by Karen Anders
But he had to leave and get home to change. He had back-to-back client meetings today, specifically with Kevin Coyle. Still, he lingered, finally he sat on the bed and smoothed his hand over her face and hair.
Laurel opened her eyes and smiled, “Hey there,” she said groggily. “You leaving?”
“Yeah, got to get to work. Tuesdays are one of my busiest days. Good luck with Coyle and Hamilton. There’s half a pot of coffee downstairs.”
“He even makes coffee. I think I’m in love.” She sighed. Thanks.”
Mac’s stomach lurched. He knew she was just making an offhand remark meant to be a joke. So why did his heart leap and want to do cartwheels? He got up and headed for the door, but stopped and turned when she called his name.
“Thanks again for last night. The phone calling, I mean.”
“I know what you meant and you’re welcome.” Damn, he thought as he left her brownstone, he would make a million phone calls for one of those soft, tender looks she’d given him.
He was a goner.
7
What hottie ride do you find sexy?
a. motorcycle,
b. Jeep,
c. Jaguar,
d. limo
—Excerpt from Who’s Your Hottie? quiz,
SPICE magazine
LAUREL GOT TO WORK a little late, but she couldn’t seem to care. Unlike Mac, Tuesdays were not all that busy for her. She wondered if mechanics had busy days because they booked a lot of work on Tuesdays or if they seemed to have more customers that day. It seemed an odd statement for him to make.
She walked into her office and found Mark sitting at her desk. He swiveled around in her chair and as usual gave her one of those sneering looks.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Laurel demanded.
“I needed a file and your phone rang, so I answered it and took care of the problem.”
Laurel just reacted. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m just taking care of business. I was here on time.”
Anger surged through her like lightning through oak. She closed her eyes to gather her composure. “If I remember correctly, I’m your supervisor and, as such, you will treat me with respect. No more undermining my authority or any more rude comments. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with Mr. Herman. Is that clear?”
Mark’s eyes narrowed and he rose from her desk. Walking up to her, he invaded her personal space. As in the past, he used his height as an intimidation and it had always worked. But now Laurel, empowered by her relationship with Mac and her ability to demand want she wanted from him, found a core of steel inside herself. She realized she could handle a hundred Mark Daltons.
She raised her chin and kept eye contact with him.
“Fine, Laurel, but you have to know that this job should have been mine because I worked for it. I can’t say the same for you.”
“I’m sorry that you’re disappointed you didn’t get this job, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“You think so? I’d ask Mr. Herman about that if I were you.”
“I will, but in the meantime, you will not enter my office without my permission or answer my phone. You will address me in a professional manner. If you don’t, I’ll speak to Mr. Herman.”
He went out of her office and slammed the door. Setting her briefcase down on her desk, she allowed herself a little smile of satisfaction, yet the nagging question of what exactly he was hinting at bothered her. To hell with it. She really didn’t have time to worry about Mark Dalton and his bruised ego and nasty insinuations.
After settling herself in her chair, she booted up her computer and Googled Coyle and Hamilton. It was time to do her homework and hook a big fish and prove to Mr. Herman and Mark Dalton that her promotion was justified.
She spent the morning putting together an initial proposal using a concept she called unitedthinking, pulling together four aspects of Waterford and Scott’s philosophies on how they conducted business. When she was ready, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Coyle and Hamilton.”
“Yes, please connect me with Natasha Gold, your Chief Financial Officer.”
“One moment.”
There were a couple of clicks and then Natasha’s assistant came on the line. After Laurel stated her business, she was put through.
“This is Natasha Gold.”
“Good morning. I am calling from Waterford Scott, we’re a full-service accounting firm….”
“Yes, I’ve heard of your firm, Ms. Malone, but what would you have to offer us?”
“Waterford Scott serves many of the leading businesses in every sector on which we focus. Those businesses value our rigorous, practical approach, characterized by a detailed understanding of individual client issues and by deep industry knowledge and experience.
“We invest significant resources in building and sharing industry expertise to help us serve clients to the fullest extent of our ability.
“I would very much like to meet with you to propose an innovative way of doing business. We here at Waterford Scott believe in a concept we call unitedthinking.”
“This unitedthinking sounds interesting. We’re actually in the market for an accounting firm at this time.”
“I’d like to meet with you, give you information about my company during a preliminary meeting, then, perhaps present a full-scale presentation to Mr. Coyle and Ms. Hamilton.”
“Let me see, I could squeeze you in today say at two-thirty this afternoon.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll expect you then.”
Laurel hung up the phone and got up and danced around her desk. She could just kiss Mac for giving her the inside scoop that the company was looking for a new firm. The right place at the right time.
Giving herself another moment of satisfaction, she settled herself back into her office chair and started to prepare for her meeting.
