"Ready to take on the world," Tim said with a wink.
She took a deep breath, dropped the tube back into her purse and smiled. "What would I do without you, Tim?"
Tim shook his head sadly as he handed her the coat. "I have no idea, Mac."
"My hero." She stood on tiptoe and pressed a light kiss on his lips then wiped his mouth with the tip of her finger.
She shrugged into her coat, hung the purse over her shoulder and he dropped the laptop case into her open arms. He kissed her on the forehead like a dad sending his precocious daughter off to school, then yanked open the front door. Mackenzie squared her shoulders and ran to her car, already dreading the cross town traffic and damning the cold weather. Tim gave her a wave as his rusty old sedan pulled out of the driveway and headed for home.
Chapter 2
"You're fucking kidding me, right?"
"No, Mac, I'm not."
Mackenzie pulled the phone away from her ear, threw back her head and stared at the dingy drop ceiling. She breathed deeply, trying to hold the scream inside. She did not need everyone in the grocery store to know her day had just gone from bad to worse. She pulled in a huge gulp of air, peeled the coat from her suddenly-sweaty body and tossed it into the cart on top of her purse. She rolled her shoulders, preparing to do battle, and put the phone back to her ear.
"Tim, it can't possibly be that dire. I mean, it worked fine this afternoon. Well, until that screeching noise."
She closed her eyes and listened to Tim drone his usual technical nonsense in her ear. "Well, Mac, that screeching noise meant you should have shut it down right away." He paused, and she envisioned him shaking his head at her stupidity. "And did you do that?"
She sighed. "Do what? Shut it down? No, Tim, I didn't shut it down."
Another shake of his head, plus a huge sigh to punctuate the weary way his eyes closed when he talked with her about computers. "Well, I can tell that, Mac, which is why"
"I needed to finish my show and tell project. I just stuck my headphones on to tune-out the noise. I didn't think another few minutes would matter. This presentation is important."
"Yes, I know. You told me, but..." Tim continued to drone on and on about hard drives and motherboards, circuits and processors. She adored Tim, but when they weren't fucking or being best friends, he spoke a foreign language. She just wanted him to fix the fucking computer. She'd actually offered to pay him. In cash .
She shoved the cart down the aisle, nearly colliding with a toddler playing hide and seek with a box. The child's mother appeared to be invisible. She watched while the little girl climbed a shelf, grabbed a box of fruit snacks and careened out of the aisle. Didn't they make leashes for kids like that?
Tim paused for a moment, knowing he'd lost her attention. "Okay, Mac, tomorrow morning I can"
"Can't you do it tonight?"
He sighed. "I have a date tonight, Mac. The concert with Joanna. Remember?"
She rubbed her forehead. How had she forgotten that? He'd been planning his date with Joanna for weeks. "I'm sorry. Sure I remember. I'm a little distracted."
"It's okay and understandable. Just bring me the flash drive in the morning. I'll copy what you need and you'll"
"The flash drive?"
His heavy sigh filled her ear. He sounded a little disappointed and very annoyed. "The shiny thing I gave you for your birthday."
"Oh that, well." Mac steered into the frozen foods aisle. "I couldn't get the package open. You know how hard those plastic things are. And then I shoved it into a drawer and kind of forgot about it. What's it do anyway?"
The string of loud, angry curses coming out of the phone got the attention of a heavyset woman staring into the frozen pizzas. Mac ducked her head and held the phone tighter to her ear. She listened to Tim while she inspected the frosted cases. She really wanted a pizza, but that woman's cart blocked her access. Some people thought they owned the world. Mac was tempted to crash her cart into the woman's and send it flying down the aisle.
Tim would be pacing his office, running a hand through his too-long hair, probably clutching at it as he fought for control. She could ruffle Tim's calm faster than anyone, but only where technology was concerned. He'd been patient with her, trying to bring her into this century, but she'd managed to thwart him at every turn. Tim took his business seriously. If you needed a computer miracle, you took it to Murphy's Miracles, and that's exactly what she'd done. He didn't sound too pleased she'd chosen to patronize his business.
Tim finally wound down. His chair squeaked as he fell into it. No one could wear Tim out like she could. It seemed to be a talent.
