Single with Twins

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Wednesday night found the Marshalls eating dinner at Grandma Hill’s, with the neighborhood gathering taking place later in the older woman’s front yard.

  Susie hosted a potluck dinner on Thursday evening. She made a huge pot of spaghetti, while contributions of tossed salad, crusty loaves of bread, iced tea, ice cream and cookies resulted in a delicious meal that everyone thoroughly enjoyed.

  Through the entire week, Mack mused on, he’d taken endless pictures, the neighbors soon becoming accustomed to the whirring sound of his camera. He had everyone sign releases in case he decided to use any of the photographs professionally in the future, a request that resulted in Melissa and Buzzy wearing sunglasses just like, they stated, movie stars.

  Yep, Heather’s neighbors were good people. They were hardworking, honest and real, and all of them, he’d soon discovered, had a dream. They yearned for a better life beyond the shabby area where they now lived, wanted more for their children than they presently had, saw the future as filled with hope, not as an endless stretch of bleak, hand-to-mouth days.

  After Monday evening’s autograph session, his celebrity status was pushed aside as unimportant, and he was accepted for who he was as a man. No one resented his wealth and success, he had realized from conversations that took place. They simply viewed him as someone who had worked hard, sacrificed whatever had been necessary, and achieved his goals in his chosen profession.

  It was a totally new experience to be with people who wanted nothing from him but his company for a few hours, Mack thought as he began to dress.

  He had been more relaxed and at ease with Heather’s friends than he ever was at the high-society functions he’d attended around the world. At those affairs he’d always stayed on guard, waiting for the reason someone had sought him out, listening carefully for the bottom line that would tell him what the person hoped to gain by being seen, or photographed, with the famous Mack Marshall.

  Mack went back to the mirror in the bathroom and knotted his tie.

  Heather, his mind hummed. She was an intricate part of the family on her block, and was sincerely loved by all. His respect for her had grown even greater during the past week, if that was possible, and so had his depth of caring. Heather was rare and wonderful, and so beautiful that it sometimes took his breath away as he drank in the sight of her laughing and talking with her neighbors, or kissing the twins good night after listening to their prayers.

  Mack glanced at his watch, then wandered into the large living room of the suite.

  He was ready far too early, he knew, as he sat on the sofa, but he’d been counting down the hours to this special Cinderella night with Heather when she would wear her princess dress.

  As much as he’d enjoyed the entire week, there had been no real opportunity to be alone with Heather, other than to kiss her goodbye in her living room at the end of each evening.

  Kisses that had caused heated desire to rocket throughout his body the instant his lips met the lush sweetness of hers.

  Kisses that had resulted in him tossing and turning through the long hours of the night until the light of dawn announced the beginning of a new day.

  But tonight? Tonight was theirs, his and Heather’s.

  Mack got to his feet and began to pace restlessly around the room.

  This was ridiculous, he fumed. He was actually nervous about the evening ahead, was tensing up, causing his shoulder to ache.

  He, Jet Set Marshall, who had been shown in photographs on the society pages of newspapers around the globe with an endless stream of gorgeous women on his arm, was jangled, coming unglued, about taking Heather Marshall to a fancy restaurant.

  But, damn, he wanted this evening to be perfect down to the most minute detail for Heather, to really be a Cinderella night for her. She deserved to feel special and beautiful because…well, because she was.

  Mack halted his trek and looked at his watch again, his gaze falling on the calendar on the band.

  He only had a little more than a week left to stay in Tucson, he thought, frowning. Time was passing too quickly, too damn fast.

  He’d like to forget about that doctor’s appointment he had in New York, but that would be foolish. The physician was a specialist, who was determined that the nerves and muscles in Mack’s shoulder would be as good as new once the wound completely healed.

  Coming to Tucson against the man’s orders had already pushed the limits of sensibility. To ignore the scheduled checkup would be putting too much at risk as far as regaining full, pain-free mobility of his arm.

