"Yes. But I can't talk about it, not even with you."
"I wouldn't dream of asking. But I would like to know why you got married in such a rush. Last I'd heard, you were going to raise your baby in solitary splendor and you weren't even going to tell Mac about it."
Holly smiled. "I never used the words 'solitary splendor,' not even at my most maudlin." She took a swallow of tea and sighed. "To tell you the truth, I don't feel particularly married yet. Mac swooped in out of the blue and informed me that I was going to marry him or he'd kidnap me until I gave in."
"What?" Maryann spluttered on a swallow of tea. "You're joking, of course."
Holly laughed. There was something about telling her friend the story that made it seem ridiculous. "Cross my heart," she said solemnly. "He really did."
"And you let him get away with it?"
She shrugged, and her smile became rueful. "I think I was giad to have an excuse. Gloria Steinem would probably drum me out of the corps for saying that. But it was almost a relief to have him tell me what to do. I was so confused. I love him, and yet my pride didn't want to forgive him. Actually, I'm not sure I've completely forgiven him yet."
"Don't you think you're asking for trouble? Marriage isn't easy at the best of times, but you're starting out on all the wrong feet."
"I had to give it a try. Maybe it won't work, but I have to try."
Maryann shook her head and then lifted her cup in salute. "Well, here's looking at you, kid. I hope it works."
Holly's cup clinked against her friend's. "I hope so, too."
They were silent for a long moment and then Maryann spoke again. "I suppose that creep is his partner or something."
"Ken isn't a creep." Holly was relieved to have the subject shifted from her relationship with Mac. She had too many doubts about it herself to be comfortable defending it. "I don't know why you're so hostile to Ken. He's really a nice guy."
"You could have said the same thing about Jason, and look what a creep he turned out to be."
Holly stared at her friend in surprise. "You're not comparing Ken to Jason, are you? He isn't anything like Jason."
"You wouldn't have said that Jason was anything like Jason, either, until you got to know him."
Holly had no trouble sorting out this garbled sentence, and she shook her head. "Jason was a weak, womanizing fish and he showed his true colors from the start. You just didn't want to see it because he was a hotshot in bed."
"How do you know what he was like in bed?" Maryann's cheeks flushed, the color clashing with her fiery hair.
"You told me."
The flush deepened until her whole face was on fire. "I must have been drunk if I said anything like that. I never talk about my sex life."
"Well, as a matter of fact, you were drunk. It was New Year's Eve and Jason had stood you up, and we sat around the apartment drinking. I asked you why you kept seeing him and that's when you told me that he was—"
"I know, I know." Maryann rubbed her hand over her face as if trying to rub away the heat that flushed it. "I can't believe I said that."
"Was it a lie?"
"Yes. No. Well, sort of." She met Holly's curious eyes and heaved a sigh. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're awfully pushy?"
"Not since the last time you said it." Her interested expression didn't fade, and Maryann sighed again.
"Jason was very good, and I suppose, at first, I did tend to let myself be blinded to some of his faults." Holly rolled her eyes. "All right, I was blind to a lot of his faults. Great sex can be very distracting."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing cataclysmic. I just gradually realized that great sex couldn't make up for a mind like a turnip. All the man ever thought of was food and money and sex. Even the sex was getting old. Without any real emotion behind it, it got to be a sort of competition.
"Jason was so vain and shallow. I just couldn't take it anymore. I just wish I'd gotten my grandfather's watch back before I told him to drop dead."
"I don't see how you can compare Ken to him. Ken is warm and caring and definitely not shallow."
Maryann shrugged and got to her feet. "If you say so." She was unconvinced, but Holly didn't know what more she could say, so she let the subject drop.
❧
Between settling into a new home and getting ready for the start of the new school year, Holly found she had very little time to worry about the future. It was always there in the back of her mind, but it was pushed aside by the day-to-day business of living.
Mac's time away stretched into a full ten days and Holly began to doubt that she'd really married him. It could have been a figment of her imagination. The whole rushed trip to Las Vegas could have been a dream.
She clung to the memory of that last kiss. No matter how cool he seemed, there had been real passion in that kiss, passion and need. Whenever she began to wonder if the whole thing had been a mistake, she remembered that kiss and the emotions it revealed.
The least he could have done was called her, she thought irritably as she climbed into bed. Tomorrow would be the eleventh day since he'd left. What if something had happened to him and nobody had notified her? She pushed the idea away. Nothing was going to happen to Mac. She had to keep telling herself that or she'd go completely crazy.
Holly plumped up the pillows and thumped her head down into the center of them. To be fair, she supposed that he couldn't just walk to the nearest phone booth and give her a call. She had to remember that he wasn't doing a nine-to-five job. He couldn't just wrap things up and come home for dinner. But who said she had to be fair? She was lonely and worried and she wanted Mac home and safe. What a way to start a marriage, she thought morosely.
The room was dark when she awakened. Pale moonlight provided a dim illumination. Her eyes searched the darkness, trying to decide what it was that had disturbed her. The quiet jingle of change in a pants pocket and the soft thud as the garment hit the floor answered her. She rolled over.
