by Maggie Cox
Still struggling against his iron-like hold on her wrists, Tara pouted angrily, her pulse racing. ‘It’s just like old times, isn’t it, Mac? You make me a promise then you don’t keep it. Nothing’s changed.’
The despondency in her voice completely undid him. Warring with the rage he felt at being misunderstood when he was only doing what he thought was right, as well as being desperate to hold her, Mac swore softly beneath his breath and released her.
‘Everything’s changed, Tara. Despite what you think, I no longer put my work first. This was a unique situation that needed my expertise to sort it out. Whether you like it or not, I still have a responsibility to the people who work for me. Their jobs are dependent on my agency being a success. I couldn’t just leave them in the lurch.’
‘No. That’s not something you’d ever do, Mac.’ A wave of shame washed over her as she rubbed at her throbbing wrists. Her fears had run away with her. When Mac hadn’t telephoned earlier she’d assumed the worst. She’d assumed that she wasn’t important enough for him to want to fly back at the earliest opportunity to be with her. Now she heard the frustration and pain in his voice as he’d explained what had happened and she felt chastised because she knew he was a man of integrity who wouldn’t knowingly let people down if he could help it. That included her.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should apologise. Next time I’ll make sure I ring you first.’ Rising to his feet, he rubbed a hand across his eyes and Tara felt a pang at the sudden weariness etched into those incredibly handsome features. ‘Go back to sleep. Goodnight, Tara.’
Panicked, she pushed a shaky hand through her hair. ‘Where are you going?’
His gaze seemed worryingly distant. ‘To bed. I’m practically dead on my feet.’
‘Don’t you want a drink? Something to eat?’ She swung her legs to the floor and stood up. She was wearing a plain pink nightie with shoestring straps that didn’t come close to disguising the delectable curves beneath it.
As attracted as he was, plain fatigue still got the better of Mac. ‘I’m fine,’ he shrugged. ‘I had a sandwich and some coffee earlier. All I want now is my bed.’
A brief smile that was more like a grimace on his lips, he left Tara standing there, closing the door firmly shut behind him.
When she walked into the kitchen the next morning there was no sign of him. Instead she found a note propped up against a milk jug on the table. It told her he’d gone for a walk on the beach and to go ahead and have breakfast without him.
The thought of food made her stomach roil. How could she eat when her whole system was in turmoil? Chewing down heavily on her lip, Tara hurried into the utility room, grabbed her waterproof and ran out of the house to make her way down to the beach.
She found him skimming pebbles into the sea. ‘You’ve got to learn to trust me, Tara. This isn’t going to work otherwise.’ After a brief glance her way, he continued to skim stones.
Swallowing hard, she jammed her hands into the big patch pockets of her jacket. Last night she’d been distraught at the idea of losing him again. When he hadn’t telephoned to say when he would be back, she’d been frantic with worry. All manner of crazy thoughts had flown through her mind; including what if the plane crashed and he was killed before she’d had the chance to tell him that she loved him? Had always loved him—even when they were apart? That was why her reaction, when he finally showed up, had been so wild.
‘Trust is a big leap for me,’ she confessed quietly.
‘I know.’ Wiping his hands down the front of his jeans, Mac closed the gap between them, considering her slowly with a long, heated glance that made her toes tingle nicely in her boots. ‘That’s why I’m giving you all the time in the world to make it. Right now all I want to do is be with you. I’m in this for the long haul, Tara. I’ll do whatever I have to do to gain your trust. That’s a promise.’
Something settled inside her. Something light and good, like someone shining a torch in pitch-black darkness. Without a word she moved into his arms, savouring the sharp, cold scent of the sea that clung to him and mingled with the warm, indefinable essence of the man himself. Burying her face in the thick, soft wool of his sweater, she breathed him in like oxygen, drank him in like wine.
‘Are you hungry?’ Green eyes bright, she regarded him with a teasing, happy expression on her face.
‘For you…not for food,’ Mac replied, his voice rough with need, his hands settling possessively on her hips.
