wonder you’re still single.”
“Screw you.” He was happy to let Darius drive them back to their office. It left him free to ponder the reasons she might not want to see him again. He didn’t think he was being overly vain or cocky about her reaction to him; he knew when a woman was into him or not, and Izzy had definitely been into him, even though he could tell she was holding something back. Well, that was fine. He was perfectly willing to take it slow and easy this time around. He hadn’t been lying when he told her he didn’t typically go for one-night stands. The one they shared had been his first and only and he was ninety-nine percent sure it was the same for her. Neither was the type. No, it had been an aberration for both of them, a product of his premonition of not returning from the imminent tour of duty and some unknown issue on her part. ‘I was tired of being Izzy and thought I’d try something new.’ Well, he could understand that. Maybe he needed to ratchet up his wooing a notch or two. He knew her last name and she’d said she did the books for the family construction company. He pulled up the internet on his phone and did a quick search. “Hey, can you find a flower shop?
“A florist? Sure.” Darius grinned and changed lanes. “I know a good one. Flowers are always a good idea.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon in a monthly threat assessment briefing. Albuquerque and New Mexico in general might seem so far off the beaten path terrorists wouldn’t bother with it, but the presence of two Department of Defense National Laboratories, two Air Force bases, and its proximity to the Mexican border made it much more of a viable target than most people would think. Mac was beginning to realize this assignment wouldn’t be quite the relaxed gig he had envisioned, boring mall trainings aside. In addition to foreign threats, there were plenty of domestic issues to keep them busy, as well. He and Darius didn’t work directly with the anti-drug task force, but drug trafficking was such a widespread problem they found themselves involved by virtue of other cases they were working on.
His cell buzzed in his pocket as he was shutting down his computer for the night. He glanced at the screen and his heart kicked up a notch. Izzy. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
He grinned and flashed a thumbs up across the cubicle to Darius. “You’re very welcome. I was hoping you’d call. I had a great time Saturday night and was hoping you’d be free for dinner tonight. Maybe we could catch a movie too.”
“Um.” She was silent for several seconds, during which Mac died a little inside. “I could do dinner, I guess. I think I better take a rain check on the movie, though.”
He’d take what he could get. “Great. What time should I pick you up?”
“Oh. Um, I can just meet you there.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind picking you up.” What was with her caginess? Did she not trust him or want him to know where she lived? They’d already slept together, for chrissake! He wasn’t expecting to jump right back in bed with her, but was it too much to ask that she’d let him pick her up for their date? He was an ex-Green Beret and currently worked for Homeland Security, which meant he’d been through a rigorous security clearance. But she couldn’t stand to be in the same car with him? Okay, fine. It stung a bit, but he was determined to power through. She was worth it.
“I think it’s better if we meet there, Mac. I, uh, I have to be somewhere later.”
“Sure, no problem.” He tried his best to sound casual, like it didn’t matter in the slightest. “How do you feel about Asian fusion? There’s a cool little place on Eubank and Montgomery.”
“Sounds perfect. Is seven okay?”
He was able to get in a short workout before he rushed home to shower and shave again. He chose a burgundy shirt he’d been told looked good and slapped on some aftershave. He arrived before her this time and waited in front of the restaurant. He watched her pull in to a parking spot, eyes widening as he took in her vehicle, a dark blue Lexus 350 ES. He hadn’t noticed the make and model when he’d walked her to her car on their last date. He mentally adjusted his assumptions of her family’s construction company; if she could afford to drive a forty-thousand-dollar car, it must be more than the mom-and-pop operation he’d had in mind. The intimidation he’d been feeling since he’d first seen her in the mall reared its nasty head again.
“Hi. Sorry I’m late.” She smiled and he forgot he’d ever been annoyed with her.
“No problem. I just got here.” He held the door open for her, catching a whiff of her intoxicating scent as she walked past him. God, if I could bottle that, I’d be a freakin’ millionaire. How in the world is she still single? Maybe she’s this skittish with all the guys she goes out with. Maybe that night six years ago was a fluke. Well, if it was, I’m the luckiest bastard in the whole world. Now I just need to figure out how to have a real relationship with her.
He managed to get them a booth in the back of the r
estaurant, where it was dark and quiet. He helped her remove her coat, allowing his fingers to brush the soft skin of her arms. He wanted so badly to pull her back against him and slide his arms around her. He cleared his throat and handed her coat to her. The waitress came and he was surprised when Izzy ordered a Kirin. He asked for one too, and grinned across the table at her. “I wouldn’t have guessed you like beer.”
“I have four brothers. It’s pretty much a requirement to like beer in order to hang out with them.”
“So you all get along? All your brothers and your sister? Being an only child, I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” He was eager to get her talking about herself and her background; he felt like he knew next to nothing about her.
She shrugged. “We get along better now that we’re all grown. We used to fight a lot. I don’t know how my parents managed without selling us all to the gypsies.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hugh and I never fought much. We’re the oldest, so I guess we were more inclined to keep the peace. Finn and Cara fought like cats and dogs, but they would defend each other to the death. Seamus would get into it with them from time to time, but Tony was the baby and hardly ever fought with anyone. I guess we do hang out fairly often now, especially compared to other people I know who never even talk to their siblings.”
