Speaking of Love (Perfect Kisses) (4 page)

After he ended the call, Rick experienced the same sort of twinge he’d been feeling lately whenever he talked to his brother. Mitch and Emily had married five years ago, after they’d both finished law school. He didn’t know their secret, but they seemed so happy.

As cliché as it sounded, it was like they were two puzzle pieces finding each other. Two independent-yet-complete halves that made a new complete whole, and that whole was supremely superior than the two separate pieces had been.

Having their parents’ icy-at-best relationship as their closest example, Rick was pretty amazed that his brother had found someone like Emily who he could be completely himself with, someone who loved all of him no matter what.

Over the past few months, it was something Rick had begun to truly envy.

As he sped up to pass a convertible, Rick couldn’t help thinking that, since Brandy had done the beauty queen thing, she would definitely feel more comfortable in public than Mac had.

Although Mac did always hold her own, even when making tedious chitchat with local politicians and civic leaders, he knew she didn’t really enjoy herself when they went to one of his community events. The only times she seemed like herself was before it or after; the times they were alone. He wished that feeling would stay between them, but she always seemed to pull back just as he was getting to know her.

Like Mitch had said, if Rick wasn’t the one Mac could be totally open and trusting with, then he needed to move on.

He yanked at his tie and slid the whole thing off, dropping it on the passenger seat where Mac had just been. The car still smelled like her. He rolled down the window and leaned an elbow on the top of the rubber window slit, breathing in the cold night air, trying to get Mac’s perfume out of his head.

Luckily, he had a busy few days ahead. Starting tomorrow, he would be out in the sticks, covering a story about farm lands for the next two days, and then lunch with Brandy. At least Mac would be there, too, so he was sure to have fun. Although maybe that shouldn’t have made him feel better.

After taking a tight corner, he turned up the radio and sped toward home.

Chapter Four

Justin Bieber’s hair and relationship status did not count as “news.” After the third student in her Intro to Public Speaking class mentioned him during their morning “current events corral,” Mac walked to the front of the room. The whole class moaned, knowing what was coming.

“I think it’s time we dig a little deeper,” Mac said. “Don’t you? Serena, what is the headline on the
New York Times
this morning?” She waited while the girl in the front row—the one manning their classroom’s only student-access computer—searched the website.

“It’s about the troops,” Serena said. “And the president’s trip to the Middle East.”

“Now look up local news.”

She clicked the mouse a few times. “There’s a flu epidemic.”

“What else?”

“The man who started all those fires, his trial starts today.”

“Huh.” Mac leaned a hand on her desk. “Neither site had anything about pop music?”

The class laughed quietly.

“Okay.” Mac smiled and crossed her arms. “Here’s the new assignment. As a group, we’re going to follow a local, ongoing story. Probably not the arson trial, since that might go on for too long. Something shorter that we can follow for a week or two. Serena, start running down the other local headlines, please.” To the class she said, “If anything stands out, don’t be afraid to speak up. I want this to mean something.” She nodded at Serena.

“Main Street is going to be closed next week,” she began. “The Colts made some big trade.” One of the football players in the back row whooped in approval. “Um,” Serena continued, “they’re remodeling the library. The drought restrictions are going to be lifted. The city council is voting on selling half of Lincoln Park to a developer, and—”

“Wait.” Mac lifted a hand. “What was that last one?”

“The park,” Serena said, her eyebrows pulling together as she read the computer screen. “It says, ‘Troubling news for fans of the wooded area east of the park pavilion. The two-acre greenbelt, popular with hikers and picnickers, is under the microscope as Franklin city council members move to vote. Half want to sell the strip of land to the interested developer, while the other is fighting to keep the park intact.’”

The more Serena read, the more interested Mac was becoming—and the more emotional. She grew up a few blocks from Lincoln Park. That’s where her family picnics used to be before her parents split up, and where her friends had mud fights on rainy days. When she was fifteen, behind the cluster of trees, Jeff Snow had taught her how to kiss. As she listened to Serena read the end of the article, she swallowed hard. Losing that bit of the park would be like losing a piece of her childhood.