‘Well, maybe I can tempt you with a little of both?’ She slid her palms up his chest as he angled his head towards her for a kiss then playfully pushed him away and started to run down the beach. ‘But you’ve got to catch me first! Think you can do it?’
Mac grinned wolfishly. ‘Sweetheart, with you as the prize I could take on the whole British Olympic relay team and win!’
Moving into a long-legged sprint, he charged after her, closing the gap between them even more quickly than he’d expected. When Tara turned to gauge his progress and saw him gaining on her, she took a fit of the giggles and ground to a halt, holding her side where a stitch had begun.
‘Wow!’ Her eyes were shining when he drew up alongside her. ‘You must have been in training. That was impressive!’
‘Not half as impressive as I’m going to be in the bedroom, Mrs Simmonsen.’
Jaw determined, Mac swept her up into his arms, experiencing the inevitable blood rush to his loins when she slid her arms happily around him and teased, ‘Promises, promises.’
‘What? You think I can’t rise to the challenge?’
Ignoring the innuendo, Tara couldn’t help but sigh as she gazed into his resolutely handsome face. ‘I think you can rise to any damn thing you put your mind to, Mac…I really do.’
CHAPTER NINE
AFTER they’d been driving for some time, Mac stopped the car in a breathtaking area composed of desolate rocky plateaux beneath a sharp blue sky with the chill of winter in it, known locally as the Burren. After considering the view for several long, satisfying seconds he turned abruptly to Tara. ‘OK, give me the map.’
‘No! I can read it.’
‘Be a good girl and give me the map, Tara.’
‘I said no! And please don’t patronise me in that oh-so-reasonable tone of voice you obviously reserve for air-head secretaries! I know what I’m doing. I’ve been reading maps since I was a child.’
‘Then can you explain to me why we’re lost?’ His mouth nudging into a smile, Mac would never have believed himself capable of this much patience in any driving situation—but the fact of the matter was, Tara was so damned determined to take charge of their little outing that all he could do was sit back in admiration and enjoy himself. Being lost simply added to the flavour.
Irritated that she couldn’t seem to locate on the map exactly where they were in relation to where they were headed, Tara scratched her head then glared at the big, handsome man beside her. ‘I’d hate to work for you, you know that?’
‘I’d hate you to work for me too.’
When her forehead creased into a hurt little frown Mac laughed, stroking his finger down her cheek. ‘You’d be a constant distraction. I’d never get anything done.’
Mellowing, Tara leaned towards him, sliding her hand deliberately along a hard-muscled thigh encased in dark blue denim. ‘Would that be a good thing or a bad thing, do you think?’
‘I think…’ he dropped several little kisses on her softly parted lips, each one engendering the explosive heat of a small landmine ‘…that right now you’d better reserve all your employable skills to reading that map and getting us out of here…before I have to resort to the first rule of survival when lost in unknown terrain.’
‘Oh?’ Her breath quickening beneath the hot, drugging kisses that were becoming increasingly more demanding at every touch, Tara’s aroused green gaze regarded Mac in tremulous anticipation. ‘What’s that, then?’
‘Check for injuries,’ he said huskily as his hand slipped under her sweater and found the soft, womanly swell of her breast beneath her bra.
‘But…neither of us is injured.’
‘Don’t teeth-marks count?’ With a low growl, Mac pulled away from her mouth, dragging his teeth along the side of her neck. She felt the sharp pleasure-pain when he nipped the sensitive flesh, his fingers squeezing her nipple at the same time. Her blood sang in her veins. She slid her hand along his jawline, luxuriating in her ability to just reach out and touch, to savour, to sample his honed, hard flesh when for five long years she’d been denied such hungry pleasures. How had she lived without him all that time, let alone breathed? Emotion jammed in her throat and for several staggering moments Tara was blinded by hot, stinging tears. The intensity of her feelings, her overwhelming love for this driven, hard-working, single-minded, beautiful man, whose baby she had borne and lost without his even knowing—it all came at her like a huge wave, engulfing her without mercy.
