"Your eyes. They're beautiful," she answered without thinking. Those eyes had appeared in far too many of her dreams.
"Thank you." His voice was muffled, and peering at him in the dim lighting, Holly was almost positive that the color in his cheeks was darker than it had been. "You just ruined my lecture and one of the treasured theories on the art of camouflage," he told her reproachfully. "You were supposed to say the scar. A scar like that sticks in the mind and it makes the rest of the features fade out of sight. At least it's supposed to make them fade out of sight."
She shrugged. "Sorry. You shouldn't have eyes like that if you don't want to be remembered."
Any reply he might have made was lost as their waiter returned with two hamburgers and a giant basket of french fries. Conversation was postponed in favor of biting into the thick, juicy burgers. Once their initial hunger was eased, they began to talk.
Holly set down her hamburger and nodded toward one of the hanging birds. "My brother would love this place."
Mac stiffened but she was looking away and missed the intense look he gave her.
"Your brother?" he murmured.
She nodded. "James loves tacky places like this. It's ridiculous, really. He minored in art in college. You'd think he'd have better taste."
"Is he teaching art now?" he asked casually, wondering if she'd notice the tension in his voice. Damn! He hated this assignment!
"Uh-uh," she mumbled through a bite of meat. "He followed Dad into the diplomatic corps. He's working in Europe now. In fact, that's why he didn't come to Tijuana with me last month. He had to fly to Washington to get the details on his new job. I'm really going to miss him."
"You sound as if you're close." That's right, torture yourself by finding out just how hurt she'll be if you help put her brother away.
Unaware of her companion's dilemma, Holly nodded. "James and I have always been close. We think a lot alike, I guess."
"Well, I can't really say that I'm sorry he didn't go to Tijuana with you. You might not have needed my help if he had." His slow smile made her heart pick up an extra beat and her mouth trembled slightly as she nodded her agreement.
The conversation moved on casually. Holly told him some of the more adventurous aspects of dealing with a group of five- and six-year-olds, selecting all the funniest stories just for the pleasure of seeing him smile. It was odd, she thought as she nibbled on one last fry. She didn't know this man at all and yet she was so comfortable with him.
That feeling of safe familiarity lasted until he pulled the sedan into a parking place outside her apartment building. The car suddenly seemed remarkably small and the warmth that had been just perfect only moments ago was now overpowering.
Mac shut off the engine, leaving them cocooned together with only the soft hiss of the rain and the distant traffic noise for company. The silence grew and she turned her head slowly, almost reluctantly.
The warmth of his gaze made the heater superfluous. If she had been standing in the middle of Antarctica wearing nothing but a bikini, she was sure that just one look from him would have been enough to heat her blood to a fever temperature.
Holly was helpless to protest as his long fingers slid into the hair at the back of her neck and he eased her gently toward him. She let him pull her across the seat without a murmur of dissent. In fact, she was conscious of a vague gratitude that he'd had the foresight to own a car without a gear console. Her hands were dwarfed by the the broad strength of his chest.
"Holly." Her name was a mere breath, a prayer, a sigh of recognition. Her eyes fluttered shut as his mouth touched hers and the world tilted. The kiss was a startling contrast to the gentle pressure of his hands in her hair. His lips did not ask her response; they demanded it. This was not an exploratory first kiss; it was a kiss between two people who had been lovers forever. After a moment of stunned surprise, Holly met the demand eagerly, her lips parting to capture the invading thrust of his tongue, her short nails digging into the front of his shirt.
The soft thickness of his mustache rubbed across her upper lip, setting her nerve endings on fire. She arched toward him and her tongue came up to join his, twining together in an erotic love duet.
His hands tightened on her shoulders and she felt the shudder that went through him a moment before he lifted his mouth from hers. Her eyelids quivered briefly before she could raise them. She felt as if she had been on a long journey, one that had changed her life forever. She stared into the hooded darkness of his eyes. Beneath her palms, she could feel the steady beat of his heart, its accelerated pace matching her pulse.