“What do you guys think about this?” Mac asked, back in her teacher mode.

There were a few quiet mummers. Mac knew her mistake was asking such an open-ended question. So she tried again.

“Who has been to Lincoln Park?”

A few hands went up.

“Do you know which part of the park they’re talking about?”

The hands went down.

“
I
do.”

Mac tilted her head to see who had said that. It was Kenny, a blond kid who usually kept to himself. “Kenny, what do you know about that side of the park?”

“I take my dogs there all the time,” he said. “Almost every day. They like to run through the trees and chase squirrels. It’s pretty far from the street, so I know it’s safe for them.”

“I take my dog there, too,” another student chimed in.

“I take my
dates
there,” said the whooping football player.

The class laughed.

“Okay,” Mac said after her own chuckle. “So I’m assuming you all know this park and probably have some kind of memory of going there.”

The class nodded and murmured their agreement.

“Kenny, if the city decides to turn the park into a hotel, where will you take your dog?”

“I…” But the seventeen-year-old boy didn’t have an answer.

“This might be an interesting story to follow, don’t you think?” Mac asked. The kids nodded. “What I want us to do is divide into groups. Each group will visit the park, research its history, decide why it’s in danger, and we’ll follow the story as a class. The city council meets each week. According to the article, they’re not voting on the issue until two weeks from Thursday.” Mac waited for Serena to confirm. “Every morning, each group will give a five-minute oral presentation about their findings.”

The class groaned good-naturedly, as expected.

Mac chuckled. “Hey. This
is
a speech class.”

Even though, as a rule, students loathed any new assignment, Mac could tell her class was interested in this project. So was she. In fact, she had a vested interest in saving every inch of Lincoln Park. Only a few years ago, part of a park on the other side of town was turned into a parking lot. If this kept up, there would be no green left in all of Franklin.

“These types of stories are usually reported on in the paper every few days,” Mac continued. “Serena, one last thing. Will you check to see who wrote the article?”

“Umm.” The girl squinted at the screen. “Someone named Rick Duffy.”

…

By the time Rick was back at his hotel room and got around to checking his e-mails after a long day of interviewing farmers, he was surprised to find a message from Mac. Well, receiving an e-mail from Mac wasn’t uncommon, but the fact that there were five
was
surprising.

They hadn’t spoken since he’d dropped her off at home the night before. After reading a few lines of her first message, he knew she was plenty ticked off about something.

He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the desk chair as he continued reading. She was worked up about the article he’d written concerning Lincoln Park in that morning’s paper. He had taken on the story himself and not assigned it to another reporter because he thought the story was interesting and definitely something the community should be aware of.

After reading her final message, he reached for his cell phone, deciding it would be best to call her so they could actually talk about it. But when he checked his watch, he noticed it was already late. He needed to type up his notes from his last interview and then check in at the paper. Plus, he knew Mac didn’t like to be disturbed after ten o’clock when she had work the next morning. To wake up an already-irritated Mackenzie was not an action he relished. An e-mail would be more appropriate.

Rick unbuttoned his shirt, walked over to the bedside phone, and called room service. He would need his strength for this. After placing his dinner order, his pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the bed.

Back at the desk, just as he was about to start typing, his laptop suddenly pinged, made a sucking sound, and then a new window popped up.

Skype.

When he saw the user name, he clicked to connect.

Mac’s face appeared. “Hey,” she said.

Rick sat forward, adjusting his computer screen. “Hey,” he replied, not quite sure where to look at the camera. “This is unexpected.”

“You’ve never Skyped before?” Mac asked. “Or you’ve never Skyped
naked
before?”

“Huh?” Only then did Rick remember he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He sprang from his seat and found a T-shirt in his suitcase behind him.

“Oh, only
half
naked, I see,” Mac’s voice said. “Nice pants.”

Rick turned around. It was kind of freaky how she could still see him. “Sorry,” he said, pulling on the shirt. “I wasn’t expecting…company.”

Mac laughed. “I can’t believe you’re the owner of a newspaper and you don’t video chat.”

