Enchanted (19 page)

“This magazine isn’t geared to just one aspect of the female population. It isn’t necessarily for feminists or liberated women. But it definitely isn’t geared directly to women who are perfectly content at being housewives. The articles in
Success
tell women it’s okay not being the perfect wife or perfect mother, especially when you’re also a busy working woman. It’s okay not to feel guilty about buying TV dinners and expecting husbands and children to fend for themselves.
Success
says it’s okay to be selfish, to take time for yourself.”

“You sound as though you believe in these principles.”

“I do.”

“In other words, you don’t think women should be wives and mothers?”

“That’s not what I said.
W
omen need to understand that they don’t have to be perfect at everything. This magazine is geared toward making women feel good about themselves and their life. And once they accept that they don’t have to be perfect, success, or greater success, will come naturally and easily.”

“And you expect this theory to sell well?”

“I know it will. In fact, we hit the streets with the first issue on July twentieth. And we have a press conference set for next Monday to announce its release.”

“What about advertising?”

Kathleen reached into her briefcase and pulled out several magazines. “Full-page ads in
Fortune
,
Women’s Day
,
Family Circle
,
Cosmopolitan
,
ELLE
,
People
, Just to name a few.”

“You’re spending a lot of my money.”

“I intend to make you even more money. We’re doing a segment on
Good Morning, America
about working women whose husbands just don’t understand, and something similar on
Fox and Friends.
”

“You’ll look great on TV.”

S
he loved it when his voice was only a whisper, so sexy and seductive she felt a tingle in the pit of her stomach. “Actually,
Rhonda Howard
in PR’s doing that. They’ll love her.”

“What about the press conference?”

“She’s handling most of that, too. But I’ll be there, along with several female executives who’ve seen the mock-up and love the concept.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Every moment.”

“You’ll never give it up, will you?”

Kathleen thought a moment about his question. “I hope I’m never faced with a choice. Getting the TV slots wasn’t easy. People haven’t wanted to place advertising, either. I’ve begged and pleaded in the last couple of days.”

Mac went to the
refrigerator
hidden behind a camouflaged bar
and came back with a bottle of beer. “May I change the subject?”

Kathleen laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t stick to business.”

“We could, if that’s what you want.”

“No.” She quickly glanced at her watch. “It’s late and I could use a break.”

“Okay, then. First off, can we call a truce?”

She smiled and the tension eased in her neck and shoulders. “I’d like that”

“Good.” He sat down beside her. “You know, Kath, in the old days we always talked about work. I don’t want to do that again. I want to know about you.” He absently wound a strand of her hair around his finger. “Why did you leave Montana and come to New York?”

“The truth?”

He nodded.

“I wanted to work for you.” She watched Mac’s eyes
narrow
.

“You didn’t even know me.”

“But I did. I read an article about you in
Fortune
.” Her face became wistful. “That seems like ages ago. I was in college, majoring in journalism. I always thought I’d write for our local paper. Maybe freelance a bit And then I read that article, and I was hooked.” Kathleen squinted, deep in thought. “What was that quote? Let’s see. You said you liked to give new talent a chance. You said, ‘New—’”

“‘New ideas are what make publishing companies strong. You’ve got to be gutsy and creative to keep one step ahead of the competition.’” Mac completed the quote.

“You remembered.”

“Some of the best words I ever uttered.”

“Did you really feel that way?”

“I did then and I still do. Remember, I’m the one who hired you, a brash kid from the middle of nowhere.”

“I knew I had talent, and my head was swimming with ideas.”

“Like the
Urban Cowboy
magazine?” Mac laughed.

“It was a hot topic at the time.” Kathleen frowned. “But it failed miserably.”

“I didn’t lose faith in you, though.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But . . .” Mac hesitated, taking a drink of beer.

“But what?”

“You were a thorn in my side. I don’t think you’ve ever agreed with me on anything.”

“I’m a born arguer.”

“And I like to win.”

“Me, too.”

Mac ran his fingers through his hair, that look of contemplation returning to his face. “You’
ve put together a good magazine, one that will translate well to a digital format
. I may not agree with everything, but I looked at the latest mock-up and the advertising program you’ve put together, and, well, congratulations are in order.”

She smiled with delight. “Once this one’s launched, I’ve got other ideas you might be interested in.”

“Personally, I’d like to put our professional relationship on hold and work on you and me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t want to discuss the two of them. Their personal discussions always led to disaster. She found it much easier to avoid topics such as sex and desire. She put the magazines back into her briefcase and looked at her watch. “It’s getting late.”

“I’ll take you home, but you can’t evade me forever.”

She didn’t want to evade him. She wanted to push him down into the soft leather of the couch, comb her fingers through his hair, and kiss him until daybreak. Instead, she stood up and walked to the door, knowing Mac followed behind. He cupped his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back against his hard chest, his fingers slipping down to her elbows, caressing her bare arms. She exhaled deeply and relaxed against him.

