Wendy cut into the loaf of bread and handed him the first slice.
Mack buttered it and added, “I have to go out of town next week.”
Wendy’s knife paused halfway down the loaf. “Oh.” Her voice was very small. She caught herself just a moment too late, after interest sparkled to life in his eyes. “We’ll miss you,” she said, almost primly, and finished cutting the slice.
It was true, too. She would miss him, and so would Rory. Though the baby’s reaction to Mack was never quite as all-encompassing as the way she greeted Wendy, she had a special smile reserved just for him. He was far more involved in Rory’s daily care than Wendy had ever expected; at least half the time it was Mack who answered the early-morning summons from the nursery as the baby welcomed a new day with bright-eyed enthusiasm.
Still, Wendy knew it wasn’t just his help she would miss, but moments like this. Something about that admission nagged at her, and rather than think about it she asked quickly, “How long will you be gone?”
“Just a few days. Why don’t you come with me? It’s Phoenix again.”
Delight surged through her at the thought of going home, even for just a few days. To bask in warm sunshine, and see palm trees and cactus instead of this everlasting gray landscape…
Mack cut a wedge from the cheese and offered her the plate. “You’ll want to sort through the things in your apartment yourself, I’m sure.”
She hadn’t had a chance to consider that yet. Her apartment was just as she’d left it two weeks ago, when she’d intended to be back in a few days. The rest of her clothes had to be packed, all her possessions sorted, the furniture disposed of or arrangements made to move it.
Mack’s suggestion made perfect sense, of course. Keeping the apartment was a waste; she might as well go with him now and take care of the loose ends of her life. It was depressing to think about all that work, but it had to be done.
But the prospect of work wasn’t what made her feel sad and irritable, it was the fact that he had only suggested she come with him because the apartment needed to be closed up. For a moment there, when she had thought he truly wanted her to come, just for herself...
It isn’t the idea of going home that appeals to you, Wendy, she thought. It’s going with him.
The fact was, she was already at home – and as long as Mack was near, she always would be.
The realization hit her with the weight of a hammer. She had convinced herself that only the baby mattered, but Rory had been a convenient excuse to let Wendy do what she wanted, what she had managed to keep secret even from herself – to be Mack’s wife. She had married him for Rory’s sake, but she loved him because he was Mack.
The sensation which coursed through her at his every touch was not born of discomfort or unfamiliarity – it was attraction and desire. And it wasn’t going to go away, because with every touch she wanted more.
When had this happened? Her original active dislike of him hadn’t lasted long, of course. It had been replaced very soon by grudging admiration for the way he had won Rory’s affection. But when had resentful respect turned to fondness, and then to love? And how had Wendy managed to blind herself so completely that she hadn’t even suspected it was happening?
Mack said, “I’m afraid I’ll be tied up with some business dinners in the evenings, too.”
Wendy had to drag her attention back to him. “Of course.”
“If you don’t want to suffer through those, I understand. To tell the truth, I’d avoid them myself if I could.”
She wouldn’t mind, no matter how boring the business, as long as she could be with him. But she could hardly say anything of the sort. And he was giving her a very easy excuse, almost as if he hoped she’d take it. “I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.” The words were like ashes in her mouth.
He nodded. “Mother’s nurses will be happy to look after Rory, unless you’d rather leave her here. In that case we’ll just borrow a nurse, and Mrs. Morgan can handle the rest.”
“You mean, not take Rory with us?”
“If I have to fly with her again before she turns eighteen, I’ll give serious thought to tranquilizers.”
Wendy was momentarily diverted. “For you or for Rory?”
“Both. Besides, you can’t organize your stuff and look after a baby at the same time.”
That was certainly true. Even with no other distractions Wendy would be lucky to get through everything in her apartment in a few days. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Morgan.”