"Mac?" She could just make out his outline on the other side of the bed. He froze for a moment, then put his watch on the night table and turned toward her.
"I didn't mean to wake you. It's late. Go back to sleep."
She stifled a yawn as she rose on one elbow. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could see that he was naked. The paler strip of skin that circled his thighs contrasted with his tan.
"I know it's late," she told him grumpily. "Tomorrow is eleven days. I was beginning to worry."
He paused in the act of sliding under the covers and she caught the gleam of his eyes as he looked at her. "Sorry. If it had taken any longer, I would have tried to get word to you, but I can't ever guarantee things like that, Holly."
He slid into bed and lay on his back. If she had been more alert, she would have noticed the rigid way he held himself. But she was still half asleep and all she was conscious of was that he was home and safe, at least for the present. She scooted across the few inches that separated them and cuddled up against his side.
"I know, but I can't help but worry. I missed you," she muttered plaintively, her eyelids already drooping.
For a moment Mac remained still and then, with an almost convulsive movement, his arm slid under her neck and he pulled her close so that her head rested on his shoulder. He turned his face to inhale the clean fragrance of her hair.
"I found someone to send my stuff from Michigan." Her fingers threaded idly through the mat of hair on his chest, enjoying the strong beat of his heart against her palm.
"Did you?" His hand pressed against her back, bringing her closer still. He had spent the last ten days living on the edge of danger. One wrong move from either himself or Ken could have gotten them both killed. He had burrowed deep beneath the skin of Mason Dobson, financial adviser, hiding anything of Mackenzie Donahue that didn't fit the other persona. Stepping off the yacht with Ken had been like stepping into clean air after a week in a sewer.
Holly's warm presence in his
bed was both a soothing balm and a niggling torture. He rebelled at the desire he felt building for her. He didn't want to want her, didn't want to love her.
Holly was sleepy but would have had to be dead not to feel the stirring of his masculinity beneath the pressure of her thigh.
"Mac?"
His hand moved from her arm to her chin, drawing her face up to his. Her eyes searched his shadowed features, trying to define his expression, but she could see little beyond the glitter of his eyes.
"I want you, Holly."
She had little doubt of that. If his words didn't convince her, the hard length of his arousal would have. She moistened her dry lips.
"Are you asking me or telling me? Because if you're telling me, I'm glad to hear it in words, and if you're asking me, then the answer is yes."
His lips found hers before the last word was complete. Her mouth parted eagerly beneath his, and Mac felt a surge of desire and relief.
He was home.
Chapter 12
It was difficult to build a marriage when you never saw your husband, Holly thought angrily a month after she and Mac were married. No, that wasn't fair. She couldn't say that she never saw Mac. He spent plenty of time around the house. He was there physically but he wasn't there mentally. It was like living with a stranger.
The only place he dropped the polite facade was in the bedroom. There, in the dark privacy of their bed, he became the lover she remembered from the days before she found out who he really was. But even those precious moments of sharing were not flawless. It was as if he resented himself for wanting her, seeing his wanting as a sign of weakness.
She told herself over and over again that she had to give it time. What they really needed was to sit down and talk, bring some of the hurts out into the open, where they could be healed. She had to tell him that she had been lying about using him to conceive a child. And she had to tell him that she had at last come to terms with the lies he had told her.
She had been delaying that talk, telling herself that she was too busy getting started on a new school year to worry about it then. But six weeks into the new year, she still hadn't done anything about talking to Mac, and she had to admit that she was afraid to disturb the fragile balance of their relationship. Once she admitted that, she no longer had an excuse to put it off.
When Mac arrived home a little before six o'clock, Holly was in the kitchen. He hesitated in the doorway, his peripheral vision taking in the beautifully set table. His nose twitched at the appetizing aromas that filled the room, but the main focus of his attention was his wife.
She had her back to him, unaware of his arrival as she stirred something on the stove. The 1812 Overture was on the stereo and she had the sound up so that she could hear it in the kitchen. Her free hand was waving time to the blasting cannons.
She was wearing a pair of dark slacks and a silky blue blouse that he had once said he liked. He felt his muscles tighten in a familiar surge of desire, followed by an equally familiar anger. Did she know how hard it was for him to stay away from her?
He should move into the guest room. At least then he wouldn't have to endure the torture of sleeping next to her. A thousand times he cursed his weakness. He had sworn again and again that he was not going to make love to her. But he had only to feel the softness of her body and smell the warm womanly scent of her and he could no more stop himself from being with her than an alcoholic could resist a drink.
But afterward he would lie there listening to her peaceful breathing as she slept, and he hated himself. He hated the part of him that was so weak that he could let himself be used. His hand would move to the bulge of her stomach and his heart would swell with a confusing tangle of pain and pleasure.
His child. She sheltered his baby inside her. How could he not love her? And then he would hear her telling him that she had used him to conceive that child and he wanted to rage at her. Part of him kept insisting that she must have lied, that she couldn't have used him like that, but he was always confronted by the undeniable fact of her pregnancy. He lost count of the nights he had lain beside her, eyes wide open and staring, until he saw the light of a new day fill the room.