"not sure I can retrieve it."
Mac froze. She brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead then shook her head. She could not have heard him right.
"What?" she whispered.
"Sorry, Mac, but I'm not sure I can retrieve it. That sound you heard, the one that sounded like a dying animal, signaled a serious failure, and sometimes these"
Her brain shut down and refused to listen. No, no, no. This could not be happening. If she didn't have that presentation for tomorrow afternoon's meeting she'd lose her chance at that promotion. She would not, repeat not, simply allow Gary Marks to get it. Not ahead of her or ever . She'd earned it, and she intended to climb right over Gary's tubby little deceitful body for what was rightfully hers.
Her reflection in the freezer door looked confused, terrified and unnerved. Great. Exactly how she felt. She yanked open the door and wallowed for a moment in the cool, icy mist swamping out of the case. Even as her body shivered, her face welcomed it, because she felt flushed and jittery. Tim wanted to scare her straight. That was it. He was a world-class computer genius, a true miracle worker. He'd fix it. He always did.
She grabbed a red package, some kind of Italian meal in a bag, and dropped it into the cart. What the hell was it? The picture looked good. Hopefully it held something with a creamy, fattening sauce though she really didn't care. It appeared to be microwaveable, and that's what mattered. She slammed the door and moved down the aisle, scanning the insides of the freezers.
She grabbed a loaf of frozen garlic bread, put it back and then chose one with cheese on top. If this was her last meal as a semi-sane, possibly promotable woman, she'd make it good. She tossed the bag, and it landed in the cart with a thunk.
"Oh, no. Tim, buddy, come on. Help me out here." She lowered her voice, trying for her best seductive tone. "There might be some sex in it for you." It came out sounding like a drag queen.
No laugh from Tim. Not a good sign. "Appreciate it, sweetie, but no amount of bargaining is going to work. Either I can do it or I can't. And I'm betting"
"Please, Tim. Do what you can. My meeting is at 2:00 tomorrow. You will forever be my hero."
"I'm already you're hero, Mac. You tell me that every day. But I'll take you up on a drink tomorrow night if I can do it. If I can't, then I'll buy. Sound fair?"
"Yes, Tim, more than fair. Please."
"I'll do my best, Mac."
The phone went dead. She stared at her lifeline for a moment then snapped it closed. It rang again. She recognized the "Mrs. Robinson" ringtone. She rolled her eyes.
Oh, God, Mother. What do you want now? I can't deal with you again today.
She shoved the ringing phone in her jacket pocket. Her blood pressure spiked.
Mac steered down the frozen breakfast foods. Burritos, sausage sandwiches, waffles. Yes, waffles. Tim said he liked them, and he deserved waffles for what she hoped he could do for her computer. She grabbed a box of eight. The ringing phone mercifully went quiet, then immediately launched into another rendition of "Mrs. Robinson." Since the divorce, her mother had developed a fascination for younger men. That seemed to be one of the many things not right with Mac's world right now. Half of the men her mother dated had been in Mac's high school class. She flipped open her phone.
"Hello, Mom."
Her mother's cheery voice threatened Mac's already seriously damaged
control. "How's it going, honey?"
"Did you sense a disturbance in the Force, Mom?" Sometimes she swore her mother had a tail on her twenty-four-seven.
Mac entered the beer and wine aisle. Her mother didn't laugh. "Something like that. So what's wrong?"
"I'm fine. Really. Just another little glitch at work."
Her mother's voice took on a nearly frantic tone. "It won't interfere with your promotion, will it?"
Mac hung her arms over the cart and dropped her head down. "No, Mom. I'm sure everything will be fine. Look, I'm in the store and I really"
"You've worked too hard for that promotion to let it slip through your fingers."
Mac's hand tightened around the phone. "Mother, you know me better than that. I'm not letting anything slip through my fingers."
"Does this have anything to do with Gary Marks?"
"You know how he's always been."
"Gary Marks is a parasite. He's been riding your coattails since high school. He can go fuck himself. He doesn't have half the talent or drive you do, and that company needs to know it."