“Ask if she can take over Saturday night, too. There’s a gallery opening we should go to. Since we missed all the New Year’s Eve bashes, I’m getting some teasing about why I’ve been keeping my bride shut away from the world.” The sparkle in his eyes invited her to laugh along with him. “I just tell them I’m too jealous to let any other man have a chance with you.”
She managed to laugh, but the effort made her feel hollow. How ridiculous it was to think of Mack being jealous over her. He had asked for her loyalty, of course – but that was an entirely different thing.
She had finished her soup; she couldn’t sit and play with the empty spoon. And trying to eat another slice of bread would probably choke her. She stood up quickly, mostly so she could turn her back to him for a moment till she managed to get hold of herself again. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Sounds great.”
Wendy reached for a paper filter and fit it into the basket. The action reminded her that the pot belonged to Tom Exeter, not to them. “Do you even own a coffee pot, Mack?” she asked. “I do, but it’s probably worth shipping back here. There are a million things like that to consider.”
She was filling the glass carafe when Mack came up behind her so quietly that she didn’t hear him. When she turned, she bumped into him, and water slopped over the rim and onto the floor. He steadied her, his hands firm on her shoulders. “Sorry,” he said lightly, and his lips brushed the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”
His voice seemed to vibrate through Wendy’s body. She looked up at him, mesmerized by the warmth of his hands and the way his breath stirred the hair at her temple.
“We’ll make the best of the situation,” he said softly. “Maybe there’ll be a little time for you to show me the city.”
Perhaps he really did want her to come with him, for her own sake and not simply because of the loose ends to be taken care of.
Realizing that she was staring at his mouth, Wendy tried to look away in an effort to shatter the spell that held her. But her gaze locked with his, and she couldn’t break free.
“I’d like that.” Her voice had a throaty edge.
“Would you, Wendy?”
His lips touched hers very softly, like the caress of a soft spring breeze, and she hesitated for one second. She should pull away, but she didn’t want to. Did she dare let herself kiss him as she longed to do? What if Mack realized, from the way she reacted, what she was feeling? What if he guessed at the secret she had so recently discovered for herself? No, it was too dangerous.
But before Wendy’s mind had sorted through the implications, her body had already answered the question. Her lips softened and opened under his. Mack urged her slightly closer, one arm slipping down from her shoulder to encircle her waist and hold her steady against him.
The world seemed to revolve faster than usual, and Wendy couldn’t quite keep it in focus. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. It was heaven to be so close to him, and to dream that he was feeling the same magic.
She raised her hand, intending to slip her arm about his neck and insinuate herself even closer. But she had forgotten the carafe. It tipped as she raised it, and cold water cascaded down Mack’s chest, streaking his silk tie, drenching his shirt, and flooding the front of her sweater.
Wendy’s eyes widened in shock; she couldn’t have been any more stunned if she’d been dropped in an icy river, so she could imagine how Mack was feeling. He sputtered a little and held her a foot away from hi
m. Wendy groped for a dish towel and thrust it at him.
In the same instant, the housekeeper spoke from the back door. “Excuse me for intruding. Shall I just sit outside with the groceries for a while?”
Mack shook his head with a rueful laugh. “No, the kitchen is all yours, Mrs. Morgan.” He left the room.
Wendy, too, retreated in disarray. But she stopped as she heard Mack running lightly up the stairs, obviously going to his room to look for a dry shirt. She’d have to apologize some other time.
She turned back to the housekeeper, feeling the need to exert her authority before the situation got further out of hand. “Mrs. Morgan, I’d like you to babysit on Saturday night, please. I don’t know the exact hours yet.”
Mrs. Morgan was looking at her rather oddly. “That doesn’t matter. I’d be happy to help.”
Wendy plunged on. “And next week Mr. Burgess and I will be out of town for a few days. We won’t be taking the baby, but if you don’t feel up to keeping her, we can leave her with... Is there something wrong, Mrs. Morgan?”
“Not at all. Of course I’ll keep her.”
