MacKenzie's Promise

by Catherine Spencer

  It was all the champagne’s fault! That, and the enchantment of the setting. As darkness fell, lamplight from the boats moored in the adjoining marina rippled like fireflies over the water. A hazy moon swam above the tall masts. Within the restaurant, the floor-to-ceiling windows mirrored the candle flames and flung them back in a hundred glimmering images. It was enough to make any woman lose her common sense in romantic fantasy.

  But recognizing that didn’t make the pain any less strident. It hammered away at her with a thousand tiny blows, even though she managed to keep it hidden. “You’re quite right,” she said, slipping the ring from her finger. “She was the obvious choice and if I’d known I had her to thank for supplying the props for the charade, I’d have said something when she was here. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to return this to her when you see her tomorrow.”

  “Keep it,” he said irritably. “She doesn’t need it.”

  “Nor do I. It’s served its purpose.”

  He rolled his eyes in long-suffering exasperation. “Eat your dinner and stop being such a pain in the ass, Linda!”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Before he could tell her what he thought of that excuse, another woman, accompanied by a man, stopped by their table. “Hello again, Mac!” she caroled. “Andrea told us you were here. What a bonus, running into you twice in one day. You remember Dave, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Nice to see you again, Dave.” Mac stood to shake hands with the man. “Linda, this is Penny Worth, Andrea’s business partner, and her fiancé, Dave Lewis.”

  “How do you do?” Linda said, hating that she sounded as thoroughly “po-faced” as Mac had accused her of being.

  “Penny’s the one who chose your ring,” he informed her. “She went to quite a bit of trouble to find something she thought you’d like.”

  “Then I thank you.” She smiled tightly. “It’s lovely.”

  “It is pretty, isn’t it? It’s only ten carat gold, of course, but it’s set with real Austrian crystals, so I hope you’ll enjoy wearing it.”

  “She won’t,” Mac said caustically. “She feels she should return it.”

  “Oh, nonsense! Please keep it, if not as a memento of your visit, then as a lucky charm. Mac told me about your family’s tragedy.”

  “Did he indeed?” Linda shot him a resentful glance.

  “It must be such a trying and difficult time for you.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Penny patted her shoulder kindly. “Thank goodness you’ve got Mac on your side. That swings the odds greatly in your favor, you know.”

  Not as much as you think, dearie! The way things are going, he’s merely adding to the difficulties.

  “We’re all pulling for you,” Dave said, his brown eyes warm with sympathy. “Listen, the reason we stopped by is to ask you both to join us for dessert. We’re up on the balcony, and it’s just us and Andrea and a couple of others, so you’ll be among friends. Being around other people often helps at times like this.”

  “Sounds good,” Mac said, looking offensively cheerful at the prospect of not being stuck with Linda’s company for the rest of the evening. “Give us about fifteen minutes, and we’ll be there.”

  “I don’t like other people accepting invitations on my behalf, without consulting me first,” she told him, the minute they were alone again.

  “No?” He shrugged indifferently. “Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. Anything else you’d like to get off your chest while you’re at it?”

  “Yes. I don’t appreciate your broadcasting my private business to everyone in town.”

  “Stop exaggerating. I’ve mentioned it only to Penny, and then only in general terms. Her passing it along to her fiancé and Andrea is hardly tantamount to taking out a full page ad in the local newspaper!”

  “You had no right mentioning it at all. If you were still on the police force, I could have you suspended.”

  “But I’m not on the police force, cookie, as you very well know. Nor did I seek you out and beg to be allowed to work for you, in case you’ve forgotten. So don’t come the high-handed boss-lady with me, because it won’t wash.”

  “Nevertheless, I am your boss. And you’re fired.”

  “Don’t be such an idiot!” He held his thumb and fore-finger a quarter-inch apart. “We’re this close to catching up with Thayer.”

  “I don’t need you. Send me your bill. And don’t call me ‘cookie.’ I’ve already told you I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t like me calling you ‘Linda,’ either, so what would you prefer? Madam? Or will plain Ms. Carr suffice to smooth your ruffled feathers?”

  She glared at him, a fresh outbreak of tears pricking her eyes. “You are, without a doubt, the most infuriating man I’ve ever had the misfortune to come across.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled at length. “Okay, let’s stop this before we both say something we’ll regret. Are you finished with your dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to join the people upstairs?”

  “No. I’m very tired. But don’t let that stop you from partying the night away. I can take a taxi back to the hotel.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “No need.” She waved the offer aside contemptuously. “I’d hate for you to miss out on dessert.”

  His lips thinned with annoyance. “You know what? I’d hate that, too. I’ll ask the hostess to call you a cab.”

  “Fine. At last we’re in agreement on something.”

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  Yes, she was! Unreasonable, childish and just plain ridiculous. And the devil of it was, she couldn’t help herself! Stubbornly she stared at her hands lying clenched in her lap.

  “You’re treating me as if I’m the enemy, cookie.”

  “Give my regrets to your friends,” she said stonily, “and thank them for being kind enough to include me in their plans.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table and whistled under his breath. Finally he said, “Okay, have it your way. We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep well.”

