by Marie Force
He knew the exact instant that she woke up and realized she was no longer dreaming. Her body went tense and rigid, and her ardent mouth stilled.
Mac pulled back to stare at her, astounded by the kiss, the emotion, the desire. Brushing the hair off her forehead, he watched surprise, embarrassment, anger and longing dance across her face. The longing caught him off guard and filled him with a brand new kind of desire—to give her everything and anything she wanted.
"What're you doing?" she finally asked.
Mac cleared his throat. "I was trying to wake you up, and you kissed me."
"I did not kiss you!" But then she seemed to realize her arm was still hooked around his neck. Her face flushing with color, she released him.
"Ah, yeah, you did." He leaned in again so his lips lingered just above hers. "And guess what else? You liked it."
"You don't know that."
"I can tell when the woman I'm kissing is enjoying it."
Disgust twisted her pretty mouth into a sneer. "Oh, you and all your experience, of course you can tell."
He continued to hover just above her, amused by her disdain. Why did he get such a kick out of pushing her buttons?
Her hand landed on his chest to keep him from getting any closer. "Would you please move? I need to get up."
"And go where?"
"To the bathroom, if you must know."
Rather than get up, he slid an arm under her legs and lifted her.
"Put me down!" She winced from the pain of her sore knee bending over his arm. "I can get there on my own."
"But you don't have to." He delivered her to the door and waited while she got her footing. The agonized look that crossed her face made him ache.
"I'll be out in a minute. Feel free to be gone by then." Leaning on her uninjured hand, she used the wall as a makeshift crutch.
Mac closed the door and waited outside, leaning his head back against the wall in a failed attempt to calm his overheated body while reliving the kiss that had blown his mind. So much for his plan to keep his distance and not get involved. With one kiss, he was already more involved with her than he'd been with any other woman.
The bathroom door opened. "I need to get over to my sister's."
"I know."
Her eyes landed on the sleeping bag he'd left by the front door. "What's that?"
"A sleeping bag."
She glared at him. "No kidding."
"You might need help with the baby during the night."
"You can't stay here. No way."
"I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself and Thomas with one working hand."
"It's not up to you to fix this! I don't know who you think you are, but you're not bombing into my life and barking out orders—"
"I won't be responsible for you dropping your son or something else happening to him because I was clumsy."
"It's not your responsibility! It's mine. I'll take care of Thomas the way I always have—by myself. The last thing I need is everyone in town knowing you're staying here."
The mulish set to her chin amused him, and apparently he did a poor job of hiding it.
"What's so funny?"
"You are when you get all…" He waved his hand. "Worked up."
Her eyes spit fire at him. "I am not worked up. I'm pissed!"
"So I gathered. Here's the deal—either I can find a place to toss my sleeping bag inside or I'll sleep on the deck so you can tell all these 'people' you're so worried about that I didn't actually stay here. Believe me, I've slept in worse places than under the Gansett stars."
"I want you to go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone."
The emphatic statement hurt more than it should have. "As soon as you're able to care for yourself and Thomas, I'll be gone."
"Are you always this arrogant and pushy?"
Mac thought about that. "Yeah, I guess so."
"It might work with other people, but it does nothing for me."
"Duly noted."
"Now you're making fun of me."
"I am not." He glanced at his watch. "We have to go. I don't need another Chester woman screaming at me. One is plenty."
"Ugh, you're insufferable."
"So I've been told. You might want to change your shirt. There's blood on it."
Shooting him a dirty look, she hobbled to the bedroom.
"Need some help?"
"No!" The door slammed shut.
She might've liked kissing him, but she still didn't want him around.
Maddie leaned against the closed bedroom door. Oh my God. Her mind raced at a frantic speed. I had a sexy dream about Mac McCarthy, and then I all but attacked him. If he's heard what people say about me, now he'll believe it.
