Wrong Dress, Right Guy

by Shirley Hailstock

  She sat up and shook herself, trying to clear her head.

  “Mac, it’s Cinnamon. I need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait until morning? I’ll be in Indian Falls then.”

  “I’m not in Indian Falls.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At my sister’s house. She lives on the upper end of Sixteenth Street.”

  “Here? In D.C.?”

  Cinnamon nodded. “Yes.”

  “Would you like to come here?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean, I can’t. I can’t drive.”

  “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” She could hear the instant concern in his voice. “Has there been an accident?”

  “Nothing like that. Too much wine.”

  “Oh, I see.” She wasn’t sure what she heard in his voice. “Would you like me to come and get you?”

  Cinnamon wanted to jump at that. Her mind shouted yes, but she subdued it. She needed to be clearheaded when she talked to him. “Can we meet tomorrow?”

  “I’m busy all day. How about dinner?”

  “Dinner will be fine.”

  She gave him her cell number and they hung up.

  Taking a drink of her wine, she said, “That didn’t sound like two people who were in love. More like two people planning a divorce.”

  Samara resumed her seat. “Cinnamon,” she said. Her tone had totally changed.

  Cinnamon looked at her sister.

  “Are you in love with Mac?”

  No was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew it wasn’t true. “I think so.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. I’ve known it for weeks.”

  “Does he know?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t want to marry me, Samara. He asked me to accompany him to a wedding because we didn’t like each other. I was a ruse for his ex-fiancée.”

  “But things changed. They changed for you. Maybe they did for him, too.”

  Cinnamon pondered that. Was that why Mac set a date? Had he changed his mind and he really did want to marry her? Maybe it was the wine, but she clutched on to that answer. It was the one she wanted. By morning, clearheaded, she would think differently, but tonight she wanted to bask in the warmth that her love was returned.

  By morning Cinnamon’s head was clearer and she’d convinced herself that it was the wine that had her believing Mac might be in love with her. Samara had left for work by the time Cinnamon got out of bed. Fixing herself a cup of coffee, she flipped through the Washington Post. It was good to see a paper that didn’t have a story about her and her impending marriage on the front page.

  She scanned the sales at the major department stores, checked out the food ads and what was on sale at the chain pharmacies in the area. Then she turned to a Metro section and saw Mac’s face staring at her. The story was about the famous broadcasting executive speaking at Howard University. The woman on the phone had mentioned him speaking there.

  Cinnamon read the story. It told of Mac’s rise from street reporter to hosting his own television program. She must have gotten the idea then, for Cinnamon was sitting in the back of the darkened auditorium when Mac came on stage.

  She was going to meet him for dinner anyway. She might as well attend the lecture and they could decide then.

  Cinnamon didn’t think that many people would attend a lecture at five o’clock, but the place was packed. Mac looked great onstage. She smiled and her heart fluttered at seeing him. This was his element. He shone here.

  She’d never seen him speaking before. She’d watched his show, seen him host the program, facilitate a discussion and keep control of a subject. But she didn’t really know his history, how he got started in the business. Why he chose journalism. She realized he didn’t know the answers to those questions about her, either. They really didn’t know each other. But that didn’t stop her from being in love with him.

  By the time they got to the question and answer portion, Cinnamon had learned that Mac initially wanted to be a doctor—which she’d known—but what she hadn’t been aware of was his motive, his sister’s disease. Allison had other ideas, though, and convinced him to do what he really loved instead of trying to save her. The crowd sighed at that, and Mac went on to explain that Allison was fine and had been married just a few weeks ago.

  He chose journalism because he wanted to know the truth and wanted to report it.

  He got questions about getting into the job market and how hard it was to start. Finally a young man rose near the front and asked, “How do you feel when you become the news, instead of reporting it?”

  Cinnamon immediately knew where this was going. Mac frowned as if he didn’t understand the question, but she knew he was too good a journalist to miss the point. He was buying time.

  “No reporter wants to be the subject of a story, unless he wins the lottery.” The audience laughed.

  When the laughter died down, the young man stood again. “I mean the story about you and the weather girl from Boston.”

  Cinnamon held her breath.

  “She’s a meteorologist. She has a doctorate in her field and she’s a young woman, not a girl,” Mac explained.

  Cinnamon breathed out.

  The questions continued. The audience was composed of journalism majors. They appeared to have gone into reporter mode and were badgering Mac for answers to questions that would get at the truth. It was obvious Mac didn’t like being on the hot seat.

  “So, after all the stories that appeared in the Indian Falls Weekly, you’re going to marry Dr. Scott?”

  Cinnamon leaned forward. She was interested in the answer to this question.

  “Dr. Scott and I had some discussion since that last story appeared and we decided to break our engagement.”

  Cinnamon gasped. In the quietness of the room, her reaction was audible. Mac looked in her direction. She dropped her head, but she was sure it was too dark for him to see her.

  “Who broke the engagement?”

  “It was mutual.”

