by Marie Force
"Now that I think of it, I haven't known her to be with any guy since school. But when Evan and I were in high school, all the boys were wild about Maddie Mattress and her spectacular boobs."
Mac turned to study the harbor and process the information.
"Don't tell me you didn't notice 'the girls,'" she joked. "They're quite something."
He turned back to her, working to keep his anger in check. Why he was so determined to defend Maddie wasn't something he cared to think about just then. "There's more to her than that."
"You're probably the only guy alive who'd say that after meeting her. I see your honorable tendencies haven't been diminished by your years in Miami."
"What's wrong with being honorable?"
"Not a thing. Besides, you've got bigger problems. Mom's gonna flip out when she finds out you're here. She'll be fixing you up with every unattached bimbo in town."
"What? Why?"
"Her grandchild clock is ticking like an atom bomb since Janet provided Auntie Joan with twins. Mom is desperate, and she won't be satisfied until all four of you are married and pumping out the babies."
Just the idea of it gave Mac the willies, but even that unsettling thought couldn't clear away the overwhelming sadness over what Maddie must've gone through. No wonder she was so anxious to move into anonymity off the island.
"How come you get a pass on grandkids?" Mac asked.
"Mom knows David and I are years away from that."
"Where is she anyway?"
"Doing the payroll at the hotel. She'll be home in a little while, or you can catch her there."
"Speaking of babies, what do you know about the father of Maddie's?"
"Not a thing. She refuses to say who it was. Word on the street is that it was Royal Atkinson."
"And people just believe that? You just believe it?"
Janey had the good grace to look chagrined. "Well, when a person has a certain reputation—"
"Whether it's earned or not."
"When she wouldn't name the baby's father, people speculated. She cleaned Royal's house for years." Janey referred to one of the longest-serving town councilmen. "Suddenly that stopped. A few months later, she started to show. People talked."
Mac shuddered at the thought of pretty, petite Maddie getting it on with rotund Royal and his heaving jowls. "No way."
"You asked. I'm just telling you what people say."
"This town needs to get a life. How can you stand it? Don't you ever get sick of it?"
"Doesn't faze me. As long as they aren't talking about me, what do I care?"
"Poor Maddie." The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them.
Janey stared at him. "She got to you, didn't she? And now you're wondering what it would be like—"
"I'm not wondering anything. I just wanted to know her story."
"You should probably keep your distance, Mac. She's had a lot of trouble in her life. Her mother's doing three months in prison for writing bad checks, and her father split years ago. Her sister was a wild child, too. They're not our kind of people."
"That sounds so snobby. She can't help who her parents are any more than we can."
"We got a lot luckier than she did."
"Which is exactly why we shouldn't throw stones."
She went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You're too good. Just be careful around her."
He'd already thought the same thing himself, albeit for different reasons. However, much to his dismay, knowing what he did now, he was even more intrigued by her than he'd been before.
"You deserve better than someone who's been around the block a few dozen times."
"You don't even know her."
Janey raised an eyebrow. "And you do?"
While he couldn't argue with that, his gut told him Janey was wrong about Maddie.
"Will you be around for dinner?" Janey asked.
"I've got some stuff to do."
"Come by my place for a beer if you're in town."
"I will."
She hugged him again. "Nice to have you home. I've got to get back to the clinic."
"See ya, brat."
"Don't call me that!" she shot over her shoulder as she went back inside.
Mac rested his hands on the rail and fixated on the harbor. When he woke up in the airport hotel that morning, he'd never heard of Maddie Chester. How was it possible that just a few hours later she was all he could think about?
Chapter 3
If the house was his mother's domain, Big Mac ruled over the barn-shaped garage. Linda referred to the barn as "the quicksand," because nothing that went in there to be fixed was ever seen again.
Mac navigated his way through the chaos, batting at spider webs on the way to the back corner, his heart pumping with excitement when he saw the white sheet. Just as he'd left it. A couple of old bicycles blocked his path, and Mac took a quick look to see if either of them would be suitable replacements for Maddie.
Dismissing them both, he said, "I'll get her a new one. That'll make her good and mad." He couldn't say why the idea of making her mad was so appealing, but he liked the spark of life that lit up her caramel-colored eyes when he challenged her.
Tugging on the sheet, he uncovered his first love—an orange Honda 250 motorcycle he'd bought from Ned two months after he got his license. His mother had flipped out—and ripped Ned a new one—but Big Mac had urged Linda to "let the boy be."
The bike was already old when Mac bought it, but with his father's help, he'd lovingly restored it. He ran his hand over the gas tank and came to rest on the leather seat. "What'd ya say, old girl? Still got some life left in you?"
Mac wheeled the motorcycle out of the barn to the crushed-shell driveway and was checking the oil when his mother came up behind him, letting out a shriek that nearly stopped his heart.
"Jeez, Mom." He stood up from the crouch he'd been in and hugged her. She was petite with the same fair-haired coloring Janey had inherited. "You scared the hell out of me."
"Oh," she said, "look at you."
"Don't get all mushy."
"You get more handsome every time I see you." She caressed his cheek, her sharp blue eyes zeroing in on him. "But why do you look so tired and thin?"
