The Bronzed Hawk

by Iris Johansen

  In her weary and depressed state, she found it exasperating to search through Marcy’s closet for something to wear for dinner. Absolutely nothing fit. She had almost given up in despair when she ran across a full burgundy skirt that she knew would have to do. Thank heavens Marcy’s waist was as pencil slim as her own, she thought. The hem probably hit fashionably about Marcy’s knees, but it almost touched her own ankles and could have passed as an evening skirt. There was no way that she could fit into one of Marcy’s blouses, so she had to be satisfied once again with donning her own tunic top. By tightening the matching cream sash at her waist and opening the buttons at the throat to show just a hint of cleavage, it made a very tolerable mate for the velvet skirt. She shrugged indifferently as she looked at the rather bizarre gypsyish figure in the mirror. What difference did it make, anyway? There would be only Mac and Marcy at dinner, and then she would be banished to the typewriter to pound out the Khadir story. Well, the outfit did look rather wild and carelessly gay; perhaps it would add to the cool, uncaring facade she wanted to project tonight. Her sophisticated alligator pumps would have looked ridiculous with the ensemble, so she deliberately left her small feet bare.

  She finally left the guest room and danced lightly downstairs, a sunny smile painted on her face. Her smile faded, however, as her gaze fell on the bank of windows that faced the staircase. Generally, even in the evening the view was spectacular from those windows, offering enchanting glimpses of silver sand and white, curling foam on the midnight darkness of the surf. Tonight there was nothing to be seen but the thick gray mist that pushed against the glass as if it were trying to get in. She had not heard the phone ring since she had gone upstairs. Was Marcy still out in this pea soup of a fog?

  “Well, I’m glad you finally deigned to honor me with your presence,” Mac said as he came down the stairs behind her. He had changed into jeans and a white knit, short-sleeved T-shirt that looked fantastic with his deep tan. “I noticed that you waited until everything was done in the kitchen before you put in an appearance.” His keen gray glance raked over her. “Are you planning on telling fortunes after dinner?”

  Kelly ignored the flippancy, her expression anxious. “Mac, have you heard from Marcy? I didn’t hear the phone ring.” She shivered as her eyes went back to the windows. “It’s really bad out there.”

  He nodded casually. “That it is,” he agreed. At the bottom step he slipped a friendly arm around her waist. “But Marcy’s not out in it, thank God.” He grinned sheepishly. “I was worried, so I called the theater and caught her before she left. I told her to wait until the fog lifted and drive up in the morning.” He turned her toward the spacious living-dining area. “I explained that she wouldn’t get a chance to talk with you tonight anyway, since I’d be cracking the whip to keep you at the typewriter.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s not out in this mess even if I won’t have her to intercede for me,” Kelly said, allowing him to lead her to the dining area on the far side of the room.

  “She must think I’m getting old,” Mac complained. “She was amazingly complacent about my spending the night alone in a deserted beach house with a luscious little blond. She even told me not to work you too hard.” He leered clowningly at Kelly. “I tried to blast her with a witty double entendre, but she just laughed at me.” He sighed. “Yep, she must think I’m getting old.”

  Kelly shook her head and laughed as she slipped into a captain’s chair cushioned in a cheerful beige and gold print. “She just believes that you know the gold from the dross by this time,” she said firmly, as she shook out her napkin. “And that you have the good sense to realize that she’s the real thing.”

  Mac’s hard face softened. “Yes, I’d be something of a fool not to know that after twenty years with the woman,” he said thoughtfully.

  Kelly felt her throat tighten with emotion at the expression in Mac’s eyes. God, what she would have given to have Nick look at her like that. But she wouldn’t think of Nick, she thought desperately. Not tonight. Not until the pain diminished with the passing of time.

  “What are you feeding me tonight?” she demanded, a bright smile on her face. “I absolutely refuse to work without adequate sustenance. Even galley slaves will revolt if pushed too far, you know.”

