And yet, even if Wendy had wanted to, she could not completely deny the longing she felt. The simple act of kissing him…
What a misleading description that was! There was nothing simple about a caress that set her nerves alight and turned her insides the consistency of hot fudge sauce. His touch robbed her of physical strength, but at the same time, in some unexplainable way, it soothed her soul and gave her hope that someday things would be different.
“I have to go,” Mack said. His voice was husky – or did it sound that way because Wendy’s hearing was blurred? His fingers squeezed her shoulders for a moment, and then he gathered up his briefcase and was gone.
She sat for a quarter of an hour with one fingertip resting softly against her lips – as if she were holding his kiss there, unwilling to let it escape.
*****
Wendy waded through the pile of mail which had accumulated under the slot in the front door. It was obviously mostly junk, so the first thing she did was gather it all up and shove it into a brown grocery bag. She could start to look through it over lunch; she’d need a break by then.
She stood in the little entry for a moment, contemplating the work ahead. Perhaps she’d better start with her bedroom. Sorting out her clothes would take the most time, unless she just had everything shipped. The kitchen would be easy in comparison. She’d pick out the few things she wanted and call a charity organization to pick up the rest. As for the leftover food – perhaps there was a nearby food bank which could put it to use.
The thought of making those calls reminded her that she’d have to arrange for the utilities to be disconnected, too. Then there was her car – what on earth was she going to do with it?
“One thing at a time,” she told herself firmly. “Don’t get overwhelmed or you’ll be too paralyzed to do anything at all.”
The sight of her bed, still heaped with the clothes she’d considered packing, made her want to swear. She put on a lightweight sweatshirt and began ruthlessly weeding her wardrobe.
She went out at noon to run errands and pick up a sandwich, and when she came back the phone was ringing. She considered not even answering it, because the last thing she needed was to spend precious time fending off a salesman or a pollster. But it might be a friend, of course. She hadn’t sent announcements to all of them yet. So she picked up the call.
“I was starting to worry,” Mack said.
Wendy felt a little glow of contentment deep inside. “Oh, hi! I needed tissue paper so I can pack the Christmas ornaments as I take them off the tree.”
“That sounds very domestic.”
“Well, of all the things I own, those are about the most precious. Some of them belonged to my grandmother.”
“In that case, we’ll carry them home.”
Wendy laughed. “I thought you were the one who told me to turn everything over to the movers.”
“Did I say that?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t take you seriously. You’d be amazed at the piles I’m getting rid of.” She shifted the telephone and glanced at her wristwatch. “Did your meetings go so smoothly that you’re finished, or what?” It would be wonderful if he were free. It wouldn’t take her more than fifteen minutes to get rid of her dust, and the whole afternoon stretched ahead. He’d like the botanical gardens, with the magnificent cactus displays. And after being shut up in an office building all morning, the fresh air would be welcome too. Or they could drive up toward Sedona, to the red sandstone cliffs.
“I’m not finished,” Mack said, and Wendy’s heart sank. “And now I’m dragging you into it as well, I’m afraid. I’m sorry about this, Wendy, but the company president is bringing his wife to dinner tonight.”
“So I’m expected as well?” Wendy had mixed feelings about that. She’d like to be a part of Mack’s evening, to meet his business acquaintances – but only if he wanted her there. And obviously this wasn’t his choice at all.
But she had to admit that whatever reluctance he might feel wasn’t on display that evening. She was already dressed and waiting when he came into the suite, with the brown paper sack of mail on the coffee table in front of her and a great deal of it already scanned and in the wastebasket at her feet. And though Mack didn’t go into raptures, he obviously didn’t disapprove of the dress she’d chosen – salmon-colored, with a tiny jacket which could be whipped off to expose almost-bare shoulders if the evening was more formal than she expected. He looked her over from head to foot, then gave her a smile and a tiny nod of approval.
To Wendy, it was as good as getting an award. Mack went into his bedroom to shower and change, and she settled down again with another handful of mail. A first-class envelope peeked out at her this time – a response to one of the job applications she’d sent out in that first panicked flurry. It was a standard form letter announcing that the company had no positions available.
She didn’t recognize the company name on the next envelope, and she almost put it straight into the wastebasket. On a whim she opened it, finding a request for her to call at the personnel office to fill out an application. A company recruiting employees – that was a surprise.
Then Wendy saw the note handwritten in the corner of the letter. “I want you on my new team as assistant marking director,” Jed Landers had written. “Together we can make things happen here, Wendy.”
Wendy looked at the postmark and sighed; calling Jed a full two weeks late was going to make her look like the kind of careless employee no one could seriously want to hire – though now that she wasn’t in the job market any more, it hardly mattered.
She set the letter aside. She’d call Jed in the morning and tell him her plans had changed. In the meantime, it felt good just to know that her old boss hadn’t forgotten her in the shuffle. She should have had more faith in herself; if she hadn’t panicked and made that phone call...