“Thank you.” The strange look hadn’t gone away. Wendy decided it must just be a touch of shock; no doubt Mrs. Morgan wasn’t used to walking in on her employers in a clinch in her kitchen. Wendy shivered a little; her wet sweater was clinging uncomfortably close to her skin. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“Mrs. Burgess,” the housekeeper said hesitantly.
Wendy turned back from the hallway door. “Yes?”
“Are you planning to make coffee, or are you just sentimentally attached to the pot?”
Wendy looked down. She was still clutching the empty carafe. She retraced her steps across the kitchen and put it back in place, her head high. She would have been fine if she hadn’t happened to look straight at Mrs. Morgan, but the twinkle in the housekeeper’s eyes was the final straw.
How ridiculous they must have looked, she thought, and a bubble of hysterical laughter rose in her throat. How grateful she was that the housekeeper had interrupted. It was bad enough to have thrown herself at Mack like that – but then to lose control so completely that she hadn’t even remembered the water... No wonder the poor man had run for cover at the first opportunity.
But her laughter was very close to tears, and though she went upstairs for a dry sweater, she didn’t bother to look for one. She threw herself down across the tapestry bedspread and indulged in a hearty cry instead.
What kind of fool was she, that it had taken her so long to understand what was going on inside her head? An innocent one, of course, so caught up in Rory’s troubles that she had never let herself think beyond that.
Or had she? Wendy forced herself to analyze the question. Consciously, at least, she’d never considered anything more than the legal partnership Mack offered – she was absolutely certain of that. But subconsciously, had she known all along that she wanted more? If so, was that why she’d been so doubtful about the wisdom of marrying him?
On Christmas Eve, when Mack had told her he wanted to adopt Rory and marry in order to form a family for her, Wendy had made a split-second decision not to ask for the right to visit the child. It had taken her only moments to convince herself that it was in Rory’s best interest to leave her to bond with her new family in peace, without interference.
But hadn’t Wendy known, deep inside, that her reason really had nothing to do with Rory? If she came back to Chicago to visit the child, she would have to see Mack in the midst of a new family, and that was more than she could bear. To see Mack married, happy – without her – would have hurt too much.
Now it wasn’t hard to understand why she had been so upset on the first night of their marriage when Mack came into her bedroom. She had been startled, but she had also been pleased that he had come to her. And she had wanted him to stay, wanted him to desire her as she had unconsciously desired him. When, instead, he had left her, she had been hurt.
He had asked her for loyalty, no more. He had sworn to her that his commitment to Rory came first before all other things and all other people, and that it would always be that way. And Wendy had assured him that she felt the same.
But that was no longer true. Much as Wendy loved and valued the child, Rory was not the most important thing in her life any more. Mack had taken that spot. He had crept into her heart while Wendy wasn’t looking, and now there was no rooting him out.
Subconsciously, she had used the baby to get what she wanted –Mack. And even though her action had in no way hurt Rory, a tinge of guilt sprang to life deep inside Wendy’s mind.
Now she had everything she had set out to gain. She had Rory, of course. She was Mack’s wife – even if only in name. She had his promise that she would remain his wife for the foreseeable future. Even if his vow was more to Rory than to Wendy, his word was still a binding contract. For the present, she would have to be content with that.
In the future, anything might happen. Mack had enjoyed that kiss, right up to the moment when she’d drenched him. He wasn’t naturally cold, and she didn’t think he found her completely unappealing. Surely with time, as they got to know each other better, friendship, and affection, would grow.
She told herself not to hope for anything more than that, but she couldn’t help remembering that love had sneaked up on her. Perhaps the same thing might happen to Mack, given the right climate. If she was very, very careful.
*****
Walking that line was the most difficult thing Wendy had ever done. It would have been easy to overwhelm Mack with affectionate gestures. That sort of thing came naturally to her where the people she cared about were concerned, and she constantly had to remind herself that Mack might not be charmed. So she tried to think out every move, looking at all the implications and interpretations before she did anything at all.