Working diligently through the morning, Laurel was satisfied that she had the beginning of a good plan for her meeting. She ate a sandwich at her desk and called the caterer to let them know that the food for the auction event should be delivered to the Met and would be set up in the Grace Rogers Auditorium. Next, she called and said the same to the florist, directing them to the rotunda. She then called a few more attendees to alert them that the auction had moved locations.
Once her hour was up, she went back to work on her proposal and put the finishing touches on it at two o’clock. Gathering up her notes and her proposal, she put everything in her briefcase. Stepping outside her office, she told her assistant she was leaving for a meeting downtown and wouldn’t be back.
Down in the street she hailed a cab and sat back in the seat to relax. Normally, her stomach would be churning and although Laurel was nervous, it was a good nervousness.
She dug into her purse to look for her lipstick. Her hand encountered a square object. With a frown, she grabbed it and pulled it out. Oh no, she’d forgotten to give Mac back his pocket PC. After all that he’d done for her yesterday, the least she could do was drop it off to Mac after her meeting. Hayes Cycles wasn’t too far out of her way. Of course, she’d have the added bonus of seeing him all scruffy-looking again. Haley was right. He was very easy on the eyes.
Seeing him would also give her the opportunity to thank him again for his tip about Coyle and Hamilton.
When the cab approached 27th Street, Laurel caught a glimpse of a vacant storefront. As they passed, she craned her neck to keep the empty windows in sight. It would make such a perfect place for her to sell her furniture.
It had great display possibilities with the abundant large glass windows. The property was nestled in an area of craft and specialty shops that would cater to the kind of people who would be interested in her projects. It had a large area in the back for parking and loading delivery trucks.
She sighed. Where the heck had that thought come from? Not once had she thought her stuff good eno
ugh to sell. Sure, what she made she gave as gifts, but it brought her pleasure to know that people were enjoying her pieces. Now that the idea was full blown, she couldn’t seem to forget about it. Would anyone even be interested in her furniture? Mac sure liked the chair and table she’d done, but he could have just said that to be nice.
She had worked for Waterford Scott for five years and it was her intention to make partner. The fanciful thought of her having the guts to give up her job and make furniture for a living was just that, fanciful.
AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, giddy with her success, Laurel caught another cab and headed for the dealership. Natasha Gold had been thrilled with her proposal, impressed by the services of Waterford Scott and had indicated she wished to set up a meeting two weeks later for a full-scale presentation.
When the cab pulled up to the dealership, Laurel paid the driver and got out. Feeling light as air and excited about seeing Mac, she opened the door and walked in.
Tyler was helping a customer, so she wandered close to the glass door that separated the showroom from the repair shop.
“You looking for Mac?”
“Yes. I really need to give him something that he left at my place.”
Tyler shook his head. “Ah…he didn’t show up. I don’t know where he is.”
“Look, could you give me his address? I really need to see him and he won’t mind. Truly. I have to return something to him.”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “Are you sure he won’t mind?”
“Mac? His middle name is spontaneity. I think he’d love to see me. Besides, I have something he wants.”
“MAC, SHE’S ON HER WAY to my apartment. Get your ass over there,” Tyler blurted.
“What?” Mac couldn’t grasp the meaning of the words right away. Was she on her way to his apartment?
“Laurel. She says she has to give you something you left at her place. It’s important. I don’t know what it’s about. I gave her my address. You don’t want her going to your loft. It’ll give everything away. All she has to do is see your place and you’re history.”
“Oh, God. My pocket PC. I forgot all about it.”
“You forgot? This girl really must be addling your brain.”
“Has she opened it?
“I don’t know.”
“Did she seem upset?”
“No. I guess she wanted to make sure you got it back. Mac, get going!”
He told Sherry he was late for a meeting and was leaving for the day.
When he got to Tyler’s place he pelted up the stairs and used his spare key to let himself in. The moment the door closed behind him, he started stripping. Tripping on his pants, he ran to his brother’s bedroom. He shoved his thousand-dollar Armani suit under the bed and ran for the shower.
Jumping in, he turned on the spray, crying out when the cold water hit him. He frantically adjusted the knobs and when the temperature was right, he washed the hair gel out of his hair.
He heard the knocking as soon as he shut off the water. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, he ran for the bedroom.
“Just a minute,” he yelled.
He dried off as best he could and slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a Harley-Davidson T-shirt he found in Tyler’s drawer.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he decided that the first chance he got, he was going to punch his brother as hard as he could.
He opened the door and there she was, dressed in a black pantsuit of obvious quality with a gold blouse peeking from between the lapels. The sight of her hit him like a runaway truck. Maybe he would hold off on punching his brother.
“Mac,” Laurel said softly.