  But, damn it, he thought, hooking one hand over the back of his neck, he didn’t want to leave Heather. He didn’t want to get on a plane with nothing more than memories of Heather, Melissa and Emma.

  Cripe, listen to him. He was pitching a fit about the way things were, needed to be lectured by Heather as the twins had been about accepting things that could not be changed.

  He was who he was…his father’s son, a man with a wanderlust spirit and the need to be on the move. He just wasn’t capable of settling down and settling in. Even if he fell in love with Heather, which he had no intention of doing, he would have to ignore that powerful emotion because he couldn’t be for her what she deserved to have.

  Melissa and Emma, he knew, were convinced that their uncle Mack could learn to be a tree with roots, could be taught the rules of how to be part of a family, could be their daddy and stay with them and their mom forever and ever.

  But that wasn’t going to happen. He would get on that plane with his memories tucked safely in his heart and wing his way back to New York with a sketchy plan to visit Heather and the girls again in the future. He’d leave knowing he had a family in Tucson who cared about him, people who would cry if he died.

  So be it. That had been the goal of this journey…to find and connect with Heather Marshall and her daughters. He’d accomplished his objective and that was that. In a handful of days he’d be gone.

  It was all just as it should be, Mack thought, but, damn it, why did the image of leaving cause a cold fist to tighten in his gut and the days and nights ahead loom dark and lonely in his mind?

  Ah, hell, enough of this. He was mentally rambling, killing time until he could pick up Heather, and he was depressing himself for some unknown reason. So right now he was shifting into his Prince Charming mode so that Cinderella would have a fantastic evening, the stuff of which special and cherished memories were made.

  Memories. In a little more than a week, that was all he and Heather would have…memories.

  “Marshall,” he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair, “give it a rest. There’s a beautiful lady wearing a princess dress waiting for you to create a magical night for her, bud. Don’t blow it.”

  Heather moved in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and closed her eyes for a moment before looking at her reflection. She opened her eyes again slowly, and they widened at what she saw.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered.

  The dress was exquisite, she thought, swaying and watching the lush material float around her like a peach-colored cloud. The lace camisole was, well, quite sexy, with thin lace straps and an enticing glimpse of her breasts that pushed above the strapless bra beneath the soft material.

  She looked like a princess, she really did, with her shiny, fresh-washed hair tumbling down her back, a light touch of makeup, and a sparkle of excitement and anticipation about the evening ahead that even she could see in her dark eyes.

  “I’m Cinderella,” she said merrily, “and my prince is on his way to whisk me off for a fairy-tale night.”

  Her prince? she thought, in the next instant. Well, yes, he was…for now, for the time remaining until Mack left Tucson, the week and two days until he boarded that plane and flew away, perhaps never to return.

  Don’t go there, Heather told herself firmly. Not now, not tonight. She wasn’t going to have one gloomy thought on this glorious Cinderella night.

  “Mom!” Melis
sa yelled from the living room. “Becky is here to get us.”

  “I’m coming,” Heather answered, then picked up a small purse and left the bedroom.

  When she entered the living room, Melissa, Emma and Becky stopped talking to one another and stared at Heather with wide eyes.

  “Wow,” Becky said. “You look awesome, Mrs. Marshall. Like, you know, I’ve never seen you in a dress before? And…wow.”

  Emma clasped her hands beneath her chin and sighed. “Oh, you really are a princess, Mommy. A beautiful princess.”

  “Don’t those shoes hurt your toes?” Melissa said, frowning. “The dress is pretty good, but those shoes are kinda weird.”

  “These are princess shoes, Melissa,” Heather said, smiling. “They’re not allowed to pinch my toes. It’s against the rules of being shoes for a princess.”

  “Oh-h-h,” Melissa said, nodding. “’Kay. That’s cool. But I’m sure glad kids don’t have to wear shoes like those. Nope. Not me.”

