If You Ever Tell (4 page)

“Kent’s always busy in the evenings.” Sharon sounded impatient. “Paperwork, phone calls. Always off in his study like his child and I don’t even exist. Besides, he says he isn’t the club type. I think he believes he should behave like a pillar of the community. He even belongs to all those do-gooder clubs his father did.”

“The ones he used to make fun of?” Mac laughed. “Well, I believe the part owner and president of Farr Coal Company is still allowed to go clubbing, especially with his wife.”

“So I tell him, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me.” Sharon forced her lips into the semblance of a good-natured smile, although Teri knew Kent’s preoccupation with work and community activities was getting on Sharon’s nerves. “I guess he’s trying to set a good example for our son.”

“Can’t blame a guy for that. I wish my father had done the same.” Mac looked at Teri and gave her that maddeningly sexy grin. “You need another drink, young lady.”

“No, I—”

“Yes, you do.” He motioned to her waiter, then glanced at the band onstage that had just finished a number. He nodded to the blond lead singer. “I hope you don’t mind, Teri, but I took the liberty of requesting a song for your birthday. Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

Teresa suddenly felt angry with him and panicked at the same time. “You
shouldn’t
have taken the liberty,” she answered stiffly. He held out his hand to her. “Mac, no. It was a nice gesture, but I haven’t danced for years and—”

Seeming not to hear a word she said, Mac took Teresa’s hand. In spite of her determination not to dance with him, she rose from her chair and followed him to the dance floor as if mesmerized. The blond singer smiled and spoke into the microphone. “This song is for Teresa Farr from Mac MacKenzie. Happy birthday, Teresa.”

Many people clapped; a few men whistled and yelled, “Happy birthday, Teresa!” Other dancers cleared a circle for them as Mac’s arm closed around Teresa’s shoulder and he pulled her close to him. He was strong and warm, she thought, just like in the days when they were in love, and almost against her will she felt herself melting into his embrace. The first notes of “Take My Breath Away” began. It had been their song, hers and Mac’s.

“You remembered,” she said.

“Did you think I’d ever forget? We danced to it for the first time one summer evening in your backyard,” Mac said, his voice tantalizingly warm on her neck. “I’d just finished mowing your lawn and you and your mother were sitting on the porch with the music playing. You were only sixteen, but you looked so carried away by the song, I couldn’t help asking if you’d dance with me.”

“I think I remember that evening,” Teresa said casually. Actually, she’d had a mad crush on the “much” older Mac and had felt almost dizzy being so close to him.

“Your mother watched us. At the end, she clapped and said we danced beautifully. She looked genuinely happy.”

“And she so rarely looked happy. Poor Mom.” Teresa felt tears stinging in her eyes, resulting from painful old memories—memories of her first love, memories of what had seemed a magic evening a lifetime ago, memories of a mother who’d simply vanished one day. Teri didn’t even know if the woman was alive. With a catch in her voice, she said, “Mom was fond of you, Mac.”

“As opposed to your father. I was the son of the Farrs’ housekeeper, the guy with no prospects who mowed his grass. Hubert W. Farr. What a jerk he was.” Mac almost stopped dancing. “I’m sorry.”

“Just because he was murdered doesn’t mean he became a saint. He
was
a jerk.” Mac’s body had tightened and Teri had an impulse to hold him closer, to make him forget how horrible her father had been to Mac and to his mother, but she caught herself in time. She knew she must always watch her step with Mac. He still held so much attraction for her that she dared never to sound warm, tender, vulnerable. “Let’s change the subject,” she forced herself to say lightly.

“I think that would be a great idea.”

“My riding school is coming along slowly but surely.” Teri knew she sounded falsely cheerful. “It’s doing surprisingly well, actually, considering how new it is.”

“Great. Farr Fields? Isn’t that what you named it?”

“You know I did.”

“I’m glad you’re doing something you love. You always were crazy about horses and you were an excellent rider, or so everyone told me. I wasn’t much of an equestrian, if you remember.”

“You did take a few spills when I bullied you into getting on my horse.” Teresa couldn’t help giggling. “Remember when that bee stung the horse’s nose and it took off like a rocket? You were yelling your head off, scaring the horse even more, as you slid off the right side and hung on for dear life about two feet above the ground.”