He backed away from her. He suspected he’d always be caught by her eyes.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Tyler told me. Please don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not mad at him.” He smiled. “I’m happy you’re here.” He just wished it wasn’t under false pretenses and that his brother’s apartment was his own. Guilt, sharp as a dagger, stabbed through him. The longer that he played out this deception, the more he wondered if he was going to lose Laurel in the end. How tolerant would she be when he confessed? Maybe he should tell her now.
“I have to admit that I could have waited until later to give you back your property, but I wanted to see you.” She pulled his pocket PC out of her purse and handed it to him. Mac set it down on Tyler’s hall table. “I wanted to thank you again.”
“For helping you call….”
She covered his mouth and kissed him tenderly. “No, for giving me that tip on Coyle and Hamilton. I got an appointment today with Natasha Gold.”
“Who’s she?
“Chief financial officer.”
“When?”
“Today at two o’clock. I went to the dealership after my meeting.”
“That’s great. What was the outcome?” Mac breathed a sigh of relief. He had left Coyle and Hamilton at one o’clock. He’d only missed Laurel by an hour. In hindsight, perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to tell her about the company. All the more reason to tell her who he really was. He gathered his courage. As soon as she finished talking, he would tell her.
“She’s asked me to put together a full-scale presentation for Kevin Coyle and Susan Hamilton in two weeks.”
All at once he changed his mind. He wanted her to savor her triumph without darkening it with his confession. He could wait a little bit longer. He’d have to make sure that he was careful when he visited Coyle and Hamilton. He wouldn’t want to cross paths with Laurel while she still thought he was Mac the biker.
“So, do you have plans for dinner?” he asked.
“I thought I would get something quick and make some more calls.”
“How about something here and I’ll help you make those calls.
LAUREL OPENED HER DOOR on Sunday morning, looking forward to another full day of sawdust and power tools. She barely kept herself from colliding with a well-muscled chest, encased in black leather.
“Great. You’re dressed perfectly for Central Park.”
“Central Park? Mac?” Laurel squeaked.
“Are you expecting someone else?”
She stepped back to look up at him, waiting for him to shift his gaze to hers. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I was going out.” The truth of the matter was that she was thrilled he was here. Mac settled on one hip and cocked the other one in a sexy pose that did funny things to her insides. He was wearing tight black jeans and a white T-shirt, and his leather jacket, of course. He obviously hadn’t shaved that morning; dark stubble shaded his jaw and cheeks, and his thick, sable hair was rumpled around his head. A wicked grin curved his lips, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with shameless purpose.
He looked disreputable, gorgeous, and ready and willing to commit a whole lot of sin.
Okay, so he wasn’t a long-term guy, but the man was most definitely her every fantasy come to life. She’d already given herself permission to enjoy him for the time being and that was exactly what she intended to do.
“Where are you going, Laurel?”
She was on the verge of telling him, but changed her mind. She still didn’t know him well enough. Sure they’d connected, but why blurt out her secret to a man she didn’t expect would be around in a couple of months? She and Mac would burn out soon enough. It was better she keep some things to herself. “On errands, Mr. Nosy.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be busy.”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “Just like a guy. It’s the weekend, Mac. I have more than enough to keep me busy.” To tell the truth she was a bit peeved that she hadn’t heard from him. Granted she told him she was busy Wednesday night with the florist and Thursday night, she had to work late, but he hadn’t contacted her on Friday night and Saturday he had to work. Now he had the nerve to show up on her doorstep.
“Well, look at you all sassy and tough.” He gave her a hang-dog expression, turning
his mouth down. “No Central Park?”
She gave him a cheeky grin. The man had charm in spades as her bad mood disintegrated like sugar in boiling water. “I guess my errands can wait,” she said with a put upon sigh.
She closed and locked her door and followed him to the curb.
“When was the last time you went to Central Park?” he asked.
Laurel shrugged. “Well, I’ve never really taken the time to see much of the park at all.”
“Typical New Yorker,” Mac snorted.
“How about you?” she asked as she settled against him on his bike.
“I used to go with my parents. They loved the park, but I haven’t been there in a while.”
“What exactly are we going to do there?”
“Take a bike tour,” Mac responded, firing up the Ducati.
“You really are full of surprises,” she shouted over the wind.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. It is.”
A half hour later, Mac lead Laurel into the park and when they reached the bike area, the tour guide assigned each of them a bike. The first stop was Strawberry Fields—the beautiful memorial to John Lennon.
The tour guide halted them with his hand up in the air and began to speak. “A cathedral of American elms provides the shade which protects the black-and-white tiled mosaic from the direct glare of the sun. A gift of Naples, Italy, it is a reproduction of a Pompeii mosaic and inscribed at its center is the word Imagine.”
The memorial was fitting as John was a peaceful, introspective man. She’d only been a year old when the ex-Beatle had been gunned down in front of the Dakota, but she’d discovered the music when she’d been sixteen. She looked across the street at the apartment building.
“What a waste, huh?” Mac said.