His gaze was piercing, asking questions she didn't understand, demanding answers she didn't have. Tentatively, her fingers crept up to his face, running delicately over the rough surface of his jaw. With a groan he twisted his face away and his hands tightened on her nape before his mouth came down on hers with a demanding pressure that stopped just short of being hurtful. His lips slanted across hers, his tongue surging past the barrier of her teeth and plunging deep into her mouth before withdrawing, only to surge inward again.
The erotic implication set Holly's slight frame humming with need. A warm liquid feeling gradually spread outward from the pit of her stomach to encompass her entire body. Her small hands slid into the ruffled darkness of his hair as she strained to get closer.
She stiffened in surprise as his hand suddenly cupped her full breast. For an instant she was frozen. She could almost feel the hard, callused palm against her soft skin. She could imagine the pad of his thumb stroking her nipple. With a moan she dragged her mouth away from his and stared up at him, the wild look in her dark eyes telling him of her disturbance.
Outside the car everything was the same but Holly knew that she was changed. A soft flush heated her cheeks as she stared at him, and the small hands that lay on his chest pushed slightly. He let her go without protest and she eased herself a few inches away, still unable to break the spell of his eyes on hers.
"I want to see you again."
His husky voice broke the last remnants of the spell, and her eyes jerked away, the color in her face darkening. Holly couldn't remember the last time she had kissed a man with such abandon. She drew a shaky breath and began to fumble on the floor for her purse and tote bag.
An involuntary shiver raced through her when he touched her shoulder and she straightened up, helpless to resist the urge to look at him.
"Mac, I... I don't want to go too fast___" She let the sentence trail off. So many men expected a woman to fall into bed with them right away. She wanted to make sure that he didn't expect that of her.
His mustache tilted upward in that lazy smile that wreaked havoc on her pulse. "We'll take it as slow as you like, love. We're not working on a deadline. I'd just like to see you again. One step at a time."
"I'd like that, too," she admitted, wishing her voice didn't sound so breathless.
He walked her to her apartment door, despite her assurances that hers was a very safe neighborhood. At the door she turned, shrugging off the leather jacket he had once again wrapped around her. His features were shadowed by the dark canvas hat and she shivered lightly. He looked dark and mysterious. But there was nothing mysterious about the solid warmth of the brief kiss he gave her.
"I'll call you."
She leaned back against the closed door, listening to his swift steps echoing on the pavement before fading out of hearing. She put her fingers up to her tingling mouth, and a tiny smile of anticipation curved her lips.
Chapter 3
When she finally managed to drag her mind away from Mac and look at a clock, Holly was surprised to find that it was still early. It was only three hours ago that Baby's recalcitrant engine had refused to start. There was still plenty of time for her to wash her hair and then work on the projects for tomorrow's class.
By ten o'clock, when Maryann's key was inserted into the lock, Holly had managed to accomplish at least part of her program. Her hair had been washed and towel-d
ried until it lay in fluffy dark curls against her head. But the notebook open in front of her, waiting to be filled with ideas for the entertainment and education of her students, was filled with nothing more earth-shattering than several meaningless doodles and the name "Mackenzie Donahue" written in various forms.
Maryann dropped her purse on a chair and strode to the refrigerator, giving Holly a casual greeting as she passed. She rummaged through the refrigerator, coming up with a package of sliced ham and some mustard.
"How was your day? Did you murder any of the little monsters?"
Holly grinned but drew her brows down in a ferocious scowl. "My students are not monsters. They are well-behaved children with a thirst for learning."
Maryann sliced her thick sandwich in half with a deft stroke of the knife and offered Holly a sardonic smile. "Pull the other leg, Holly. I've worked in the children's ward, remember? I know exactly what your sweet little students are like." She gestured warningly with a carrot stick as she leaned back against the counter. "My advice to you would be, don't turn your back. You never know when one of the little darlings is going to turn up with a hand grenade that he whipped up out of Play-doh and Lego pieces."