Mac grimaced. “Don’t laugh. My life was flashing through my eyes.”

“But you lived to tell the tale.” Teresa shook her head. “I wish I had a video of that incident.”

“Thank God you don’t. You’d show it to everyone and make a laughingstock of me.”

“No, I’d use it as an instructional video of what
not
to do if your horse panics.”

Mac’s arms tightened slightly around her, and Teresa’s heart beat a bit faster as the singer poured out the romantic words of the song with an intense, seemingly heartfelt passion. Teresa briefly closed her eyes, drinking in the soap and water smell of Mac, masculine and fresh, unmarred by cloying cologne. His warm hand on her back felt as if it were burning through the thin fabric of her top. She felt herself slowly slipping deeper into his embrace that felt so natural, so comforting, so seductive, then caught herself and almost jerked away from him. His arms tensed, as if he was determined to hold on to her, which was exactly what she wanted and exactly what she wouldn’t let happen.

“Daniel is going to start taking lessons tomorrow,” Teresa blurted loudly, trying to cover her physical response that had been a dead giveaway of her emotions. “He’s almost eight now.”

Mac drew back, looking at her with a mixture of rue and humor. He’d felt her desire and he wasn’t going to make a pretense of not noticing it. The man had always refused to act as if they had no past, no matter what Teresa wanted. “Who’s Daniel?” he asked casually.

“My nephew! For heaven’s sake, Mac, don’t you even know the name of Kent’s son?”

“Kent and I aren’t the best of friends anymore. He barely speaks to me on the street. I’m sure he didn’t want his wife or you to come here. He seems more like your father every day.”

“I think Kent is trying to make everyone forget the scandal caused by the murders. Maybe he’s overcompensating a little.” Teresa’s defense sounded weak because she also guiltily thought her brother was turning into a sanctimonious stuffed shirt. “He’s a very good husband and father.”

“I don’t know how he is as a father, but Sharon doesn’t seem thrilled with her marriage.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.…” Teresa trailed off because, once again, she had to agree with Mac, although she’d never let him know it. “What makes you think she’s unhappy?”

“Her expression. She used to laugh a lot and always seemed to be having a good time. Now—”

“Now she is a wife and mother with important responsibilities.” Teresa realized she sounded prim and unnatural. She told herself she must act relaxed even if she didn’t feel it. “Listen, Mac, I was stiff as a board back at the table,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. Your nightclub isn’t just
quite pleasant
—it’s beautiful.”

Mac leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “Well, thanks, Teri! I admit I was a little disappointed by your earlier glowing remarks.” Mac’s face slowly relaxed and he smiled into her eyes. “Remember when I used to talk about building it? A lot of people laughed at me. They said I’d never settle down and probably end up jobless and homeless. You never doubted that I could do it, though. You even helped me plan this place.”

“I offered a few ideas,” Teresa said casually, although she vividly recalled sitting huddled over Mac’s sketches of the proposed club and making many suggestions about lighting and color palettes.

“I was going for a disco theme, but you insisted the place should be classier, more timeless,” Mac went on. “You’re the one who suggested the Art Deco look. I didn’t even know what Art Deco was.”

Teresa glanced around at the interior of Mac’s club—the stark lines, generous use of glass and chrome, the predominantly ivory color scheme dramatized with touches of black and vibrant azure. High on the walls were large mosaic tiles, each done in an intricate Middle Eastern pattern of sea blue, lavender, and willow green ceramic squares. The place was striking and elegant. “You thought my ideas were strange.”

“I wasn’t exactly an interior design expert,” Mac laughed. “It took me a while to give up my dream of miles of bright red shag carpet and strobe lights.”

Teresa grinned. “I think you’d seen
Saturday Night Fever
a few too many times.”

“Exactly. It was Mom’s favorite movie. A long time ago, she and my dad won a dance contest in a disco club. I think Dad wore a white polyester suit like Travolta’s. That’s why she watched the movie over and over, remembering happier times before Dad left and she had to support all three of us kids.”

“I can’t imagine Emma MacKenzie dancing in a disco club.” Teresa laughed. “I’m sure back then she never dreamed she’d end up as the Farr housekeeper. What an awful fate.”

“She liked her job when your mother was there. Mom thought the world of her.” He paused. “And then Wendy came along.”