“It’s been a while,” Rick said, settling back into his chair. He was relieved that Mac appeared to have calmed down since the last e-mail she’d sent. “So…I got some messages from you.”

Video Mac ran a hand through her hair. “I’m upset, Rick.”

This had been obvious. Rick decided to go on the offense, break the tension with humor; that had worked before.

“I caught as much,” he said. “Why is a classy girl like you using so many four-letter words?”

“Shhhut up…” she hissed, as she held her hand in front of her face and pinched her index finger and thumb together, as if crushing Rick’s head on her screen. “I’ll give you one more four-letter word if you don’t listen.”

Okay, so maybe now wasn’t the best time for jokes.

“You’re upset over my article about Lincoln Park,” Rick tried again.

“I’m pissed about the whole thing.”

“Tell me what I can do,” Rick said, wishing he could step through his computer screen and offer her comfort in person.

“Did you know about the developers?” Mac asked, her voice calmer now. “I mean, before you decided to write the article?”

“Well.” He sat back, adjusting the screen so Mac’s face was brighter. “There’s always talk about new projects and proposals in the works. Because of my position, I hear a lot of things, but—”

“So you
did
know.”

Rick could see the notch forming between Mac’s blue eyes. “No,” he said, speaking calmly. “I didn’t know anything about it until it came to the floor at the last city council meeting.”

“But you know
who
the developer is, right? That wasn’t in your story, but you know.”

Rick reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand. “No,” he said, unscrewing the cap. “I haven’t gotten that far—”

“It’s AD Land Holdings!” Mac cut in.

Rick lowered the water bottle and looked into Mac’s angry digital eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Well, I have nothing to do with—”

“Nothing to do with your
father’s
company?” she asked, cutting him off again. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Mac, my father owns many companies, most of which I have absolutely no involvement in.”

Rick watched as Mac placed her fingertips against her forehead, massaging them around.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” she murmured into her keyboard.

“What do you mean, again?” Rick asked, wishing there was a way to reach his hand through the screen and offer her some kind of comfort. Why was technology progressing so slowly?

“Nothing,” Mac said. A moment later, she looked up. “You asked if there is something you can do?”

Rick nodded, leaning forward. “Anything.”

“You can write about Lincoln Park.”

“I’m going to,” he said. “It’s a series. The next one is in tomorrow’s paper.”

“What’s it about?” Mac asked, cradling a mug between her hands.

“It’s more of an op-ed piece that I wrote a few days ago after visiting the park.”

Now that Rick thought about what the article said, he wondered if Mac might not approve. She obviously loved that park, and not all the things he said about it were glowing. That side of the park was kind of run-down and needed major landscaping. Things like that would cost the city a lot of money. At least developing that land would bring in revenue.

“Why don’t you write about actually
saving
the park?” Mac suggested.

“I can’t.”

“It’s
your
paper,” Mac pointed out. Her voice was growing louder. She was getting worked up again. “You can do whatever you want.”

Rick placed his forearms flat against the desk. “You know I can’t.”

“That’s ridiculous. Surely you can just—”

“Mac, I can’t.” He hated cutting her off, but he needed her to understand.

Mac’s hands were still covering her face. A moment later, she slid them off and leaned forward, looking directly into the camera. The way her body was now positioned was giving Rick a subtle, though prominent, glimpse at her suddenly very present cleavage.

“Are you sure?” Mac said, twirling a strand of hair around one finger, her head titled to the side. If she moved another inch, Rick would be able to see all the way down to her belly button.

“Nice try, Mackenzie, but that won’t work, either.” Rick grinned. “After the dress you wore last night, I’m completely immune to your cunning tactics.” He shook his head. “And you call yourself a feminist.”

“Ugh.” Mac groaned, sitting back and crossing her arms. “What’s the point of having a male friend who owns a daily rag if I can’t take advantage of him?”

“If you’d like to practice that act again, I’d be more than happy to watch, give you some tips.”

Mac’s digital finger pointed at the screen. “We’re not done with this,” she said. “When you least expect it, I’ll try again.”

Rick lifted one eyebrow. “Can’t wait.”