Holly laughed and shook her head. "I've given up trying to convince you that children aren't constantly on the lookout for ways to sabotage the adults in their life."
Maryann nodded agreeably. "You're right. They're not plotting all the time. Even /acquit them of making devious plans while they're sleeping."
"Just wait until you have kids of your own," Holly warned her. "Then you'll regret all your unfounded accusations."
"The only thing I'll regret is that I was dumb enough to get pregnant. I'm not the woman who daydreams in baby shops. You're the one who's in for a rude awakening. You wait until you have one of the little beasts underfoot twenty-four hours a day and then tell me that you love kids."
Holly gave up the argument with a smile. "So, how was life in the big city hospital today?"
Maryann shrugged as she reached up to pull the pins out of her thick auburn hair. She gave a sigh of pleasure as it fell around her shoulders, framing her rather ordinary features like a soft cloud.
"Dr. Johnson was on the prowl again tonight. I swear that man needs surgery to detach his hands from his libido. I may just provide the knife," she added darkly, as she unbuttoned her prim uniform and kicked off her shoes. She continued to talk as she walked into her bedroom, leaving the door open while she changed clothes and raising her voice so that Holly could hear her.
She wandered out into the kitchen a few minutes later, her slim figure swathed in a voluminous flannel nightgown. Holly was still seated at the kitchen table, her knees drawn up to her chest and her expression dreamy. Maryann let her voice trail off in midsentence, moving over to stand behind her roommate and stare down at the notepad that lay on the table.
"Who's Mackenzie Donahue?"
Holly jumped and her hand flattened against the paper as if trying to hide a guilty secret. Maryann circled around the table and sat down opposite her, looking at her quizzically. Holly flushed beneath her interested glance, dropping her feet to the floor and turning over a new sheet of paper.
"Who's Mackenzie Donahue?" Maryann repeated the question, letting Holly know that she wasn't going to let the question slide.
Holly shrugged. "Just a guy I met today." Her tone said that he was no one important.
Maryann let her brows go up just a fraction of an inch, the slight movement expressing her disbelief. "The last time I remember your doodling a guy's name all over the place, it was Dick Orman's name."
Holly flushed deeply and tossed the other woman a glance that spoke volumes. "That was eleven years ago in high school and I had a crush on him."
Maryann let her smile deepen to an annoying depth. "Exactly. So the last time you filled a notebook with a guy's name, you had a terrific crush on him. And this time, it's a guy you just met?" She shook her head gently. "Tell it to someone who hasn't known you as long as I have."
"I knew it was a mistake for us to share an apartment," Holly grumbled. "One should never move in with someone who thinks she knows you. It's worse than if I were living with my brother."
Maryann shook her head. "You're not going to distract me, Holly. Come on, spill it. After all, you told me all about Dick Orman," she coaxed.
"That was different," Holly wailed, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. "I was infatuated with him. You always tell your best friend when you've got a crush on somebody. This isn't like that."
Maryann sobered slightly. "So tell me what it is like. Who's Mackenzie Donahue? I can't remember your ever mentioning anyone with a name like Mackenzie, except that guy who helped you in Tijuana last month. Wasn't his name Mac or Mick or something like that?"
Holly nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the table.
"That's a coincidence, meeting two men with names like that in the space of a month," Maryann went on. "Mac could be short for Macken—" She stopped and stared at her friend's bent head. There was a moment of charged silence, and when she spoke again, her voice had dropped to an incredulous croak.
"Holly Reynolds, tell me I'm nuts. Tell me that this Mackenzie Donahue that you 'just met today' isn't the guy from the bar in Tijuana."
Holly maintained a stubborn silence. Maryann's voice rose to a stunned squeak. "Do you mean to tell me that you're looking all starry-eyed over some giant pimp?"
"He's not a giant," she protested mildly, keeping her eyes down so that Maryann could not read the amusement in them. She hadn't decided definitely to tell Maryann about Mac, but since the decision had been taken out of her hands, she was going to have fun with it.
