Enchanted (18 page)

Mac watched his mother and knew that when he did get married, he wanted a wife just like her, someone who loved her family and home, someone perfectly content with only those things as a career.

He strolled across the lawn, took the basket out of his mother’s hands and walked at her side.

“You should have married years ago, McKenna,” she said, her eyes still on her cutting.

“I never found the right woman.”

“Maybe you have. Maybe you’re just too picky.”

“She has to be perfect.”

“Then you’ll look forever. Perfect doesn’t exist.”

“I thought your marriage was perfect.”

Constance stopped and looked into her son’s eyes. “Your father was far from perfect, my dear.”

“But you were happy.”

“I loved him, with all his faults.”

“The faults I can live with. I just don’t want my wife to work. I want her at home, and I want to come first. Always.”

“Ah, the selfish little boy returns.”

“Is it wrong wanting to be first?”

“You’ve always been first. Maybe Kathleen’s never been at the top. Maybe she needs to see what it’s like and then decide if that’s where she wants to be. If she doesn’t get that chance, she’ll always regret not knowing.”

“It’s more than just the career,” Mac whispered.

Constance stopped, tucked her hand around Mac’s arm, and led him back to the patio. “Then what is it?”

“She has a child.”

“She’s divorced?” Constance questioned.

“No. She’s never been married.”

Constance laughed.

“What the hell are you laughing about?”

“You, my dear. You’re such a bore, and you’re making one excuse after another to stay away from the lady. What is it now? She’s committed some kind of sin? You don’t want a ready-made family?”

“I never should have mentioned it. You’re just as liberal as she is.”

“
I’m as conservative as you
, darling.
I’m also quite
wise. I think your feelings are stronger than you want to admit. Maybe you should make some concessions. I never saw your eyes light up when you talked about Ashley, but there’s a spark there every time you mention Kathleen.”

Why did his mother have to be so perceptive? Yes, his whole life lit up when he thou
ght about Kathleen. But, damn, s
he didn’t fit into his mold. “I suppose I can’t convince you she shouldn’t spend the weekend?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll get a chance to see just how stubborn and pigheaded she is.”

“But, sweetheart. You’re stubborn and pigheaded, and I still love you.”

“Mmm, look what I have for you, Mr. O’Brien,” Merry said, pushing open the door to Mac’s study with her generous round bottom. She turned to face him, holding a silver tray laden with plates of warm gingerbread topped with fresh whipped cream, and mugs of steaming cocoa.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Ye
s, you did say that, didn’t you.
”

Mac looked up from the papers on his desk and scowled.

“Now, now, now. None of that, young man. I don’t exactly call it disturbing when you’ve done nothing but stare at that same old paper for the last three hours.”

“I’m thinking. And I’m not hungry.”

“Nothing like a little warm gingerbread to get the brain churning.” She set the tray down on the table and, pushing the papers aside, placed a plate and cup in front of Mac. He didn’t fuss, just leaned back and stretched.

Merry settled into a chair beside the desk, took the remaining plate, and spooned a generous portion of gingerbread and whipped cream into her mouth. “My, my, my. This certainly beats paperwork.”

“Did you have something you wanted
to discuss?” Mac
questioned, drawing designs in the whipped cream with his fork.

“Of course I do. Why else would I be in here?”

“To pester me, I suppose.”

“I don’t pester. I just tell it like it is.”

“And what is it you want to tell me?”

“Every since you had that fight with Kathleen—”

“I didn’t have a fight with Kathleen.”

“Suit yourself, but the last time you saw her, you came home spittin’ and sputterin’ about liberated women. I know the signs. If you ask me—”

“I didn’t ask you, Merry.”

“Don’t interrupt, McKenna. As I was saying, it’s plain as the nose on your face that Kathleen Flannigan is driving you crazy.”

“I won’t dispute that.”

“Then, I suggest you do something about it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, in my day—that was a long time ago, of course—the men asked the ladies out.”

“I asked her. She turned me down.”

“Send her flowers.”

“Did that too. Listen, Merry. The lady just isn’t interested.”

“And you are?”

“Hell if I know why. But yes.”

“Have you tried kissing her?”

“Now you’re getting personal.”

Merry’s eyebrows lifted. “Of course I am. We have to examine this problem from every angle. Now, have you kissed her?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“My, my, my, Mr. O’Brien. You’re not making this very easy. Did she enjoy it?”

“How the hell should I know?”

Merry’s eyes narrowed. “You know my feelings about swearing, young man.”

“Excuse me.”

“Now, did she swoon?”

Mac laughed. “Of course she didn’t swoon.”

“Did she smile?”

His voice lowered. “Once. The first time.”

“What about the second time?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You were there, weren’t you?”

“I kissed her and left. I never looked at her face.” Mac pushed away from the desk and went to the fireplace, warming his hands. He still couldn’t get used to the unusually cold temperature in his apartment, and no matter how he adjusted the thermostat, it stayed a constant sixty degrees.