Now he looked at her, consideringly. It was obvious that she had gone to quite a bit of trouble in her preparation for tonight. The question was, why?
Before he could speculate further, Holly turned and saw him. For a moment they looked at each other in silence. Mac noticed the carefully applied makeup that failed to conceal the faint tension in her eyes. Holly saw the lines of tiredness that bracketed his mouth, the wary look in his blue eyes and the tense line of his lower lip. Her heart sank. It definitely did not look like a good night to start a discussion about the future of their relationship.
But she had not spent all day gathering up her courage and determination to scrap her plans because he was not in a receptive mood. All through dinner she made every effort to coax him into conversation. Tonight he was more taciturn than usual, and she finally gave up and took comfort from the fact that he appeared to be enjoying his food. Maybe that old wives' tale was right after all and the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.
After the meal he helped her clear the table and load the dishwasher, still with a minimum of conversation. But when it looked as if he was going to try to escape to his study, she stopped him.
"Mac?" He hesitated in the doorway, his shoulders taut, and she was afraid that he was going to ignore her. But he turned slowly, his face completely expressionless, his eyes hooded. He didn't say anything, only looked at her. She was daunted for a moment but then a tingle of anger brushed aside her uncertainty. He had no reason to treat her like a pariah.
"I think we need to talk about some things," she told him firmly.
"Can't it wait?"
She shook her head, stifling the cowardly urge to say yes. "No, it can't wait. We've been putting it off for too long as it is."
He studied her in silence for a moment, gauging her determination, and then he shrugged and gestured toward the living room with one large hand. "After you."
Holly ignored the mild sarcasm in his tone and walked by him to settle herself into a soft chair. Mac sat down on the sofa opposite. Now that the moment was actually here, she felt surprisingly calm and she was proud of her even tone.
"I think you know as well as I do that we can't go on like this forever."
"What's wrong with the way we've been going?" he drawled.
She subdued the flash of irritation that his deliberate obtuseness brought. "I don't like living in an atmosphere that stops just short of outright hostility. You said that you were willing to work at making our marriage work. My idea of a working marriage doesn't include one partner who pretends there is no marriage."
He sat silently, only the white knuckles of his clenched fist showing that he had even heard her.
"Why did you marry me, Mac, if you couldn't stand the sight of me?"
"It's not as simple as I thought it would be."
She had to strain to hear his muttered words.
"Things that are worthwhile are often difficult."
He said nothing and she could read nothing in his face. Frustrated, she took the bull by the horns.
"You haven't forgiven me for saying that I used you just to get pregnant, have you?" That got more reaction than she was prepared for.
His lashes swept up and she shrank back in her chair at the rage that burned in his eyes. "Did you expect me to forgive you for using me? Should I be flattered?" His calm facade disappeared, and Holly realized that she'd struck a nerve. He came to his feet in a surge of power that expressed all the pent-up anger that burned inside.
Holly suppressed a shiver. Lord, he was big! He moved with such easy grace that it was only at a moment like this that she realized how intimidating his bulk could be. He bent down and put his hands on the arms of her chair, trapping her in its depths.
"Do you have any idea how it made me feel when you told me that?" He spi
t the words out in a voice so low, it rasped out of his throat. "I felt dirty. I hated you at that moment. I stood there listening to you and I felt as if something precious between us had been extinguished forever." He stared at her for a moment, and Holly bit her lip, her eyes wide and locked on his.
She flinched as he jerked away, standing with his back to her, one hand clasped at the back of his neck. "I've never been so angry in my life."
Holly had to clear her throat before she could get out any words in the supercharged silence that followed his rasped confession. She waited until he turned to face her before she replied.
"I lied to you about using you to get pregnant." His brows shot up in cynical disbelief, and she continued hurriedly. "I was so angry when I found those files that I wanted to hurt you, and I grabbed at the first weapon I thought of."
"An amazing coincidence that you should turn up pregnant," he murmured sarcastically. Holly felt her cheeks warm.
"I already knew I was pregnant but I didn't plan it, Mac. I swear I didn't."
"Then why don't you tell me just how it happened, Holly? Explain to me how you came to be carrying my child when you told me that you were taking precautions against it." His voice was all the harsher because he wanted to believe her. No matter what ridiculous story she concocted, he wanted to believe it.
"It was a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?" He gave a short bark of laughter. "That's an interesting excuse. Did you misunderstand the principles of reproduction? Did you think it wasn't possible to get pregnant during that phase of the moon?"
"Stop it!" Her voice shook, but the short command cut into his bitter words and he broke off. She didn't say anything more. She wasn't sure she could without bursting into tears. She'd had no idea how deep his bitterness went.
Mac ran his hand over his face, shaking his head dazedly as if waking from a bad dream. He looked at Holly, seeing the whiteness of her face and the blank pain in her dark eyes, and he sat down abruptly, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. A quivering silence fell over the room, a silence Holly was afraid to try to break. "I'm sorry." He raised a ravaged face and repeated the words. "I'm sorry. Attacking you isn't going to change anything. And you're right; we do need to talk. How was it a misunderstanding?"
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