  “And kindly don’t tell them anything else about me.”

  “I’m confident we’ll find other ways to keep ourselves amused.”

  “Oh, I’m willing to bet they’d find the story of my impotent Italian lover very entertaining, especially if you embellish it with an account of how it took a red-blooded all-American man like you to show me the true joys of sex,” she cried rashly.

  “Is that what’s got you bent out of shape—that you hopped in the sack with a lowly employee?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Well, for what it’s worth, Linda, I have too much self-respect to brag about my sexual conquests. Pity you don’t hold yourself in similar esteem.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE morning sun flung bronze sparks through Andrea’s hair and played light and shadow over her serene face. Watching as she poured coffee and passed him a cup, Mac was struck again by how different she was now from when she’d been married to him. All the sharp edges had smoothed out. She glowed with womanly contentment.

  “So,” he said, “are you going to marry that guy you were with last night?”

  “Tom? Yes.” Andrea looked at him from beneath her lashes, a cheeky smirk inching over her face. “Are you going to marry that woman you were with?”

  “Hell, no!” He poked at the garland of whipped cream circling the strawberries on his Belgian waffle. “She ticks me off so much at times, I feel like putting her across my knee.”

  Andrea leaned back and crossed her long legs. Much longer than Linda’s, he noted absently, but not quite as shapely. “In other words, she’s making you nervous.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “You didn’t have to, MacKenzie. Your disquiet proclaims itself loud and clear every time her name comes up. She doesn’t just tick you off, she’s under your skin, big time.”

  “She’s a client, for Pete’s sake!”

  “Oh, she�
��s more than that. You’re sleeping with her and wish you weren’t.”

  “Why don’t you just eat your waffle and quit trying to psychoanalyze me?” he snorted, peeved to the point that he wished he’d passed on breakfast.

  “I was married to you for four years. I know you well enough to recognize when you’re afraid you’re in deeper than you want to be—no pun intended.”

  “Your imagination’s running away with you, kiddo!”

  “I’m right on target!” she snorted. “Linda Carr scares you spitless. You’re afraid she’s going to take up permanent residence in your sacred space.”

  “I’m afraid she’s reading more into our relationship than exists—and so are you.”

  “But it’s your feelings for her that worry you more. This woman’s keeping you awake at night.” She leaned forward and touched his cheek. “Or are these bags under your eyes purely for decoration?”

  He jerked away from her, unnerved by her insight more than he cared to admit. “Keep this up, and I’ll remember all too well why being married to you drove me nuts.”

  “But aren’t you glad I did?” She laughed, a ripple of sound so purely carefree and happy that Mac knew a pang of envy.

  “You’re a lucky woman, Andrea.”

  “Yes. I’ve found my true soul mate and that makes all the difference.”

  “I’m glad for you.”

  “I know.” Turning her attention to the food on her plate, she changed the conversation to other things, and for the next hour they chatted with the comfortable ease of two people who’d waded through the misery of divorce, and managed to come out friends on the other side.

  “Great breakfast, Andrea,” he said, patting his midriff three waffles later. “Tom had better watch his waistline, once you’re married.” He glanced at his watch and saw it was after ten already. “I’d better get a move on. We’re flying down to Los Angeles at two and I still have to pack and check out of the hotel.”

  “I’ll walk you down to your car.” She took his arm and strolled with him from her apartment to the elevator. “You know,” she said, as they rode the twenty-two floors to street level, “I was watching you dancing with Linda last night. You had a look on your face that I’ve never seen before, as if you’d been given a gift beyond anything you’d ever expected. I’d hate to see you throw it away because you’re too blind or pigheaded to recognize its worth.”

  “Linda and I have known each other less than a week, Andrea!”

  “But you’ve made love to her already, which—”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “You’ve made love to her already,” she said calmly, unfazed by his outburst, “which tells me this is more than just your average casual affair. You don’t allow yourself to get roped in that easily, Mac. You might recall that we dated for nearly three months before you slept with me.”

  “Only because your mother insisted on coming with us every time we went out!”

  “Stop trying to turn this into a joke. You swore you’d never take on another investigation involving a missing child, yet here you are, up to your neck doing exactly that, simply because she asked you to. Why did you cave in so easily, I wonder?”

  “Because succeeding where others have failed might ease my conscience, damn it, and make it possible for me to put the past to rest, once and for all!”

  “How about because you couldn’t say no to Linda?”

  He stepped out of the elevator ahead of her without bothering to reply, because he didn’t want to acknowledge the truth in her words.

  That didn’t silence her, though. Nothing could shut Andrea up if she felt like spouting off. “Don’t punish yourself by chasing her out of your life because you think it’s too soon to fall in love,” she said, keeping pace with him as he strode through the foyer to the street. “It can happen in the blink of an eye. I think, in your case, it has. Why else are you so defensive about her?”

  “I’m not the love-at-first-sight type.”

  “How do you know?”

  He didn’t, that was the whole trouble. Nor did he want to.