Merry patted her mouth with a lacy napkin, stood, and silently walked to Mac’s side. “I’m not going to lecture you on kissing and leaving. Mind you, now, if my Nicky had done that to me, you’d better believe he wouldn’t have me around to keep him warm on cold winter nights.”

“So, you’re telling me I should forget her?”

“Heavens, no. But you’d better get off your duff and quit waiting for her to make the first move.”

“I can’t go knocking on her door.”

“And why not?”

“She’d slam it in my face.”

“Then make her come to you.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

“My, my, my, Mr. O’Brien. You’re not thinking.” Merry went back to the desk and picked up the plates and cups.

“I suppose I could tell her I want to discuss work.”

The rosiness deepened in Merry’s cheeks, and her eyes twinkled with delight. “I suppose you could, at that.”

oOo

Kathleen hesitated at Mac’s office door, seething inside. How dare he call so late at night, expecting her to drop everything and run back to the office? Why couldn’t he discuss the magazine during normal hours? How dare he call and not apologize for running out on her? That hurt, and it maddened her that he hadn’t suffered in the same way.

She raised her hand to knock, and as her knuckles struck the mahogany door, it opened. Mac stood just inches away.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

“I said I would.”

“Not very convincingly.”

“It’s late. What do you want?” Kathleen edged her way around him. He didn’t move an inch. Her hand brushed against his. She smelled his cologne. She heard his breathing. Could he read her thoughts? Did he know she wanted him to kiss her again? Did he really want to discuss the magazine, or did he have something else in mind? If he only wanted to talk business, did that mean the possibility of a relationship no longer existed? Oh, God, she thought. I’m losing my mind.

“Have a seat,” Mac said, interrupting her thoughts. He stood beside the buckskin leather sofa, his eyes never leaving hers as she gripped her briefcase handle and walked across the room.

She sat on the couch. Trying to avoid his stare, she allowed her eyes to peruse his body. He had on a long-sleeved white shirt, the cuffs unbuttoned and rolled up on his forearms. He wore fawn-colored suede boots and Levi’s that hugged his hips and thighs. Men of twenty would kill for his body, she thought, letting her eyes roam slowly up his stomach and chest. She looked at his face, into his eyes. His lips didn’t smile, but she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Was she blushing? She felt the heat rise up her neck, up to her cheeks. He knows he’s making me nervous, she thought, and he’s enjoying every second.

“Could I offer you something to drink? A Diet Coke?”

“Yes, thank you.” She nearly strangled on her words. His calm voice unnerved her.

He came back to the sofa with a can and a glass of ice, set them on the table, and sat on the couch across from her.

Kathleen rarely found conversation difficult, but this new, unknown relationship with Mac made her uneasy. His crossed arms and all-knowing expression didn’t help.

“I unde
rstand there’s some dissension i
n your staff.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’ve been told they want to change the magazine’s format.”

“That’s already under control. May I ask who told you this?”

“I don’t divulge confidences.”

“No, of course. I appreciate that.” Kathleen poured the soda into the glass. Too much, too fast. The foam poured over the top, slid down the sides of the glass, and onto the table. Mac went to the bar and came back with extra napkins to wipe up the mess, took the glass from her hand, and cleaned the sides, then handed it back to her. She wrapped her fingers around the smooth surface. He didn’t let go. Instead, he caressed her thumb with his, circled the inside of her palm. He touched her wrist. She stared at his hand, so close to hers, lightly sprinkled with blond hairs against tanned skin. She felt his warmth. Her stomach tightened.

She drew back. Why did his touch turn her to mush? Think business, she told herself. Don’t let him see how vulnerable you are.

She leaned back, making herself comfortable on the couch. “I’d like to tell you what my staff had in mind.”

“Please do.” Mac stretched his arms out across the back of the couch and crossed his legs.

“The original premise was to put together a magazine for successful women and women who want to be successful.”

“Your idea, as I recall.”

Kathleen ignored his remark. “But my staff, knowing you don’t approve, decided to make some last-minute changes.”

“Such as?”

“How the little woman can save time during the week by cooking all weekend and freezing meals ahead of time. How she can clean a little bit each night so she has more time for cooking on the weekends. They even decided on a regular feature of hints from the happy little homemaker.”

Mac grinned. “I take it you didn’t approve.”

“Approve? Hell! They wanted to change the entire concept.”

“So you told them to do it your way, or else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Good.”

Her eyes widened. “You approve?”

“It’s your magazine. You have to do what you feel is right. I’m sure if their ideas had merit, you would have listened.”

“But they didn’t. They wanted to make changes because they were afraid of what you might say.”

“You don’t have those same fears?”

“I’ve never been afraid of you.” That was a lie. She was afraid of him right now. Afraid he might kiss her again. Afraid he might not. She took a sip of Diet Coke and stared at him over the top of the glass. His expression said little. He appeared to be contemplating her words.