Sometimes she thought she caught a bit of puzzlement in his eyes. She wasn’t surprised at that; sometimes she herself thought she sounded like an idiot, incapable of making a quick response.
She thanked heaven that she had Rory to cuddle and to talk to. Once, the little girl had filled Wendy’s entire heart. Now there was a gap around the edges, a space only Mack could fill – a space that she knew might remain forever empty.
Still, while she devoted herself to Rory, Wendy didn’t have time to fret about the empty spaces in her life. And as she watched the baby grow, changing almost hour by hour, she could make herself believe that other things could grow, too – in the fullness of time.
Tessa paid a surprise visit on Friday in the middle of yet another snowstorm, sweeping in with a hug for Wendy and a quick tickle under the chin for Rory. “I absolutely never drop by without phoning first,” she began.
“Of course you don’t,” Wendy said agreeably.
Tessa burst out laughing. “All right, this time I have. But I had some great ideas for baby clothes, and I hoped you wouldn’t mind taking a look. And if Mrs. Morgan can scare up a cup of tea, I’d be eternally grateful.”
“She’s turning out one of the rooms upstairs, and I wouldn’t dare interrupt her to ask for tea.” Wendy led the way to the kitchen and put Rory down on a blanket on the floor.
Tessa swung her portfolio up onto the counter. “These are just rough ideas, you understand.”
Wendy put the kettle on and looked over Tessa’s shoulder as she spread out a dozen sheets of paper. The sketches were obviously rough and quickly done, but the clothes showed Tessa’s touch in every line – pin-tucks and smocking on simple pastel cotton.
Wendy frowned. “Too casual for dress-up, too elaborate for play clothes, and too expensive all the way around.” When she saw Tessa’s face, she wished that she had bit her tongue and been a bit more diplomatic. “I mean…”
“No, your first reaction is what I want.” Tessa frowned at the sketches.
Wendy made the tea in silence, trying to find a way to break the impasse. The last thing she needed was family trouble, and especial
ly with Tessa, who had been nothing but kind to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I reverted to type, I’m afraid. Give marketing people a new product and we automatically play devil’s advocate and point out what’s wrong with it before we even consider how to sell it.”
Tessa studied her over the rim of her china tea cup for a long time before she said, “You know, Wendy, it’s a good thing I like you.”
“I’m sorry I was so blunt.”
“Oh, that’s got nothing to do with it. I’m a professional – if I can’t take honest criticism of my designs I’d better get out of the business.” Tessa waved a hand in a dismissing gesture. “It’s Elinor, actually.”
That surprised Wendy. “What do you mean?”
“She’s absolutely soppy over you – or didn’t you realize that? She told me just yesterday how perfect you are, and how lucky Mack is, and how the moment she saw you with Rory she knew how it had to turn out. It’s enough to make an ordinary daughter-in-law sob, except that, fortunately for you, my self-esteem is healthy.” She pointed at Rory. “That baby is crawling backward, Wendy.”
Wendy retrieved Rory from the floor and put her back on the blanket. “You can’t call it crawling, really. She’s beginning to get the idea of how to move herself around, she just doesn’t have her directions down pat.” She sat down again and picked up one of Tessa’s sketches, a dress with a simple smocked top and touches of delicate embroidery. The hand work alone would drive the price out of most mothers’ consideration. “Do you know how I’d market these, Tessa?”
“I thought you didn’t like them at all.”
“I never said that.” Wendy shuffled through the sketches. “As patterns. No, as kits -- the customer sends in her money and gets a package with all the pre-cut pieces and directions. All she has to do is put them together and she has a wonderful party dress for her little girl.”
Tessa picked up a sketch by one corner. “You said they were too casual for dress-up.”
“For the price you’d have to charge, yes. On the rack, I think it would look too simple. On the other hand, if a mother makes it herself...”
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