He smiled to himself. Her children hadn't called her Voodoo Mama for nothing. "Too much work, not enough fun."
"We'll have to see about fixing that while you're home. How long can you stay?"
"A while," he said, intentionally vague. The McCarthy kids had also learned a long time ago not to give her time for scheming.
"Don't tell me you're taking that old rust bucket for a ride." She shuddered. "I hate that thing. I was always so certain you were going to kill yourself on it."
Mac flashed his most charming grin. "There's not one spec of rust on this bike, and I've got to get around somehow."
"Use my car. I just got it out of the shop. I can walk to the hotel or grab a ride into town when I need one."
Mac glanced at the yellow VW bug convertible in the driveway. "Not in this or any other lifetime, Mother."
"Oh come on! It's not that bad."
"Um, yes, it is."
She let out a gasp. "What in the name of God did you do to your leg?"
"I had a little accident in town." He told her about his encounter with Maddie. "So I'll be staying over there, helping her out with the baby, and covering her shifts at the hotel until she's back on her feet."
"You can't work as a chamber maid! What will people say? You're a McCarthy!"
Had he ever noticed before that his family thought they were better than other people on the island? Had Maddie tuned into that, too? Is that why she had such a beef with his parents? "So what? She can't afford to lose the job, and it's my fault she's hurt."
"She won't lose her job. We'll get someone else to fill in."
"She doesn't want that. I'm taking care of it for her."
"No son of mine—"
Mac held up his hand to stop
her. "Just because we own the place doesn't mean we're better than anyone else. I'm filling in for her, and that's the end of it. Do we still have those old sleeping bags with the camping stuff?" Leaving her fuming in the driveway, he went back into the garage and found the sleeping bags right where he expected them to be, zipped into large plastic bags to protect them from mold.
"What're you doing with that?"
"I'm sleeping on Maddie's floor for a couple of nights so I can help her with the baby."
"This is insanity, Mac. What will people say? She has a sister—"
"Who has a family of her own to care for. Don't worry, you'll still get plenty of time to fuss over me while I'm home."
He strapped a sleeping bag to the back of the motorcycle while his mother watched him. Pretending not to notice her frosty glare, he tinkered with spark plugs and connections before straddling the bike to kick-start it. The engine sputtered and died. He tried twice more before it roared to life with a deafening backfire.
Mac couldn't wait to open up the bike on the island's winding roads, just like he used to.
"Where are you going?" his mother hollered over the roar.
"To see Dad and then back to Maddie's. I'll be by tomorrow."
"Mac! Wait! We need to talk!"
He turned the bike around and gunned it, sending pieces of crushed shell flying behind him.
"You forgot your helmet!"
Flashing a grin over his shoulder, he pretended he couldn't hear her. Just like old times.
As Mac coasted down the long, winding hill that led to the marina, he was glad he hadn't bothered to cut his hair before he left Miami. The wind rushing through it took him right back to high school, and the wild burst of freedom reminded him of a time before life became so complicated.
His thoughts inevitably turned to Maddie and what Janey had told him. They'd grown up just a few miles apart, but light years separated them. While he'd been the hometown hero, she'd been mocked and ridiculed and God knows what else because of something she could neither help nor change.
"It's not up to you to right all those wrongs," he muttered to himself. But for some reason, he wanted to do just that. She'd stirred something primal in him and touched a part of him he hadn't even known existed. The notion both excited and discomforted at the same time.
Even as he decided he should keep his distance, he knew he wouldn't. In fact, as soon as he said a quick hello to his father, he'd be heading right back to her. Surely the reaction he'd had earlier was the result of the accident and the ensuing burst of adrenaline. Once he saw her again, everything would be back to normal, or at least he hoped so.
Mac zipped into the marina and parked next to one of the Dumpsters.
Thanks to his six-foot, four-inch height, Big Mac's thatch of wiry gray hair stood out amid the chaos on the main dock. Because the word sunscreen was not, and had never been, in his vocabulary, he was already as tan as most people were by the end of the summer. He wore a blue T-shirt with a faded silkscreen of a wide-mouthed bass and bleached-out denim shorts with his trademark boat shoes.
Mac watched his father interact with kids, customers and employees as he shouted out orders and engaged in a series of hand signals to direct incoming boaters while deftly fending off another arriving boat. Big Mac choreographed the scene with the finesse of a dispatcher and the authority of a drill sergeant.
Amused, Mac waited for his father to finish tying up the newcomer. Farther down the main dock, the marina's second-in-command, Luke Harris, wrestled with a throttle-happy power boater who'd put speed ahead of safety and skill.
Luke, a high school classmate of Mac's, had worked at McCarthy's for more summers than Mac could count. Mac watched him corral the out-of-control boat without any damage to the others around it. The crowd on the dock gave Luke a round of applause that earned a scowl from the boat's captain.
Big Mac had turned his attention to a crew of kids he'd no doubt recruited from the boats who were shucking a bushel of corn for the restaurant. He said a something that had them all laughing. Pulling a fly swatter from his back pocket, Big Mac took care of the early-season bees that were bugging the kids and returned the swatter to his pocket.