  “If I recall my history, galley slaves were almost never served steak and salad,” Mac said, striding toward the kitchen. “Nor were they waited on quite meekly by their overseers.”

  Mac returned with a tray containing both steak platters and two wooden salad bowls. “I’ve just completed my last duties as your host,” he growled, as he went around to his own place and shifted his own meal from the tray. “From now on I’m your boss, and your first job is the cleaning up. Cooking at least has a little dignity. I absolutely refuse the humiliation of showing up at the office Monday with dishpan hands.”

  “I guess I can manage to subdue my liberated spirit to indulge you in that, Mac. Especially since I know Marcy had a whiz of a dishwasher installed last summer.”

  “Brat,” Mac accused, as he cut into his steak. “It’s not the labor involved, it’s the principle.”

  “My thought exactly,” she said demurely, as she took her first bite of the steak. “But I’ll be very tolerant and not give you a lecture on the chauvinistic tendencies you’ve been displaying of late, Mac.”

  “Very kind of you, I’m sure. Yes, it’s definitely Death Valley for you next, Kelly.”

  Kelly smothered a smile and changed the subject by asking about the supplies she would need to take on her assignment in Antarctica. For the rest of the meal the conversation was light and impersonal, and by the time she had finished her steak and salad, Kelly was mentally congratulating herself that she had completely fooled Mac into believing that she was as cheerful as the proverbial lark. Nevertheless, she was grateful when the meal was over.

  “That was quite a decent offering, Mac,” she said, folding her napkin and putting it beside her platter. “Now, I’ll act the obedient slavey and clean up these dishes. Then I’ll get to work on my more legitimate duties.”

  Mac’s gray eyes narrowed. “The dishes will wait,” he said abruptly. “There’s coffee brewed in the kitchen. Suppose you get it while I build a fire. We’ll move over to the couch and relax a bit.” His gaze was oddly searching. “You can tell me all about Acapulco.”

  Kelly could feel a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She should have known she could never fool Mac. Besides being one of the most analytical minds in the business, he knew her too darned well. “A fire in June, Mac?” she asked lightly, moistening her lips nervously. “I really should get to work on that story.” She rose to her feet. “I can tell you about Mexico any time.”

  “Go get the coffee, Kelly,” Mac ordered curtly, as he pushed back his own chair and stood up. “This dense fog has made it chilly and cool enough to merit a fire, and I’ve always found a nice blaze is a great way to relax inhibitions and inspire confidences.” His glance was razor sharp as he repeated softly, “Go get the coffee.”

  She knew Mac’s obstinate determination too well to question that tone. “Oh, very well.” She sighed and walked toward the kitchen. “Just one cup of coffee and then I go to work.”

  When she returned with the teak tray containing the carafe of coffee and two cups and saucers, Mac was sprawled lazily on the burgundy couch before the fire, his legs stretched before him and his gray head resting on its high, cushioned back.

  He sat up straighter as Kelly put the tray on the gleaming maple coffee table, then dropped down beside him. But it wasn’t until she had poured their coffee and offered him his cup that he looked up from his absent absorption with the flames. “Thanks, Kelly,” he said. “Waiting on a man obviously comes easily to you. Perhaps you’re not as liberated as you think.”

  “I’m every bit as liberated as I believe I am, Mac Devlin,” Kelly said tartly. After taking a sip of her coffee, she leaned back in one corner of the couch. “But like all modern wo
men, I try to do everything that I attempt with equal efficiency.”

  “I see,” Mac said with mock solemnity. He looked down at his coffee cup. Then, softly, he said, “Tell me about Mexico, Kelly.”

  “What can I tell you about Mexico, Mac?” she asked. “You probably know more about it than I do. Didn’t you tell me you spent three years there as a foreign correspondent?”

  He nodded, his lips tightening. “Okay, so don’t tell me about Mexico,” he said flatly. “Tell me about Nick O’Brien instead.”

