“What’s so entertaining?” she asked, thinking about being annoyed again.
Mac fingered her dripping hood and the long wet bangs that stuck to her forehead and sides of her face. “I was just thinking that you’ve done enough today. If you did any more, we’d have to give you hazard pay.”
Grinning, he gestured through the pounding rain to the truck he’d parked close to the doors. “Okay. Run for it, Terri Fletcher.” And suddenly she was grinning, too.
They had to run again when they got to the house, though Mac took the truck as close as he could to the porch steps. Amos was there to scold them when they entered, wiping their faces and laughing.
“Are the two of you daft?” he asked crossly, though there was a hint of humor in his eyes. “Never saw two people more happy to be wet.”
“Never had so much fun getting wet,” Mac returned, and smiled at Erin. And against every warning bell clanging in her mind, her heart grew wings.
The mood was still light when he drove Erin and Christie back to their quarters after an early dinner of delivery pizza, tossed salads and fresh apple cobbler. She’d dug in her heels and insisted she didn’t need to change to dry clothes—and eventually Mac had conceded. Besides, she’d pointed out to him, someone had to stay with Amos while he tended the horses. Erin knew it was wrong to feel this content, but she couldn’t stop herself from embracing it. It had been years since she’d laughed over something silly.
“You’re a good cook,” he said, carrying Christie over the wet grass and up the steps to the house. The heavy rain had stopped, and a smudge of sunlight shone faintly through the thinning cloud cover. He held the door for Erin, then he and Christie followed her inside.
“Thanks. Of course, the most difficult dish was the pizza.”
“And it was excellent.” Mac nodded toward his computer room. “Mind if I pick up my e-mail messages before I head back?”
Feeling a guilty twinge, she said, “Of course not.” Then more casually she added, “I need to get Christie in the tub and ready for bed, so take all the time you want.”
As the two of them headed for the bathroom, Mac lingered in the doorway, listening.
“Hey, sweetie pie,” Erin murmured. “How would you like a bubble bath tonight?”
“Waggedy Ann, too?”
“Nope. Sorry. Raggedy Ann would take forever to dry, and she likes to sleep with you. You don’t want to sleep in a wet bed, do you?”
He didn’t hear Christie’s reply because they’d gone into the bathroom, but he assumed she’d said no.
Mac pushed away from the doorframe and went to his desk, then started his PC. He paused to listen again as the rush of running water and giggles echoed from the bathroom. On the heels of that, the smell of shampoo and bubble bath carried to him. They were nice sounds. Nice smells. A reminder of a life he’d once looked forward to having. But Audra had changed that.
A nerve leaped in his jaw as he indulged in a little leftover resentment. Then he reminded himself that that part of his life had been over for a long time, and concentrated on his e-mail. There were four messages, one of them from his New Hampshire friend, Shane Garrett, who was just touching base. He answered Shane’s note first, then moved on to the others.
He hadn’t realized how much time he’d spent until Terri walked in, holding Christie’s hand.
The sight of the little girl’s rosy cheeks and damp, baby-fine hair curling at the ends brought a smile to his face. “Don’t you look pretty,” he said.
“I taked a bubbo baff!”
“You took a bubble bath,” Terri said. “And now it’s time for bed. Can you say good-night to Mr. Corbett?”
“’Night, Misser Corvet.”
“Sweet dreams, honey,” Mac answered.
When Terri returned a few minutes later, all thoughts of Christie vanished. She’d gotten rid of that rubber-band-thing strangling her hair, and now it curved softly over her forehead and brushed her high cheekbones, then fell to her shoulders.
He tore his gaze away, beginning to hear jungle drums pounding in his head, beginning to feel the heat. “There were no e-mail messages for you. I recognized all the senders. You might want to tell your friends to put your name in the subject line so I don’t open any of your mail by mistake.”
“That’s a good idea. I haven’t written to anyone yet, but I’ll probably do that soon. Thanks again for letting me use your e-mail address.”