Of course he'd believe it. Why wouldn't he? Better yet, why should I care what he believes? It's not like he plans to stick around after I recover. He'll be back to his life in Miami, and I'll still be here working for his parents and living my life. He's nothing to me.
Except, she thought as she wrestled her way painfully into a clean T-shirt, he seemed to like kissing me. He'd seemed equally affected by the sensual kiss. She hadn't missed the impressive bulge in his shorts or the heated look in his eyes. Running her fingers through her hair, she caught a hint of his cologne and brought her hand to her nose to breathe in the spicy scent that would now forever remind her of him.
"Stop it," she hissed to her haggard reflection. "The last time you got carried away by a man's empty promises, you ended up a single mother. Don't be a fool again. He'll take what he can get from you and hit the road, just like they all do. Nothing about him is different or special."
Even as she said the words, however, she knew they weren't entirely true. He had already proven he was different by insisting on helping her as she recovered. As for special? She'd have to wait and see, but she would not—could not—allow herself to expect anything from him.
She refused to ever again risk her heart for a man, especially one who had the power to crush her while moving on with his own life as if she'd never existed.
Never again.
Hours later, Mac carried Maddie and the wriggling Thomas back up to their apartment. Despite being peed and puked on, Mac had had done an admirable job—with her verbal assistance—of taking care of four babies ranging from nine to twelve months old. To say he'd never changed a diaper before, he'd caught on fast, and Thomas had taken an instant shine to him.
Maddie held Thomas with her good arm while Mac navigated the stairs and play-bit the fingers Thomas put in his mouth. Mac had barely made eye contact with her all afternoon. Was it because of the kiss or something else? Had he heard what people said about her?
Her stomach ached and her palms grew damp. How she longed to be just a regular girl with nothing that made her different, without the suitcase full of troubles she dragged behind her. Sighing, she wished she could somehow lose the suitcase.
"Why the sigh?" Mac asked as he lowered her and Thomas to the sofa.
She ventured a glance up at him to find him watching her.
"Does something hurt?"
My heart. My stomach. My knee. "No."
He scooped up Thomas as if he'd been doing it all the boy's life. "What comes first? Dinner or bath?"
"I can take it from here. Why don't you go visit your parents?"
"Are you going to keep this up all night?"
"Just until you get the hint that I don't want you here."
"You don't? I'm shocked and hurt."
"Shut up."
He shielded Thomas. "Don't talk that way in front of the child."
The look she sent him could've cut glass.
"I'll repeat the question: what comes first, dinner or bath?"
Through gritted teeth, she said, "Dinner or you'll have to do the bath twice."
"Got it." He glanced down at the stains on his T-shirt. "I should probably change first. I reek."
Maddie couldn't help but notice how he held Thomas just right, propped
on his hip with a strong arm protectively around him. "You, ah, might want to wait until after dinner and the bath. It can get a little messy."
"This baby thing is not for the faint of heart, is it?" he asked, playfully scowling at Thomas, who clapped his hands.
"Which is why you shouldn't get involved."
"Too late." He flashed a charming smile that made her mad all over again. "Well, all righty, buddy, let's get to it."
Following Maddie's directions, Mac kept up a steady stream of animated chatter that held her son captivated in his high chair. Mac used a variety of voices and hand gestures to keep Thomas's attention as he opened a jar of sweet potatoes to go with the tiny bites of leftover chicken.
"Just put the chicken on the tray," she said. "He eats that with his fingers, but you'll have to feed him the potatoes."
"I can do that," Mac said, making a funny face at Thomas.
Watching Mac's intense focus on the task of wresting spoonfuls of orange baby food into Thomas, she wondered if he gave everything he did the same level of attention. The thought made her body tingle from head to toe.
He glanced at her. "What? Am I doing it wrong?"
Clearing her throat, she said, "No, you're doing fine."
Thomas took advantage of Mac's break in concentration to grab the spoon and fling the orange glob, which landed with a loud splat on Mac's cheek.
Maddie dissolved into giggles.