  Kelly inhaled sharply at the sudden thrust of pain that went through her. Trust Mac to go for the jugular. She looked away nervously and took another sip of coffee. “I’d rather not,” she said quietly. “You can read all about him when I finish the story.” She smiled sadly. “I think the average reader will be positively enthralled by the dashing Mr. O’Brien. He’s quite a colorful character.”

  “And were you positively enthralled by him, Kelly?” Mac probed gently, his eyes on her face. “Is that why you’re running scared for the first time in your life?”

  That brought her gaze flying back to his face. “I’m not running scared,” she denied hotly. “I’m just trying to follow that wonderful advice you’re always giving me about looking before I leap and the virtues of discretion.”

  “You’ve never paid any attention to my words of wisdom before. Why start now?”

  “Perhaps I’m growing up at last,” Kelly said, putting her cup and saucer carefully down on the coffee table in front of her. Her hands were annoyingly unsteady, and Mac’s gaze was damnably perceptive. “Why this sudden interest in Nick O’Brien? You’ve never interfered in my personal life before, Mac.”

  “I’ve never had to watch you tear yourself apart over a man before. You’ve always flitted on the surface of your relationships in the past. Why do I feel that this time you’re in way over your head?”

  “You seem very well informed.” Kelly moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “How did you know that Nick O’Brien was anything but a story to me?”

  “I still have contacts in Mexico, remember? And no one can say that either one of you was trying to keep your association a secret. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t pull you out of Mexico sooner. I didn’t want to be accused of spoiling love’s young dream.”

  She closed her eyes against the bittersweet memories that flooded through her, then opened them. “That was a mistake, Mac. I wish that you’d made me come home at once.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re right, I was in over my head.”

  Mac crashed his cup down on the coffee table. “For God’s sake, Kelly, you haven’t any more sense than a babe in arms! Hell, you knew O’Brien’s reputation even before you met the man. You knew he was a world-class chaser and had no more sexual morals than a tomcat, yet you fell into his bed like a ripe plum. What the hell were you thinking of?”

  “I wasn’t thinking at all,” she said sadly. “I was feeling. I’m in love with him, Mac.” The words were surprisingly hard to get out, but she felt an odd sense of relief once she’d uttered them. She was suddenly no longer so alone in her desolation.

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I imagined possible. You can’t expect a commitment from a man of O’Brien’s stamp. Why on earth did you let yourself become involved?”

  Her lips twisted bitterly. “Nick says I have a passion for no-win situations. Perhaps he’s right. You certainly can’t be in a more hopeless position than to be crazy about a man like Nick.” She leaned her head wearily against the high back of the couch. “I knew that all along, but it didn’t help. Nick can be downright irresistible once he puts his mind to it. I didn’t stand a chance.”

  Mac frowned. “The man can’t be all that devastating. You were probably a sitting duck for a man of his experience. You’re sure that it’s not just sex?”

  “I’m sure,” Kelly said quietly. “I wish to God it was that easy.” She shook her head. “Though I’ll be a long while getting over that particular hangover as well.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be bowled over by a mere infatuation,” Mac said, surveying her with a tenderness not unmixed with exasperation. “You do have some sense under that go-for-broke impulsiveness.”

  “Thanks heaps. I know I can always count on you for sympathy and understanding, Mac.”

  “You can, you know,” Mac said soberly. His hand reached out to cover hers. He gave it a comforting squeeze before continuing with gruff gentleness. “You’re the closest thing that Marcy and I have to a child of our own. Richard was my best friend, and over the years as we saw you growing up, I guess we got the feeling that you sort of belonged to us, too.” He grinned wryly. “We may not be very experienced at this parental bit, but we’ll always be there when you need us, Kelly.”

  Kelly felt her throat tighten with tears as her hand clutched at his as if he were a life preserver in the middle of an unfriendly sea. “Damn it, Mac, you’re going to make me cry,” she said shakily. “You’ve both been wonderful to me, and I love you very much.” She drew a deep breath and tried to smile, but her lips were quivering uncontrollably.

  “Now tell me about this bastard who caused you to send up that SOS. I suppose he dropped you for some other woman?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered, looking down at their clasped hands gloomily.