She never would have met Mack, and that would have been a sacrifice far more costly than losing out on a job could ever be.
She was curled up with a long letter from a college friend when Mack returned, and she put it down with reluctance. But the moment she saw Mack, she forgot all about her friend’s crazy adventures. He looked so marvelous, soberly elegant in a black tuxedo, that he took her breath away.
And she couldn’t have asked for a more devoted escort. Mack helped her out of the hotel’s limousine and kept his hand on her elbow as they entered the exclusive private club. And the tiny wink he gave her as their hosts came to greet them was one of encouragement, not concern.
There were just the four of them and so, even though the president seated Wendy at his right, she was immediately absorbed in conversation by his wife, a well-preserved woman in her early fifties. She was also slightly dizzy, Wendy concluded after she’d listened to half an hour of gentle monologue about the woman’s children – their accomplishments, educations, jobs, houses, and offspring.
Since Wendy wasn’t likely ever to meet them, she had difficulty keeping the details straight, and despite her determination to be polite, the second conversation going on at the table insistently drew her attention. It was so much more fascinating to listen to plans for the venture-capital expansion of the president’s business and the problems he was encountering in keeping the new product’s price at a reasonable level.
They were having dessert when Wendy couldn’t stand it anymore. “If the product’s really better,” she said crisply, “don’t worry so much about the price.”
Silence fell over the table. The president’s eyebrows had shot up almost to his hairline. Mack put his fork down and studied her thoughtfully. The president’s wife said, “Our daughter’s like that, she always has an idea. That’s why she’s done so well at her new job.”
The president held up a hand to silence his wife. “Go on, please, Wendy.”
“Well, if your product is clearly better than the competition–”
“Of course it’s better.” He sounded indignant. “An entirely new, all-natural substi
tute for oils and fats that doesn’t break down when exposed to high heat, and doesn’t add a single calorie to the diet, is head and shoulders above what’s available now.”
Wendy shrugged. “Then promote it as something exclusive. Worth the price, no matter what it costs.”
The president laughed a little and shook his head. “That’s easy to say, my dear, but when it comes to marketing–”
Wendy shrugged. “You’ll simply have to convince your customers that the consumer will pay the price.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“This is off the top of my head, of course, but I’d say the best method is to work indirectly. Don’t argue with your customers. Bypass them and go straight to theirs. Set up your own research kitchens – rent them, rather – and run large-scale taste tests.” She held up her fork, a bite of her chocolate layer cake displayed on the tines like a trophy. “If it’s really that good, it won’t be difficult to convince people that they can eat their cake – or french fries – or deep-fried chicken – and skip the added calories. Sell consumers on the idea, and they’ll knock down the doors at bakeries and restaurants and factories, which will of course call you and beg to buy your product.”
“That’s obvious,” Mack said.
His flat tone annoyed Wendy, and her voice was a bit tart. “If that’s the case, I’m a little surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.”
“Marketing’s not my business,” he said reasonably.
“That’s right. It’s mine.” She saw the muscles tighten in his jaw, but she couldn’t stop herself. “So perhaps you shouldn’t tell me what’s obvious, Mack.”
“You’re a marketing expert?” The president sounded as if all the breath had been knocked out of him.
“Hardly an expert,” Wendy said. “But that’s my field, yes.”
“Are you available to...?” He darted a look at Mack and sighed. “No, I suppose not. But if you’re ever interested in consulting...”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she murmured and turned back to the president’s wife. “You were telling me about your daughter?”
The president insisted on driving them back to the hotel, so there was no chance for private conversation until they were inside. Even then Mack didn’t say a word, and Wendy eyed him warily as they climbed the few steps at the corner of the atrium lobby to reach their suite.
Was he really annoyed? No matter how pleased the president had seemed, and no matter how helpful the idea might turn out to be, she had butted into a conversation that hadn’t included her.
Still, it wasn’t like Mack to react this way. Not the Mack she knew.
But this wasn’t the Mack she had come to know over the past few weeks. This was the Samuel Mackenzie Burgess of that first telephone call, the businesslike man who had appeared in her office cubicle and carved her life into pieces. She had almost forgotten that man. Now she felt as if someone had taken away the stuffed teddy bear she’d grown accustomed to and substituted a full grown grizzly instead.
“I’m sorry I put myself forward,” she said tentatively.
“Why? The president seemed to love it. Brandy?”
Wendy shook her head.
Mack poured himself one and stood swirling the liquid in the snifter, not even raising it to his lips. “Was food your specialty?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You told me you weren’t particularly interested in marketing clothes or valves, but you never did answer my question about what you liked best.”
Wendy nodded slowly. “Most of my research in college was centered around marketing food products.”
“I see.” He drank his brandy thoughtfully.
After a moment, Wendy said, “I think I’ll get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. “Of course. Thank you for coming tonight, Wendy.”
But the phrase was no more than polite, and his voice was level and courteous and distant.