“Sure.” He paused for a beat. He didn’t want to leave, but there was no offer of coffee tonight. Besides, he had to get back to Amos. Mac ambled to the door, rested a hand on the doorknob. “With the rain and all, I didn’t ask how PT went today.”
“It went really well, I think. Vicki asked me to come in and watch, so I saw the exercises your granddad is supposed to do—especially on the days he doesn’t have a session. And guess what? He did a few of them when he came home.”
Mac feigned shock. “You’re kidding. Without being badgered?”
“Completely on his own. I’m not sure, but I think—and I could be wrong about this—that he wants to please me. I caught him glancing in my direction occasionally when he was doing his leg lifts. I told him if he kept that up, I’d be looking for another job sooner than I’d planned. He seemed to like that.”
Mac felt a swell of gratitude…and something else he didn’t care to name. In just five short days—without even trying, it seemed—she’d found a place in Amos’s heart. She and Christie both had. He smiled down at her, liking the way she smiled back. “You’re a miracle worker.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t,” he murmured, and captured her hand. He held it for a long moment, giving her time to decide if she wanted it back. Then, when she didn’t tug it away, he brought it slowly to his lips. Mac watched her eyes widen as he rubbed his lips over the tips of her fingers, good sense gradually losing out to the new heat stirring in his blood.
Then without really knowing how it happened, suddenly she was in his arms, his hands were sliding through all that hair, and his eager mouth was slanting over hers.
Chapter 4
Mac slid his hands over her body, deepening the kiss, molding her soft curves to his hollows and planes, hearing those drums again and letting them fill his blood, his lungs, his very soul. It had been so long since a woman had felt this good in his arms, so long since he’d wanted. And now he wanted with every breath in his body.
With a muffled sound, Terri jerked away.
His fevered haze cleared the instant he saw the startled look in her eyes. Oh, hell. Hadn’t she wanted this, too? Or had his deprived libido just made some male-friendly assumptions and plunged ahead?
The awkwardness seemed to stretch out forever…until Terri backed away a few steps and filled the silence.
“I’d better check on Christie,” she said quietly.
Mac released a ragged breath and nodded. Of all the things she could have said, that was probably the best. If she wanted to pretend the kiss never happened, that was fine with him. No harm, no foul. It seemed to him that there was an unwritten code of honor that said you didn’t mess with the help, and he’d nearly done it twice.
Opening the door, he stepped out on the porch and spoke through the screen. A thin, drizzling rain had begun again. “Tomorrow’s Saturday so you’ll have a short day. I’ll be closing the store at three.”
“Your…your granddad mentioned that. Would you like me to start supper?”
“Thanks, but I can do that.” He considered offering an apology, but he knew he’d never be able to pull it off. He wasn’t sorry. She’d tasted like every sweet thing he’d been missing in life, and his blood was still pumping in all the wrong directions. If she hadn’t pulled back— Shaking off that thought, he descended the steps. “Good night, Terri.”
“Good night.”
Mac heard the door close behind him as he climbed inside the truck, fired the engine and flicked on the windshield wipers. Backing away from the house
, he drove onto the dirt and grass lane that joined Amos’s driveway to his.
Two nights ago, he’d vowed to keep his distance. Now, forty-eight hours later, he was on her like a rutting Neanderthal with bad teeth and a knobby club. Man need jump. Get in cave.
He bumped the truck through the ruts, grimly renewing his promise to stay away from her. Even if she wasn’t an employee, from the way she’d balked when his hands slid to her hips, she wasn’t the one-night-stand type. She was also an unknown commodity and liked the road too much for him to consider her anything but temporary. So logically, since there would be no sex with her without a commitment—and he wasn’t interested in one—keeping his distance should be easy.
Mac pulled up to his granddad’s house and stared bleakly at the low lamps burning in the windows while his pulse continued to beat to the tune of his need. Yep. Easy. Easy as walking on water.
Erin’s hand shook as she turned off the light in the foyer, then watched the cherry-red taillights in Mac’s truck wink out in front of Amos’s house. She heard the low thud of the truck’s door shutting.