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No? I thought surely that must be it considering O’Brien’s reputation. What was it then? You quarreled constantly?”

  She shook her head again. “No, we only quarreled once the entire time we were together. That only lasted for a few hours before we made up.” She tried hard to banish the lump in her throat as she remembered exactly how they had made up after that quarrel the night before.

  Mac frowned impatiently. “Kelly, I have no intention of playing twenty questions with you. What did O’Brien do to you to send you scurrying home in a panic?”

  “Nothing,” Kelly protested tearfully. “You’re speaking as if he’s some kind of monster. No one could have been kinder or more generous to me than Nick.”

  Mac gave an explosive sigh and then with careful precision said, “If O’Brien’s such a virtuous paragon, will you please tell me why you left the man, when it’s obviously making you so hellishly miserable?”

  “Because I knew it couldn’t last, and I couldn’t stay around and know he was growing tired of me,” she said woefully. “You called him ‘a world-class chaser.’ Well that’s not the only field he’s world class in, Mac. How long do you think any woman could hold the interest of a man like Nick O’Brien? He’s a miracle man!” The tears that had been brimming suddenly overflowed and ran down her cheeks.

  “So you decided to run away and bury your head in the sand,” Mac said slowly, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on her face. “I’ve never known you to run away from a challenge before, Kelly.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, Mac,” Kelly said despondently. “I find that I’m a miserable coward where my emotions are concerned. I’m not a changeable sort of a person, and I’d never have survived a break-up with Nick if I’d stayed with him any longer.”

  “Damn it, Kelly, it’s not like you to be so humble,” Mac said in disgust. “You’ve never been shy about recognizing your own value. How the hell do you know the man will tire of you? You’re quite a person in your own right.”

  Kelly smiled sadly. “Thanks for trying, Mac, but you’ve forgotten one rather important fact. Nick doesn’t love me. It’s difficult to have confidence that any relationship will last without that ingredient.”

  “I guess that’s true. But you don’t have a chance in hell if you don’t fight for what you want, Kelly.”

  Kelly’s face was troubled as she carefully considered Mac’s words. Was he right? Did she really have a chance of winning Nick’s love? She felt a sudden surge of hope when she realized that she hadn’t even given this most important challenge of her entire life her best shot. Why had she assum
ed that the situation was hopeless? Looking back she could see now that, from the moment she’d done the background research on him, she had let herself be intimidated by the mystique that surrounded him. But why should she take this defeatist attitude and run away before she’d waged even a token battle? Granted that Nick was unique in many ways, but she was pretty damn special herself. There was no reason on earth why Nick couldn’t eventually be convinced that she was worth loving.

  Her jade green eyes were suddenly blazing with hope as she cried eagerly, “Mac, you’re fantastic. Why didn’t I realize that—”

  The rest of the sentence was drowned by a thunderous knocking at the front door that caused them both to jump. Mac released her hand and rose quickly to his feet. “Who the hell could that be?” he said, frowning. “It’s certainly not a night for neighborly visits.”

  “Perhaps it’s someone who has lost his way in this awful fog,” Kelly suggested, as she watched Mac stride rapidly across the room. The thunderous knocking was repeated, this time with considerably more violence. Kelly made a face. “Whoever it is appears to be in a foul temper.”

  “Only a complete idiot would be wandering around outside on a night like this,” Mac said. He threw open the door. His tall, muscular frame was blocking the doorway so that Kelly could not see their visitor, but she heard Mac’s slightly impatient “Yes?”

  Then she heard him mutter a surprised curse as he was abruptly pushed aside and the visitor strode explosively into the house.

  “Nick!” Kelly exclaimed, her eyes widening incredulously as she stared in openmouthed bewilderment at the stormy-faced man who was standing glowering furiously at her. “What are you doing here?”

  TEN

  “WHAT THE HELL do you think I’m doing here?” Nick asked harshly, his eyes blazing blue fire at her across the room. “I’ve come to retrieve my runaway wife.”