Enchanted (22 page)

Mac stepped away, out of Ashley’s reach, and with saddened eyes thought again of all their wasted years.

“Your feelings have been at the forefront for the last ten years, Ash. I’ve wanted to keep this civil, but kind words are useless. You didn’t want to share my life. You wanted me to be part of yours. No give-and-take whatsoever. That’s over. I’m not giving in any longer. I’m doing what I want this time.”

“Think about what you’re saying.”

Mac ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s over. We’re not going to pick up where we left off. We’re not going to get back together. In fact, I think you should leave.”

“But everyone expects the two of us to be together.”

“The hell with everyone. Kathleen and I are together. Not you and me. Not tonight. Not ever again.”

Mac crossed the room, opened the door, and slammed it behind him. He stood on the other side, took several deep breaths, then thought about the words he had just said. “You wanted me to be a part of your life. No give-and-take whatsoever.” As much as he hated to admit it, he had treated Kathleen the same way Ashley had treated him for the past ten years. And he knew it was wrong.

He went to the ballroom in search of Kathleen and his mother, hoping Ashley would leave, hoping Kathleen wouldn’t.

And there they were. His mother so regal and elegant
, a
nd Kathleen—he found no words to describe her. Perfection in every sense of the word. Eyes that smiled at everyone. He had even seen the way she smiled at the doormen, and the way they smiled back.

He stopped behind his mother, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “Hope you asked them to play some of my favorites.”

“You mean that fifties stuff you insist on listening to?”

“Give me Elvis any day.” Taking Kathleen’s hand, he twirled her around, then pulled her to him and danced slow, close, to the music in his head.

“If I knew the song, I might be able to follow better,” she whispered.

“Um, let’s see.” He hummed a few bars of the first song that came to his mind, then sang softly into her ear. “‘Some enchanted evening. . .’”

“Mm
m
, South Pacific. One of my favorites.”

“Perfect for waltzing.” For nearly a minute they circled the floor while Mac hummed, their bodies close, their steps perfectly in tune.

“I’m sorry about Ashley,” he whispered.

“Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, Kath. She doesn’t want to give up. But please believe me. It’s over between us.”

Kathleen tenderly kissed his cheek. It was the only thing she could do at the moment to tell him she believed him, to tell him she understood. Words alone wouldn’t work.

“Excuse me,” Mrs. O’Brien interrupted. “I believe our guests are arriving.”

Mac stopped in front of his mother, keeping Kathleen close at his side, her hand gripped tightly in his. “Guess I have to be a good host and say hello, at least to some of them. Will you join me?”

“I think I’d rather stand in the background somewhere.”

“You could keep my mother company,” Mrs. O’Brien suggested.

“Great idea. Come on, Kath. I’ll introduce you.” He led her to an alcove just off the entry to the ballroom. Cozy, bright, and cheerful, the small sitting room decorated in floral chintz had a warm, homey atmosphere.

“It’s about time you came to see me, young man. I hate sitting in here all by myself.” A strong but aged voice filled the room. “Is this your new girl?”

“Hello, Grandmother.” Mac bent over the old woman in the wheelchair. He kissed her forehead and wrinkled cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Nonsense. I look old. And quit ignoring me. Is this your new girlfriend?”

“Kathleen Flannigan, this is my grandmother, Maureen McKenna O’Brien.”

Kathleen took the older woman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien.”

“Always hated that name. Call me Maureen.”

“I have to greet the guests, Grandmother. Will you look after Kathleen?”

“You trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then run along. The sooner we get this shindig started, the sooner it will end.”

Mac pulled a chair up for Kathleen, squeezed her shoulder, gave her a look that said, I don’t want to go, and reluctantly left.

Maureen stared at Kathleen through squinted, all-knowing eyes. “Are you in love with
my
grandson?”

Kathleen’s eyes widened at the old woman’s question. “Pardon me?”

