Enchanted (9 page)

She frowned.

His smile disappeared. “Maybe I’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m sure you have,” she said, tilting her head and her eyes until she found the top of his head. “For starters, you’re too big. I don’t like big men. And I hate holly.” She swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked away, ignoring the drink the bartender had just poured.

“You paying for this?” the bartender asked.

Mac dug into his pocket, dropped a
twenty
on the bar, and didn’t bother waiting for change.

He went back to his table, hating to look around. The eyes that had been staring at the redhead now stared at him. Merry would never hear the end of this. How could he have let her talk him into this fiasco? What more could go wrong?

He glanced at his watch: 7:35. Twenty-five minutes to wait. If she didn’t show up by 8:05, he would leave.

The waiter set another beer in front of Mac. “Meeting any more women tonight?” he questioned.

“One.” Mac stared at his drink and held up an index finger.

“Would you like me to have another beer ready when she arrives?”

Mac thought about it for only a moment, then nodded. “Might be a good idea.”

oOo

Kathleen stared at the clock. 7:35. Oh, my God. I’m late, she thought. How could she possibly have taken so long to get ready when all she’d done was shower, dress, brush her teeth, apply a light spray of cologne, then add a few brush strokes of mascara to her already dark lashes?

When she pulled her hair out of the bun it hung in long, unruly auburn waves that cascaded down her back. She stood before the full-length mirror and gasped. How on God’s green earth could she go out looking like this? The dress was too short; too low; too tight; too—too wrong. But she didn’t have time to change, and she didn’t have anything else to wear.

She slipped into the three-inch heels, praying the man from the Personals would be well over six feet tall. Searching through the pile of discarded clothing on her bed, she grabbed her purse, threw in a lipstick, a brush, her wallet, then made the ultimate decision to spend money on a cab. She’d never make it on time if she took the bus. Taking one quick look in the mirror, she stuck out her tongue and made an ugly face, picked up the gloves, and ran out the door, opting for the elevator instead of the stairs.

A horrendous number of cars, buses, and taxis jammed the streets. She had to hurry. She didn’t want to be late and miss her date. If she did, she’d never forgive herself. She’d also feel like a fool standing in the lounge dressed in such a conspicuous way without anyone to meet. The hotel management might get the wrong idea.

The Plaza came into view. She applied another coating of lipstick, checked for any loose mascara under her eyes, paid the driver, took a deep breath, and rushed into the hotel.

She stood in the lobby looking
totally
bewildered, until the bell captain came to her rescue, ushering her to the lounge.

8:05. The place buzzed with activity. How could she ever find a man with a sprig of holly in his lapel? Then, at a distant table, she saw McKenna O’Brien. Damn! What’s he doing here? How could she look for the man with the holly? What would Mac say if he saw her? How could she explain? And, oh, why couldn’t he be the man she was meeting, instead of some stranger?

Maybe he didn’t see her. How could he? Too many people crowded around in the darkness, and he sat at the far end of the room. She squinted, trying to get a better look at her boss. Her shoulders slumped. Oh, God! He had holly in his lapel.

oOo

“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter said, “but I think your next date just walked in.”

Mac gulped down the beer, turned to the entry, and saw only a throng of faceless people. “Where?”

“The tall one in the white dress. She’s wearing white gloves, just like the others.”

Mac saw only the woman’s back. She appeared to be leaving.

“Nice legs,” Mac said with a sly smile.

“That’s not all, sir. You missed seeing the best part.”

“Bring me another beer. I’ll be right back.” Mac wobbled, almost pushing over the chair as he stood up.

The woman seemed desperate to leave, weaving her way through the crowd. But Mac hadn’t waited all evening just to have her disappear before they could meet Shoving between bodies, he reached out, wrapped his big hand around her slender upper arm. “Don’t leave.”

She tried to pull away, but his hand stayed clutched around her arm. He could feel her muscles tense, then felt them relax. She did not turn around, not then, giving him a leisurely moment to peruse her body in the white dress that hugged every curve—her slim waist, slightly rounded hips, and long, long legs.

Mac’s eyes reached her
four
-inch heels when she finally turned his way. He took his time finding her eyes, slowly studying the body of the woman before him.

His ad had said
small packages
, but what he saw before him made him instantly reconsider. He liked every inch of her legs, the high heels that made them look even better and must have made her over six feet tall. He liked the long, slender arms and envisioned himself captured in their embrace.
T
his woman could possibly be all and more than he had ever dreamed of.

Another second passed while he carefully considered her fine proportions. He sensed her staring at him, knew he had to look at her in return. Auburn hair fell over her bare left shoulder in one long curl. She wore just a trace of cologne, something light, inexpensive. Blue eyes. Azure eyes—warm, questioning. Familiar.

“Hello, Mr. O’Brien.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, recognition dawned. His eyes widened. His fingers tightened around her arm.

“Damn.
” He scowled, released his grip, and turned
to walk
away. Of all people, why did Kathleen Flannigan have to answer his ad? He should have known. Should have sensed it from the words she’d written.

She touched him. He felt the heat of her hand, the
way it burned his skin, right through
his jacket, through his shirtsleeve.

“Wait. Please.” She spoke softly, almost a plea.

He turned back
slowly
and studied her face. Her eyes twinkled. God, how he loved her eyes.

Mac gripped the hand resting on his arm and maneuvered her through the crowd to his table. The waiter stood at attention, holding a chair out for Kathleen. Mac sat down across from her. He took a quick swallow from the cold bottle of beer and stared into her innocent yet devilish eyes. His brain and heart battled each other. Seeing Kathleen again made him happy, in spite of those ugly rumors, in spite of the fact she had slammed a door in his face just a few hours earlier. But how could he look at her when she knew he had to resort to the Personal ads to get a date? His pride bristled.