  “Come on, you guys,” Becky said. “My folks want to get going to dinner and a movie and I have to give my baby brother a bath, you know?”

  “Are we still having popcorn?” Melissa said.

  “Yep,” Becky said. “Two kinds? Butter and cheese? Say goodbye to your mom, the princess.”

  Hugs and kisses were exchanged, then the trio left the house, the twins carrying their sleep-over supplies in grocery sacks. As they exited, Heather heard them greet Mack, and felt a bevy of butterflies flutter instantly through her stomach.

  “Get it together, Cinderella,” she told herself, but for the life of her she could not produce a smile as Mack entered the living room.

  Heather stood statue-still, hardly breathing, drinking in the very sight of Mack, who stood just inside the closed door staring at her intently, no readable expression on his face.

  Oh, look at her Prince Charming, Heather thought, rather giddily. In a tan suit with a chocolate-brown shirt and tan tie, he was magnificent. The suit was obviously custom-made, fitting him to perfection, making his shoulders appear wider, his legs more powerful, his tan deeper and his thick, black hair beckoning to have feminine fingers woven through it.

  She was Cinderella, the princess, and Mack was the prince and this was their night, a page out of a fairy tale, a world away from reality.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Mack said quietly, bringing Heather from her whimsical thoughts. “You look sensational, Heather. You’re truly a princess.”

  “For tonight,” she said, her smile genuine. “You’re a very handsome prince, too, Mack.” She paused. “Thank you for making this evening possible. I’ve never felt so special and…I sincerely thank you.”

  “Believe me, Heather,” he said, “the pleasure is mine.” He extended his right hand toward her. “Shall we go, Princess?”

  Heather took a steadying breath, then crossed the room to place her hand in Mack’s. Their eyes met for a long, heart-stopping moment, then matching warm smiles formed on their lips as they left the house, each anticipating the hours ahead that were theirs alone to share.

  Mack had spoken at length with the concierge at his hotel regarding the availability of four-and five-star restaurants in Tucson, and when he entered the selected establishment with Heather, he made a mental note to circle back later and give the concierge a sizable tip.

  As they stood by the hostess’s podium, waiting to be seated, Mack looked at Heather, who was sweeping her gaze over the large room. His heart seemed to swell in his chest as he saw the awe and wonder on her face, the sparkle of excitement in her big, dark eyes and the lovely flush on her cheeks.

  “What do you think?” he said. “Is this place fit for a princess?”

  “Oh, Mack,” she said, looking up at him, “it’s like something in a movie. I’ve never been anywhere so…so glamorous, so romantic and…I’m not sure I believe I’m really here.”

  “You deserve to be here,” he said firmly. “This is your…yes, your castle, where you belong.”

  Heather laughed in delight. “How marvelous. I have crystal chandeliers in my castle and candles glowing on tables with pretty cloths, and fine china, and waiters in tuxedos. Can you believe that? The waiters are actually wearing tuxedos to serve the food.”

  The hostess approached them. “Your table is ready. If you’ll follow me, please?”

  Would everyone they passed notice, Heather thought, that the woman in the lovely peach dress wasn’t walking next to the handsome man in the tan suit, but was floating on a mystical cloud?

  They were seated at a small table and handed large, flocked menus. There were no prices listed on hers, Heather noted as Mack selected a wine. When it arrived, Mack performed the tasting ritual and declared it to be excellent. The wine steward filled their glasses, set the bottle on the table, then nodded and hurried away.

  Mack lifted his glass and Heather did the same.

  “May all your dreams come true,” he said, touching his glass to Heather’s.

  “And may you find a dream for yourself and have it come true,” she said.

  They took a sip of the smooth wine, looking at each other over the top of the crystal glasses, then placed them on the linen cloth, their gazes still meeting.

  The room around them faded into oblivion, along with the muted sounds of voices and dishes being stacked and removed somewhere in the distance.