“I’m not getting any younger. Ninety-eight last month, and I want great-grandchildren. We need some good breeding stock in this family.”

Kathleen couldn’t believe her ears. “I believe that is a private matter between Mac and me.”

“Hell. I can’t leave a decision like that up to McKenna. That grandson of
mine
spent half a lifetime with that wishy-washy blonde. Marriages should be arranged, and you’d better believe I’m going to have my say in who he spends the rest of his lifetime with.”

“And what kind of woman are you looking for?”

“Haven’t decided yet. What kind of woman are you?”

Kathleen smiled at the feisty matriarch of the family. “The kind your grandson doesn’t think he wants.”

“So you’re the one who works for him.”

“You know about me?”

“I keep informed. Used to be my company, you know. Foolish old farts the men were in those days. Said a woman couldn’t run a company like McKenna Publishing. Well, I showed them.” Maureen wiped her lips with her lace-edged handkerchief.

“That grandson of mine thinks women aren’t much good for anything but sex and having babies.”

Kathleen’s mouth dropped, stunned by Maureen’s words.

“Close your mouth, girl. You stand up to him, you hear? Kick him in the butt a time or two.”

“He’s really a sweet man, Maureen.”

Maureen snorted. “He’s spoiled rotten. But I’ve got you pegged. If anyone can straighten him out, it’s you. Now, roll me out of this room, will you? I want to see my guests.”

“I’d be happy to.” Kathleen stood behind the wheelchair, then felt the old lady’s cool, thin hand on hers.

“I’m glad you’re in love with my McKenna. I like you. But you’ve got to keep the upper hand. Take my advice. Don’t give in to him. Make him respect you.” She patted Kathleen’s hand. “It’s stuffy in here. Let’s get on with this shindig while I’m still breathing.”

Ha
! Kathleen thought. The feisty old lady would probably outlive her by years.

Kathleen pushed the wheelchair out of the alcove as Mac and Mrs. O’Brien walked into the ballroom surrounded by friends, many of them faces Kathleen recognized. Senators. Congressmen. A prince and a princess. Even Annabella Adams, whose hand rested on Mac’s arm as they leisurely crossed the room. She had a light, fluttery laugh that continued until they stood in front of Maureen and Kathleen.

“Hello, Maureen,” Annabella Adams said in the same light, fluttery tone of voice.

“Ah, the gossip woman.
” She turned to her daughter. “
Constance!”

“Yes, Mother?”

“Get me a whiskey, and roll me over to the band. I need something to drown out the noise in this room.”

Constance rolled her eyes and pushed the wheelchair away, leaving Kathleen to face Annabella Adams, who appeared to be full of questions.

“Mac, darling. I hope you’re going to introduce me to this lovely creature.”

“Annabella Adams, this is Kathleen Flannigan.”

“I’ve been dying to meet you since that night at the Plaza.”

“You have?”

“Why, of course. The gossip industry seems to be running out of interesting material these days. It’s absolutely exhilarating to have some trash on one of our most pious and sanctimonious citizens.”

“Don’t listen to her, Kath.”

“So, you think Mac is pious and sanctimonious?” Kathleen grinned, recognizing Mac’s discomfort.

“Not really. But it’s so much fun to paint a picture that the public wants to see. If the truth were told, life would be so damn dull.”

“Excuse me, Annabella. I’d like to steal this lovely woman away from you for a while. She promised me a dance, and they’re playing our song.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Kathleen. I’ll find you later so we can talk. I’m dying to know what happened at the Plaza. And Mac, darling. I’m glad to see you finally found yourself a real woman.”

Mac swept Kathleen away before Annabella Adams could utter another word. “Welcome to my world.”

Hour after hour Kathleen danced, most of the time in Mac’s arms, circling the beautiful ballroom to the strains of Beethoven, Mozart, and Brahms, a little Rodgers and Hammerstein, and a lot of Presley.