Patting one of the kids on the head, Big Mac turned and noticed his son standing on the sidelines waiting for him. His face lit up with pure joy. Mac's throat tightened as his father made his way across the pier. He loved no one more than the giant of a man who'd raised him with a gentle but steady hand. His father stopped, gave him a measuring once-over and then shook his head as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind the dark sunglasses, Mac suspected he'd find tears.
"What a nice surprise," Big Mac said softly, framing his son's face with calloused, work-roughened hands the size of dinner plates. Their father's effusive love had once mortified his sons, but Mac had long ago outgrown his aversion. "What's wrong with you?"
Mac laughed, not one bit surprised that his father could also take a quick look and know something wasn't quite right. "Apparently, I've been burning the candle."
"Well, you look like hell." He slung a thick arm around Mac's shoulders. "Buy you a late lunch?"
"Thanks, but I already ate. I actually have to get back to town." He gave his father a quick recap of what'd happened earlier with Maddie.
"You can't be serious about covering for her at the hotel."
"She can't work for a few days, and she's petrified about losing the job."
"We can see that doesn't happen, son. We're not ogres."
"It's a pride thing. Besides, how hard can it be to clean a couple of rooms?"
Big Mac snickered. "Harder than you probably think. Mom will pitch a cow over this."
"Believe me, I've already gotten an earful."
Big Mac nodded to the bike. "Got the old girl out of mothballs, huh?"
"She's running great."
"I take her out for a spin every now and then to keep her lubed up and ready. Just in case."
"In case of what?"
"In case you come home."
The stark simplicity of his father's statement tugged at Mac's heart. "I'm sorry it's been so long."
"No matter. You're here now. For how long?"
Mac took a long look around at the marina, taking in the peeling paint, the sagging roof on the main building that housed the office and restaurant, and the broken windowpane in the gift shop. Seeing his father made Mac forget all about his vow to get in and get out as quickly as possible.
"As long as it takes."
Maddie slept deeper than she had in years. She dreamed about Mac McCarthy. They were on a sailboat, and he was at the helm. The sun shone down upon them, the warmth cooled by an ocean breeze that powered the sleek wooden boat. He wore only a bathing suit tied low on narrow hips. A light dusting of dark hair covered his muscular chest and rippled abs, forming a tantalizing trail into his suit.
He caught her watching him and smiled, dazzling her with his beautiful face and twinkling eyes. That he—Mac McCarthy, local hero and golden boy—seemed so happy to be with her was nothing short of miraculous.
A nagging voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful. Surely a man who could have any woman he wanted wouldn't really be interested in her. But no one else was around just now. For however long he chose to stay, he was hers and she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything. Knowing he had the power to shatter her did nothing to quell the wave of longing. As if she was outside herself watching someone else, Maddie stood up in the boat's roomy cockpit and went to him.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in close. His hand caressing her sun-warmed skin sent desire darting through her.
Maddie looked up at him, the yearning no doubt apparent on her face.
He studied her for a long moment before he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers in tentative kiss, keeping his eyes focused on hers.
Hooking her hand around his neck, she brought him back for more.
His open mouth ca
me down on hers as if he'd been dying to kiss her forever. He traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue before delving deeper to engage in a fierce duel with hers.
Maddie met him thrust for thrust.
Without surrendering her mouth, he released his hold on the wheel and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in tight against his instant arousal. The unattended sails flapped in the breeze as the boat foundered.
The desire was so intense, she didn't even care that her breasts were now pressed against his chest.
A moan escaped their joined lips, and Maddie wasn't sure if it came from him or from her. What did it matter?
From outside the screen door, Mac heard the moan and rushed in to find her sleeping—and clearly dreaming. Her hair formed a wild halo around her face. Her lips were pursed and moving.
Transfixed by the sight of her, he dropped the sleeping bag and the extra bandages he'd bought just inside the door and went to her. She moaned again, and he wondered if she was in pain. When her legs fell open and her hips thrust upward, he went hard as stone.
"God," he muttered, worried that she would reopen her wounds if she kept thrashing about. Sitting next to her on the sofa, he put his hands on her shoulders to hold her still. "Maddie, wake up. You're dreaming."
"Mmm."
She has the prettiest mouth I've ever seen. Before he could indulge in a fantasy about what it would be like to press his own mouth to her plump, pink lips, she lifted her hips again.
"Maddie."
She shocked him when she hooked her uninjured arm around his neck and dragged him down to her. What had been a brief fantasy only a second ago quickly became reality as her lips opened under his and her tongue thrust into his mouth with wild abandon.
Mac knew he should stop her—that was, if he could think clearly enough to do anything but hang on for the ride. Besides, if he fought her, he risked hurting her and he'd already hurt her enough. He cupped her soft cheek, and his tongue met her ardent thrusts, feasting on her sweet flavor.
Time seemed to slip away as he gave in to the attraction that had simmered from the second their eyes first met. Immersed in the scent of summer flowers that came from her hair, he had no idea if he kissed her for five minutes or an hour. All he knew was he didn't want it to end—ever.