Why hadn’t she stopped him when she saw that kiss coming? She knew it was a mistake. Instead, she’d stilled for it, breathlessly awaited it, almost willed his warm, talented mouth onto hers. She swallowed the lump in her throat. But hadn’t she deserved just one tiny moment of tenderness and touching? Just one brief moment of feeling like a woman again, not just Christie’s mom or someone’s employee or an habitual newcomer to a new town who was always in fear?
But instead of being tender, that very short kiss had been electric. Pulses still throbbed, from her head to her toes.
Pulling herself away, Erin walked to Mac’s room where Christie lay sleeping on his giant bed, the sheet kicked off, her smooth little legs jutting out from her ruffled baby doll pajamas. Her thumb was nowhere near her mouth, and Erin breathed a thankful prayer. It had taken time and talking and tenderness, but Christie had finally given up that needed comfort a few months ago.
Erin slid the sheet over her daughter’s legs and stroked her sweet face, then quietly left the room to put the kettle on for tea.
She could still feel a tingle on her lips, still feel her nerve endings vibrate beneath her skin. But Mac was forbidden fruit. An involvement of any kind was impossible—with him or with anyone else. Despite her promise to care for Amos for the next six to eight weeks, she knew life could change in the blink of an eye. She pulled a thick mug from a cupboard. What happened in Maine could happen again. It was pointless to start something she couldn’t afford to finish.
Bells pealed from the soaring spire of the tiny, nondenominational church in High Hawk on Sunday morning as Erin and Christie filed out, exchanging vague pleasantries with members of the congregation, then shaking hands and complimenting the aging minister on his service. Overhead, the sun shone brightly, and as they walked to the van with those church bells still clanging a welcome, Erin felt almost normal.
Suddenly she grinned down at Christie. “How would you like to have breakfast at a restaurant this morning, sweetheart?”
Christie’s eyes sparkled. “Wif Aunt Millie?”
“No,” she answered, wishing it were so. “Aunt Millie’s restaurant is far away.” In the five months they’d spent in Maine, Millie had become a wonderful friend and Christie’s aunt-of-the-heart. Erin missed her, too, sometimes terribly, but there was nothing she could do about that. She continued speaking to Christie. “How would you like to eat at the little place with the funny stools that spin? Remember? You had French fries there when we first came here.” Bending low, she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “We could have pancakes!”
That was all the temptation Christie needed.
But twenty minutes later as Christie dragged her silver-dollar pancakes through a river of syrup and Erin sipped from her coffee cup, a niggling fear crept in again and she found herself sliding veiled looks over the room, checking for men who glanced away or hid behind newspapers when she caught them looking. Maine was over two weeks behind them, and though she knew Charles would never stop searching for them, there was no good reason to think they’d been followed here. She’d lost the private investigator’s dark-blue sedan just outside of Boston, and she hadn’t used her credit card or done anything else that would create a paper trail. Just the same, the short hairs at the nape of her neck began to prickle, and suddenly Erin had the eerie feeling that someone was watching them.
Then she saw him. A man in a back booth, youngish, wearing a light navy windbreaker and tinted glasses. He sent her a slow smile and rose from his seat, carried his check to the front of the room.
Erin’s pulse skyrocketed. Pushing aside her half-eaten English muffin, she took Christie’s fork and fed her to hurry her along.
Then a waitress called him by name, asked how his sister’s wedding went, and Erin’s heart settled down. She had to relax. She was jumping at shadows. The man was simply one of the locals, probably curious at seeing a new face. Still, she needed to be careful. She hadn’t been careful enough in Maine.
The phone rang. Mac pushed away from the table where he’d been tallying the week’s receipts, then went to answer it before it woke Amos. Last time he’d checked, his granddad was snoring in his recliner, enjoying a post-supper nap, sections of the Sunday paper strewn in a half moat around his chair. Mac had gathered the papers and set them aside, irked that Amos hadn’t seen them as a danger to his slipping and falling.