Thomas followed suit as Mac glowered at him.
"You think that's funny, do you?" he asked, dabbing sweet potatoes on Thomas's nose.
The baby laughed, and Maddie's heart contracted with something strange and foreign and altogether uncomfortable. That's when she realized she could warn herself off this man until the end of time and still find him irresistible, especially when he was displaying such tender kindness toward her son.
"I think I got more on him than in him," Mac said when the jar was finally empty. The floor and wall around the high chair resembled a war zone, and both "men" were covered in orange slime.
"See why the bath comes after dinner, rather than before?"
"Your mommy is very wise," Mac said to Thomas as he freed the squirming baby from the high chair. "But you already know that, don't you? Let's hit the tub, my man."
Irritated that she couldn't bathe her son herself, she said, "Just be careful. He's like a slippery eel once he gets wet."
"We'll be fine."
"Don't let the water get too hot."
"I won't, don't worry."
"Towels are in the cabinet."
"We'll find 'em."
She wished she could see them working out the logistics. Instead, she listened to Mac's low voice as he talked to Thomas, who let out an occasional screech or a squeal. Bath time was his favorite part of the day, and she smiled imagining the mess Mac would have to clean up when they were done.
Despite being badly injured, she had smiled more that day than she had in years. It was hard to stay dour with Mac's cheerful, upbeat personality around to lighten things up.
The screen door opened, and Tiffany stuck her head in. "Just checking to see if you need anything."
Thomas chose that moment to shriek.
Tiffany glanced at the bathroom. "What's going on?"
"He's giving Thomas a bath."
Her sister's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Listen," Maddie said.
The distinctive rumble of Mac's voice mixed with Thomas's baby patter and some serious splashing.
"Well," Tiffany said grudgingly, "that's nice of him."
"Yes, it is." Maddie wasn't sure why she felt compelled to defend Mac.
"I hope you're not getting all…" Tiffany waved her hand. "Caught up."
"Save the sisterly advice. You have enough of your own problems. Stay out of mine."
"Mark my words, Maddie. That guy is trouble." In a hissing whisper, she added, "Remember what Evan McCarthy's friend did to you? Evan knew he was lying and did nothing about it. That's his brother in there. His brother. And what their mother did to Mom!"
"Stop! None of that has anything to do with him." Maddie's heart raced at the reminder of a long-ago time she never wanted to think about again. "Now please… Go."
After Tiffany stalked out the door, Maddie took several deep breaths to calm down. Her hands shook as the memories from that horrible year of high school came flooding back.
When Mac emerged, dripping wet, from the bathroom holding Thomas wrapped in his Mr. Froggie towel, Maddie forgot all about the past and returned her son's gummy smile. While Thomas had clearly won the battle in the tub, Mac looked awfully pleased with himself even with water dripping from his hair to his face to his soiled T-shirt.
As she watched him bounce Thomas up and down on his hip, Maddie decided that Tiffany was right about one thing: Mac McCarthy was trouble. Big, big trouble.
Chapter 4
Maddie talked Mac through dressing Thomas and making his bedtime bottle but insisted she could hold him while he drank it.
Taking one of the boy's pudgy hands, Mac rubbed it softly against his own face. "Gentle hands. Mommy has boo-boos. Be very nice."
Thomas's tiny white-blond eyebrows knitted with concentration as he listened to Mac's instructions. When Mac released his hand, Thomas mimicked the gentle caress to Mac's cheek.
Mac's eyes went soft, and his lips quirked with amusement. "Good boy." He lowered Thomas to Maddie and helped her find a comfortable position before he handed the bottle to Thomas.
"Thank you." Her heart suddenly felt too large for her chest, her skin too tight for her body, her lungs compressed from the effort to draw air. To think that ten hours ago, she'd never met him and now he was feeding and bathing her son with the same care he'd no doubt show his own child. She couldn't process it.