  “So you’re not in love with her?”

  Questions were thrown at him from all points in the room. A rhythm had developed and Mac answered as fast as they were asked. On the last one, he held up his hands to stop them.

  “These questions don’t seem to have anything to do with journalism.”

  “Just for the record, are you in love with her?” came another question.

  “I’m not in love with anyone. And I don’t plan to marry. Ever.”

  Cinnamon felt as if he’d punched her in the stomach. If she hadn’t been sitting six seats in, she’d have left. But she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. She couldn’t listen to anything else. Her mind whirled. Her stomach churned.

  The applause snapped her back to reality. The lights came up as people rushed to the stage to talk to Mac. Cinnamon remained in her seat. She wanted the other people to leave before she got up. Since they knew about her and Mac’s engagement, someone might recognize her. Checking that Mac was still behind groups of students, she got up and hooked her purse over her shoulder. With one final look, she headed for the door. Just before she got there, a female student stared at her.

  “Aren’t you—”

  “No.” Cinnamon cut her off. As she went around her, she glanced at the stage and looked straight into the eyes of MacKenzie Grier. Without a word she left the auditorium.

  There was no need to meet him for dinner. When her cell phone rang later that night, Cinnamon was nearly back to Indian Falls. She saw Mac’s number on the small display and turned the unit off. She’d had her discussion with him. There was nothing else to say. No matter how she felt, he wasn’t in love with her.

  That couldn’t have been her, Mac thought. He’d looked up in the audience when he heard a voice he thought he knew. Then he’d seen her going through the door. She looked at him, but it was dark and a long way from the stage. She couldn’t hav
e been there. But where was she? He’d been calling her for hours. They were supposed to have dinner and she’d stood him up.

  Finally at midnight, his phone rang. He grabbed for it and automatically looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it. Something could have happened to her and this was a stranger calling to let him know.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “MacKenzie Grier?” the voice asked. It was someone who didn’t know him.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Samara Scott, Cinnamon’s sister. We had lunch together a couple of months ago.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “She isn’t with you?” Her voice rose a little.

  “She stood me up. I’ve been calling her cell phone for hours.”

  “She wasn’t here when I got home from work. Usually she’ll call me if I’m expecting her and she isn’t coming back. But when she didn’t answer her cell, I got scared. Do you think she went back to Indian Falls?”

  Mac hadn’t thought of that. Indian Falls wasn’t that far away. “I haven’t tried to call her there.”

  “Wait a minute, she stood you up. Why would she do that? She really wanted to talk to you.”

  Mac hesitated a moment. “I think she was at my lecture today.”

  “What lecture?”

  Mac outlined what he believed happened.

  “But you’re not sure it was her?” Samara asked.

  “Not entirely. But since she’s not answering her phone and she never called to firm up our dinner plans, what else can I think?”

  “I’m going to call the house and see if she’s there.”

  “If she answers, don’t tell her you’ve talked to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “She heard something pretty awful this evening. I want to have a chance to explain.”

  “All right if you answer one question for me?”

  Mac didn’t wait for the question. He knew what it was. “The answer is yes,” he said. “I do love her. I don’t think I can go on living without her in my life.”

  “That’s the right answer,” Samara said.

  Mac listened. Although there was no sound, he knew Samara was using another phone to dial the house in Indian Falls.

  “Cinnamon, thank God you’re there. When you didn’t call me, I got worried.”

  Mac didn’t wait to hear anything else. He snapped his cell phone closed and left the house. Within minutes he was in his car and speeding out of the District. He made it to Indian Falls in record time. The lights were on in Zahara Lewis’s house. Mac still had the keys Cinnamon had given him when he was renting the room. He didn’t use them, but rang the doorbell. Cinnamon didn’t answer immediately, but Mac knew she was there.

  He rang the bell again, punching it to get her attention. Eventually, she opened the door.

  “I want to talk to you,” Mac said. He had a foot inside the threshold in case she tried to push him out.

  Cinnamon looked down and walked away from the door. He’d expected her to be angry, to rant, scream or show some volatile reaction. She moved like he was any Sunday guest who’d dropped by for a visit.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  “I saw you,” he said, ignoring her offer.

  “Where was that?” She smiled brightly, giving him an on-camera smile. “At the lecture hall?”

  “Cinnamon, I can explain.”

  “What a cliché,” she said. “Why do you think there is anything you need to explain? We’re not engaged. We never have been. From the first, this was a joke. You didn’t like it, but that’s what it was. So, no hard feelings. You can go now.”

  “I love you,” he said.

  She stared at him. Her eyes narrowed and her voice was low and angry. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘I love you.’”

  “Get out of here!” she shouted.

  “That’s not the reaction I expected.”

  “What did you expect? That it would mean something to me? That not seven hours ago you stood in front of a crowd of students and told them you were not in love with anyone and not likely to be, yet here you are saying ‘I love you’? Well, I’m not buying it. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

  This was not going well. Mac hadn’t intended to blurt out that he was in love with her. But the words found their way to his mouth and they were out before he could think about it.