“What the hell are you doing here?”
he asked.

“It’s eight o’clock. We had a date.”

“No—I had a date with . . .” He paused to think before uttering another word. She had an infectious smile. He
chuckled
. Kathleen resorted to personal ads too. “I had a date with a beautiful woman.
” He smiled. “
I’m glad she could make it.”

“Thank you.”

Again his eyes left Kathleen’s, traveling to where he could watch the rise and fall of soft, slightly tanned skin above the white fabric that hugged her so well. Propriety told him not to stare; the beer told him otherwise.

“Why were you running out?” he asked.

“This whole situation is rather embarrassing. My God, Mac, we can’t be together for five minutes without fighting, yet we meet each other through the personals.”

“It is rather funny.”

“Funny? It’s humiliating.”

“But we’re the only ones who know. We don’t have to tell a soul.”

She thought about his statement. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, we may end up hating each other before the evening’s over.”

“Or, we could find we’re mutually attracted. I have to admit, I’m a sucker for splendid ornaments and rather fine limbs.” His grin turned into laughter. He wanted to concentrate on her face, her smile, but his eyes roamed. Kathleen had so many attributes worth watching.

“
Y
our a
d asked for small packages only.
”

“Just a passing fancy.”

“You’ve had a change of heart?”

“I don’t think the heart was ever that concerned. Let’s just say I’ve had a change of mind.”

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” she said, slowly pulling off one of her gloves, her eyes never leaving his. “Three hours ago
,
I thought you were an insufferable pig.”

“Me?” He smiled. “I might be insufferable. But a pig? No.”

His eyes traversed the length of her arm as the glove slid away, baring her slender wrist and long, jewelry-free fingers. He couldn’t believe the seductive power of such a simple gesture. Again, he met her eyes. “You look beautiful tonight. I hardly recognized you.”

“You’ve never looked at me before.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. There was a time when I looked a lot. All those times when we’d work late into the evening on one of your crazy ideas. I’ve never forgotten the image of you in blue jeans.”

She shook her head. “That was a long time ago.”

“Maybe. But I’ve been thinking about you a lot the last few weeks.”

“Why? Why now, after all these years?”

“I’m not sure. I turned forty-nine a few weeks ago and something clicked. I realized I’d wasted a lot of years with Ashley, and I finally got the nerve to call it quits.”

Kathleen’s eyes
narrowed
. “You did?”

“I decided I wanted more, and suddenly I remembered the times we spent together. They were good times, Kath.”

She nodded in agreement. “We were all a little surprised when you showed up at our staff meeting. You’ve kept yourself hidden away for so many years, I think some people forgot you existed.”

“What about you?” he asked, hoping to hear that she hadn’t forgotten him any more than he had forgotten her. But she remained silent, staring at his fingers, wrapped around the bottle of beer.

He raised the bottle to his lips and Kathleen’s eyes followed. “I’ve never forgotten you,” she said, and the beer came close to sticking in his constricted throat upon hearing her words. It’s what he had wanted her to say, but he didn’t think the words could have sounded so wonderful.

“I didn’t forget you either,” he said, remembering the good times, trying to disregard the rumors that had turned sweet memories sour. “Forgetting you would be pretty impossible.”

Kathleen’s chest rose, he heard her breath catch and hold, and he thought he saw tears forming at the comers of her eyes. But that wasn’t possible. Kathleen didn’t cry.

Change the subject quickly, he told himself. “You know, you were right when you said I didn’t love the publishing business. That’s part of the reason I’ve concentrated my efforts on real-estate transactions.” That, and the fact that I wanted to avoid you, that I was afraid of seeing you again. “Traveling around, buying property—it’s a hell of a lot more exciting than working behind a desk, and it gets me out of the city.”

“Isn’t it funny?” She laughed. “I grew up in the country, but I love New York. You’ve lived here all your life, but you can’t wait to escape.”

“I guess we can add that to our long list of differences. Let’s see how many I can count.” He drew a line with his finger through the circular puddle of water on the table where his beer bottle had been set. “One. I’m conservative, you’re liberal. . . .”

“Two,” she interrupted. “I’m a woman, you’re a man.” She drew a line right next to his, then looked up and smiled. “Differences aren’t always bad, you know.”

Damn.
Does she have to have such a beautiful smile? He pulled his gaze from her magnetic eyes and mouth and looked at her hands resting on the table, the finger that had drawn the line now drawing circles in the moisture at the base of his beer. He wanted to touch her, but instead touched the delicate silk of the gloves that lay near her hands, hands that were so close he could almost feel their heat. Slowly he raised his eyes. Her smile hadn’t disappeared. “Flirting can be dangerous, Kath,” he whispered. “It could lead to something you’ll regret.”

Kathleen slowly shook her head in disagreement. “I’ve regretted very few things in my life. I’ve never regretted one moment I’ve spent with you.”

Mac frowned and took another swallow of beer. “This is crazy. You can’t possibly think the two of us, together, would work. We’d argue. We’d fight. You’d drive me crazy.”

“I hope so.” She moved her finger from the bottle to his thumb and lightly, somewhat unsure, covered his hand with hers. “That’s what makes life exciting.”

Mac pulled his hand away and waved for the waiter. “I need another beer. How about you?”

“Some things are easy to forget in six years. I don’t drink.”

“What would you . . .” Mac put up his hand to stop her answer just as the waiter appeared. “A Diet Coke for the lady, and I’ll take another Molson.” He easily remembered Kathleen’s ever-present Diet Coke, but his memory failed when he tried to remember how much liquor he’d had this evening. When the first wave of dizziness hit, he realized if he’d kept count, the number would be way too high.