As she held Thomas, Mac cleaned up the mess around the high chair and restored order to the kitchen. Even though he was tall and broad shouldered, he moved with an easy grace. Rippling muscles under a snug T-shirt had Maddie licking her lips and remembering what it had felt like to kiss him. He bent over to wipe the baseboard and his shorts tightened over his taut rear end. Infused with heat that made her skin tingle with desire, Maddie looked away.
"I need to make a quick phone call," he said when he was done. "And grab a shower. Are you sure you're all right?"
Maddie skimmed her lips over Thomas's soft, damp hair. "We're fine."
Mac withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. "Be right back."
She imagined he probably had a girlfriend in Miami waiting to hear from him. The thought filled her with irrational jealousy. Tiffany's warning came rushing back to her. Before she could get too mad with herself for being stupid and jealous, Mac returned and stashed the phone in his backpack. He approached them, casting a downward glance at Thomas, who was beginning to doze off. "He's so cute," Mac whispered, smoothing the baby's fine blond hair into place. "And so good."
"He really is." Unnerved by the intimate whisper and the natural, gentle caress he'd bestowed upon her son, Maddie kept her eyes on Thomas. "If I had to go it alone, I definitely got the right kid."
"Why are you? Going it alone, that is?"
After a long awkward pause, she finally ventured a glance up to find his cool blue eyes trained on her. "That's, um, a long story."
He flashed that irresistible grin. "Good thing we've got all night. You can talk to me through the window while I'm sleeping on the deck."
Before she could tell him she didn't talk about Thomas's father—with anyone—Mac grabbed his backpack and shut the bathroom door behind him.
Maddie closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart and mind. Nothing good would come of the crush she could feel developing. His attention toward them was temporary, and she needed to remember that. She couldn't let Thomas get attached to a man who wouldn't be around in a few days. The bottle fell from Thomas's slack lips, and he snuggled in deeper. Normally, she'd transfer him to his crib at this point, but she feared she migh
t drop him. She hated to admit Mac might be right about something.
While she waited for him to help her, she kept her eyes closed and listened to him singing Sinatra in the shower. Smiling for the umpteenth time that day, she floated on an unusual cloud of contentment with her baby asleep in her arms and a sexy guy singing in her shower.
Mac opened a bottle of shampoo and breathed in the scent of summer flowers that had captured his attention each time he'd been close to Maddie. Immersed in the fragrance, he imagined her reclined in a field of wildflowers with a daisy tucked behind her ear and a come-hither smile directed at him. In his fantasy scenario, she was relaxed and untroubled. She gazed at him with none of the usual bitterness. He'd like to see her like that—carefree, happy, content.
Just the idea of it sent a surge of desire darting through him that settled in his groin. "Why her?" he whispered urgently into the shower's steady flow. "Why now?" Nothing in his past history with women had prepared him for the day he'd meet one who made him want to step off the treadmill for a closer look, to find out what might be possible.
Maybe it was because the women he usually dated always wanted something from him. When they discovered he'd never been married and had enjoyed a successful professional life, he became doubly appealing to them. Roseanne had been the latest in a long string of women who'd used him to gain a leg up. They used him, he used them and no one got hurt. The hassle-free arrangements had always been just fine with him.
Now he'd found one who needed everything but wanted nothing from him. Yet he wanted more of her, especially now that he'd experienced the soft sweetness of her kisses. He wanted to do things for her because she'd never ask him to the way others always did. The more he gave, the more Maddie would protest, and the idea of fighting with her filled him with anticipation rather than the usual dread of the unfortunate confrontations that ended the arrangement du jour.
When it came right down to it, she wasn't even his type. He tended to go for women who were confident in their sexuality, who gave as good as they got in bed and walked away when it was over without pretending they'd fallen in love. None of those qualities applied to Maddie. Thanks to her remarkable figure, she'd no doubt had a difficult time with men and sex, and if Janey was to be believed, guys had taken advantage of her and then blabbed about it.
