by Debra Webb
He had to touch her breasts. Now. His fingers twisted and tugged at the material, trying desperately to undo the long row of tiny pearl buttons gracing the front of her dress. Her fingers buried in his hair, she nipped at his chin, traced his lips with her tongue. Mac alternately kissed her and struggled with the buttons. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more, to kiss her or to feel her skin burning into his. When she arched against him, Mac lost it completely. He cursed and abandoned the buttons. He covered one, rosy peak with his mouth, sucking it through the gauzy fabric.
Free screamed her pleasure, the sound almost pushing him over the edge. Her hands were all over him now, fumbling with his snap, then the zipper. His mouth latched onto the other breast, teasing the nipple between his teeth. Her body bowed against his, the sudden movement throwing him off balance. Desperately Mac clutched at the sofa, but it was too late. He pitched over the edge, Free in tow. Mac slammed against the floor on his back, her slight weight and the impact forcing the wind from his lungs.
“Are you all right?” Free asked raggedly, staring down at him from her perch astride his hips, her eyes glazed with need.
“I’m fine,” he managed, then rolled her onto her back, putting him in the dominant position once more. “We just have to get this dress off you before I lose my mind.” The wet material just didn’t want to cooperate.
Free quickly joined his frantic efforts to release the buttons. The difficulty of the task only intensified their desire. Mac growled in frustration when a button popped off instead of releasing. Free’s hands suddenly stilled. Her beautiful blue gaze locked on his.
“Do you have protection?” she blurted out.
Protection? He swore. Of course he didn’t have any protection; he hadn’t expected to need any during his short stay in Alabama. He rose up on one elbow and plowed a hand through his hair. “No,” he muttered, hating to have to admit it and fearing her reaction even more.
She sat up too quickly and their heads banged together. Free yelped, Mac cursed. When he lifted his weight to one side to rub his aching head, she wiggled from beneath him and scurried out of his reach.
“Wait!” He crawled on all fours to where she sat wrestling to close the buttons they had worked so hard to undo. “I can go to the store…five minutes. I can be back in five minutes,” he said in a rush. He cursed himself mentally for the pleading tone in his voice. He hadn’t begged a woman since—hell, he couldn’t remember ever begging. But his need for this woman was a palpable force, a desperate ache in his loins.
She scooted out of his reach again and struggled to her feet. “This wasn’t a good idea,” she said, her voice unsteady. Her hands shook when she pushed her damp hair back. The sheer dress lay plastered to her amazing body. The body he wanted to possess more than he wanted to take his next breath.
“I should go, before we do something we’ll regret,” she added as she backed up a step.
Mac got to his feet, his whole body throbbing with unsated need. He reached out to her, but she dodged his touch. “I thought you wanted this as much as I did.” He let his hand fall back to his side. “I know you did,” he told her, leveling his gaze on hers.
Free licked her lips nervously and averted her gaze. “I…I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” She gestured vaguely. “I don’t…don’t usually behave this way.” She lifted her eyes to his again and they were suspiciously bright. “The truth is I don’t do casual sex.” She swallowed tightly and sucked in a ragged breath, then muttered, “I’m sorry.”
Casual sex. That’s what this was. They didn’t really know each other and hadn’t even been on a date.
Mac felt like pond scum. Lower than pond scum. Had he seduced Free? Hell, he thought she seduced him. He passed a hand over his face and then through his tousled hair. “I guess we both got a little carried away.” In a pathetic effort to redeem himself, he gave her his best attempt at a smile.
Free nodded adamantly. “You’re right. Absolutely right.” She backed away two more steps. “We should take things a little slower. You know—” she stumbled over a chair, barely catching herself in her haste. Smiling self-consciously, she eased around the obstacle and continued toward the door, apparently afraid to turn her back on him for fear he might grab her from behind. “We could start with a date instead of—” The doorjamb halted her retreat this time. Mac grimaced at the sound of her impact with the hard wooden surface.
Free rubbed her head and winced. “We shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off as Mac swiftly closed the distance between them. All wet and disheveled she looked much too desirable.
Mac took her arm and turned her around. “Let’s try it this way.” Reluctantly, she allowed him to guide her back to the kitchen and out the door.
Silently, they crossed the yard and paused at her steps. The rain had stopped and the moon shone brightly on the glistening leaves of the trees and shrubbery.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” she said softly, then stared at the ground.
He lifted her chin and smiled at her, her breath caught and his heart stumbled at the sound. “I’m not.” He lowered his head and kissed her gently.
Her eyes stayed closed for a long moment after he ended the kiss. His body tightened all over again at the vulnerability he saw on her sweet face. When her eyes fluttered open, something inside him shifted and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away.
“Mac, would you spend the day with me tomorrow?”
He blinked once, twice, then stared at her. “Spend the day with you?” he echoed. It wasn’t exactly the invitation he’d hoped to hear, but at least she wanted to be with him again.
“You work so hard all the time—you deserve a day off. I’d love to show you some of my favorite leisure activities,” she said quickly, as if she feared losing her nerve at any moment.