  “At least, don’t shut the door on the possibility. Allow yourself a little room for doubt.”

  “Oh, all right!” he said gruffly. “Anything for a quiet life!”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Detective.” She stroked the hair back from his brow. “And either get a decent haircut, or find someone else to do this—like Linda, maybe. I’ve got a wedding to plan. Give her my best and take care of each other, okay?”

  Scowling, he drove away. Andrea was annoying as hell, forever telling him how to run his life, and often too perceptive for her own—or his—good. But she was off base this time. The last thing he needed in his life was a bossy little witch like Linda Carr.

  I’m your boss and you’re fired….

  Who the hell did she think she was, talking to him like that? The sooner this job wound up and he was rid of her, the better!

  He called her room when he got back to the hotel, hoping she’d woken in a sweeter frame of mind than when she’d flounced off last night. But there was no answer, nor had she left him a message even though, before he went out for breakfast, he’d slipped a note under her door outlining their travel plans. Probably doing some last-minute shopping and hasn’t noticed the time, he thought, throwing his things into his suitcase.

  But when another hour had passed without any word from her, that old, familiar instinct kicked in again. Something wasn’t right. He felt it in his bones.

  Hauling along his baggage, he made a last trip to her door and found it propped open. He didn’t need to look any further; the cart loaded with clean linens and supplies parked on the threshold told him she’d already vacated the room.

  Even then, he hung on to the idea that she was somewhere in the hotel and paced the lobby looking for her. She was nowhere. Not curled up reading in one of the big comfortable chairs. Not browsing in the small arcade of shops near the rear entrance.

  Finally he went again to the front desk, to inquire for the umpteenth time if she’d left word where she might be found.

  The clerk, a different man from the one he’d spoken to before, seemed surprised he’d even ask.

  “Ms. Carr checked out just after eight-thirty this morning, Mr. Sullivan,” he said.

  Mac stared at him, refusing to acknowledge what that might mean. “You must be mistaken.”

  “No, sir. I arranged for a taxi to take her to the airport. She caught the ten o’clock flight to Los Angeles.” He reached into a pigeonhole on the wall behind him and handed Mac a folded slip of paper. “This message did just come in for you, though. Perhaps it will explain the mix-up.”

  But the note was not from her, it was from James Wagner. And what he revealed in a few succinct sentences made the waffles Mad had consumed for breakfast stir unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach.

  His instinct regarding Sadie had been right on target. There was trouble brewing. And Linda was walking right into the thick of it.

  He swung back to the desk clerk. “I need to charter a helicopter right away. Who do I call?”

  She found the house just after one o’clock that afternoon. Three stories high, and tucked away at the end of a steep lane, it clung to the edge of a canyon, with a froth of bougainvillea spilling over its pale cream stucco walls.

  Wicker furniture the same as that used by the Wagners in their San Francisco home lined wraparound balconies whose sliding glass doors stood open to let in the fresh ocean breeze. But it was the baby carriage on the lower porch that told Linda she’d finally run Kirk to earth.

  Even as she watched from her post behind the palm tree next to the side gate, Linda saw a woman come from the house. Mexican, from the look of her, her skin a warm olive, the silver streaks in her dark hair shining in the brilliant sunshine. She peered into the carriage, rocked it gently and murmured softly, then turned to the man who appeared from around the corner.

  Still breathless fro
m the climb up the hill, Linda inched closer to the gate. Snatches of the conversation taking place less than thirty yards from where she stood drifted on the breeze. She didn’t hear everything, but she heard enough. Diapers and formula might not prove conclusively that the baby in the carriage was Angela, but Señor Thayer left no doubt about the identity of the man dishing out orders to the nanny, who nodded obediently at his every word.

  A thrill of excitement surged through Linda. She’d done it! She’d found her niece without Mac Sullivan’s help, and if doing so didn’t help to heal her bruised heart, it went a long way toward restoring her self-respect. She’d never needed a man to bail her out of a tight spot before, and her biggest mistake had been in thinking she needed one now.

  Mac Sullivan had been an indulgence, and by the time he got here—always assuming he didn’t become so involved with his ex-wife that he forgot he had a job to do—she’d be on her way back to Vancouver with her niece.

  The only question was, exactly how to achieve that. Finding her way to the island and locating the Wagners’ house had occupied most of her thoughts when she’d sneaked out of the Hyatt that morning, but now that she was actually here, and Angela was almost within touching distance, she didn’t quite know what came next.

  Marching up to the front door and demanding entry wasn’t an option. She’d hardly be considered a welcome guest. The gate in front of her was locked, the walls on either side of it too high to scale. And even if she’d been able to climb over them, she couldn’t see escaping the same way, with a baby in her arms.

  Just then, Kirk Thayer swung away from the main house and cut across the tiled patio toward a small building set next to a second, wider gate at the foot of the garden. Shortly after, he emerged onto the road in a golf cart and chugged down the hill toward town.

  No sooner had he disappeared than she darted around to the second gate and, to her joy and relief, found it unlocked. Perfect!