"I appreciate that, Mom. Thank you." Her head dropped deeper into the cart. The floor of the store really needed a good scrubbing. Was that ketchup? In the beer aisle? "I'm just having a little problem with my computer. Tim said"
"Tim is not good enough for you," her mother decreed. "You know I've always liked Tim, honey, but you need to find a man with a real career."
She pressed her hand against her forehead. Please, Mother, not this again. "Tim has a real career. He owns his own business. A very successful business. Besides, Tim and I are friends, not"
"Lovers?" Mac heard the triumph in her mother's tone. "You're fucking him, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mother, you know I am, but Tim and I are just friends."
"Really? Just friends?"
"Fine, Mother. You win. Yes, we're more than friends, but we're not really dating."
Oh, that opened the can of worms. Jackie Dawson could never resist pulling out the list of candidates she'd already chosen to inflict on Mac. Mac nodded in the appropriate places, wondering who the hell Dylan was. She'd never mentioned a Dylan before. If he's as self-absorbed as that last idiot she set me up with, this should be fun. When Jackie finished that litany, she moved on to her perfect son-in-law, expressing her deepest regret that David did not have a twin brother, or at least a cousin, for Mackenzie. Apparently Mac would never find a man as suitable as David. It would never happen in her mother's wildest dreams, because Mac always settled in her choice of men as far as Jackie was concerned. Tim Murphy was just the latest in a long list of inappropriate men because he refused to wear a suit.
Mac tried several times to change the topic, but her mother smashed through her attempts with steamroller precision. Mac heard a groan come from her mouth. Someone cleared their throat.
She lifted her face to find a young man staring at her with concern. Dark hair. Bright hazel eyes. Her gaze fluttered over the rest of himnice lean legs encased in jeans, but it was almost impossible to tell what kind of body he had under his bulky winter coat. Damn the weather for interfering with her ogling. Cute kid. And the one behind him looked even cuter. Cute Kid Number One with the short, dark hair offered a tentative smile. She started to smile back, but then he said the worst possible thing.
"You okay, ma'am?"
Did you just call me ma'am? I'll show you, you little punk.
She straightened up to show off her reasonably youthful figure. Okay, so she'd passed thirty a while ago, but she worked hard to stay trim. She'd had lots of compliments and the men who followed on her heels at work seemed to think she looked sexy, or at least smelled sexy. Her breasts might be a tiny bit saggy, but a good push-up bra fixed that. She didn't have stretch marks. Jackie had deemed it impossible, because at this rate Mackenzie would never give her grandchildren. She knew she had nice legs. The construction workers downtown, who could be considered experts, had told her more than once.
That look on his face had to go. She smoothed her jacket, trying to show that even a ma'am could be in decent shape. As she straightened and fussed with the jacket, her hand plunged into the pocket too hard, and she heard a rip.
"Fuck!"
Her mother's hysterical voice poured through the phone. "Mackenzie, what's wrong? What happened?"
"Jesus H. Christ," Mac muttered.
She stared at the torn pocket in disbelief, muttering a string of her favorite curse words. The young man in front of her cart chuckled. She glared at him for a moment, and the corner of his mouth lifted. He turned to his auburn-haired friend, Cute Kid Number Two, who shrugged and said, "She sounds okay to me." He laughed as he reached for a case of Bud. Frat boys, definitely. They always went for the cheap domestics.
"Mackenzie Dawson." Her mother's stern voice broke through her tirade. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but you sound positively unhinged."
"I am, Mom. Definitely unhinged. And you're removing the last pin. I've got to go. Talk to you tomorrow."
She snapped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket. It promptly fell through the hole and landed on the linoleum floor with a crack. Her audience of two glanced over as she squatted down, but it was too late. She realized her skirt had hiked up to the tops of her thighs, and she'd probably given them a clear view of her black thong. Dark-Haired Kid whispered something to Auburn-Haired Kid, who said "you're telling me."
Great. Just great.
She retrieved her phone, inspected it for damage and put it into the intact pocket. The cute kids had gone back to inspecting the beer supply. Mac concentrated on the wine. What kind of wine would be appropriate for a total nervous breakdown? It hardly mattered how it tasted. She needed to get drunk, and the liquor stores had closed an hour ago. She yanked a half-gallon bottle of something white from the shelf, because she might as well have enough to get totally smashed, and settled it on top of her coat.