“I’d like you to go to the anniversary ball with me.”

She closed her eyes and smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

His hands moved up her arms, tenderly circling her neck, his fingers delving into the silky length of her hair. “I like your hair this way. Will you wear it down for me on Friday?”

She nodded, much too overwhelmed to speak.

His fingertips traced the line of her jaw. She drew in a deep breath at the tightening in her chest, at the weakness in her knees. Why did she have to crumble every time he touched her? She couldn’t see his face, but felt his lips as he breathed her name into her ear.

“Kath?”

“Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“I meant it when I said I want you.”

What words could she use to tell him the same thing? I need you? I’m yours? She turned her face to meet his and captured his lips. She found she didn’t need words.

“Merry!”

“You don’t have to yell, young man. I’m standing right behind you.”

“Where did you put my shoes?”

“They’re all right there in the closet. My, my, my. Never seen a man with so many shoes.”

Mac’s crisply pressed white shirt hung out of the black dress slacks. The thin black tie hung loose around his neck. He held his socks in one hand and sorted through the neatly placed rows of shoes.

“But the shoes I always wear with my tux—they’re not here.”

“Oh, those shoes.”

“Yes, Merry, those shoes.”

“They were getting a bit worn on the bottom so I sent them out to be repaired.”

“You what!”

“Repaired. But don’t worry that head of yours, I got you a brand new pair for tonight.”

“Where?”

“Don’t be so impatient. They’re in that box up there,” she said, pointing to a shelf at the top of the closet.

Mac pulled down the box and pulled out shiny, black leather boots. “Cowboy boots?”

“You look disappointed. I thought you’d like them.”

“No, no, no.”
Hell
. Now I’m starting to talk like her.

He watched Merry putter around the room, picking up odds and ends of clothing he had tossed about. “Thanks, Merry,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his socks and the new pair of boots. He wiggled his toes. He stood before the mirror and admired the way they looked with the bottom half of his tux. “They’re perfect.”

“I’ve never yet picked the wrong thing. You should know by now that I have a habit of matching people with things that suit them perfectly.”

Mac grinned, then slo
wly walked toward Merry, bent ov
er, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “I have you to thank for so many things. I hope you’ll never leave.”

Merry looked up, her hands on her hips. “I’ll stay as long as I’m needed, young man.” She turned away, but not before Mac saw the tears beneath her funny little glasses.

Mac maneuvered through traffic, checking both sides of the street as he drove, looking for anything that might resemble a jewelry store. It was a last-minute thought. He didn’t want to arrive at Kathleen’s empty-handed. The flowers he sent earlier weren’t enough. Tiffany’s, and all the other stores he had frequented with Ashley, were closed early for the Independence Day celebration. But surely, something must still be open.

He turned off Broadway to avoid the onslaught of cars, hoping he might find something on the side street. It was nothing but an alley, he realized, and regretted leaving Broadway. And then he saw Holly’s, where the deserted alleyway came to a dead end. He parked the Mercedes at the curb and stared at the shop. Twinkling Christmas lights framed the windows, and holly draped around the door. This isn’t real, he thought, but he didn’t have time to question what he saw.

Inside, an elderly white-bearded gentleman stood behind the counter. He looked up and gave Mac a cheery smile. “Doing a little last-minute shopping?” he asked.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I’ve seen that look hundreds of times. Forgot the wife’s birthday. A gift to say I’m sorry. Yes, son, I’ve heard them all. In my line of work, people are always asking for something special.”

“That’s what I need. Something special.”

“Of course you do. Let’s see what we have in here.”

He laid a purple velvet cloth on the counter and removed a tray of sparkling jewelry from the display case. “Ah, this is a rather special diamond necklace,” he said, holding up the diamond choker for Mac’s inspection.

“No,” Mac said. Ashley might have liked something like that. Ashley loved diamonds, lots of them. But he had the feeling Kathleen would rather have something simple, understated, but beautiful nonetheless.

“No, no, no. I see that
necklace won’t do at all. I’ll s
ave it for someone who really deserves such a unique piece of craftsmanship.” The white-haired gentleman placed it carefully back into the case. “How about a ring? Earrings?” He laid out piece after piece, all shiny and gold, sparkling with diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires.

“No. None of those are right.” Mac pushed aside the velvet and peered into the case. His eyes lit when he saw the bracelet tucked away in the far corner of the cabinet. “May I see the bracelet?”

“Ah, the pearls. You’ve got good taste, son.”

Mac held the triple strand of perfectly matched pearls up to the light. “They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen any quite like them.”

“They’re rather unique. White as snow, they are. Come from oysters in the North Sea.”

Mac’s eyebrows knit together. North Sea? He had no idea there were oysters in the North Sea.