Mac knew the very moment when her mind was on something else, something other than this white-hot electric heat they were generating between them as easily as looking at each other. Regretfully he moved his hand from the silky touch of her breast then eased down her sweater. Then he removed her far enough away from him to register the shimmering evidence of tears in her beautiful green eyes. His gut clenched. It devastated him to see her cry.
‘What’s all this about, hmm?’ Tilting her chin, he eased the pad of his thumb back and forth across her delicate jaw.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby, Mac. Sorry I believed you wouldn’t care. Can you ever forgive me?’
Swallowing with difficulty at the mention of their son, Mac took a second or two to compose himself. In his heart he was honestly working on coming to terms with their loss, easing it by vowing that if their union was blessed with other children he would be there every step of the way. Tara would never have any cause to doubt his commitment again…not in this life.
‘Of course I forgive you. We both made mistakes. I don’t think either one of us set out to deliberately hurt the other. A lot of water has gone under the bridge, Tara; we can’t get back what we had, but we can start anew.’
‘I still don’t know, Mac.’ Linking her hands with his, she managed an endearingly lopsided little smile. ‘What I want, I mean. I mean, I want you but…’ I’m terrified, she acknowledged silently, terrified it will all go wrong, terrified that I won’t be able to bear the pain if you walk out again…
‘It’s all right, baby. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. We’ll just take one day at a time and see how it goes.’ It killed him to put on such a show of calm when inside his heart felt as if it was going to climb out of his chest. Some way, somehow, he was going to win her back or die in the attempt. Planting a sizzling little kiss on her upturned mouth, Mac sat back a little to enjoy the effect—dewy eyes, rosy cheeks and moist lips, not to mention tremulously rising and falling milk-white breasts in her V-necked sweater. Her response did wonders for his confidence—not to mention his libido.
‘If you consider the fact that I’ve hardly been able to keep my hands off you since we came on this little holiday and you haven’t banished me to the nearest dungeon yet, I’d say we had a pretty good chance of making a go of things, wouldn’t you?’
Lifting her shoulders, Tara sighed. The man was pretty damn irresistible and the fact of the matter was she really didn’t want to resist him at all. Suddenly embarrassed by his searching gaze, she made a big fuss of straightening out the much perused map, then, squinting down, prodded it triumphantly with her finger. ‘I found it! We passed that place five minutes ago. I reckon we must be just a couple of miles away from the caves. If we drive along this road a little bit further, it’s bound to be signposted.’
Feigning disappointment, Mac yawned and stretched. ‘You mean I’ve got to start driving again?’
Squirming beneath that lazily hot look that had her wriggling in her seat, Tara diverted her attention to the stunning views all around them. ‘Of course you’ve got to start driving! There’s a lot to see. And after we’ve visited the Ailwee caves I want to go and see the Cliffs of Moher—it’s supposed to be the most spectacular sight and I’ve got loads of film in the camera I want to use up.’
‘And after that?’ he asked, hands curving round the steering wheel in a way that made Tara wish they were on her body.
‘And after that…’ There was a slight hitch in her breathing as she stole a greedy glance, silently acknowledging that if they were in bed together right now it would be seriously wild—clawing at the sheets, holding on to the bedpost wild… Clearing her throat, she gazed deliberately ahead. ‘We’ll find something to keep us both out of mischief.’
As he switched on the ignition, a sweep of heat coloured Mac’s jaw. ‘God, I love it when you talk dirty,’ he said hoarsely and the car lurched a little as it started to move.
Standing on a narrow iron bridge with a dizzying drop below, Tara clung on to Mac’s arm, daring herself to look down as their cheerful Irish guide knowledgeably explained the difference between stalagmites and stalactites. The two-million-year-old caves were darkly spectacular and the dimly lit interior and the dense, dank smell that arose from the ancient rocks seemed to transport them into a world underground that was hard to imagine even existed when you were walking on terra firma outside.
‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Mac whispered as they moved off slowly behind the single line of tourists following the guide.
‘There’s one thing about me you might need a little reminder of,’ Tara whispered back, keeping a firm hold on the muscular arm beneath his soft suede jacket.