“You seem to be having a good time.” Mac cut in, stealing Kathleen away from Senator Hill, who seemed to have trouble keeping his feet off her toes.

“I didn’t think I was cut out for a party like this. But it’s wonderful. Everyone’s nice, even Annabella.”

“She trapped you?”

“Of course. She’s had her eye on me most of the night. She wants to know if it’s true what they say about men with big hands.”

“She what!”

Kathleen wiggled her eyebrows, teasing him over his indignation. “My goodness, Mac. Isn’t it bad enough just being pious and sanctimonious, without being a prude, too?”

“I’m not pious, I’m not sanctimonious, and I’m definitely not a prude. Here, I’ll prove it.” The dance floor was crowded, and no one paid any attention to the couple towering over everyone else in the room.
Mac’s
hands slipped down
Kathleen’s
back, to her waist, slowly, ever so slowly, until they found the firm contour of her bottom. He lowered his lips to her ear. “Whatever you do, don’t pull away from me now,” he whispered and pulled her close, so close she could feel the first stirrings of his manhood.

“Tell me I’m not a prude.”

“You’re not a prude.”

“And is it true what they say about men with big hands?” he teased, then led her deeper into the crowd on the ballroom floor.

“I don’t know, but if you keep this up, I’m sure I’ll find out.”

“Do you want to find out?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“No.” Breathing had become difficult, and speech nearly impossible. “Not tonight. Next weekend, when you take me away.”

“Do we have to wait so long?”

“You have to tell me everything first.”

“Why?”

“Because until you do, I can’t give you my soul.”

His hands moved again to her back, tracing her spine with his fingers, until they found the base of her neck. He allowed himself room to breathe, but couldn’t resist the temptation of her lips. He tilted her face to his, seeking the sweetness of her mouth, softly, tenderly. He tried to read the look in her eyes and hoped she could read what was in his. God, he needed her. Never in his life had he wanted anything so badly.

They danced on, until Mac was pulled away by old friends who wanted and deserved their turns with
him
on the dance floor. Kathleen mingled with other guests, sharing stories with retirees long since gone from McKenna Publishing. She laughed with family friends who told tales of Mac as a youngster, listened in awe to stories of Maureen’s iron fist during the Depression, a woman in a man’s world, faced with a tough job. How Mac’s father had run the company like a family, against the better judgment of Maureen, but increased profits by branching into new ventures, things Maureen had never dreamed possible.

Back again in Mac’s arms, Kathleen rested her hands on his shoulders and gazed into his sparkling eyes as they circled the room. “So many people miss your father. I didn’t know it was possible for one person to be loved by so many.”

“He was rather special.”

Her eyes brightened as she remembered the big Irishman. “I miss his smile . . . his laughter. He was the most gentle man I’ve ever known.” Tears formed in her eyes but her smile never left. “You used to be just like him. I thought I’d never see that gentleness in you again, but I was wrong.”

Mac tenderly wiped away an escaping tear, then pulled her close and captured her mouth. Never before had he experienced a kiss like this, and he knew, for the first time in his life, he’d found a woman he truly loved. With all his heart he wanted her—the hell with the rumors. Deep down he’d never believed them anyway. Next weekend he’d tell her the truth, tell her his suspicions; he only hoped she wouldn’t push him away when he admitted why he’d ignored her for so many years.

“You bring out the best in me,” he whispered. “
Think you can stand to stick by my side?”

Kathleen buried her face into his neck, kissing him until her lips reached his ear. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

The music seemed to play louder, something beautiful, melodious, and Mac swept Kathleen around the room singing so only she could hear. “‘If I loved you, time and again I would try to say . . .’” Kathleen closed her eyes and pictured Gordon McCreâ singing those words to Shirley Jones in
Carousel
.
She loved the movie; the
music
;
and most of all, she
loved being in Mac’s arms. He couldn’t sing like Gordon McCrea, but he was real, and alive, and
holding her close. S
he never wanted him to leave.