  They were alone in the glorious castle, Princess Cinderella and Prince Charming. Desire began to weave back and forth between them and they welcomed it, allowing it to consume them, to bring smoky hues to dark eyes and soft smiles to their lips.

  It was their night. A magical night. A night of memories to keep for all time.

  Everything was absolutely perfect, Heather decided. The food was hot and delicious, the service impeccable, the conversation flowed easily from one fascinating subject to the next. They lingered over after-dinner coffee and rich brandy in wafer-thin snifters.

  “The twins are probably asleep by now,” Mack said, “but I hope they enjoyed their evening with Becky and the butter and cheese popcorn.”

  “Shh,” Heather said, placing a finger lightly against her lips for a moment. “You mustn’t speak the names of the little princesses or you’ll disturb the visions of sugar plums dancing in their slumbering heads.”

  “Ah, I see,” Mack said, smiling. “In other words, you’re not putting on your mommy hat tonight.”

  “No, I’m not,” Heather said. “Is that terrible of me to not want to get into an in-depth discussion about Melissa and Emma?”

  “Not at all. You have every right to take the night off from that role.” Mack chuckled. “Hey, you don’t see a camera hanging around my neck, do you? This evening I’m just Mack Marshall, not Mack Marshall the photojournalist. We all need to be ourselves for a while, with no titles tacked on the back of our name.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said, laughing. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty. I’m not Heather the mommy, nor the accountant, I’m just Heather the woman for these stolen hours, and shame on me, but it feels wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Oh, I am, Mack,” she said, smiling at him warmly.

  “So am I, believe me,” he said.

  The waiter came to the edge of the table. “Will there be anything else this evening?”

  “Heather?” Mack said.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  “That’s it for tonight,” Mack said to the man.

  “Very good, sir,” the waiter said, then placed a leather folder on the table.

  As Mack retrieved a credit card from his wallet and tended to the bill, Heather sighed inwardly. Well, Cinderella, she thought, the clock is about to strike midnight and end this glorious outing.

  She glanced at her watch.

  Well, she mused, she’d been allowed more time than the original Cinderella as it was already after midnight, but the hours with Mack had just flown by and the wo
ndrous evening was ending too soon. Too soon.

  “Ready to go?” Mack said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet.

  No! Heather thought. It’s too soon.

  “Yes, fine,” she said, rising as Mack assisted her with her chair.

  Ten minutes later they were in Mack’s vehicle and moments after that he was driving through the heavy, Friday night traffic. Heather looked out the passenger side window, silently willing Mack to drive slower, and mentally telling every green light to switch to red as they approached.

  She turned her head to gaze at Mack as he concentrated on driving, and a soft smile formed on her lips as she drank in the sight of him in the changing colors of the signs they passed.

  So magnificent, Heather mused. Mack’s blatant masculinity was filling the vehicle to overflowing, his sensuality reaching out to stroke her, fanning the embers of desire that had been glowing within her all evening into hot, leaping flames that were consuming her.

  Dear heaven, how she wanted this man.

  What would it be like to be the recipient of all that power and strength that she knew, just somehow knew, would be tempered with infinite gentleness, was beyond the scope of even her wildest imagination.

  “Your chariot has returned you safely to your home, Cinderella,” Mack said, parking in front of Heather’s house and turning off the ignition.

  “That,” Heather said, glancing at the little house, “is not a castle.”

  “Nope, but someday you’ll have your dream, a home of your very own.”

  “Yes,” Heather said. “That dream will come true no matter what sacrifices are needed to make it a reality. There are times when I’m so very tired that I cling to that thought like a lifeline.”

  “Don’t ever give up on your dream, Heather. I envy you the fact that you have it.”

  Before Heather could reply, Mack got out of the vehicle and came around to assist her from the passenger side.

  Heather had left one lamp lit in the living room and the soft glow greeted them when they entered the house. Heather walked to the middle of the room, then turned to see that Mack was still standing by the closed door.