As if the kiss they had shared that morning – in this very room – had never happened. As if every bit of closeness she had treasured over the last few days had existed only in her imagination.
As if he was a stranger.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
While she was brushing her hair, Wendy’s tears started to fall, silently cutting hot streaks down her face. Why hadn’t she had the wit to keep her brilliant ideas to herself?
That was easy; it was because she’d been in the habit of asserting herself for so long, particularly in the business world. It wasn’t at all like her to play the part of the mutely adoring little wife, and if that was what Mack wanted – well, he was doomed to disappointment.
But that couldn’t be what he wanted, for all this time he’d encouraged her to speak up. Why, suddenly, would he have gone silent just because she’d said what was on her mind? Was it because her notion hadn’t been brilliant, it was ridiculous?
She knew hardly anything about the concept, the research, or the company, and yet she had put herself forward as knowing the best way to market a brand-new product. That must have been what Mack meant about her idea being obvious – if she’d known a little more about the whole thing, she might not have been so quick to assume that the problems were easily solved. If that was what they’d been working on all day...
But the president had been delighted at the idea of large-scale taste tests. Surely that meant her idea was reasonable, at least. Why had Mack been so standoffish?
Of course, such an approach would be very expensive, but in the long run it would pay off. If the product was as superior as everyone seemed to think, the customers might just be holding out for the best price before committing themselves, and a little encouragement might take care of the problem. The first thing Wendy would want to know, if she was running this campaign, was what the customers were really thinking.
But she wasn’t in charge. It was none of her business, and the sooner she forgot about it, the better off they’d all be.
In the meantime, however, if shedding a few quiet tears eased her pain just a little...
Snapping off the lights, she climbed into bed and buried her face in a pillow.
She didn’t hear Mack come in until he sank down on the edge of the bed, his palm resting warmly on the nape of her neck. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry.”
He sounded as if she were Rory’s age, and that made her want to howl all the more. Why had he chosen this night, anyway? He’d said goodnight already, and he hadn’t come to her room in days – so long, in fact, that she’d felt perfectly safe to indulge herself. She pushed herself up from the pillow, but she didn’t look at him. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not.” He bent to kiss a tear from her cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll make it all right – you’ll see.”
Gentle as the caress was, it sent waves of longing through Wendy’s body, and the warm comfort of Mack’s voice helped a great deal to ease the ache in her heart. She still didn’t know what he’d been thinking, or why he’d been so quiet – but surely if he was angry he wouldn’t be here now. And if in his heart he agreed that she was an idiot...
Wendy smiled a little. If he thought that, Mack wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her. “Hold me,” she whispered.
He put his arms around her. Wendy released a long sigh of contentment, and a moment later when his lips brushed her temple, she turned her face up to his and relaxed into his warmth.
He kissed her long and luxuriously, and Wendy basked in the glorious glow that spread slowly through her veins. Eventually, however, he stopped kissing her and laid his cheek against the top of her head. “This is not very wise.” His voice was a husky whisper which seemed to vibrate through her. “I want to do more than hold you, Wendy.”
On their wedding night, when he had come to her bedroom, she had been startled. She had pushed him away, and he had gone.
But she hadn’t been frightened of Mack; she h
adn’t shied from his touch that night because she couldn’t bear to sleep with a man she didn’t love. She had already known, deep inside the secret spaces in her heart, that she did love him; she simply hadn’t admitted it yet. In truth, she’d sent him away because she couldn’t bear to sleep with a man who didn’t love her as she loved him.
But now she knew that love could come in many forms and infinite degrees. If desire and tenderness were all she could have, then she would make the best of it – and she would remember that she held enough love in her heart for both of them.
“I know.” she whispered. She reached up to link her arms around his neck. Mack hesitated for a moment which seemed to stretch into forever, as if he thought she didn’t fully comprehend what she was doing.
Wendy kissed him with all the fire and passion she had kept so carefully leashed until that moment, and repeated what he’d said a few minutes ago. “It’s all right, Mack. We’ll make it all right.”
Mack gave a low groan, and caught her close.
Every caress, every kiss, every whisper, felt so natural that she realized she must have practiced making love with him in her dreams. The anticipation served to heighten each sensation, and she gave herself up to the joy of loving him – an excitement like an incoming tide which rose higher with each wave until ultimately its strength was spent and no more energy was left.
Luxurious exhaustion spread through her body. She could barely exert herself to raise her fingertips to his face, to trace the beloved lines of his jaw, his cheekbone, his eyebrows.
Mack kissed her long and lazily – all traces of passion had vanished from him as well – and tucked the blanket around her. Wendy nestled close and enjoyed the strong beat of his heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest. No wonder Rory liked to be rocked, she thought sleepily. There was something very comforting about the rhythmic motion. It made her feel so soft and sentimental that she wanted to cry a little more – not the sort of tears she’d shed earlier, of course, but warm and happy ones.
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