He snatched up the receiver before the phone could ring a second time. “Hello?”
A familiar voice returned the greeting. “Hi, Mac. I tried to get you at your place, but there was no answer, so I figured you were at your granddad’s.”
No one had answered his phone?
Craning his neck to see his house through the window, Mac said, “Yeah, I’m here, Shane. What’s up?” He knew Terri and Christie had come home a while ago, so why wasn’t she answering the phone? Then he saw them splashing at the corner of the pond, Christie in a ruffled yellow bathing suit, Terri in tan shorts and a white tank top. A little pop of adrenaline hit him.
“Just wondering if you’d given any thought to my suggestion,” Shane went on.
Frowning, Mac dragged his attention away from the pond. “What suggestion?”
“Aren’t you checking your e-mail?”
No, he wasn’t. After that debacle on Friday night, he was staying as far away from Terri as he could. Since his computer was in his house—and so was she—no, he was not checking his email. To Shane he simply said, “Haven’t checked it for a day or two.”
“Oh. Well, I wrote and offered you a proposition. You might want to read it.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“Good, you’re eager,” he said with a short laugh. “I think my note began, ‘Aren’t you tired of running your granddad’s general store yet?’ and ended with, ‘I’ve had it with New Hampshire, and I’m coming back to Arizona to start a new business.’” He paused. “I’ve already looked into office space. I’m hoping you’ll make it a partnership.”
Mac held back a sigh. What was it people said? Timing was everything?
Shane had been a good friend for years. They’d attended Arizona State together, drank more than they should’ve at frat parties but still made the dean’s list, hunted, fished, went white-water rafting and even dated twin sisters for a while. It had been Mac’s lousy luck to marry his twin. After graduation, he and Shane had both snagged jobs with the same civil engineering firm in New Hampshire.
Mac had cut out and come home after his divorce, putting all of his energies into building his house. Because he knew this was where he was going to stay.
“You’re not saying anything,” Shane prompted. “Come on, building dams has to be a hell of a lot more fun than carrying old ladies’ groceries to their cars.”
Mac grinned. “They’re not all old.”
“No?”
“No.”
Shane laughed. “Do I hea
r renewed interest in the fair sex? Or just a renewed interest in sex, period? Something going on that you haven’t mentioned?”
Terri’s face—and now her long, finally uncovered legs—filled his mind. “No, and I guess things aren’t working out with Lisa if you’re thinking of pulling up stakes.”
“She says I need to grow up.”
Mac grinned again. “She’s right. Ever look up the word cavalier in the dictionary? There’s a picture of you next to it.”
Shane groaned. “See, that’s why this partnership’s so important. You used to be sharper. Wittier. Slinging feed sacks is dulling your brain. You need a challenge.”
He had one, Mac thought. Five feet, six inches of her. She challenged his senses, challenged his sleep, challenged his peace of mind.
He heard Amos begin to stir, and caregiver mode clicked in. Prolonged inactivity still made Amos a little wobbly when he got up. “Shane, I have to take care of something right now, but I’ll call you in a few days. I need some time to think about this.”
“Just e-mail me and save yourself a dime. All I need is one word, and you know what it is.”
Terri’s clear complexion and thickly lashed blue eyes filled his mind again. “I’ll phone. Have a good—”
“Wait a second,” Shane cut in almost reluctantly. “There’s something else. This won’t take long.”
Reluctance? From Shane? “What’s up?”
“I ran into your ex-mother-in-law yesterday.”
Dread settled between Mac’s shoulder blades, but he kept his tone even. “Yeah? What did Vivian have to say?”
“Audra remarried a few months ago.”
“Good for her,” he said unemotionally, but he felt the old fish hook turn in his gut. “Anyone I know?”
“Yeah,” Shane replied. “Yeah, you know him.”
He didn’t have to say more. The guy she’d married was the slick used-car salesman she’d been sleeping with while they were together: Buzz Willett.
Run to Me Page 5