“Well, now your mother doesn’t have to work as anyone’s housekeeper, thanks to you.” Teresa hated the rush of tenderness she felt toward Mac when she remembered how much he used to talk about wanting to give his mother and two younger twin sisters a better life. “How are those siblings of yours?”

“They’re seniors at Marshall, both education majors and taking summer classes so they can graduate early.”

“Wonderful! And your mother?”

“She has a small apartment downtown. She also
finally
let me teach her to drive and I bought her a car. A
used
car—she wouldn’t stand for me buying a new one. And after all those years of her refusing to drive, I now have a hard time keeping her out of the car and under the speed limit.” Mac laughed. “She bakes muffins, cookies, brownies, and she’s developed quite a little business for herself supplying local restaurants. You could never turn Emma MacKenzie into a lady of leisure.”

“Mac, what you’ve done for your family is fantastic.” Teresa was aware of the tiny quiver in her voice, the quiver of proud, unshed tears.

Mac’s tone grew soft and warm. “I’ve had a lot of luck and I never forget for an instant the part you played in causing that luck. I remember our early times together like they were—”

“Yesterday?” Teri interrupted crisply, furiously blinking away a slight sheen of tears, maddeningly aware of treacherous old feelings beginning to resurface.

“Too long ago, Teri,” Mac said with husky emotion.

Teresa looked up into his face, had only gotten more handsome as time sharpened its planes and strengthened his chin. And those eyes…

“What is it?” Mac asked, gazing deep into her own ebony gaze. “Thinking about what it was like when we used to be a couple?”

The singer’s beautiful voice seemed to fill Teresa’s mind and heart. Then a picture flashed in front of her—an old picture of a younger Mac working as a bartender, and the bar’s stunning redheaded owner Teresa had been so jealous of even though Mac had reassured her repeatedly that he didn’t even like the woman. Then had come the crushing day Teresa had walked into a storage room and found Mac holding the redhead tightly as he deeply kissed her. Teresa would forget neither the redhead’s glance of glinting-eyed triumph nor the guilt and embarrassment of Mac’s expression when he’d caught sight of Teresa. Now, on the dance floor, Teresa abruptly stiffened and moved away from him.

“I know what you just remembered, Teri,” Mac said mildly.

“Oh? Are you a mind reader as well as a businessman now?”

“Not at all. I just know you. I know your body language and your expressions. You were remembering—”

“The song’s coming to an end.” Teresa took her arm off his shoulder and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for requesting this number,” she said woodenly. “It was very considerate of you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Mac had immediately switched his demeanor. He’s making fun of me by tossing my discomfort in my face, Teresa thought angrily. “We try to please here at Club Rendezvous, ma’am.”

Teresa ignored his jibe at her formality. “I believe I have a fresh drink waiting for me at the table.”

“You do indeed, with four cherries in it. The two extra cherries are on the house in honor of your birthday.” He gave her that maddeningly dazzling smile and made a slight movement that resembled a bow. “Thank you kindly for the dance. Shall I walk you to your table?”

“It’s only a few feet away. I think I can make it by myself.”

She fled back to the safety of the table and immediately turned on Carmen. “You told him we were coming tonight and it’s my birthday!”

“I told him we were coming. He already remembered your birthday.” Carmen propped her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands, and grinned. “For a while you two looked pretty cozy out there.”

“We were just dancing,” Teresa snapped, grabbing her fresh drink.

“Barely. Mostly you were clinging, gazing romantically into each other’s eyes.”

“Oh, Carmen, don’t be absurd!”

“You were. Not that I blame you. God, they invented the word ‘rakish’ to describe Mac MacKenzie’s smile. It could stop a heart. And those dimples…” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I thought for certain there would be a lingering kiss at the end of the song.”

Teresa glowered at Carmen, then stared straight ahead, embarrassed although she knew Carmen was only teasing.

Sharon, obviously realizing Teresa was in no mood for what could be considered mockery, tossed a hard look at Carmen. Teresa knew that although her sister-in-law tolerated Carmen, she thought the older woman tactless, even brash. “I can’t imagine that Carmen was your mother’s best friend. My mother would have had
nothing
to do with her,” Sharon had huffed once to Teresa, and remembering that Sharon considered her deceased mother the perfect woman, Teresa had merely smiled.