“I have a lot of work to do, people depending on me,” he protested halfheartedly.
“You employ competent people who know their jobs. Surely they can get by without you for one day,” she insisted.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” he argued without conviction. He wanted to. Oh, he definitely wanted to, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the way he did things.
“You’re the boss. Of course you can!”
If he hadn’t allowed himself to look into her eyes one last time, he could have said no. The word was on the tip of his tongue. But he looked. And those big blue eyes had melted whatever willpower he had. He couldn’t say no. If his life had depended upon it, he couldn’t have said no.
“All right,” he croaked. “I’ll spend the day with you tomorrow.”
Free smiled widely, then tiptoed to press a chaste kiss on his lips. Before he could react she had disappeared into her house.
Mac stood there for a long moment, dazed. What had he done? He had never taken a day off from work to spend with a woman.
Never.
But this gypsy had cast her spell and he was helpless against it. For the first time in his adult life, he felt completely at the mercy of another person.
And he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like it at all.
Chapter Six
Mac crammed his hard hat on his head and drew in a deep, resolute breath. This was the right thing to do. Spending the day with Free was not. Was not, he repeated.
He had beaten himself up all night over his moment of weakness. He could not, would not go down that road. Jake was wrong; Mac didn’t need to have her. She made him feel too much.
She made him want too much.
Mostly she confused him.
Mac slipped his cell phone into his shirt pocket, then grabbed his rolled-up blueprints and headed for the door. He did not want to want the things Free Renzetti made him want.
No. No. Absolutely not.
He could call her later in the morning and tell her that something had come up. It wasn’t that big a deal anyway. After all, it wasn’t even technically a date.
Date. Mac grimaced.
He had t
o get out of here. He opened the door and pushed out into the bright morning sun. The only reminders of last nights’ rain showers were a small puddle on the sidewalk and a thousand glittering droplets on the leaves and grass. Had her dancing in the dark, in the rain, been a dream? Free had glided around the yard as if on air. The rain had plastered the thin white dress to her body. No, it had been real.
Too damn real.
He didn’t need that kind of distraction.
Mac clenched his jaw. The business was all he needed. It was all he had ever needed. He had learned at a very young age to focus on one goal and one goal only, survival. Work equaled survival in his book. He had to work. Work defined him.
An engine cranked and then sputtered to life. Mac looked up just in time to see Free turning her truck around and heading in his direction. He muttered two oaths and then clenched his jaw. Why couldn’t he have gotten on the road before she came out?
“Good morning,” she said, all smiles.
“Morning,” he managed.
Free bounded out of the truck, her long blue skirt flowing to cover everything to mid-calf. A shiny silver bracelet encompassed one delicate ankle. And barefoot! Did the woman ever wear shoes? He suddenly pictured her barefoot and round with child. He jerked, wide-eyed and shaken to the core. Damn. This woman made him think about things he didn’t want to think about.
“Perfect,” she said after examining him from head to toe. “But” she reached up and snatched off his protective headgear “the hardhat is overkill.”
Before he could protest, she had seized the blueprints from his hand and confiscated the cell phone from his pocket, then added, “You won’t need these either.” She left him, mouth gaping, and returned the necessities of his life to his back door.
“Let’s go,” she enthused as she swept around the corner of the house.
Mac found his voice. “Wait a minute. I can’t go,” he said tersely, steeling himself for her protests.
She smiled, Mac’s stomach clenched. “Don’t be silly. Of course you can go.” She looked up at him with those gorgeous baby blues. “You said you would.”
Mac let go a frustrated breath. This was hopeless. How could he say no? But how could he go? It was crazy. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. “I know I said I would, but—”
“Not buts, Mac,” she interrupted, her tone final. “A promise is a promise.”
A promise. Mac closed his eyes for a second to collect his crumbling resolve. He didn’t make promises; he negotiated agreements, proposals, contracts, but he absolutely did not do promises.
Free didn’t wait for him to answer; she stepped around the hood of the truck and opened the driver’s side door.
Feeling like he’d just been hit by a train, Mac yanked the passenger-side door open too quickly and whacked himself in the head. Stifling a dozen scorching expletives, he rubbed his forehead and slid into the dilapidated old truck. The ache in his head pounded in time with the waves of irritation at his own stupidity washing over him. He would regret this, he knew he would. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t say no.
Mac had built a career on being tough. On making the buck-stops-here decisions no one else wanted to make. He was ruthless in business. He could probably look the president himself on the eye and deny him any request. But he couldn’t say no to one sexy gypsy.
He was doomed.
He turned to ask Free where exactly she planned to take him. He found himself eyeball to eyeball with Oscar, Free’s overly friendly Lab. The beast gave him a big, sloppy kiss from chin to forehead, then promptly settled his head on Mac’s lap.
“Oscar, you behave,” Free scolded and buckled her seat belt. “Buckle up, Mac,” she added, giving him a melting smile.
Oscar lifted his head and gazed at her for abut two seconds before reclaiming his chosen spot. Mac tried to shift from his reach, but the door stopped him.
“Sorry. He’s still a puppy.” Free shrugged, then shifted into gear and pulled out of the driveway.