"Going for the cheap domestic, huh?"
She whirled around to find Cute Kid Number Two perusing her cart to critique her choice of alcohol for the evening.
She tilted her face and stared into a pair of brilliant emerald eyes that gazed back with confidence and a trace of humor. Wow. Cute Kid Number Two had it all going on. "This commentary coming from a Budweiser man?"
He shrugged, his winter coat bunching around his neck. "Broke college student. What's your excuse?"
"You don't buy Dom Perignon to celebrate the crashing of your hard drive." She offered him a tiny smile.
He nodded. "Ouch. That bites. Hey, if I can help, I"
She pressed her finger against a suddenly-aching temple. "No, thanks, it's okay. I've got my own personal geek."
An endearing smile settled on his face. He had a set of amazing dimples. A wave of heat poured through her, and Mac wished they were still in the frozen foods section. She needed an icy blast of cold air.
"People interested in technology aren't all geeks, you know," he said. He had such an incredible smile. Mac, suddenly worried about her blood pressure, felt dizzy. "Some of us actually know how to talk to real girls."
Cute Kid Number One lifted another case of beer, this time Miller, no surprise there, into their cart and hooked a thumb in his friend's direction. "He does anyway. Micky's quite the ladies man."
"Shut up, Sean." Cute Kid Number Two, Micky, with his smiling Irish eyes and spiky auburn hair, dipped his gaze down her body then unzipped and removed the bulk that hid his body. He tossed his coat over the beer. "It's getting a little warm in here."
Mac couldn't have agreed more. Sweat seemed to be dripping in places where it had no business dripping. Her thong dampened, which was a totally inappropriate response in a grocery store, particularly when in the midst of a nervous breakdown.
Micky wore that fraternity t-shirt well. It held more muscles than Mac would have thought possible. She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted another case of beer. This time he chose Sam Adams.
Nice choice. Cute, hott
er than hell and good taste.
"Sam Adams?" Sean said. "Are you freaking kidding me? I'm not paying for them to drink Sam Adams."
"It's for me, dumbass. I'm not drinking that swill." Micky's arms fairly bulged with ripples as he settled the beer of champions into the cart.
"Are you a football player?" Mac asked. She continued to stare at his arms.
His smooth brow wrinkled for a second, and then he flashed that amazing smile again. "Oh, no, ma'am. This is just the way I'm built."
She'd never seen a techno geek built like this one before. Tim was great looking and had a mighty fine body, but this kid had him beat by a mile. Mac fingered the edge of her silk blouse. Yikes. She couldn't take her eyes off the auburn stubble that peppered his jaw. His friend's voice tugged for Micky's attention.
"Mick, what else do we need?"
Micky glanced over his hunky shoulder, and Mac took full advantage of his preoccupation to inspect the merchandise. She sighed, toying with her necklace.
"You promised a couple subs, remember? And Scott wants some beef jerky." He turned back, gave Mac a twisted little smile and nodded toward his friend. "Sean lost a bet today. The dumbass said he'd ace his chem final. Hard to do when you sleep through it. So he's paying up a bit early."
Mac laughed. "From the looks of that cart, none of you will be in shape for any finals tomorrow."
He gestured toward her cart. "Could say the same about you. That's an awful lot of wine for a woman your size." His gaze ran up and down her body again, from the top of her messy hair to the tips of her peep-toe pumps. Heat flickered over every inch of her flesh, and a hot blush rose in her face. Finally he met her stare head-on, and his eyes held a hint of a question as one brow rose. "And civilized people rarely drink wine from a jug."
Mac's shoulders drooped. "I had a really bad day."
Micky took a step toward her. "Well, maybe we can"
Her cell phone had the audacity to interrupt. As "Material Girl" blasted through the aisle, Mac felt a slight relief that at least the phone still worked. She'd had her doubts about it when she heard that crack, and she doubted after dealing with her hard drive, Tim would want to tackle her cell phone as well. A working phone was great, but she really wanted to hear what Micky had to say.
Menage Amour 82: Tasty Treats Volume 1 Page 16