"He's not a giant!" Maryann all but shrieked. "I don't care if he's Tatoo or the Jolly Green Giant. The point is that he's a pimp. Do you know what that means? How can you live with what he does for a living?"
Holly shrugged, her wide mouth tucked into a repressed smile as she struggled to keep the laughter out of her voice. "As long as he doesn't try to enlist me, I don't feel I have any right to make judgments." She managed to put just a hint of anguish in her words, trying to convey the impression that she was willing to set aside her morals to accept him.
Maryann all but tore at her hair. "Holly, you're not thinking like a rational person. I know you said he was attractive, but think of what kind of person he must be to be able to use women like that. And even if that doesn't bother you, consider the fact that prostitution is illegal. How are you going to feel if he gets arrested? How is your family going to react? For Pete's sake, James is a diplomat. What kind of effect could this have on his career?"
She broke off as Holly raised a laughing face. "I'm sorry, Maryann. I shouldn't have led you on. It's just that I so rarely get to put one over on you."
Her friend was so relieved she forgot to be upset. "I should have known better than to think you could be attracted to a pimp."
Holly flushed and shifted a little in her seat, remembering how hard it had been to tell Mac that she couldn't accept his line of work. Her conscience had won out in the end, but not without a battle.
Maryann got up and moved into the kitchen to fill the teakettle. "I shouldn't be drinking tea just before going to bed, but after the shock you just gave me, I need the caffeine to calm my nerves. Now tell me who Mackenzie Donahue is."
"He's the guy who came to my rescue in Tijuana last month."
The teakettle hit the stove with a thump. Water splashed out the spout and hissed angrily against the open flame of the burner. Maryann ignored this minor flood and spun around to look at Holly. She fixed her friend with a stern look in her gray eyes. It was a look that had been known to make recalcitrant patients spring to do her bidding.
Holly held up her hand defensively. "Don't look at me like that. I'm telling you the truth. He really is the guy from Tijuana, the one I thought was a pimp."
"From your description of his clothes, I don't see how you could have been mistaken.
He's either a pimp or he has the world's tackiest taste."
"Neither one, actually. He's a cop and he was on a job down there. Well, he could hardly go into that area in uniform," she snapped in answer to Maryann's skeptical look.
"Great. You went to Tijuana to get my grandfather's watch and you come back withou the watch but manage to pick up some guy who's nine feet tall, who dresses like a pimp and claims to be a cop. Just great!"
The kettle whistled urgently and Maryann turned away to pour steaming water over two tea bags in a pair of mugs, carrying them over to the table. She sat down at the table and began to dunk her tea bag, her attention on her roommate.
"How do you know he's a cop?"
"He told me he was. And I believe him. And he's not nine feet tall."
Maryann shrugged. "You don't have to bite my head off. If he told you he's a cop and you want to believe him, that's entirely your business. I just don't want to see you hurt." She scooped sugar into her mug with a generous abandon that Holly envied as she sipped her unsweetened tea.
"I'm not going to get hurt. He showed up after school today. And it's a good thing he did, because Baby wouldn't start again. He showed up, offered me dinner and a ride and then brought me home. That's all there was to it." Her casual tone dismissed the evening as nothing out of the ordinary. She wondered if the word "liar" was emblazoned across her forehead or if it just felt that way.
"Are you going to be seeing him again?"
"He said he'd give me a call." She patted her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn and made a production out of noticing the clock. "Good heavens, it's getting late. I'd better get to bed if I'm going to make it to work on time."
Maryann didn't try to detain her and Holly escaped to her bedroom. Despite the late hour, she didn't fall asleep immediately. Every moment of the evening had to be taken separately and examined again in the light of Maryann's skepticism. Had Mac lied to her about being a cop? Was she a fool for believing him without proof? With a sigh she decided that she didn't have to worry about it unless he called again. And there was no guarantee that he would.
MacKenzie's Lady Page 4