Biting back another expletive, Mac wiped his damp jaw on his shirt sleeve. No dog this big could be considered a puppy, he argued silently as he snapped the old seat belt into place. He shot the animal a disgusted look and then stared at Free. Without preamble, his body tightened. Gold and brown tendrils curled around her face, silky curls cascaded over her shoulders. Her profile was soft and irresistibly appealing.
Mac’s gaze roamed down her bare forearm, then bounced back up to her firm breasts. The matching blue tank top she wore didn’t dip low enough for cleavage display, but it clung to her shape like a second skin. The woman never wore a bra, apparently. His heart rate accelerated and his throat tightened with yearning. Those tight buds straining against her blouse taunted him. How would he love to taste that sensitive flesh and tease those perky nipples with his teeth—this time, mouth to naked flesh.
He could still vividly recall the subtle scent of roses that lingered on her skin. How could she know how much that particular fragrance appealed to him? Mac swallowed hard and averted his gaze. He shifted restlessly in his seat, his jeans suddenly too tight. Oscar looked up in obvious irritation.
Mac glared at the animal, willing him to move, but he merely dropped his big head back into Mac’s lap. Mac promptly moved the dog’s head aside, angled himself away from the beast and then propped his elbow on the open window.
The landscape changed from city streets to country roads in a few short minutes. Free described in detail anything he deemed worthy of mention, which amounted to most everything they passed. Mac tried to ignore her enthusiastic chatter, but her animated features made it impossible.
He was mesmerized.
Every gesture, every look, every smile drew him. Lost in an intimate world of their own, nothing else mattered.
Free turned onto an old dirt road that resembled a wagon trail more than an actual road. Oscar leaned first one way and then the other to regain his balance as they bounced over the rutted passage. Finally, Free stopped at a gate that crossed their path.
Mac squinted at the sign posted on the gate.
No trespassing?
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked when Free opened her door to get out. He looked at her and then their heavily wooded environment, concern creasing his brow. This was backwoods Alabama, where folks shot people for trespassing.
“It’s okay. I come here all the time,” she assured him before trotting off to open the gate.
Mac rolled his eyes. That certainly wasn’t any comfort. She hopped back in and drove the truck through the open gate and then jumped back out to close it. There had to be a reason for the gate, and the fence, he thought, after taking another long look around. Cattle, maybe? He scanned the woods again. No, probably not cattle.
Oscar solemnly surveyed the situation. Dogs, then, Mac decided. No, there wasn’t any barking. Couldn’t be dogs—dogs barked.
Uneasiness slid through him and he found himself asking, “Are you sure it’s okay to be here?”
“Positive,” she said with a wide smile.
Mac shrugged off the niggling uneasiness and rested his arm across the back of the seat. Two inches, he realized with a secret smile. If he leaned in her direction just two inches, his fingertips would make contact with those silky strands. His breathing changed in anticipation of how it would feel to touch Free again. Oscar abruptly turned and stuck his cold nose to Mac’s jaw.
Damn. Between this mutt and his wayward thoughts, Mac felt ready to explode.
Free stopped the truck in a wide clearing that cut into the woods on either side of a meandering stream. The canopy of trees above them had parted, allowing the sun to sparkle on the reflective water.
The uneasy feeling returned, but it had nothing to do with no trespassing signs and everything to do with being out of his element. Mac didn’t enjoy nature much—or hiking or bird-watching or any of that other environmentally correct stuff.
He needed commercial carpet under his feet, flu
orescent lights glowing overhead, and the smell of ink on his fingers.
“Out, boy,” Free commanded.
Mac jerked to face her, then realized she’d been speaking to Oscar. He exhaled and got out. He could do this. It didn’t take camouflage pants, tobacco in his lip, and a buzz cut to be an outdoors kind of guy. Common sense, that’s all he needed; nature would take care of the rest.
“Grab that basket and blanket,” Free told him. She reached into the bed of the truck and brought out what he recognized as two fishing poles and a bucket. “The stream runs into a large pocket of water not too far from here. The fishing is usually pretty good this time of year.”
“Okay,” Mac replied and did as she had asked. The basket weighed a ton. That was a good sign, since lunch would be in the basket. And since he hadn’t eaten breakfast, he was very interested in lunch. He hefted the goods and started after Free. Oscar followed, stopping frequently to investigate his surroundings.
Yeah, Mac decided, this would be a piece of cake. Heck, when you got right down to it, a guy could do anything he set his mind to.
~*~
Mac couldn’t do anything.
Free sighed as she watched him try again to bait his hook. She had done it for him the last two times he’d lost his bait. The man had never been fishing. For the love of Mike, what father didn’t take his son fishing at least once in his life? She shook her head.
“You know,” she began, distracting him from his intense concentration on the hook. “I think I’d like to take a walk now.”
Mac frowned. “What about the fish?”
She had to bite her lip to prevent pointing out that he’d made so much noise and plopped his line in and out of the water so many times that he’d scared away any self-respecting fish within a mile. But she didn’t. Instead, she said, “They’re not biting.”