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m not very good with heights. I get vertigo just going up a couple of rungs on a ladder.’
He chuckled, the deeply sensuous sound making her tingle. ‘Now you mention it, I do recall you refusing to go up in the glass elevator at Lloyd’s when we were invited for cocktails one time. Remember?’
‘I remember being thankful I already had such well-developed calf muscles because walking up all those stairs was like hiking up K2!’
Fifteen minutes later, after the guide had dutifully warned them, the cave was plunged into absolute darkness, to demonstrate the inky blackness of the caves without light—a condition that their discoverer had had to contend with. Tara was glad of Mac’s warm fingers linking reassuringly with hers, because being in the dark was another phobia that plagued her.
Beside her, he moved in closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. ‘You OK? I know you don’t like the dark.’
‘Brave, aren’t I?’ Tara replied with a self-deprecating little shrug.
‘Bravest woman I know,’ Mac whispered next to her ear, and was it her imagination or did he just drop the briefest of kisses on her sensitive lobe? A butterfly’s wing couldn’t have been softer—or felt more delicious.
Her insides were zinging with joy—not to mention lust. If they didn’t get out of here soon and into the daylight she wouldn’t be walking straight! Feeling relieved when the light came back on, illuminating all the dark corners where water trickled down, transforming the caves into some kind of magical fairy grotto, Tara smiled up at Mac. She was suddenly thrilled at the idea that they were getting to know each other all over again—like new lovers anticipating each other’s next little touch or smile and longing for it—and wondered if he felt like that too.
‘Penny for them.’ Squeezing her hand, Mac led the way as they trailed more slowly behind the chatting line of tourists towards the exit.
‘I’m feeling good,’ she confessed, astonished to find that she really meant it.
‘Me too.’ He stopped to touch the tip of her nose, grinning. ‘Now, let’s play tourist and go raid the souvenir shop.’
From an array of soft toys of all shapes and sizes, he bought her a charming black cat with emerald eyes and ribbon to match, as well as an oversized
T-shirt with an advertising slogan emblazoned on the front, which, he boldly stated in front of the smiling assistant, she could wear in bed.
In turn, Tara purchased a beautiful hardbacked book full of glossy colour photographs of the county, presenting it to Mac when they were back in the car ready to make their way to the majestic Cliffs of Moher.
Visibly moved, he turned it over in his hands, carefully separating the pages to interestedly study the pictures. ‘Will you sign it for me?’ Taking an expensive-looking gold fountain pen out of his inside jacket pocket, he handed it to her along with the book.
‘Sure.’ Suddenly embarrassed, Tara opened the front page and wrote with a slightly shaky hand:
‘Mac—thanks for a wonderful day. Love, Tara.’
Automatically about to add several ‘x’s’ to represent kisses, she stopped herself just in time, blushed, closed the book then returned it and the pen to Mac.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She stared straight ahead, not trusting herself to look at him right then because it was taking all her self-control not to throw herself into his arms.
‘Want to go home?’
‘Why?’ Her head spun round, and she was shocked to see the raw desire in slumberous blue eyes that were consuming her whole, inch by inch.
‘Do you really need to ask?’
‘But what about the Cliffs of Moher?’
To Tara’s surprise he threw back his head and laughed out loud. ‘Sweetheart, they’ve been around for thousands of years—I think they’ll still be around tomorrow or the next day if we want to come back then.’
Embarrassed colour made her cheeks burn. ‘Very funny. I’m glad you—’ But her words stopped midstream when Mac suddenly threw open the car door and hurried across the tarmac towards a little toddling child wandering across the car park. The child was clearly distressed and, gathering him up in his arms, Mac held the toddler concernedly to his chest, talking to him, offering comfort. Tara’s heart stalled. Life was so unfair. He clearly would have made the most wonderful father. Maybe he still would. She was out of the car in less than a minute, heart racing at the thought, her mouth curving in a sympathetic smile as the child’s distraught mother reached Mac and threw her arms around him and the child.