  Cinnamon went to the door and opened it. She stood waiting for Mac. He shrugged, knowing there was nothing else he could do except leave.

  Chapter 12

  Sleep wasn’t on the menu after Mac had walked out the door. Cinnamon was emotionally drained. Sitting down on the sofa, she tried to get her feelings back in line. Her mind replayed the scene with Mac.

  He’d told her he loved her.

  And she’d thrown him out.

  What had happened to her since she came to Indian Falls? How could things go so wrong? Maybe she should have stayed in Boston. Maybe she should go back there. It was obvious all she’d caused since she set foot in Indian Falls was hardship and embarrassment. She understood Boston, knew the mechanics of it. Even if she didn’t like her treatment there, no one cared if she was engaged to be married or just plain living with someone.

  In Indian Falls, her life was front-page news.

  The whole town was involved in her affair. Affair, she seized the word. She and Mac didn’t have an affair. There was no word for what they had. Nothing wasn’t correct and something was too strong a word to name what was between them. They did have something. Only she couldn’t define it.

  The chimes on the grandfather clock in the hall began to ring as they counted out the hour. Cinnamon listened. It was three o’clock in the morning. She should go to bed, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Cinnamon got up and started for the kitchen when the doorbell rang again.

  Stopping, she turned and looked at the door. It could only be Mac. Who else would ring her doorbell at this hour? For a split second, Cinnamon considered ignoring it, but what good would that do? He knew she was there. The lights were still on and there was that staccato punching of the doorbell that was nothing if not a signature of the man.

  Going to the door, she yanked it open.

  “I’m back,” he said and pushed past her into the room.

  Cinnamon closed the door, but stood where she was. Her shoulders felt as if they had weights on them.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To talk some sense into you.”

  “Why do you think I’m the one who’s out of my senses?”

  “Because you’re in love with me and I’m not leaving until you admit it.”

  “All right, I admit it. Go.”

  She started to open the door. Mac moved faster than she’d ever seen anyone move. He pushed the door closed and pinned her against it. His hands weren’t touching her. No part of his body made contact with hers, yet Cinnamon was held in place as surely as if he’d stuck daggers through her clothes.

  “Say it out loud.” His voice was seductive. He put his forehead against hers. “Say it out loud,” he teased. Cinnamon felt his breath brush her skin. It was as solid as if his hands were caressing her. Her body began a meltdown. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on. “Say it, Cinnamon. I need to hear the words.

  “I love you,” she said.

  In an instant his mouth was on hers. Mac’s hands dug into her hair, holding her mouth still as he kissed her. His lips ravished hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and taking all that she gave. Cinnamon’s entire body seemed to be part of the kiss. Arousal felt like small bubbles under her skin, each popping in an electric burst that infused her with a need greater than she’d ever experienced before.

  She wanted Mac, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. She wanted a change to their status, to know that there was something definite keeping them together, making them part of the same whole. She wanted to spend her life learning about him, finding his secre
ts and keeping them safely locked in her heart.

  Cinnamon’s arms went around Mac and she held him tightly. She joined Mac in a kiss of desperation. She loved him. She’d told him so and he’d said as much. Her world had tilted. She was delirious, happy, rapturous.

  Mac lifted his mouth briefly. When he settled it again on her, the kiss changed. The desperation that had been in them both was gone. He cradled her against him. His hands felt less insistent in her hair, yet they were soft and caring as they touched her. His mouth worshipped hers. The world could have stopped turning for all Cinnamon knew. They seemed to stay that way for a long time. Then Mac slipped his mouth from hers, but kept her cradled against him.

  Cinnamon thought of their argument earlier. How she’d thrown him out and if he hadn’t come back…but he did come back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to herself and only realized she’d said it out loud when he answered.

  “For what?”

  “For coming back. For loving me. For changing my world.”

  “Is that all?” he said. “You’re welcome.”

  The sun shone through the open windows. Cinnamon opened her eyes. Stretching like a satisfied cat, she turned over in the bed, wrapping herself in the covers. She couldn’t believe it. She and Mac were getting married.

  It must be nearly noon, but Cinnamon didn’t care. She and Mac had spent the night together in blissful union. At least the part of the night still available. Unfortunately, he had to return to Washington.

  He’d awakened her with his body, his hands moving over her already naked form like warm pads, his mouth planting kisses along her spine. She was nearly liquid by the time he turned her over and made mad morning-love to her.

  Cinnamon stretched again and wondered how Mac was doing. She smiled, lounging against the sex-scented sheets. Pushing herself up, she began her getting dressed ritual. It was after a cup of coffee that the doorbell rang and she found Allison Mathis sitting there in her chair.

  “Allison, come in.”

  “Congratulations!” She reached up, her arms outstretched. “Mac called me this morning. I couldn’t be more pleased.” Her smile was wide and genuine.